Page 40 of Running to You

Thanks to the noise of all the children, Eliza didn’t hear the rest of what the woman said. She stood beside Sam near the door and turned a questioning gaze on him.

He leaned close and lowered his voice. “If your friendly neighborhood attackers are here, the last thing we want is your name being repeated all over this building.”

“Good thinking.”

The redhead came back. “She’s coming. It might be a sec, though. We’re short on help.”

They pretended they didn’t hear the pleading in the woman’s voice. What did Eliza know about taking care of kids?

A line of little ones walked past, all holding onto a strap, following the grown-up leading the way.

“Now, there’s a trick,” Sam said. “I guess it keeps them together.”

Eliza barely heard him.

The kids—she guessed they were three years old—wore dresses and slacks and jeans. One boy had donned a Superman T-shirt—and cape.

She’d never seen any of them before in her life.

And yet, her eyes stung.

A longing she’d never experienced rolled over her as she watched the last one pass.

It was a painful gnawing in her gut. A…need. A visceral need. She wanted to follow them. To stay with them. To hold them close.

“Eliza? What is it?”

Sam moved into her line of vision, worry and compassion on his face. “What happened?”

“I don’t…” She blinked, felt moisture in her eyes.

Felt the pressure of her fists against her stomach where she was pushing, pushing against the yearning.

He gently took her hands and wrapped them in his. “Did you remember something?”

It was right there. On the edge of her consciousness. The Something she couldn’t remember. The Important Something that mattered more than anything else.

She closed her eyes and tried to move toward it, through the darkness, the thick fog in her mind.

Oh. Her head.

She pulled her hands from Sam’s and squeezed her temples until the pain passed.

The Something dissipated like mist.

She opened her eyes to Sam watching. Waiting for some revelation. But nothing came.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. I don’t…”

“Eliza? Oh, thank God!”

She turned just in time to see a fast-moving blur. And then she was wrapped in a hug. She picked up the floral scent of her best friend’s perfume, the frizzy hair that would never cooperate making her nose itch. Jeanette’s sobs racked Eliza’s chest. “Thank God. Thank God you’re all right.”

To her, it felt like they’d seen each other a couple of days before, maybe a week or two. But tears streamed from Eliza’s eyes anyway, a reaction to her friend’s emotions.

Finally, Jeanette leaned back and gripped her shoulders. The bruises hurt, but Eliza didn’t say so.