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that might as well have been his mother’s, the clothing she wore that no longer bore the mark of the magpie.
    Bella. I remember the girl you were. How much I loved her. What sparkle she brought to my life.
    I swear that when I find you, I will spend the rest of my days nurturing whatever is left of her within you.
    And I will find you.
    Knowing he would not sleep this night, that he couldn’t stand to be in this bed without her again, James strode down the stairs to his office. He would tie up his own loose ends, so that the moment he found out where Bella was, he could responsibly leave to go after her.
    People depended on him to be steady, and however rocky he felt, he would do his best by them.
    But if push came to shove, Bella was his first priority. Too often in the past, she hadn’t been.
    To the end of his days, he would regret that.
     
    T HE NIGHT CREPT IN through the window, tree branches chattering against the hoot of an owl. She drew her new fleece robe around her. Soon the ever-present wind would be cold and snow would fall.
    Would she still be here? Or would her memory have returned and she would be certain where she belonged?
    Belong. She clasped the word to her bosom, attempting to imagine how that felt. How did you know where you were meant to be? Lucky Draw was becoming more familiar by the day and some of its three hundred or so residents evolving into what might be friends.
    What was a friend? Did she have any in that life she’d left behind?
    Why had she gone? Had she chosen to be alone, so far from the South from which her accent indicated she had come? Or was she a transplant who now lived nearby, and she was only slightly off her chosen path? The questions circled her like raptors, each one seeking the moment when fear rendered her vulnerable to a deadly strike.
    But more than anything, she could not afford to be weak. If darkness and solitude enervated her, made her want to lie down and weep, then they must be avoided at all costs. She would remain busy from morning until night, until she was so exhausted that sleep would overtake her without this dreaded time when longing pierced her to the heart, sliced away what little armor she could manage.
    She could try being aloof and silent, she supposed, but within her was a tearing, agonizing need for connection. To reach out; to have a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on. Someone who’d known her as a girl, who’d cherished her as a woman.
    And someone, lots of someones, for her to love.
    Suddenly, she had the sensation of a baby’s head beneath her hand, of stroking fine hair, dark and straight. A tender part revealed pale skin, and as her hand moved downward, she touched a small ear, a cheek, a chin—
    Breathless, she bit her lip and waited for more.
    Mama. A voice, young and adoring.
    She closed her eyes and focused hard.
    One glimpse of brown eyes, and—
    Nothing.
    She shook her head. “No,” she moaned. Extended her hand to recapture—
    Gone.
    The rush of love bowled her over. Knocked her legs right out from under her, and she sank to the floor, head bowed, gripping her fingers for fear the memory would be lost once more.
    Mama. The child’s voice echoed in her head. She squeezed her eyes to prevent the face from drifting away.
    Don’t leave me, baby. Please don’t…
    On her knees, she rocked, her arms empty beyond bearing, her heart full and aching. For an instant, she thought she could feel a bundle of blankets.
    Could see a man’s hand cradling the tiny head, fingers brushing her breast. Feel sunshine and joy pouring from her to him and back, through the body of this child.
    More, please…oh, please, please…let me see more.
    Long after the images had faded and she was alone again, she remained hunched over her imaginary burden, rocking and sobbing with a desperate yearning flooding her chest. The night surrounded her again, and she came to herself in this place that no longer felt familiar, only strange and…wrong.
    Even as the