The Way Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

endure…
    She broke. Sobbed until her chest hurt and her head throbbed from the storm of tears. Her heart ached as she gave up all pretense, relinquished every last shred of hope that out there somewhere was one person who loved her. Who would search the world for her. A faint unease she’d been fighting to ignore murmured that she was on her own, that there was no magical soul mate to trust.
    That she had no one but herself, in the final analysis. Whatever life she would weave from the broken strands of who she’d once been must begin here.
    She rolled onto her back and peered up through endless green branches darkening to the charcoal of night. Up into fading blue sky streaked with clouds stained coral and gold.
    She breathed deeply of the crisp air on the verge of cold, and she forced herself to stretch, to inhale the splendor around her, drawing it into the fibers of her muscles, the ruby rush of her blood.
    She was alone, but she was alive. She dwelled—for the moment, at least—in a place of great beauty, and back in the house she had fled were two people who had extended the hand of friendship to her, as well as sustenance and shelter.
    Begin as you mean to go on. If only she knew who had said that to her, but that was lost, along with so much else, in the shadows of her mind. Regardless, she had the saying to cling to, a North Star to serve as her guide.
    Sam hadn’t told her there was no hope, and for an instant, she let herself feel how desperately she yearned for it.
    But then she sat up, stretched her arms to the sky and faced the heavens. “Thank you,” she said to whatever force had created this loveliness. Had spared her life.
    She would do her best not to ask for more. Instead, she rose to her feet and brushed leaves and grass and seed pods from her hair, her skin and her very ugly dress.
    And she smiled. She needed her own clothes, so she would find a way to earn the money for them. Sam could definitely use a gardener, even with fall rapidly approaching. And Luisa wasn’t getting any younger, so perhaps she could share cooking duties. Preparing food had soothed something inside her nearly as much as contemplating the improvements to Sam’s sorry garden had.
    Just then, she heard a rustle off to her side.
    Sam stood at the edge of the clearing beneath an aspen already mostly gold. “I’m sorry. Most people think I have a good bedside manner, but—” He spread his hands out to his sides.
    “The fault isn’t yours. I just got…” She stared off to the side. “Overwhelmed.”
    He approached her. “Anyone would. I promise you that every effort is being made to figure out your identity, except…”
    “What?”
    He frowned. “We could call in the media, splash your face all over television, newspapers, the Internet, but—”
    “Go on.”
    “It’s a lot of pressure on you, and stress is counterproductive for your condition. There’d likely be a horde of strangers descending, plus all the ghouls and con artists we’d have to weed through. Everyone I consulted advised waiting to subject you to that until you were able to decide for yourself.”
    She smiled past her jitters. “Always so thoughtful of me. You’re a wonderful doctor, Sam. A big city’s loss is Lucky Draw’s gain.”
    “You’re more than welcome.” His answering smile was both fond and a little sad. “I just wish…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
    She tactfully didn’t inquire further. Too much was jumbled up inside her. She didn’t know whether she’d ever been married, if there was a man in her life. Sam was a very good man, and an attractive one, but—
    “It’s getting dark,” he said. “And I didn’t bring a flashlight with me. We’d best be going.” He held out a hand.
    She hesitated for a moment, then gratefully accepted it.
    They walked in silence back to his house. When they started up the steps of the porch, she decided to press forward. “I need some jeans, Sam.”
    He glanced at her as if