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loneliness overpowered her—
    Hope, faint as breath, flickered to life.
    She had loved. Had been loved.
    And she’d had a memory of a life, if confusing. The child’s voice was too old for the infant’s face. Were they the same person?
    Urgency zinged through her. She must write this down, keep every snippet, for surely—oh, please, God, surely—there would be more. And somehow, she would piece them together and find out where she belonged.
    Frantically, she searched the apartment, but neither she nor Sam had thought about having pen and paper here. She glanced at the clock: 3:00 a.m. Her gaze darted toward the house. Sam would be sleeping. He needed his rest.
    So did she, but she was terrified to lie down, for fear she would forget. That the endless void would swallow this precious clue.
    Sam would understand, she thought.
    She charged through the door on winged feet and charged down the stairs, across the yard. “Sam—” She pounded on the backdoor, all the while clutching at each detail, over and over again. “Sam, wake up—”
    Footsteps thundered. Sam yanked the door open. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you—” He pulled her inside, scanned her from head to foot.
    “No. I’m fine, I’m okay. Sam, I need paper, a pen—” She raced to the pad she knew he kept by the phone, crying and laughing at the same time.
    “What?” His voice was rough from sleep. “Why?”
    She found the supplies. “I remembered something. I have to write it down before—”
    He shook his head as if to clear it. “That’s great. What was it?”
    She paused in her scribbling, feeling a smile stretch wide. “A child.” Tears began again as wonder overcame her. “Sam…oh, Sam, I think I have a child.”
    He stood there, blinking in the light.
    “You said I hadn’t given birth, but I could have adopted, couldn’t I? Oh, God, Sam, it was wonderful and terrible at the same time. I heard a voice. I could feel the hair.” She halted. “I saw a swaddled infant, and—” Her head lifted abruptly as a new detail emerged. “And a man’s hand, Sam. Cradling the baby’s head, and we were happy—oh, beyond happy. We were a family, Sam, the three of us, and I felt so much love.”
    Pain swamped her then. Despair. “Where are they?” She looked up at him. “Why aren’t they searching for me?” Then the thought struck her, and she couldn’t breathe. “Oh, God, what if I’m the only one left? What if—” She bent double from the agony.
    Sam’s arms closed around her. “Shh. Take a deep breath, Jane. We’ll locate them, I promise. You don’t know enough right now, but…”
    “It’s time, Sam. Splash my picture all over everywhere. I need them to find me. Whatever that requires.”
    “Jane—”
    “No, Sam, don’t argue. I have a family. Please—” She faced him. “Please help me.”
    “I don’t like it, but I said it would be your decision, once you were stronger. I’m warning you, though, I’m going to monitor you. I know you’re impatient to get back to your life, but I will not allow you to compromise your health.”
    “I understand. Thank you, Sam.”
    “Okay.” He raked fingers through his hair and yawned. “I’ll go call the sheriff.”
    She pressed her lips together, fighting the anxiety that gripped her. “Get some sleep. It can wait until dawn. I’ll just go back and write everything down.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yes. I’m sorry I woke you.”
    “Jane, I can make coffee. We can talk.”
    She tamped down the urgency. “You should get some sleep. I’ll be fine.”
    “You rest, too, okay?”
    Not likely, she thought. But she smiled to put him at ease. “Sure thing. See you in the morning.”
    “Jane—”
    She glanced back over her shoulder and noticed his worried expression. “What?”
    He shook his head. “Nothing. Please try to rest.”
    “I’ll be fine, Sam. I can handle whatever it is, I promise.”
    I have to. I want to go home .

CHAPTER SEVEN
    J AMES LONGED to be