“First, let me...” She hobbled over to the kitchen sink and looked out the front window. The house faced west into the waving grasses, a few twisted cypress trees and, down over the edge of the hill, the eternal blue of the ocean and sky. Whatever had happened yesterday was past; here she could faintly hear the sea and again marvel at its beauty. “The Pacific is so primal,” she whispered.

From beside her, he said, “The sea promises much, and in its own way, it gives what it promises.”

She couldn’t quite decide what he meant, and he stared with such concentration at the horizon he seemed to have forgotten her. Until he looked at her, his eyes alert. “Ready for breakfast?”

She shambled back to the table and eased herself into an old straight-backed wooden chair. “The bruises are one thing, but all my joints and muscles hurt. Why do I feel as if I have the flu?”

“Hypothermia. Recovery is always fraught—and sometimes includes loss of memory.” The timer went off, and he fished the eggs out of the pan and rinsed them under cold water. “I looked it up. In your case, add the trauma of being strangled, and it’s not surprising you’re suffering from amnesia. I had hoped you’d remember more this morning.”

“I have. I know I’m a scientist.”

He turned away from the counter and stared. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know no matter what my feelings, it’s illogical to possess the rock-solid belief that the man who tried to kill me...is invulnerable.”

He flipped the ham onto a plate, piled toast on top, and brought it to the table. “Feelings are feelings. They deserve respect, too.” He seemed to doubt her claim to the title of scientist.

“Sure about the feelings. But I know stuff. About ocean currents, rock formations, how caves are formed. Archaeology. Particularly—” she wrinkled her brow as she thought “—archaeology in the Andes.”

Gently, he pointed out, “Those subjects are popular with lay people, too.”

“Scoff if you want. Science is bred into me.” She wanted to convince him, but without her memories, how? “Anyway, I’m hungry.”

“The eggs are soft-boiled. Do you need me to open one for you?”

She shot him a withering look, took an egg, took her knife, slashed the top off and spread the golden inner goodness on her toast. “What’s the plan for the day?” The ham was thick and salty, the peaches were perfect, ripe and sweet and golden, and the food filled the emptiness in her belly.

“We’re going to take you to the doctor.”

“Kicking and screaming.” Although from the little she knew of this man, she hoped he wouldn’t deem that necessary.