Bronwen slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the brilliant sunlight. She was sprawled across something large and wooden, gently moving up and down.
Dimly she heard splashing and muffled voices, then she felt herself being moved. Voices.
"…only one we…"
She fell into darkness again.
When she became aware again, it was of softness and comfort. A bed. She raised her head and looked around. A porthole- she was in a cabin on a ship. She levered herself up until she was propped on the pillows. It hurt to move; everything hurt. She let out a groan.
The door opened and a woman looked in. "Oh, you're awake! How do you feel?"
Bronwen grimaced. "Like a truck ran over me."
"It's lucky we saw you," the woman said. "By the way, you're on the SS Caribe. Our six island tour." She flashed a bright smile. "How long had you been floating there? Do you remember what happened?"
"I'm not sure." How could she possibly explain what had happened to her?
"You'll remember," the woman said reassuringly. "Are you hungry?"
Bronwen was indeed hungry. The world had ended before breakfast.
"I'll let our chef know. Ever since he saw you being brought in, he's been concerned about you." She laughed. "I think he's cooked you something special."
Bronwen closed her eyes. She was almost asleep when her door opened again, and a man came in carrying a tray. He set it down on a table by the door, then turned to face her. Her eyes grew wide as she looked at him.
"Rinaar…" she breathed.
"Rinaldo," he answered absently. He approached her slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. He sat on the edge of the bed, still looking at her. "I know you. When I saw them bringing you aboard, you seemed so familiar."
"Bronwen," she said softly.
She sat up in the bed and leaned toward him, searching his face. It couldn't be, not possibly, but he was so like him.
"I dreamed about you," he said slowly, leaning in toward her. "We were looking down at a garden…"
"You kissed me," she murmured.
"Yes," he breathed against her forehead.
She smiled, and her lips brushed his throat as she spoke. "Sometimes in dreams, the veil of time lifts."
He drew back to look searchingly at her. "And we see things that have been."
Bronwen returned his gaze with dawning hope. "Or things that are to be." Her arms slipped around his neck. With a cry he pulled her to him and claimed her lips in a kiss that held wonder and joyful recognition.