Prologue

“What brings you in today, Tessa?”

Tessa eyed the woman with a quirked brow. This room wasn’t right—there were no bohemian tapestries, no crystal balls, no lingering smell of incense. The house smelled of lemon furniture polish. This woman didn’t look the part either. Tessa braced herself for a turban, perhaps, and rings on every finger with bangles that jingled around her wrists. But no, this woman, Lila, donned a crisp white button down and mum jeans with penny loafers. Her brown hair, streaked with some gray, hung in a plait over her shoulder with a ribbon tying it off. Her only eccentricity was a pair of large glasses with a whimsical floral pattern on the frames. All of it was friendly enough.

“You don’t look like a psychic,” Tessa said.

“That’s because I’m not a psychic.” Lila’s mouth turned up into an amused smile. “I’m a past life regressionist.”

“And the difference is?”

“The difference is in where we look. Psychics, in whichever practice, be it tarot or palm or what have you, most of them are looking into your future. Usually to help you with a decision, or give you comfort about what’s coming. I’m here to help you uncover your past. Which unfortunately, you can do nothing about. Though it can help you understand yourself.”

Tessa let that percolate, still unsure if she was doing the right thing. But after seeing not one, but two friends find their soulmates from a past life, she had questions of her own.

“How does it work?” she asked.

“Have a seat, and I’ll explain everything,” Lila replied, gesturing to the plush gray couch against the back wall of her pristine sitting room.

Tessa hardly realized she was still standing. She took a hesitant step, wondering if she should drop this whole thing. She had Jamie in mind when she booked this appointment and. . . it hadn’t worked out for them. For good reasons. Did it really matter if she found out they’d known each other in a past life? What difference would it make? Inexplicably, she took a seat on the couch.

She glanced around at the family photos placed sparsely throughout the surfaces of the room—a couple on the wall, one on the mantel, two on the end table. Otherwise the room was all whites and beiges.

“I never thought a psychic would be such a minimalist.”

“Again, not a psychic,” Lila said, and sat in a brown leather chair that was catty-cornered to the sofa. She crossed her legs and folded her hands into her lap. “Now, why don’t you tell me what brings you here today?”

“Well. . . my friends have recently had some. . . past life experiences,” Tessa began, being intentionally vague, but Lila only nodded. “And it’s made me curious about my own.”

“I see,” Lila said. “Did they see someone about their experiences?”

“No, they just sort of. . . revealed themselves to them. Through objects and shit. I mean—stuff. Sorry.”

Lila shot her another amused grin. “No need to apologize. It’s best if you are your most authentic self in this space.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Tessa sighed, and let her shoulders drop.

“That’s more like it. Now, my next question. Have you ever had a past life experience before?”

Tessa pondered that. She remembered Billie telling her about dreams and visions she had when she met Ethan, her now-husband. And as mad as Tessa found it at the time, she could relate. She just hadn’t known anything like that since Jamie.

She cleared her throat. “I think so? Not knowing if they were real made me squash down anything.” She paused for a beat. “Plus, I’m Catholic. If my ma knew I was even thinking about seeing a psychic, she’d fucking wipe me out.”

“Still not a psychic, but I think I get the general idea,” Lila said. “You’d had suspicions, but ignored them because of your upbringing. You weren’t compelled to explore in earnest until you saw what happened with your friends. Is that correct?”

Tessa swallowed. “Aye, I’d say that’s the truth of it.”

“Excellent, let’s begin.”

She had Tessa lie down on the couch and close her eyes.

“Now, Tessa, I want you to take several deep breaths,” Lila instructed in a dreamy voice. The kind used by yoga instructors and dishonest gynecologists. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. And with each exhale, let your muscles relax. Let your body sink into the cushions, whilst your mind sinks into the farthest reaches of your soul. Forget any troubles you have in this life and allow your past to come forward. Whatever you see, let it form. Recognize the things around you. . . ”

Tessa let her body go leaden as the brightness of Lila’s lamps disappeared behind her eyelids. Her vision grew darker and darker. Lila’s voice faded in her ears. Replaced by the sound of. . . waves?

She opened her eyes and glanced around. It was still dark except for the moonlight above and the lanterns hanging here and there. The salty smell of the sea wafted up from below her, and Tessa gazed out at the immense, inky black of the ocean. She took a step, and realized she stood on the wooden deck of a ship, which rocked beneath her feet. She was also in a dress unlike anything she’d ever worn before, most notably the long skirt and corset.

“Verity!”

