The Adventurer

it. She had left him. A part of him could not accept it and he wondered if he would ever be able to fully accept it.
    He could not believe how much he had grown accustomed to her foolish conviction that they belonged together. She had been so positive that they were made for each other, so convinced he was the hero of her dreams.
    But he hadn't known how to deal with her at first. She had knocked him off balance right from the moment she had descended out of the blue onto his doorstep. And she had moved much too quickly for him. He was, by nature, not the type who could take the risks of real intimacy easily and he knew it. So he tried to resist Sarah at every step along the way, always looking for hidden motives, always searching for the cold reality that he knew had to lie beneath her warm, affectionate surface.
    When they had become lovers that day in the mountains he had relaxed somewhat because he'd finally found a way in which he could trust her, a way in which he could feel sure of her. From the beginning he'd never really doubted the genuineness of her physical response.
    Now, thanks to Savage, he was right back where he'd started. Alone.
    But this time it hurt. He felt as if something inside him was cracking open, exposing him to the kind of pain he had protected himself from for years.
    The worst of it was that even as he began to climb slowly along the path toward the house, Gideon knew he couldn't blame Jake for this latest disaster. He had no one to blame but himself.
    Machu Picchu was sitting at the top of the bluff, tail coiled around his paws. He watched with idle interest as Gideon climbed the last few steps.
    "She's gone, isn't she, Machu? I didn't even get breakfast."
    The big cat followed him into the kitchen where Ellora sat in Sarah's chair. The silver-gray cat glared at Gideon with accusing eyes.
    "Hey, don't blame me. She's the type who appears out of thin air and vanishes the same way. Here today, gone tomorrow. Flighty. Know what I mean?" Gideon put the kettle on the stove for instant coffee.
No, not gone tomorrow
—
gone today. Now. This minute
.
    The cats continued to regard him in profound silence. Gideon poured hot water over the coffee and stirred absently. "I shouldn't have let her drive off in this fog," he announced after a minute. "The roads could be real bad."
    The cats licked their paws.
    Gideon climbed the stairs with his mug of coffee in one hand and went to see if Sarah had packed absolutely everything or if she'd left in such an all-fired hurry she'd forgotten a few items.
    In her room he found no trace she'd ever been there. In a totally uncharacteristic gesture, she'd even made the bed up neatly.
    Gideon went back downstairs wondering why the house felt so damned cold again.
    The cats were sitting at the bottom of the staircase, watching him with their otherworldly gaze.
    "I know, I know," Gideon said. "I shouldn't have let her leave alone. Not in this fog. Too dangerous. If she's got any sense she'll stop at a café and have a cup of tea or something until the fog lifts. I'll bet she's at one of the coffee shops in town. On the other hand, common sense is not her strong point. I probably ought to check on her. Make sure she waits awhile before heading for Seattle."
    Ellora started to purr.
    Gideon picked up his car keys and walked to the door. Behind him Machu rumbled plaintively. "You've got enough food and water to last for a couple of days," he told the big cat. "Don't worry. I'll only be gone for an hour or less."
    But there was no sign of Sarah's car at either the coffee shops or the local gas station. The fog was not nearly as bad now as it had been a while ago. Sarah had probably not encountered any great trouble at all in getting to the main highway.
    Gideon stopped at the edge of town and thought about going back to the big, cold, empty house.
    He could not bear the thought. He started driving.
    A few hours later he found himself in Seattle.
    There was no great difficulty in locating Sarah's apartment building downtown. After four months of corresponding with her, he'd long since memorized the address.
     
    H ER WARM, CHEERFUL , sunny apartment wasn't nearly as inviting as it ought to have been. Sarah halted just inside the front door, her hastily packed suitcases in her hands. She glanced around uneasily. Something didn't feel right. She stood there a moment longer and then put down the luggage.
    With a gathering sense of disquiet, she wandered around the living