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In the face of her recent self-discoveries, the petty actions of last night’s unknown assailant seemed unimportant and insignificant. What did she care if the window was broken? She’d just cast off the subtle despondency that had shaded her life for the past five years. The petty actions of a jealous husband were the farthest thing from her mind.
Pushing thoughts of Jenny’s husband aside, she circled back to her own concerns. Now that she recognized the truth behind why Santiago had left, what was she going to do about it? Should she try to get him to see that he wasn’t his father, and she wasn’t his mother? That he
wasn’t destined to repeat his parents’ sad history? Or should she leave the issue alone? They’d had their chance, after all. Maybe they weren’t supposed to get another?
Lost in thought, her steps slowed as she approached the cabin. She stopped on the path, standing just inside the tree line. Perhaps she was being silly, but she was reluctant to go back to this temporary home without some kind of plan in place for how she was going to deal with her emotions. There were three days left in the marriage retreat. Three days of close contact with Santiago. Given the effect he’d already had on her, it might as well be an eternity.
How was she going to protect her heart? Even now, she felt it soften toward him as she considered his own misguided assumptions. She knew what it was like to live with mistaken impressions. Could she help him realize the truth—that he could have a healthy, happy relationship?
More importantly, since he’d left due to his fears did that mean he still loved her? They hadn’t split up due to an argument or because of the long, slow death of passion that plagued so many couples. There had been real affection between them, genuine love.
Was it still there? Her heart said yes. Her love for him was dormant, perhaps. But salvageable.
If that’s what they both wanted.
She tilted her head to the side, considering her options. But just as she began to organize her thoughts, a noise sounded on the path behind her.
Footsteps.
Ainsley started to turn around, intending to greet the other early morning riser. But before she could complete the rotation, there was a grunt of effort from someone close by and her world exploded in a starburst of pain.
* * *
Santiago emerged from his room, the ends of his hair still a little damp from his shower. He walked into the kitchenette and stopped in the doorway, frowning.
Where was Ainsley?
Normally, she was an early riser. She got up at dawn for a run, then returned to the cabin to shower and dress. By the time Santiago was ready to start the day, he usually found her sitting at the small table sipping her coffee.
But today the room was dark and quiet.
He flipped on the lights, started the water for his tea. Maybe she had overslept. It was possible.
But not likely.
Ainsley was a creature of habit. If she wasn’t here, then something was wrong.
Hesitating only a second, Santiago walked down the hall and turned right. The door to her bedroom suite was closed, so he rapped loudly on the wood. “Ainsley. Are you okay?”
There was no reply. He knocked a second time, then decided to try the handle.
The door swung open easily and he stepped inside her room. Morning light streamed in from the window, illuminating the bed with its rumpled covers. He walked through to the bathroom, half-afraid he might find her on the floor. Was she ill?
But the place was empty.
He stood in place for a second, his thoughts churning as a sense of foreboding stole over him. It wasn’t like Ainsley to disappear. Even if she’d been upset about something or angry with him, she would have told him if she was going somewhere.
He glanced at the window on the far wall, echoes of last night ringing through his mind. Had someone gained access to her bedroom through the window?
Probably not. It was closed, and the items on the small table that sat underneath the window were still in place.
No, wherever she was, Ainsley had left under her own power.
Was she still running? He glanced at his watch. Normally, she’d returned by now. They usually walked over to breakfast together, and she’d never been late before. But perhaps she’d taken a longer route today? There was an extensive set of trails around and through the woods. Maybe she’d opted for a change of scenery?
That had to be it. Santiago nodded to himself, trying to quash the nerves jangling in his stomach. No sense in imagining the worst when the ordinary was the most likely explanation.
He walked back into the kitchenette and brewed his tea on autopilot, his mind still focused on Ainsley. Should he go looking for her? What if she’d fallen and injured herself? The trails were uneven, with lots of forest debris like branches and even logs bisecting some of the paths. If she’d tripped or wrenched her ankle or knee, she’d need help getting back.
