His words had her spellbound. Like a movie, the scene played in her mind. Suddenly, a wooden door appeared with brass lettering that spelled out C-26. Always the gentleman, Isidore held her hand and turned the handle, opening the door. She didn't know how she knew this, but they had returned from the deck above. A seat in a lifeboat was no longer an option. Suddenly, she knew where she was, and her heart raced, knowing that she faced tragedy.
The realization made her gasp, but her husband led her inside. Patting the top of the mattress with his hand, she followed him onto the bed. She could hear music, slow and sad. She shivered as she saw the image clearer. How was it possible that she was seeing herself? It was the two of them—Dash and her—lying side by side.
They were cold.
So cold.
Skylar felt like she was floating above the couple as she drifted in the dreamlike state. Tiny waves splashed against the bed. There were items from a bedside table bobbing atop the water. Sky's gaze traveled the room, and somehow, she knew the circumstance of the couple. Instead of feeling fear, she felt secure.
Was she dead?
She stared at the man, noting the rise and fall of his chest. He, too, wore a heavy coat. Some type of wool, perhaps. When she went to reach out to touch his face, her fingers brushed the woman instead. Suddenly, she was transported, no longer floating but inside the woman's body.
For a fraction of a moment, she felt the woman's pain. Her body was stiff, the frigid temperature registering as it had its impact on fragile muscle and bone. But just as quickly as she’d taken possession inside the woman's skin, she was once again transported, vacating the human shell. It was as if Skylar were present in the moment only to prove its existence.
Strong arms held her tightly, though a moment ago, she could barely feel anything at all. For a third time, her consciousness drifted. This time she knew that Dash was Izzy, and he was with her. Together they held hands as they watched the scene below. The woman's hair had loosened from the vintage-style bun she wore. It brushed the collar of her coat. A loud, creaking sound, followed by an earth-shattering crack, split the air, and Skylar jumped.
"Oh, Izzy. I'm scared!"
The man looked at the woman, terror and adoration mixing in his desperate eyes. “My darling, Abigail.”
Skylar tried to calm herself, taking in the scenes of the dream—except it wasn’t a dream. The door to the cabin flew open as a rush of water joined with what had previously seeped beneath it. It banged against the wall, the force of the sea now showing its might. Anything loose was now adrift in the forceful wave caps.
Sky slammed her eyes shut, squeezing Dash's hand as tightly as her waning strength would allow. The woman screamed.
"Izzy!"
“Don’t be afraid, Abby. I’m here.”
Though his tone was comforting, Skylar screamed and gasped as her hands flew to her throat, desperate for air–and then she remembered. She remembered the ship and the cold. She remembered clinging to him as she took her last breath, his arms nearly frozen but yet tightly wrapped around her.
And then, suddenly, all that was left was peace.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. Even though she could see clearly, she knew that she was still within the confines of her dream and memories. Caught between two lifetimes.
No longer on a ship, her feet were on solid ground. She was seated. In a large room, surrounded by darkness, a spotlight flashed and startled her. She held the arms of a chair in a death grip. Slowly moving her hand, she detected the cold feel of raised metal beneath her fingers. She lifted her right hand, looking down at the imprint.
C-26.
The instant of clarity stole her breath but she couldn’t shake herself awake. Her eyes snapped ahead to take in the scene when an image appeared. A halo formed behind a person on a stage, created by the addition of another light. Blue this time.
She heard music.
A lone guitar.
A man with the warmth of the sun in his beautiful brown eyes appeared, his fingertips tenderly strumming against strings. As her confusion cleared, she saw a lifetime of love in his expression.
Dash!
Skylar’s eyes flew open. She struggled, desperately sucking oxygen into her lungs. “Oh, my God! How is this possible?” She tried to push away from the bed, but couldn’t.
"Look at me." Dash was awake, holding her arms with a tight grip. His tone was more demanding than her confusion, cutting through her fear. With shaking hands, she sat up, freeing herself from him as confusion and clarity swam through her mind. His eyes met hers, a sad but satisfied smile on his lips.
Sky trembled. Her voice cracked beneath the weight of possibilities, the memory of living another life tumbling down upon her. “I’m Abigail, but I don't understand." Her voice was a sob.
Dash met her gaze. She cupped his face with shaky hands, her eyes locked with his as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“You don’t have to, my dear one. All that matters is that we have these few precious moments. Wouldn’t you agree, my sweet Abby girl?”
She did.
