Lacey was a bundle of nerves.

She'd done her best to keep busy all day. Hazel taught her how to crochet, knit socks, and build a decent fire in the hearth without burning the house down, but her mind hadn't been on the tasks.

Instead of socks, she'd crocheted a twisted mess. She'd poked herself in the eye with a knitting needle, and she'd burned her fingers trying to use a flint. By the time dusk rolled around, she was wishing she'd just scheduled an early lunch with Matthew and gotten the whole thing over with.

Lacey had never been on a date in her life. She’d never stayed anywhere long enough to get attached to somebody. She’d met plenty of men, even had a few drinks in bars, but relationships were for people who could imagine a future together and she’d never been able to see past tomorrow.

She was standing on the front porch, trying to keep her knees from shaking, waiting for George to bring Big Red around. Hazel was in a low hover, throwing out advice like gumdrops, and Lacey was fighting a strong impulse to run to her room and lock the door.

“Be sure to eat everything on your plate, Lacey,” Hazel counseled. “Men tend to be sensitive about their cookin'."

Lacey’s throat felt so tight, she doubted she’d be able to swallow. "I'll try.”

Hazel beamed and clapped her hands. "Oh, I am so happy for you and Matthew. I knew somethin' would come of that spark between you two. And now, here ya are, havin' dinner together.”

George came crunching around the house through the new snow with Big Red trailing behind him. “Still think she needs a chaperone.”

“George,” Hazel scolded, “they’re not children.”

“Hmph,” George grunted. He patted the animal on the neck and then handed the reins to Lacey. "Try to stay clear of the lake this time," he teased.

Hazel looked as nervous as Lacey felt. “Button that coat up tight, honey,” the woman said. "The last thing we need is you catchin' your death.”

Lacey swung up into Big Red’s saddle.

“Oh, and don't pull away if he tries to kiss ya, Lacey.”

"Clobber him instead," George grumbled.

“George,” Hazel chastised.

Lacey urged Big Red down the snowy road. She didn’t mind having the Martins fussing over her. It felt good to have somebody care for a change.

* * *

Matthew Brady's house was just a mile or so outside of Tranquility, situated at the end of a long drive lined with Douglas Firs. It was a simple box-style, one-story house, with a rambling front porch and a dormer window looking out from the attic. Although it wasn't quite dark yet, two lit lanterns had been hung from the eaves of the porch, and Lacey couldn’t help but feel a little panicked as she stared at the daunting front door.

Matthew had joked about picking up where they’d left off the night before. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been serious. The idea of kissing him again was both thrilling and terrifying and her heart began to pound at the thought of it.

She dismounted and wrapped Big Red's reins around the porch rail. The wind was picking up and she wondered if it was going to snow again. She stepped up onto the porch and was about to knock when, like a scene from an old Hitchcock movie, the front door swung open.

Taking a calming breath, she stepped inside to a modestly decorated living room with a warm fire burning in the hearth. There were candles spread randomly about the room, creating a warm, vibrant atmosphere. The front door closed and she turned to find Matthew Brady standing behind her. She blinked at the passion burning in his eyes.

“Matt—”

He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips. “I can’t wait another second to kiss you again.”

He covered her mouth with a full, passionate kiss that left her reeling. She slipped her arms around his neck and sank into his embrace, marveling at the way her body fit perfectly against his. He held her tighter, kissing her long and deep, until her legs went weak.

Dinner was quickly forgotten.

* * *

Despite Lacey’s determination to prevent it, Matthew Brady had gotten under her skin. She was lying awake in his bed, feeling raw and exposed. What had she done? She was totally wrong for him. He wanted a respectable woman, not a mouthy, pushy, opinionated criminal. He wanted someone like Amanda, the woman he'd intended to marry before she’d opened her mouth and ruined it for him.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She should have never let things get this far between them. The wisest thing for her to do now was get dressed and get out before he woke up and told her to do just that. He was probably feigning sleep, wishing she’d take the hint and leave.

She slid from the bed and gathered up her clothes from the floor. Just an hour ago she’d been filled with an overwhelming passion, and now she’d never felt more empty in her life.

She got dressed in the dark living room where the candles he'd lighted had burned down and the fire in the hearth was smoldering. The sweet smells of the dinner they hadn’t eaten lingered in the air, but she wasn’t hungry for anything except distance between her and the man who’d managed to touch her heart.

The house was eerily quiet as she reached for her coat and opened the door. She wouldn’t look back. She’d learned from a young age how to leave the past behind.

