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James? Anything?” She brushed his hair from his eyes.
    “Write it down. Tell the story to each generation. Somewhere, somehow, my soul will find yours again.” The last, desperate burst of energy depleted him, the life force draining from him as he closed his eyes.
    Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks as she leaned down and kissed him. “I promise, James.” Her words were but a whisper, but she knew he heard them. His lips curved up in a smile and his face relaxed as if all pain had fled him. And while Esther kissed him to seal her promise, James passed from this world to the one beyond.

Chapter Four
    Esther closed the ancient leather-bound book, blinking hard to clear the tears clouding her vision. Her ancestor had kept her promise, even though it had taken her ten years to learn to write and to be able to afford even the most meager of writing materials. She sniffed and swiped at the tear that trickled down her cheek.
    She knew the story by heart, had read it a thousand times before, had grown up being told the legend like other children were told fairy tales. The tragic tale of love lost was part of her family legacy and one she was determined not to follow.
    Her fingers traced the heavy binding and she took a deep breath. The story was always so real, as if she’d lived it rather than just read about it.
    Esther stared at the bright yellow wall in front of her, trying to make sense of her dreams and her emotions. She’d been restless for days now. She felt as though she was waiting for something or someone. Waiting. Always waiting. But she wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting for. She didn’t believe in reincarnation. Her family story was just that. A story. And she’d certainly given up all hope of finding a lover.
    Esther glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned. She’d spent so much time reading that it was time for her to get ready to go to work. So much for her nap. She’d just have to live with being tired and suck it up.
    Carefully, she placed the book on the bedside table, allowing her fingers to caress the faded binding and worn leather. Her gaze once again fell on the red candle she’d brought home from Rhiannon’s. Candle magic. A spell to bring a lover. She looked away, feeling like she was somehow betraying her ancestors’ story by wanting less than they’d shared together.
    She sighed as she threw back the patchwork quilt that covered her and headed to the bathroom. Sleep had eluded her, even though she desperately needed a nap before she went to work. Fortunately, this was her last evening covering the nightshift. After tonight she had three whole days off before she went back on days.
    Padding out of her bedroom and down the short hallway, she raised her arms over her head, stretching them to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders. She didn’t want to think too hard about the reason she wasn’t sleeping well these past few weeks.
    Dreams. Not just any dreams, but dreams of Esther and James and the life they had lived hundreds of years ago. She’d had dreams in the past, especially around the time of Samhain, but never like this. In the way of nighttime visions, somehow she’d ended up in the role of her ancestor, but it was James’s face that bothered her the most. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Ryan Jamieson.
    She turned on the water and adjusted the temperature before peeling off her nightgown and stepping under the hot spray. The water cascaded down her body and Esther turned her back to it, not able to bare the jet of water touching her breasts. They were uncommonly sensitive these days. In fact, her whole body seemed more alive, as though she were simply waiting for a lover to touch her. Pleasure her.
    Grabbing the soap, she quickly washed and rinsed. As she reached for the shampoo, her thoughts drifted back to the first day she’d met Ryan.
    As a dispatcher for the Burnt Cove Police Department, she was responsible for handling all calls to the