She flung herself at him. Desperately, she pressed her lips to his mouth. This was no tender act. This connection was powerful. Despite his spasming muscles and her shaking, it blistered through the two worlds that had divided them. Their flesh to flesh searing was powerful. As they joined together, their passion and heat melded their souls together once again. Never again could such a simple act as a kiss be underestimated. The invincibility caused by the contact was undefined, yet potent enough to send a ripple through the universe by way of rebranding two souls, each to the other.
Dash’s arms tightened around her. “Never forget, I will always love you.” He pulled her body to his, holding onto her as if the whole world was ending. “And I will, always, find you.”
Epilogue
Death claimed Dash.
News vans waited near the private ceremony, journalists waiting patiently to see if they could get her to make a statement. There would be none today. She was without words. An empty shell. In time she would be able to scratch her scars with the keys on her laptop and bleed her heart onto the page. The world needed love stories, no matter how tragic they might be.
Once Skylar spoke to Dash as Izzy, the disease ravaged his mind and body. He spent the remainder of his days staring blankly out at the water. She was at peace that she was able to help him realize his dream of having a home by the sea. It was where he held her hand as he took his final breath.
For a second time.
She tossed away the thought. Though her curiosity was piqued to learn more of Abigail and Izzy’s life together, for now, she would be content to put one foot in front of the other as she walked the path of grief.
After the reverend had finished with ceremonial prayers, Skylar stayed behind at the cemetery. She stared at the casket that held what remained of her husband. She knew he wasn't there. No box could contain the essence of a man who was larger than life itself. The man she’d fallen in love with. For whatever remained of her life, this one fact would ring constant: Dash Barrows had made an indelible mark on her soul. Their meeting was the definition of a happy accident. Loving Dash had changed her life, but, then, isn't that the crux of all love stories? How the transforming power of giving away one's soul leaves a remnant of hope when they're gone?
Though she could find many words to describe her love for Dash, there was only one to express her feelings at his passing.
Lost.
Skylar’s eyes were nearly swollen shut, the result of too many fallen tears. Her heart begged for this not to be real and she was sure that not a day would pass when she wouldn't think about him. His laugh. His smile. His eyes. How he knitted his brows together when she had an explosive thought for her next book. She would give anything to sit quietly by and listen one more time as he lost himself in a melody. Just one more look at him as his fingers moved on the neck of his guitar. Dash hadn't been the only one to lose himself to his disease; it
had claimed her as well.
She dabbed at her eyes and nose with a tissue, aware the concealer she'd applied to cover the red and dark circles was long gone. Mascara and lipstick couldn't hide heartache. Sorrow had a face of its own.
"Sky."
She turned at the sound of her name and met Ian's gaze. Sorrow was also evident in his expression. He looked as bad as she felt. She was happy they’d smoothed out their differences. She had no energy for an argument today. Ian had lost as much as she, perhaps even more. She wasn't weighed down with regret, but she had no doubt Ian was afflicted with that disease. He bore the stripes of too many missed opportunities to be a real friend to Dash. No, she would never suffer his distress, but Ian would be tortured forever.
As he timidly approached her, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue box wrapped with white silk ribbon. He held it out to her. "This is for you. It's from Dash."
Her gaze dropped to the ground. Specs of crumbled dirt dotted the thick grass. Of course, Dash would have his last word. Alzheimer's might have taken his thoughts and words captive, but it could never take away his ways of expressing his love for her. A comforting hand touched her shoulder.
"Go on. Take it." He placed the box on her lap. "This goes with it." Ian set a small envelope, yellowed and weathered with age, on her lap as well. Skylar picked up the box as a sob shuddered through her. She choked it down, her eyes staying on Ian for only a moment before she tugged at the satin bow.
"After that first concert, Dash couldn't stop talking about you to the boys and me. We’d gone to New York to meet with the lawyers. When we were done, I wanted to go to a bar, but Dash insisted that we go to Tiffany." His voice lowered as his chin dropped, grief delivering another blow to Ian's regrets. "I made fun of him when he dragged me into that damn store, but you know Dash, when he's got his mind set on something . . ."
Sky rolled the ribbon around two fingers, creating a loop. She sat it off to the side before taking off the lid. She stared at Ian for a moment, uncertain she wanted to share the moment.
"The salesman said that a note came with the gift. I never read it, but Dash seemed to like it. He folded it up and said that he was going to give it to you after you got married. I guess that's why I didn't like you at first. Dash was never the party boy I hoped he would be. I was always trying to get him to hang out with me, but, you know, he was the serious type. Anyway, I found it when I was cleaning out his things from the tour bus. I guess he must have forgotten he’d left it there."
