Page 91 of We'll Meet Again

She choked out a sob and held the letter close to her heart, hoping beyond all hope that these were not his last words to her. She had already lost so much. She couldn’t lose him too.

Billie sucked in a breath and sat straight up in bed. Chest heaving, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked around. Through the dark, she could still make out her bedroom. She was not in a field somewhere in the countryside. She was safe at home. It was not winter, but spring, summer on the horizon. She was no one’s wife, but Ethan’s girlfriend. All facts she had to tell herself three or four times before she started to believe them.

Her heart still pounded. The dream felt so real. She had been looking through the eyes of someone she couldn’t possibly know, and yet they didn’t feel like a stranger’s…they felt like hers. She shook her head. No way. It wasn’t possible. It defied all logic.

Although she had to admit, since Ethan came barreling into her life, these visions and dreams had only gotten more insistent and clear, refusing to be ignored. The dream with the letter was gone, but replaced by things like this. And this one was the most vivid of all.

She wanted to talk to him about it, as Betty suggested. They had discussed dreams before, after all, and he’d been wonderfully understanding. But every time she thought about bringing it up, she was less convinced it was a good idea. If Ethan was also having these experiences, did that necessarily mean what he and Billie were seeing was the same thing? Sure, theyfelttied together, but feelings weren’t facts. What if, in spite of all of it, they weren’t connected and it meant they needed to seek out something else? Something other than each other?

She certainly wasn’t going to fall back asleep after having that thought. Wrapping her dressing gown around her, she stepped into her slippers and headed for the kitchen. When the mind was troubled, there was nothing for it but a cup of tea, at least according to her mother.

When she entered the kitchen, she saw she wasn’t alone; Tessa was there already, humming as the kettle warmed up.

“You’re the best, Tessa.”

Tessa did a double take as she glanced up. “Ach, you startled me! Tea, Bills?”

“Yes, please.”

Billie took a seat while Tessa retrieved a second cup from the cabinet. She stole a glance at the clock, which told her it was nearly two in the morning.

“What’s woken you up?” Billie asked.

“I haven’t even been to bed yet,” Tessa answered with a sigh. “This article’s giving me some trouble, and I’m on a deadline.” She looked around. “Where’s Ethan tonight?”

“His place,” Billie said. “Since he’s got the final tomorrow, we agreed it was best to sleep apart so he can get plenty of rest.”

Tessa shook her head. “Hard to believe the FA Cup final’s already here.”

“I know. I hope he is actually sleeping and not just worrying himself to death.”

“Is that what’s keeping you up?”

Billie shook her head and dropped her gaze to her lap. “No.”

Tessa put their cups of tea on the table and took a seat across from Billie. “What is it then?”

“I…” Billie trailed off. “I had a dream.”

“A sex dream?”

“No!”

“Ach, fair point, if that were the case you’d still be in your room, not out here with me.”

“Tessa.”

“Sorry.” Tessa paused and got up to get biscuits from the pantry. They were Billie’s favorite, with chocolate coating on top. “D’you want to tell me about it?”

Billie watched the tea as it steeped, turning the water a golden brown as white steam floated out the top. She’d lost track of the number of times she went through this routine with her mother when she first started having the dreams about the letter. Though she was certain it was not the letter she - or whoever that was - held in the dream she’d had tonight. That letter brought hope, not grief. But how did she know that?

She took a cookie. “It was really odd.”

“My favorite kind,” Tessa said.

Billie explained it to her from the beginning, sparing no details. Tessa listened without interrupting, only nodding here and there when Billie stopped to sip her tea. When she finished, Tessa looked thoughtfully at the biscuit in her hand.

“That is peculiar,” she said. “And it’s not one you’ve ever had before?”

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