“You understand everything I’ve ever gone through,” Jane said as she looked up at Eve from where she was sitting on the porch step. “That’s why I can talk to you when I can’t talk to anyone else.”

Eve was silent a moment. “Not even Mark Trevor?”

Jane shook her head. “It’s too new, just scratching the surface. He makes me pretty dizzy, and that doesn’t help for analyzing a relationship.” She hesitated, thinking about it. “Cira wrote about velvet nights and silver mornings. She was talking about sex, of course, but the silver mornings meant something else to her. I’ve been trying to puzzle it out. A relationship that changed the way she saw everything?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m too hardheaded. It would probably take a long time before I let myself feel like that.”

“A long, long time.” Eve wasn’t sure if she was talking about Jane or her own experiences.

“Maybe it won’t ever happen to me. But Cira was pretty hardheaded herself, and she was the one who told Pia what to look for.”

“Silver mornings…” Eve put her cup down on the railing and sat down on the step beside Jane. “Sounds nice, doesn’t it?” She put her arm around Jane. “Fresh and clean and bright in a dark world. May you find them someday, Jane.”

“I already have them.” She smiled at Eve. “You give one to me every day. When I’m down, you bring me up. When I’m confused, you make everything clear. When I think there’s no love in the world, I remember the years you gave me.”

Eve chuckled. “Somehow I don’t believe that was what Cira was talking about.”

“Maybe not. She never had an Eve Duncan, so she might not have realized that silver mornings aren’t restricted to lovers. They can come from mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers, good friends…” She contentedly put her head on Eve’s shoulder. The breeze was chilly but brought with it the scent of pines and the memory of years past, when she had sat like this with Eve. “Yes, definitely good friends. They can change how you see your world, too.”

“Yes, they can.”

They sat in silence for a long time, gazing out at the lake. Finally, Eve sighed and said, “It’s very late. I suppose we should go in.”

Jane shook her head. “That makes too much sense. I’m tired of being reasonable. It seems all my life I’ve forced myself to be practical and sensible, and I’m not sure I haven’t missed a heck of a lot by not letting in a little whimsy. My roommate, Pat, always told me that if your feet are planted firmly on the ground then you’ll never be able to dance.” She smiled at Eve. “Hell, let’s not go to bed. Let’s wait for the dawn and see if it comes up silver.”

*   *   *

AND THEY HAD STAYED UP all night and talked and exchanged thoughts that had made the bond between them forge new strengths.

Silver mornings …

Jane had never really let that joy she had spoken about become part of her life, and Eve felt a sudden sadness. She had thought for a while Mark Trevor would be able to break through that wariness, but though they had become lovers, that had never happened.

A sudden gust of wind took her breath away. The temperature was dropping, and she had to get to the meager shelter she had made for herself. She increased her pace and didn’t look back at the abyss. At least, that memory of Jane had banished the horror that had seemed to attack her. It had made her think of Jane and love and family. It had reminded her that hope always emerged from despair if you opened the door.

It had reminded her of silver mornings …

Gwinnett Hospital

“IS YOUR FEVER BACK? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Caleb’s voice.

Jane opened her eyes to see him standing over her. “Cold. So cold.”

His hand was on her forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.” His gaze was narrowed on her face. “And you’re not shaking any longer. Are you still cold?”

She shook her head as she struggled to sit up in bed. “I’m not cold. It was Eve … Eve was so cold. And trying to keep from being frightened of him.”

“Who? Doane?”

“No, Kevin, but she seemed to think of them as one person.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “Crazy dream. So real…”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He sat down on the bed. “Sometimes it helps.”

“It was just Eve looking down at a road. She was in the forest, and it was cold. She could see her breath as she ran. She was tired of being cold and knew she had to find a way out.” Jane shuddered. And she, too, had been cold and wanting desperately to find a way to keep that cold away from Eve. “That’s all. It was all jumbled. But it seemed very real.”

“Do you often have stressful dreams?” He smiled. “I promise that any you have about me will be more pleasant.”

“No, I rarely dream.” She said jerkily as she reached for the bottle of water on the bedside table. “I used to have fairly frequent dreams but then she—they stopped coming.”

“She?”

She should have known he’d pick up on that slip. What the hell. It didn’t matter. “When I was about seventeen, I started to have dreams about a woman who lived in ancient Herculaneum. She was an actress, and her name was Cira. They were strange dreams and were almost like a serial unfolding about her life and her lover.” She took a swallow of water. “They were so real, it was driving me crazy, and I decided to go find out if she actually existed.”

“And did she?”

“Yes. She was the one who wrote in a letter to her sister about silver mornings.”

“Fascinating. And so unlike you to go investigate a dream image. You’re the most stubborn realist I’ve ever met. Did it shock you to find that there was no sensible explanation?”

“There could have been a practical, scientific explanation.” She took another drink of water. “There were statues of her, and they looked like me. Since I couldn’t trace my own ancestors, someone suggested that it could have been a racial ancestral memory.”

“That’s a reach.”

“So were the dreams.”

“And you preferred to latch onto an explanation you could comfortably accept.”

“Maybe.” She finished the water and put the bottle back on the nightstand. “Turn out the light. I’m okay now.”

“Not yet. I want to explore this a little further. I’m intrigued at seeing this side of you.”

“You mean you’re intrigued at the idea I could be a little weird, like you?” She shook her head. “I admit that those dreams when I was younger were strange and disturbing, but I haven’t had one like that in years.”

“Not even tonight?”

Yes, that dream of Eve had been like the dreams of Cira. The clarity, the realism, the sense of being there with her. “Perhaps. Look, Eve believes in all that kind of stuff. I respect her, but she’s not me. It was a dream, Caleb. Drop it.”

“After I ask you a few questions. When you were searching for answers to Cira’s story, did you find some of those answers because of what you dreamed about Cira?”

She was silent. “Yes.”

“You didn’t want to admit that.”

“As I told you, possible racial ancestral memory.”

“The dreams were very detailed?”

“Most of the time.”

“Interesting. Could you remember the details of your dream about Eve?”

“Probably. If I tried.”

“Why don’t you try?”

“What?”

“It couldn’t hurt, could it?” He opened the drawer of the nightstand and took out a yellow pad and pen. “Describe the surroundings, what Eve was looking at, what she was thinking, anything you can remember.”

“Why?”

“Details. It worked once, didn’t it? You found the answers to Cira. You might be able to find where Eve is right now.”

“It was a dream, dammit.”

Caleb merely looked at her.

“And I wouldn’t have any racial or ancestral memory with Eve. I’m adopted.”

“But you have a connection with her whose power could supersede any vague ancestral memory like the one you’re describing.” He added softly, “Faith can move mountains. Love can move mountains. Maybe there’s a reason you started to think about silver mornings.”