He nervously shuffled his feet, taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one up. He sucked in a long drag, exhaling as he continued. "That was it, Skylar. It never really had anything to do with you. Dash never acted like that for another woman, but for you . . . well, I guess I felt threatened by you. I tried to tell him he was crazy to be so serious about someone he'd just met, but Dash was having none of it. He snapped. Told me to keep my bullshit opinions to myself. Caught me off guard, it did. He'd never done that before, especially because of a chick. I was pissed, and I blamed you for it. I'm ashamed to say I tried to pull you two apart. Clearly, I was wrong."
"Thank you." Her words were barely audible, but Ian heard them. He nodded as a weak smile briefly hooked the corners of his mouth.
He leaned over, placed a light kiss on her cheek, and then stood. "I'll leave you to it then."
She watched as Ian walked back to his car and then turned her eyes once again toward the casket as she opened the box. "What did you do, Dash?" As she removed the velvet box inside, her hands trembled. She opened the hinged lid. Inside was a beautiful pendant. As she took it out, the long chain dangled. She pinched the piece at its neck, the gold chain a brilliant contrast to her black dress. She turned it over.
"To my timeless love."
The inscription was engraved in delicate letters. Using a fingernail, she popped open the piece. One side was a watch. The other held a miniature portrait of a couple. The same couple she’d seen in her dream.
A sob wracked her body as her hand flew to her mouth. She dropped her hand, holding the jewelry on her lap as fresh tears soaked her cheeks. The front bore a starburst design. The tip of each uneven ray held tiny chipped diamonds. It was simply too beautiful for words.
Through her tears, a smile tugged her lips. The thought of Dash wanting to give her something so unique at so early a time in their relationship filled her heart on a day when it was broken.
For the hundredth time today, she wiped her eyes before putting the tissue in her pocket. She turned the envelope over. The paper inside was so old that a crackling sound broke the silence as she carefully unfolded it. When she read the first line, the words stole her breath.
"My dearest Abigail,"
On this special occasion, I wanted to commemorate the event with a timeless piece for your collection. Inside, you will find a miniature portrait of us taken on the day of our wedding. I don't know if I have ever expressed how smitten I was with you. Even now, though decorum would have me behave otherwise, I am as hopelessly in love with you as I was on that day. I was merely a child when we married, as were you. I am still that boy, madly in love with the woman who has made my life complete. Of course, my darling, that is you.
I hope that you like this gift. Perhaps this will one day become an heirloom, a symbol of a love well lived. I hope that many years from now, the lucky recipient of this piece will remember us fondly. It is one of a kind, the same as my love for you. For now, I would be honored if you would wear this token of my affection. If ever you find yourself wondering what place you hold in our busy lives, look no further than the end of the chain around your neck, and it will remind you. You are my first thought in the morning and my last thought before I sleep, and even then, my precious wife, you are in my dreams. I loved you then. I love you now. I will love you forever. I promise; no matter where I am, I will always find my way back to you.
Your faithful servant,
And loving husband,
Izzy
The End
To My Readers ~
I would be remiss if I didn’t say “thank you” to those of you who have been patient for my stories. Your cards and emails continue to encourage and inspire me. I hope to entertain you with my novels for many years to come.
Hugs,
D.D.
Xoxo
About the Author
From an early age, Author D.D. Lorenzo was more an empath than she liked. Once she discovered writing, she realized that tender spirit was a gift. Sensing the emotional connections between family and friends, she wrote her first story when she was six years old. The gift continued into adulthood, and with the encouragement of a few New York Times Bestselling Authors, she took a leap of faith and published. With each day, she aspires to be a better storyteller than she was the day before. In her spare time, she loves sinking her toes in the warm sands that border a crystal blue ocean or a peaceful lake. Her tastes are varied and eclectic, inviting you to converse with her about almost any topic. There are only two things she doesn’t like; judgmental people and okra.
D.D. Lorenzo is a respected author of compelling love stories. When she isn’t consuming copious amounts of coffee and writing, she enjoys her family, including one fluffy dog and two snuggly cats.
Also by D.D. Lorenzo
The Imperfection Series
No Perfect Man
No Perfect Time
No Perfect Couple
No Perfect Secret
No Perfect Bitch
Coming Soon
The Jagged Edge of Roses
For more information about upcoming D.D. Lorenzo stories, sign up for her newsletter.
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