Page 148 of Memory and Desire
"Yes." He reached up, stroking back a tendril of hair from her cheek.
She was so beautiful—this woman, his wife, the mother of his child.
He didn't know what she wanted or needed to hear. He only knew what he felt each time he looked at her, that they had been together before, lost each other, and then found each other again. Being with her was like coming home.
How many times? He didn't know. He only knew that it was true, that when he left this life, he would find her again in the next one.
His obsession with Felicia Barrington was ended, quite simply because he knew that shewasFelicia. It came in small moments—the turn of her head, a certain smile, a look that was for him alone. It was undoubtedly what had drawn him to her that first time so many months ago in London. She had been waiting for him then.
"I'm not a religious man," he tried to explain. "I never felt the need for it. I still don't. And there are so many things I may never understand. But I know that there's something stronger than life and death, something that goes on and keeps two people together."
He brushed his lips across hers. "I've always loved you. I love you today, I'll love you tomorrow, and forever."
Her eyes were wet with tears as she laid her head against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart. The arms around her, the strong hands caressing her, were from her dream and now they were real. She'd found him again. He'd come back to her.
"Look!" she said, pointing across the garden that Alex Barrington had planted years before.
There, bright and luminous in the evening lit by the moon and stars, the white roses of Resolute bloomed among the red, fulfilling a promise from that other lifetime.
"The red rose is for passion. The white rose is my promise that my love is forever."