She turned her head and saw the familiar face. Angular jaw; rounded, mousy nose; and even in the blinking starlight, the unmistakable blue eyes. Her brown hair was plaited and strewn over one shoulder. She wore a gown, with a slew of petticoats giving the illusion of much wider hips than she had, and much more expensive than the attire of her counterpart.

“Abigail.” Tessa felt her mouth move and heard her own voice, but didn’t recognize the name. She didn’t question it, though.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jamie/Abigail said. “But I thought one of the watchmen spotted me, so I hid myself away until I was certain he was gone.”

“It’s alright, you’re here now.” They clasped hands. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. If we made it to Jamestown, there would be no way for us to—”

The ship groaned as it crested over a wave, and the women clung to each other as it righted itself. Abigail held Verity’s gaze firmly.

“The men have bought and paid for us to be their wives. There would be no way for us to be together.” She reached up and cupped Verity’s cheek. “I would rather depart this world together than face a lifetime apart.”

Verity blinked. A tear rolled down her cheek, but Abigail wiped it away. Hands firmly together, they stepped up to the side of the ship, climbing to stand on the edge. When it lurched again, they held onto a rope hanging above them from the mast. Abigail squeezed her hand.

“One last kiss?” she asked.

Verity yanked her in and captured her lips, swaying to keep their balance as the ocean breeze whipped around their skirts.

“I love you,” Verity whispered.

Abigail replied with a watery smile.

With one final nod, they stepped off together and plunged into the abyss.

“Tessa?”

Lila’s voice sounded as if it was coming from across a football pitch. Tessa couldn’t find her voice with the goose egg-sized lump in her throat.

“Tessa, I see some turmoil on your face. We can stop here, or we can continue after a moment.”

“I’m alright,” Tessa croaked out, without opening her eyes. “I want to go on.” After a beat, she asked, “Am I meant to be telling you everything I see?”

“Only if you’re comfortable. I’m just here to guide you.” Lila cleared her throat. “Take a few more deep breaths for me and let the images come forward again. Allow them to be familiar. Allow yourself to step back in time. . . ”

Tessa let out a long exhale as she walked through the hallway of a mansion. The place was eerily quiet as she made her way downstairs. In the foyer beneath the grand chandelier, the other servants were gathered, heads together and speaking hushed voices. The housekeeper, Mrs. Posner, whirled around at the sound of approaching steps.

“Aisling!” she cried, eyes on Tessa. “I thought for sure they would take you with them!”

Aisling/Tessa’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“The family’s gone,” one of the footmen chimed in. “Took off this morning with nothing but a few trunks.”

Her heart dropped to her knees. She stepped back and clutched onto the railing to stay upright, images of Kitty and their time together surging to the front of her mind. That sweet, perfect smile, sparkling blue eyes, her soft brown hair that Aisling never minded being in her face when she held her at night.

“It. . . it can’t be. . . ” she said shakily. “She—I mean, they wouldn’t!”

Mrs. Posner shook her head. “The master knew the Revolution was coming this way, but I never believed they would abandon us all.”

“Even the governess,” the footman said with a disdainful nod in Aisling’s direction, but she wasn’t paying attention.

It wasn’t possible. Kitty had spoken words of love. They were planning to head out west, or to Mexico if they could make it. Anything to escape the fighting between the colonies and the English and find their peace together. Aisling turned, lifted her skirts, and fled back up the stairs, heading for the mistress’s bedroom.

She burst through the door and caught her breath, searching wildly around for any sign that Kitty had stayed behind. But all the evidence proved what the others were saying. Haphazardly open dresser drawers with garments hanging out. The jewelry on the vanity was gone, appearing to be swiped off by the looks of what was left behind. Aisling put her hand to the unmade bed, and she found it cool. It had been empty for hours.

Tears stung her eyes. As she was about to leave, she spotted it. There on the mantel, pressed between two books, was an envelope.

She flew over and plucked it out. Her name was on the front in Kitty’s neat script. She tore it open and yanked out the parchment inside. It didn’t say much.

Aisling, I’m sorry. Arthur thought, with the growing rumblings of revolution, it would be better for us to return to England as a family. I have left some money for you in my shoe, the third pair on the left in my closet. I hope you will make a life for yourself. I know this must be difficult, but you must understand. There’s no place for us. Not really. Maybe, if we lived in a slightly more tolerant world, we could do as we wished. But it isn’t to be. I shall always remember you and our time together. –Kitty

Aisling crumpled the paper into her fist, trembling with the raw hurt of it. Money? That’s all Kitty could offer for breaking her heart? For abandoning her a continent away with no warning? With war on the horizon to boot?

She sank to the floor and wept.

Tessa stirred out of the scene, hot moisture building up behind her eyelids. But still, she did not open them. She brought herself back to Lila’s couch and resumed her deep breathing.

