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than the floor. Apparently, the Amish didn’t go in for luxury.
    He lay back on the bed and folded his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling. Was his own bedroom this bare? He waited for another spark of memory, but nothing came.
    The pain in his head had settled to a dull ache he’d almost grown used to. There were pain pills in his duffel bag, a prescription filled at the hospital pharmacy, buthe didn’t like the idea of using them. His thinking was muddled enough without narcotics. He closed his eyes and laid one arm across his face. Slowly, the tension left his body and he dozed.
    A rap on the door brought him awake. He sat up surprised to see it was fully dark beyond the window outside. Karen stood in the doorway, her arms loaded with sheets, quilts and a pillow. She asked, “Did I wake you?”
    “No. I was only resting.” John wasn’t about to make Karen feel bad after all that she’d done for him. He rose to take the linens from her. Their fresh sun-dried fragrance filled his nostrils.
    Taking a step back, she folded her arms nervously. “I left you a plate of food on the table. You should eat. You need to regain your strength.”
    “Thanks.” He expected her to hurry away, but she lingered.
    “Is the house to your satisfaction?” she asked.
    “It’s great. Better than a four-star motel. That’s a place where people can stay when they’re traveling—if you didn’t know.” Did he sound like a fool or what?
    An amused grin curved her full lips. “I know what a motel is. We do travel sometimes. I have even been to Florida to visit my great aunt and uncle there.”
    “I’ll bet the horse got tired trotting all that way.”
    Her giggle made him smile. A weight lifted from his chest.
    Composing herself, Karen said, “I took the train.”
    It surprised him how much he enjoyed talking to her. He asked, “Can’t you fly?”
    “No, my arms get too tired,” she answered with a straight face.
    He laughed for the first time since he’d awakened in the hospital. “I don’t know Amish rules.”
    “We can’t own automobiles, but we can hire a driver to take us places that are too far for a buggy trip. With our bishop’s permission, we can travel by train or by bus and even by airplane if the conditions are warranted.”
    “That must be tough.”
    “That’s the point. If it is easy to get in a car and go somewhere, to a new city or a new job, then families become scattered and the bonds that bind us together and to God become frayed and broken.”
    “It’s an interesting philosophy.”
    “It is our faith, not an idea. It is the way God commands us to live. How is your headache?”
    “It’s gone,” he said in surprise.
    “I thought so. You look rested. And now you must eat before your supper gets cold.”
    He followed her down the hall to the kitchen. A plate covered with aluminum foil sat on the table. He peeled back the cover and the mouthwatering aroma of roast chicken and vegetables rose with the steam. His stomach growled. He was hungry. “Smells good.”
    He hesitated, then said, “I remembered something tonight.”
    Her eyes brightened. “What?”
    If he shared his small victory would she think he was nuts? He didn’t care if she did. He was tired of being alone.
    “I’ve cooked trout before. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s my first real memory. At least, I believe it was a memory.”
    “It is a start. We must give thanks to God.”
    His elation slipped a notch. Wasn’t God the one who’d put him in this situation? If he were to give thanks it wouldhave to be for remembering something important—like his name.
    She said, “At least you know one more thing about yourself.”
    He could cook fish, he had no criminal record and he didn’t crave drugs. Yeah, he was off to a roaring good start in his quest to collect personal information. Maybe tomorrow he’d find he knew how to sharpen a pencil.
    Depression lowered its dark blanket over him. “Thanks for