I was standing on my balcony, leaning on the railing, looking at the trees and water below me. It was that fleeting time of day where it wasn’t quite daytime and wasn’t quite dusk, but you could feel the change in the air. It was misting so heavily it was almost drizzling.

I thought I saw someone at the water’s edge. A slight form dressed in white. It wasn’t a child, but they almost looked too small to be an adult. I watched as they leaned over to touch the water.

They must have lost their balance because all of a sudden, they began to slip. It was so hard to see though, I didn’t trust my eyes, but I leaned forward and started shouting, shouting until my voice was hoarse. I pushed myself away from the balcony edge so I could run down and help.

In my haste, I tripped. Next thing I knew, I was falling over the edge of the balcony. I opened my mouth to scream, but I had no voice left, even if I could get a sound to make it past the absolute terror paralyzing me.

I flailed my arms.

I tried to remember what lay directly beneath the part of the balcony I had fallen over. Was it soft grass or was I destined to leave a broken body on the paver stones below? Just as I thought the ground was upon me, I was caught up quick and tight. I opened my eyes and cautiously looked around to see what had been my salvation.

The first thing I made eye contact with was a beautiful, expressive pair of green eyes. I gasped as butterflies rioted in my stomach at the same time this intense feeling of comfort came over me. I was tucked firmly in the man’s arms, and he was holding me like he was about to carry me over the threshold. I breathed in deeply, leaned my head back slightly, and took in his face.

It was the same man who had been in the dream I had before. It all finally clicked in my head, though my body had been clued into this fact the minute he touched me. I somehow knew this man, intimately and soul-deep.

Before I could move or say anything, he leaned his head toward mine and whispered in my ear in an impossibly deep, soothing voice, “I’ve got you. You’re here with me now.”

The man pulled back and I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, his lips were only a breath away from mine, and my insides swooped and freefell, as though I was on a roller coaster.

Just as our lips made light contact, I jerked awake.

I placed my hand on my heaving chest as I tried to get my breathing to calm down. I didn’t know how a dream could affect me this way, but it was becoming a frequent occurrence since moving to the island.

Some nights I had no recollection of the details, but the vivid, stirring emotions took hours to dissipate. The few I did remember were all different, but this same man always appeared.

Dan stirred beside me, stretching and groaning.

“Everything okay, babe?” he mumbled in his gravely, sleep-filled voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. It was just a dream.”

“Then come here.”

I lay back down and let him pull my back to his front, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist. He fell back asleep pretty much instantaneously, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t shake the feeling the dream brought out.

After over an hour of tossing and turning, I decided to get up and do something to try to distract myself. I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea and grabbed my notebook and pencil. I curled up in the comfy armchair and stared outside.

It was so dark and misty I couldn’t see anything. I doodled and drank my tea, trying to think of something, anything other than the dream.

I closed my eyes, resting my head on the back of the chair. My thoughts drifted to the things Jos and I had discussed, the other things bothering me.

Something had to change. I needed to change. Somehow, I’d allowed myself to become a hermit up here on this hill. I had to start getting out, exploring, making friends.

A couple of months was more than enough time to get adjusted to a new place. Now it was time to start living. I decided that in the morning I would venture out and explore the island more.

I finally felt my body start to relax when a slight breeze moved past me, even though all the doors and windows were closed. Then came the sensation of fingertips brushing over my hand, followed closely by that scent.

Before I could stop myself, I inhaled deeply. I really loved that damn smell. The sensation that someone was standing close to me, watching me? Yeah, I did not enjoy the feeling. Dan’s joke about it being a ghost and being haunted slammed right back in my mind.

“Hello?” I called out in almost a whisper. “Is anyone there?”

There was no response. I looked through all the windows in the room to see if I could see anyone or anything out there. Nothing. The scent was already starting to dissipate.

“I’m seriously losing it, aren’t I? Talking to ghosts.” I laughed to myself, shaking my head. I decided to head back to bed.

As my foot hit the first stair, the scent washed back over me with renewed strength, and again something whispered across the palm of my hand and down my fingers. I shivered, my skin instantly covered in goose bumps.

“Hello?”

Again, I got no response, so I headed the rest of the way upstairs. I usually only bought into logic. Try as I might, I could not seem to find a reasonable explanation for any of this that made sense and felt right in my heart.

But ghosts? There was no way. I know some people believed they existed, but I was not one of them. No, there was obviously some explanation I was missing right now, but I was certain it would come to me eventually.

This day was already making me its bitch.

I couldn’t stop the thought from going through my head as I dragged my body downstairs and into the kitchen. I considered turning around and heading right back to bed. I had missed too much sleep the night before and ended up sleeping in, causing me to miss watching Dan get ready for work.

It had become a nice morning ritual I loved and needed since it was really the only time we got to spend together now. His work had picked up, not slowed down.

The project was a couple of months in, and the planning phase would be complete this week. I hoped it meant he would be around a little more, but if experience had taught me anything, especially recently, I knew not to get my hopes up too much.