“Very good, Tessa,” Lila said. She sounded closer now. “We can also stop here, or—”

“There’s more,” Tessa cut across her. “I can feel it.”

“We’ll carry on, then.”

Tessa hardly needed prompting. She slipped back into her mind, and this time, was walking through a hospital ward. Young men in dirt soaked uniforms were carried in on stretchers, their wide, flat helmets cast aside. Their cries for help, for something to ease the pain, tugged at her heart, but she was on a mission. She assured them they were doing all they could. Down the row of cots, she spotted the fellow nurse she was seeking out. Fresh blood stained the white apron over her gray dress, the crimson a much deeper shade than the red crosses on their uniforms. She was tying up a bandage as the soldier she worked on slept. When she looked up, her bright blue eyes widened.

“Rosie!”

“Dinah.”

She came around the bed and wiped her hands on her apron. “I. . .I assume you heard the news.”

Rosie’s expression must have betrayed the fury inside her. She folded her arms over her chest. “Imagine my surprise hearing it from him .”

Dinah cut her gaze to the floor, and Rosie appreciated she at least had the decency to be ashamed. She glanced nervously around before taking Rosie’s hand and leading her to the nearest supply closet. After ensuring they weren’t followed, she shut the door.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh, removing her nurse’s cap, revealing her dark brown hair, plaited and pinned up around her head.

“How could you?” Rosie snapped. “You don’t love him.”

“Few marriages are based on love,” Dinah said. “And there is no marriage that can exist between us.”

Rosie took her hand. “Things are changing, Dinah. Women are more independent than ever. When the war is over, we could even get the vote. It’s changing.”

Dinah shook her head, pulling her hand away. “They won’t change that much. And Roger is a good man. I’ll want for nothing.”

“Except what matters.”

Dinah blinked away the mist in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Rosie. I wish I was braver. But I’m scared. Of what people might think, of what might become of us. All of it.”

“So, that’s it, then?” Rosie shot back. “You’ll settle for the safest life?”

“And you would be wise to do the same,” Dinah replied. “I’m sorry, Rosie. But it’s the best for both of us.”

“You’re a coward.”

Dinah sighed and reached for Rosie’s hand again, but she jerked it away. “When the Great War is over, go home to Ireland, Rosie. And forget me.”

Rosie speared her with a scowl. “I can never forget.”

“I. . . ” Dinah trailed off, biting her lip as her eyes welled up. She dug into her pocket and retrieved the Emily Dickinson book Rosie had gifted her. “Here. You must want this back.”

“No, I think you should keep it. That way you can never forget either.”

Heart in pieces, she turned and stormed out of the supply closet, leaving Dinah stricken where she stood.

Finally, Tessa opened her eyes. Fixing her gaze on the ceiling, she reminded herself that she was in London, in a posh row house, in the year 2024. She blinked a few times and shook her head, muttering a few select swear words.

“I was supposed to ease you back from all that, but I suppose this is fine,” Lila said. “How are you feeling?”

“Christ, I feel sick,” Tessa answered, putting a hand to her racing heart.

“Please mind the carpets if there’s to be any retching.”

“Fuck off, Lila, I’ve just seen three lifetimes.”

“Let me fetch you some water.”

“That’ll be grand.”

Lila departed. Slowly, Tessa forced herself upright. Her shirt clung to her back, damp with sweat, and her hair stuck to her neck. She didn’t know why she was surprised. She had rather expected her results. She just didn’t realize she was the one getting hurt in all of them. That same face, over and over, tearing her heart out each time they found each other.

Lila returned with the water, and Tessa thanked her before allowing it to cool her down. It slid down her throat, and ran through her body, easing the pain of it.

“Better?” Lila asked.

“You don’t have to worry about cleaning up boke.”

“Fantastic.”

She took the glass back to the kitchen, and when she reappeared, she gazed at Tessa with curious eyes. “So. . . did you see anything interesting?”

“Aye, I suppose. . . there were things I expected and things I didn’t.”

“Were there any constants?” she asked. “That is, was there anyone or anything that appeared in all three?”

Tessa nodded slowly. “Aye.”

“Anything you want to share?”

Tessa shook her head. “No, sorry.”

Lila shrugged. “No worries. But now that our session is over, that’ll be seventy pounds.”

“Seventy—” Tessa gasped. “Christ, but the rate for psychics has gone up.”

“Not a psychic,” Lila said, and held out her hand.

Tessa fished into her purse, counted out the bills, and handed them over. As she stepped back out onto the streets, she still had one face in her mind—Jamie.