She rode in numbed silence until the Martins' home finally came into view, then reined in Big Red and stared at the house: her shelter; her sanctuary. Inside was everything she'd ever wanted and never had. Now, even those desires frightened her. She'd come to care too much for George and Hazel. Soon she'd have to leave them, too, because nothing on this earth was ever hers to keep. Nothing lasted forever.

She bowed her head, and broke into tears. Her shoulders shook with sobs as she purged her heart into the cold night. She cried until she couldn't breathe.

"That's right, Miss Guarder. Let it all out, my dear.”

Hiccuping, Lacey blinked the moisture from her eyes and saw the angel lady standing nearby.

“Pain is a part of living,” she continued. “It can't hurt you unless you keep it locked inside to let it fester and spoil the soul."

"How can…How can you say that?!” Lacey cried. “This hurts. This pain…h-hurts."

"But it won't destroy you. It will make you stronger, more capable of dealing with heartache in the future."

"I have…no intention of…d-dealing with…heartache in the future," Lacey said between sobs.

“But without heartache, Miss Guarder, there can be no joy. Just like without rain, there can be no flowers.”

Lacey wiped at her face, took a deep, shaky breath, and tried to pull herself together. “I’m so stupid,” she rasped. “I thought I could handle it, thought I could…could be with him just once…”

"You are not stupid," the woman insisted. "The bond between you and Mr. Brady is simply stronger than both of your wills combined. Neither one of you could have resisted the attraction for long, Miss Guarder. What happened tonight was inevitable."

"I should have known better—"

"You are not listening to me,” the woman pressed. “I said it was inevitable. The two of you are matching pieces. Two equal halves of a perfect whole. You were made for each other, my dear.”

Lacey shook her head, not understanding.

"What happened tonight was, and always has been, meant to be. Matthew Brady is your soul mate. Your one true love."

Lacey stared at her in shock. "You…you set me up."

"I beg your pardon?”

"You could have told me who he was and I could have avoided him!” She felt horribly betrayed.

“Exactly. You would have never let things progress naturally between the two of you. Just as you have avoided everything else in life that might cause you emotional distress, you would have avoided Mr. Brady and what he makes you feel."

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me!"

"I am helping you, Miss Guarder."

"What else have you been keeping from me?" Lacey demanded.

The woman hesitated.

Lacey’s heart seized. "Tell me."

"I suppose it’s time you knew." The woman took a deep breath. "The Martins."

Lacey swallowed. "What about them?"

"They have a connection to you, as well.”

Lacey’s chin quivered. “I don't understand.”

“Yes, you do,” the guide replied. “You’ve sensed it from the beginning. You knew them before this existence. You were meant to be born to them here on earth, but were placed with the wrong mother in the wrong century."

New tears filled Lacey’s eyes. In that moment, everything fell into place: the comfortable way she felt around George and Hazel; the respect she'd had for them since the beginning; the love she'd come to feel toward them. The thought of how wonderful her life could have been if only she'd grown up surrounded by their warmth and guidance, brought a newer, deeper ache to her heart.

"They were supposed to be mine?" she whispered.

"And you theirs."

“I’m the child they never had."

"Mistakes were made, Miss Guarder," the woman said gently. "We all make them. The important thing is that we recognize them, forgive ourselves, and then do our best to make up for them.”

"I've never done that," Lacey stated. She suddenly felt so ashamed of how she’d lived her life.

"The Martins love you as if you were their own. And Mr. Brady—"

"Mr. Brady deserves better. So do Hazel and George.”

“You are what’s best for Mr. Brady, Miss Guarder. He is your soul mate. He isn't complete without you."

"But I'm not the person I would have been—should have been—had I been born in the nineteenth century, am I?"

The woman gave her a sad look. "But look how far you come in only the past four days.”

Lacey shook her head. “It's for the best that this ends now."

“If you cannot overcome your fear of being abandoned, Miss Guarder, then you are destined to be alone for the rest of your life.”

For a brief moment, Lacey allowed herself to imagine what it might be like for Matthew Brady to truly love her. It was a warm, glorious feeling that almost made her want to risk the heartache for a chance at happiness. And then the warmth was gone, replaced by a fear that filled her chest and threatened to consume her.

“It’s over," she stated. "My other half doesn't want me."

Before she could start crying again, Lacey gave Big Red a nudge with her heels and sent him toward the Martins’ barn.