I made my way down to the coffee pot knowing today called for something stronger than my usual tea. There was a note right next to the pot from Dan, letting me know he hoped I got to sleep in, and that he loved and missed me. I smiled as I traced my fingertips along his bold, clear writing.

I went about making my coffee, had breakfast standing at the counter flipping through a magazine, and turned back to grab the note from Dan. I had a box I kept little things like this in.

For some reason, the note wasn’t next to the coffee pot where I had left it, and I spent the next fifteen minutes tearing the kitchen apart trying to find it. It was gone, had disappeared into thin air. I was a little sad about it but figured it would turn up later, and even if it didn’t, it wasn’t the biggest deal.

Until I found it in my notebook at the coffee shop.

“How was your day, babe?” Dan headed to the couch with our beers while I trailed him with our dinner plates.

“It was great. I got out of the house and I really like it here so far. Strangely enough, it kinda already feels like home.”

I paused to take a bite and shrugged, then looked up and smiled at him. Dan returned the smile and we both sat in slightly awkward silence as we ate our dinners. I suddenly remembered the note from earlier.

“Sweetie, I saw your note this morning. Did you happen to write two of them?” I asked, aware as it came out of my mouth how silly it sounded.

“Two notes? You mean two different ones? Are you talking about the note I left near the coffee pot this morning?”

“Yeah. But no, I mean two of the same.”

I could tell by his questions he had not, in fact, written more than one version of the note.

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. I saw the one you left at the coffee pot but it was gone when I went to put it away a few minutes later.”

“Okay, but I don’t get why that would make you think I wrote two of the same note, Ros.”

I bit back my exasperation, knowing it wouldn’t get us anywhere. “Because I tore up the kitchen looking for it with no luck. Then I found it tucked in a notebook I hadn’t even touched this morning when I was at the coffee shop!”

I’d done a terrible job of hiding my frustration, which was reinforced by the incredulous quirk of Dan’s eyebrow.

The more I tried to explain, the more confused I became. If he hadn’t written two of them and I hadn’t moved the note, I had no idea how it had ended up in the notebook.

“Strange. I don’t know, babe. I only wrote the one.”

“Hmmm. I guess it’s not important. How was your day? Any new developments on the project?” I was eager to change the subject and get the focus off of me.

“We’re having some issues and I’ve been spending more time at the island facility during the day. If we’re going to fix this without falling behind, it’s going to take some long days and me staying overnight just makes more sense.”

He continued to talk and tell me what little he could, but I found myself drifting off, trying not to drown in the frustration and discontent surging inside me. I knew this was his career, and while I would never interfere, with each setback it became harder to believe him when he said that our marriage came first.

Two days later I woke up alone again. This was quickly becoming routine, and I hated it. I missed watching him get ready in the morning. I missed the intimacy of the sweet, small shared moments.

The loss of what I had started getting used to left me feeling lonely and sad. As I began getting ready for the day, considering what I wanted to do, I padded down to the kitchen.

I found a pencil with a book lying open on the island next to it. I leaned over to see what it was. An underlined quote instantly jumped out at me off the page: “I wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul.”

An unexpected shiver ran down my spine. I’d never read A Tale of Two Cities, but I couldn’t help but believe its placement here and on that page was deliberate.

As much as I would have loved to assume it was Dan who left the message, it wasn’t likely. He wasn’t big into the classics. Or reading. I shot him a text anyway.

I waited a few minutes for his response, and when it didn’t come right away, I set to brewing my coffee and pulling together breakfast. I rechecked my phone ten minutes later to find he had replied.

Exactly what I thought. But if not him, then who? How?

This was crazy. Books didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They didn’t just move on their own. Neither did notes. Or really, any of the other random objects I had noticed in different places than where I had left them.

The jewelry, my phone, the TV remote control, my wallet. All things I’d chalked up to either Dan or me moving without realizing it. But the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed. I found myself searching for an explanation. Something rational, logical. I came up empty. It was getting weird, and I was frustrated there were no answers to be found. I didn’t mind mysteries, but I was notoriously impatient for answers to them.

My conversation with Josie came roaring back.

Ghost.

She was a lot more open-minded about supernatural, paranormal, and inexplicable things than I was, but she didn’t really believe this was a ghost, right?

I thought back to how strange I’d been feeling since moving into the house. The feeling of being watched, the scent that would come and go, the feeling of a breath or touch on my skin when I was alone, hearing whispered words I couldn’t quite make out, objects being moved.

I could totally see how a more superstitious person would believe it was a ghost. I just couldn’t believe it. I loved a good ghost story as much as the next girl, but this didn’t feel the way I pictured a haunting would. Plus, if the house were haunted, wouldn’t Dan be experiencing things too when he was around?

So I was back at page one. Back to searching for rational ideas or explanations for what was becoming increasingly illogical and inexplicable.