“Hey, you’re pretty good at this.” I laugh, determined to move past my Holland freakout a moment ago and onto where we are now. Closing my eyes to add just the slightest touch of a breeze—a breeze that sends his hat scattering straight into the water.

“This feels so natural,” he says, instantly manifesting a new hat onto his head without missing a beat. “I must’ve been one of these guys in a past life—one who left some unfinished business behind.” He stops rowing and leans on his oar. “I mean, if we truly are born to correct the mistakes of our past and move toward enlightenment, then maybe, once, a very long time ago, I was steering a beautiful fair maiden such as yourself and got so distracted by her beauty and charm I tipped this thing over and drowned.”

“Who drowned?” I ask, voice edgy, far more serious than I intended.

“Me.” He sighs dramatically, laughing as he adds, “What else is new? The maiden, as it turns out, was swiftly rescued by a tall, dark, and handsome young nobleman of great position and wealth, who, as these things so often go, just happened to possess a much bigger boat. And after quickly pulling her aboard, he warmed her up and dried her off, hell, he probably even resuscitated her with perfectly performed mouth-to-mouth, after which he showered her with not just his undivided attention but a succession of gifts, one more impressive than the next, until she finally stopped playing hard to get and agreed to marry him. And you know how it ends, right?”

I shake my head, throat hot and tight, unable to speak. Well aware that in his conscious mind, he’s creating a harmless fairy tale, but unable to shake the feeling that this particular tale just might go a whole lot deeper than he thinks.

“Well, the two of them enjoyed a long, luxurious, and deliriously happy life—until they both died of old age and reincarnated so they can have the pleasure of finding each other and doing it all over again.”

“And the gondolier? What happened to him—you?” I ask, unsure if I really want to hear. “I mean surely there’s a reward for bringing two soul mates together?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze, back to rowing again. “The gondolier is destined to repeat the same pathetic scene over and over again, always pining after what is clearly meant for someone else. Same script, different time and place. Story of my life—or lives as the case may be.”

And even though he laughs, it’s not an invitation for me to join in. It’s solitary, uninviting, too burdened with truth to leave any room for humor. His little story veering so unbelievably close to the truth of him and me, I can’t even speak.

My gaze travels over him, wondering if I should tell him—about me—about us—but what good would it do? Maybe Damen was right when he said we’re not meant to remember our past lives, that life is not meant to be an open-book test. We all have our own karma, our own obstacles to overcome, and apparently, like it or not, maybe I’m one of Jude’s.

I clear my throat, deciding to put an end to all this and get to the third reason we came here. The one I hadn’t really thought about until now. Hoping it’ll benefit both of us, and praying I’m not making yet another colossal mistake when I say, “What do you say we ditch this place? There’s something else I want you to see.”

“Someplace better than this?” He yanks the oar out of the water and waves it around.

I nod, shutting my eyes briefly and quickly returning us to the vast fragrant field, where Jude’s returned to his normal outfit of faded jeans, Om symbol tee, and the flip-flops he started in, and I ditch my elaborate, corseted gown in favor of cutoffs, a tank top, and sandals, before leading him along the stream, over to the road, down the alleyway, and onto the boulevard where the Great Halls of Learning can be found.

Turning to him as I say, “I have a confession to make.”

He looks at me, spliced brow raised expectantly.

“I—I didn’t bring you here just to cure you.” He stops, looking at me in a way that makes me stop too. Taking a deep breath, knowing this is my chance, the only place I’ll ever be able to say it, I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and say, “I actually need you to do something—something for me.”

“O-kay . . .” He squints, his eyes kind, patient, waiting for me to get to it.

“You see—the thing is—” I twist my crystal horseshoe bracelet around and around, hardly able to look him in the eye. “Well, lately, that magick I told you about—the spell—it’s gotten worse. It’s like, everything’s fine when I’m here, but back on the earth plane—I’m pretty much a wreck. It’s like a disease. I’m consumed with thoughts of Roman, and in case you haven’t noticed it’s like my outer state is starting to reflect my inner state. I’m losing weight, losing sleep, and there’s no getting around it—back home, on the earth plane, I look like crap. But every time I try to confide in Damen or ask him for help—heck, even when I try to ask you to ask him to help—it’s like the spell takes over—the dark magick—or the beast as I’ve come to think of it—won’t let me speak. It’s like it doesn’t want anything to come between Roman and me. But here in Summerland, it can’t stop me. It’s the only place where I’m my usual self again. And so, I thought that maybe by bringing you here, you could—”

“So why don’t you just bring Damen to Summerland then? I don’t get it.” He cocks his head to the side and takes me in.