“Ella…please stop. You have to listen to me,” Marcus shouted.
Not wanting to talk to him, she increased her pace to a jog. But when she glanced back and saw him running, she sprinted. The warm wind blew against her cheeks and she drank in the exhilarating sensation as she became one with the wind that carried her. A flash of a memory coursed through her. The smell of coffee and a scene inside the Ultimate Perk, in Andover, with Marcus grabbing her arm as he spoke to her zoomed into view, and another one of her standing in the rain as his sharp features came into focus brought her to a halt. She threw him a glance over her shoulder. She knew him.
“Thank you…now will you just hold on and listen to what I have to say,” Marcus said.
Ella shook her head, but when he gathered her close, wrapping his strong arms around her, holding her, she fell into them. For a moment, she sank into his warm embrace. It felt good to be hugged by someone who wanted her, and an electrical surge vibrated between them; she felt it. But confusion made her shrink away from him.
“Let me go…I can’t breathe,” Ella said. Straightaway, he stepped back and lifted his hands up in the air. His eyes pleaded with hers for acceptance, but she tightened her shawl around her chest. “What is it you have to say?”
Marcus placed his hands on his hips and stared out to sea. “Do you know who used to live at the cottage? The one you’re living in right now?”
Ella studied the hilltop home, her sanctuary, and strained to remember when she moved in. But she couldn’t. She tried to recall her wedding day. The last day she had spent with Zander before everything changed. But no memory surfaced, aside from a hazy image of the man in front of her right now. Other than that, an empty void existed, making her question who the hell she was. Shaking her head, a monsoon of panic set in and she hyperventilated. Where did she meet Zander? What did she do for a living? Closing her eyes, she wanted to scream. She should know her married name. Her birthday or anniversary. Dates that should be second nature for her to recall. How come they didn’t have children? A squeezing pain in her head distracted her.
“Ow…” she cried.
“Ella, are you all right?”
Rubbing her hand across her temples didn’t help, and a wave of nausea reached into her mouth, but she forced it back down.
Marcus ran his hand through his shoulder-length, dark hair, patiently waiting for her response.
“I have a headache, that’s all, and no…I don’t know who lived here before me. There’s a lot I don’t remember. What’s wrong with me?”
Marcus kept his distance but reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear before he folded his arms, shaking his head. “It’s complicated, which about sums up our entire relationship. Look, I’ve been told by Zephra, a good friend, not to push you, and I’m doing my best. But we’re running out of time, sweetheart. You want to understand why you have so few memories—let’s find out.”
The waves crashed on the shore and a picture of a kind, older woman came to mind, but the name eluded her. “What do I have to do?” Ella shielded her eyes from the sun as she watched Marcus put his hands in his pockets, keeping his distance.
“Zephra’s a witch and she’s brought a friend over to the cottage who she thinks can help. A witch doctor. Will you listen to what she has to say?”
She twisted her hands. Why did the idea of a witch not scare her? Why did it seem normal for him to talk about such things? With her curiosity piqued, she nodded. “Will Zander be there?”
Marcus didn’t answer right away and looked back at the house, as if hiding his feelings. But when he faced her again, he smiled, composed. “If you want him to be.”
For some reason she didn’t fathom, she needed Zander there and nodded. They strolled side by side, back toward the cottage. A light rain fell, and she lifted her head skyward, closing her eyes and letting the raindrops wash over her. Marcus’s face appeared again, facing her as they stood, shouting at each other in the pouring rain. It was another memory. She didn’t know where or when it had taken place, but she sensed he was annoyed with her. Turning her head to the side, she studied the man’s handsome profile. He had well-built, strong, rounded shoulders and dark coffee eyes that she couldn’t read.
“You always liked the beach house. I guess I never realized quite how much,” he said.
“Who did it belong to?” Ella asked, unable to hold back her curiosity any longer.
Marcus stopped and rubbed his neck. “My mother…Josephine.”
Judging by the sadness in his voice, his mother had passed, and a wave of sadness poured over her. It didn’t make sense that she would be living in his mother’s home, unless there was some truth to his words about them being married. Some important connection between them. Hearing the woman’s name didn’t trigger anything more and, lost in her thoughts, they trudged the rest of the way up the stone steps to the cottage in silence. Once she stepped inside the cozy dwelling, smoke assailed her, and she noted several lit candles dotted around the living room. A healthy fire also burned in the hearth.
“Ella, this is Zephra and Crystal. They’re wit—” Zander said.
“Witches, I know.” She observed how her husband was comfortable and relaxed around everyone except her. He was the same height as Marcus, but his features were more boyish than the rugged man.
“Do you remember? Have you recalled
