A Trace of Memory
IN SEARCH OF HER PASTEmma Landers has amnesia. Problem is, she can't remember how she got it, why she's injured or why someone wants to hurt her. When she lands on the doorstep of former love Travis Wright, she can barely remember their past history. But she knows she can trust him to protect her. The handsome farmer was heartbroken when Emma left him for the big city. But there's no way he can send her away when gunshots start flying. Now Travis must keep Emma safe while helping her piece together her memories–before it's too late.The Defenders: Protecting children in need
Читать A Trace of Memory онлайн беплатно
IN SEARCH OF HER PAST
Emma Landers has amnesia. Problem is, she canât remember how she got it, why sheâs injured or why someone wants to hurt her. When she lands on the doorstep of former love Travis Wright, she can barely remember their past history. But she knows she can trust him to protect her. The handsome farmer was heartbroken when Emma left him for the big city. But thereâs no way he can send her away when gunshots start flying. Now Travis must keep Emma safe while helping her piece together her memoriesâbefore itâs too late.
The Defenders: Protecting children in need
Why was Emma hiding her face? Travis wondered.
He ran his right arm along the back of the seat until he was close enough to grab the fabric at the back of her hood.
One quick yank was all it took to uncover her head.
She was startled, of course, but that was not what caught and held his attention.
Her hair was wild and tangled, as if she hadnât brushed it in days. Her blue eyes were swimming. Worst of all, there was an angry-looking black-and-blue mark on her cheek. It was strong and dark, fresh rather than fading, and the sight of it tied his gut in a knot.
âEmma! Who did that to you?â
As she turned toward him more fully, tears tipped over her lower lashes and began to slide silently down her chapped, bruised cheeks.
He could tell she was struggling to speak. Lifting his hand slowly, deliberately, he reached toward her and wiped away a tear with one finger, barely touching her as he did so.
Who had hurt her? And why?
VALERIE HANSEN
was thirty when she awoke to the presence of the Lord in her life and turned to Jesus. In the years that followed, she worked with young children, both in church and secular environments. She also raised a family of her own and played foster mother to a wide assortment of furred and feathered critters.
She loves to hike the wooded hills behind her house and reflect on the marvelous turn her life has taken. Not only is she privileged to reside among the loving, accepting folks in the breathtakingly beautiful Ozark mountains of Arkansas, she also gets to share her personal faith by telling the stories of her heart in Love Inspired Books.
Life doesnât get much better than that!
The Lord hears good people when they cry out to Him, and He saves them from all their troubles.
âPsalms 34:17
To my Joe, who will always be looking over my shoulder as I write. He was an extraordinary gift from God.
Contents
Run! Run! Heâs coming!
Emma Landers heard her own frantic, breathless screams echoing in the dark hallway. Clawing her way around a corner, hands palming the bare walls, she saw a dim outline to her left. A door? Had her prayers been answered?
She flew against it, her fingers raking the cold, metal surface like the talons of a trapped bird of prey.
Quick, heavy footfalls echoed behind her. It didnât matter who her pursuer was, she somehow knew she must elude him. At all costs.
Her trembling fingers closed around the doorknob. Tried to twist it and failed. Slipped. Hurt.
âNo, no, no,â Emma rasped. âIt canât be locked.â Tendrils of her sandy-blond hair clung to the perspiration dotting her forehead and she felt droplets slithering down her spine.
Someone began shouting in the distance. Who? Why? And why was she so frightened she could hardly breathe let alone function capably?
Unfortunately, she didnât remember much of anything prior to this terrifying moment. The only fact that was solid in her mind was the desperate need to escape, to put miles between herself and whoever or whatever was rapidly closing in.
Hoping to find a key hanging nearby, she left the door to explore the nearby walls of her prison, acting like a mime trapped in an invisible box. Dust coated everything, clinging to her clammy hands and clogging her already tight throat.
An uneven place on the floor caught her attention. Crouching in the darkness, she located a small grit-and-mud-covered mat next to the doorway and recoiled.
Fingertips of one hand resting lightly on the floor for balance, she racked her foggy brain. What were the chances of finding a key under that filthy rug? Slim to none. But there was only one way to find out for sure.
Emma located an edge by feel, tossed the mat aside and began frantically searching the slick, hard floor. There was something there, all right. Something flat and small with distinct edges. Praise the Lord!
If she hadnât been shaking so badly she might have been able to fit the key into the slot in the center of the knob without delay. Instead, she fumbled the precious metal object and nearly dropped it several times before it finally slid into place.
Twisting with all her might, Emma heard the lockâs tumblers click. The knob turned. Freedom!
