“I’ve never been married, and I haven’t even looked inside since I was a little girl.” Marriage had never been a priority, and lately, simply not falling for a guy who can’t love might be enough. “My mom used to dream of weddings for me and my twin sister, but she and my dad died before she ever got to see it come to fruition.”

“You have a twin sister?”

Her earlier confrontation with Ashley filled her head. “I do…but we’re not close.”

“Do you think whatever you need could be in this chest?”

“I don’t think so.” She got up and crossed to him. “It would’ve been easy to show me a mental image of the trunk. I would’ve recognized it.”

Energy zipped up her fingers as she opened the latch. Interesting. Maybe Drake was on to something. She opened the lid, the scent of cedar assaulting her senses. Her mother had carefully labeled the inside, designating the right side of the chest to be for Heather and the left for Ashley. She ran her finger over her mom’s neat printing. A pang of grief shot through her heart. As a medium, many people assumed she had no need to grieve her parents. Surely she could speak with them any time she wished.

They didn’t understand the reality. While she sometimes sensed her mother was present, she didn’t always hear her voice. And she’d give up everything she owned for one more hug.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the veil on the top of her side of the hope chest. The ivory lace was bound to an antique comb adorned with pearls. She held it up, her heart clenching tight. “This was my grandmother’s.”

Drake watched her every move but didn’t make a comment. She carefully laid the veil on the rocking chair and removed an old framed photo of her sitting on Gram’s lap. Her vision wavered, her heart full of happy memories. She placed the frame beside her on the floor and then lifted out a vinyl record album, Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Johnny Mercer Song Book.

A note in her mom’s writing was clipped to the front: Heather’s wedding dance.

Ella Fitzgerald. Good taste, Mom.

She turned the album over to see the song list and found a small gold star sticker next to one song. Heather chuckled and looked up at Drake. “It’s Ella Fitzgerald singing ‘I Remember You.’ She wanted this to be the first dance at my wedding. Way to plan every detail, Mom.” She set the record aside. “She loved Johnny Mercer’s songs. She was so proud that he grew up here in her hometown.”

“He was a funny kid. I did some cabinetry work for his father. Johnny was always singing. He even knew some of the Geechee tunes.” He chuckled, gazing into the darkness. “As soon as he was out of school, he left for New York. Big dreams.”

“You knew the Mercers…” Her words died off as she shook her head. “I forget you’ve lived here for a long time.”

He glanced around the room, maybe uncomfortable with her moment of awe. It had to be strange to have someone know his secret after so many lifetimes.

He cleared his throat. “If there was a record player up here, we could play the song.”

Heather found her music app on her phone and searched for “I Remember You.” She clicked the title, and suddenly Ella’s voice filled the room. She crooned about Tahiti as Heather stood up. This was a silly waste of time. What if the witches attacked him again?

But her doubts trailed off the moment Drake turned her way with a dashing, barely there smile that had her heart thumping in her ears. He bowed, offering her his hand with the other tucked behind his back. Her vision blurred as she blinked back an unexpected wave of emotion. He hadn’t aged a day since that glimpse she’d seen from a past life they’d shared. She stared at his offered hand, aching to take it, and at the same time desperate to run. He would live forever. She would not. Every touch made her want more. She was setting herself up for heartbreak.

A lock of blond hair fell down onto his forehead as he watched her, and her will cracked. She took his hand.

He straightened and pulled her into his arms. For a big guy, he was light on his feet, spinning her into a slow waltz. She wasn’t much of a dancer, but his strong lead made it easy to follow his steps. Being this close to him seemed natural, not awkward or stiff, and his masculine scent intoxicated her as their bodies swayed to the tune.

Ella sang about remembering love, and Heather closed her eyes, her lips curving into a smile as she rested her head against his chest. Drake hummed along, apparently more familiar with the song than she was.

Her mother downplayed the psychic gifts that ran in their maternal bloodline and claimed not to possess any, but Heather had suspected that might not be entirely true. Although her mom didn’t communicate with the dead, she’d always had prophetic dreams.

As Heather danced in Drake’s arms, she caught herself wondering, had her mother seen this moment all those years ago? Had she known Heather would fall in love with a soul she’d known in another lifetime?

No. Don’t fall in love. Enjoy your time with him now, but eventually it will become your enemy. It’ll separate you.

She pushed the warnings away, embracing the melody. This song choice spoke volumes. Later in life, Johnny Mercer had confessed the song was written about his lifelong love affair with Judy Garland. Had they found each other again on the other side? Or were their souls on earth again, searching for a second chance.

Drake dipped her, and Heather opened her eyes, their gazes locked on each other. He brought her back upright, resting his forehead on hers. “I could dance with you all night, but this probably isn’t the protection we were looking for.”

He was

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