Page 35 of Running to You

Had Sam picked the things out? How weird would that be, him choosing her underwear? More likely, Camilla had done it. Eliza didn’t recognize the name of the store—were there no Walmarts nearby?—and could find no receipt in the bag. The clothes were good quality, the jeans soft and stretchy when she pulled them on, the sweatshirt warm and cozy.

The house was quiet.

She followed the low lighting to the stairs and crept down, thankful for the slippers that whispered against the hardwood. Maybe she should wait for the house to wake up, but she was starving. Camilla had offered to get her some food when Daniel had finished examining her the afternoon before, but Eliza had felt too sick to swallow anything but small sips of water. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before, which she’d expelled in the parking lot after the attack.

She found the light switch in the kitchen, opened the oversize refrigerator, and snagged a piece of American cheese. The fridge was packed with food.

While she nibbled the cheese, she searched for bread or crackers and found both in the butler’s pantry. A giant butler’s pantry. It had a counter covered with every appliance imaginable and shelves stocked with everything a person could need. Did Sam cook for himself? Looked like he must, based on all the ingredients. Pasta and rice and potatoes and beans and tomatoes and soup and bread and crackers and nuts and…

So much food.

Her chest tightened, and she pressed her hand against it, considering what she was feeling that caused that reaction.

Guilt.

She let herself be in the moment, allowing the feeling to overtake her. Tried to assign memories to it. But all it wielded was a sense of foreboding.

Because she wanted to eat? Because of all the food? She remembered her odd comment at breakfast the morning before—asking for seconds, worrying about other people who needed to eat.

What did that mean?

No memories came, but her head pulsed with pain.

She popped two slices of wheat bread in the toaster, then figured out how the fancy coffee maker worked and got a pot started.

The food helped. The coffee might as well have come straight from…

The river of Your delights.

Whoa. She knew that phrase. From the Bible, wasn’t it? How would she know that? She’d never been particularly religious, hadn’t been raised in church. Dad had talked about Jesus occasionally but had only taken them to church on holidays. Mom never wanted him to get “too carried away with all that foolishness.”

Yet she knew a Bible verse. Another mystery.

Eliza finished the toast, left the plate in the sink, and took her mug with her. She’d only seen the living room, kitchen, and dining room on this floor. She wanted to poke around the spaces Sam had reserved for himself.

The ones he’d probably never show her.

No, she shouldn’t snoop. But…well, she wanted to, and this was her chance.

By the dim morning light coming in through the open blinds on the east side of the house, she made her way past the front door, down a hallway, and around a corner, where she found two doors, one on the right, one straight ahead. She opened the one on her right first and hit the light switch.

Her breath caught.

It was Sam’s office, and it looked just like the one he’d had in his old house, in the life she remembered.

Only, not really. This office was considerably larger. It had more bookshelves. Two chairs opposite the desk instead of one. And, unlike the one in his last house, this room had a wall of windows facing the ocean and a door that opened to a deck that ran the length of the house.

But the desk was the same as the one he’d had when they’d started dating. And the area rug… She’d found that at an antique shop and called him to tell him about it.

He’d bought it, sight unseen, on her recommendation. And he still had it.

Everything in her wanted to step into the familiar space, let it wrap itself around her. But Sam promised his clients confidentiality, and she’d always been careful to respect his boundaries where work was concerned. She turned off the light, stepped out, and closed the door.

She half expected him to be standing there, arms crossed, brows lowered. He used to be happy. Not easygoing, exactly, but not so quick to anger. The last couple of days had shown her how much he’d changed. Except maybe it was her presence bringing out the anger in him. Maybe, if she weren’t there, Sam would be his old genial self.

Either way, if he knew she’d gone into his office, he wouldn’t take it well.

She opened the other door and stepped in, turning on the light.