Constance Whitman
152 Central Park West

Dearest Constance,

Less than an hour has passed since I saw you to the door of the Ouroboros Society. I tried to wait until later this evening to put pen to paper, but my reserves of restraint have been depleted.

I must apologize for the incident in the coat closet. I must learn to control my passions in your presence. I must remind myself that you do not share my memories.

And yet I cannot describe the agony I endured when I found you waiting for me at the Society’s door. Those brave eyes staring back at me. That golden hair flying free in the wind. The stunning dress you must have sewn for yourself. I’m afraid I could not settle for a handshake. Only a kiss was able to ease my pain.

Forgive me.

Now that you’ve met Dr. Strickland, I hope you will consider joining the Ouroboros Society. I can honestly say that I’ve never met a finer man. The doctor is determined to turn our cosmic accident into a benefit for all mankind. I share his determination, but I have one purely selfish motive as well. I pray that Dr. Strickland can discover a way to restore your memories and help you visit a few of our many lives.

If you could only remember sharing secret kisses in the courtyard of your father’s mansion in Florence. Or holding each other as the sun rose over Kathmandu. Or risking our lives when we eloped to Minsk. If you could only remember just a little of this, you would know beyond all doubt that what I’ve told you is true . . .

That we belong together. In this life. In every life.

Your Devoted
Ethan

Constance Whitman
152 Central Park West

Dearest Constance,

You asked me an important question tonight, and I'm afraid I didn't give my answer the thought it deserved. I was distracted by the moonlight, the waves rocking our boat, the scent of your perfume, the taste of your lips . . . once again, I digress.

You asked about Rebecca Underwood. She is no threat to you, and as unfriendly as she may continue to be, I assure you the girl deserves only your pity.

Rebecca and I were introduced by Dr. Strickland shortly after I arrived in New York. We quickly discovered that our difficult childhoods shared much in common. Perhaps I should have been less forthcoming. From very first day, Rebecca has been convinced that we were lovers in previous lives.

I, however, do not remember Rebecca. And for the past two millennia I have had only one lover.

I have repeatedly assured Rebecca that I am not the person she is meant to find. I imagine that your arrival at the Ouroboros Society will provide the final proof of my claims. However, he next few months may be quite difficult for Rebecca, and I hope you will be as kind to her as you are to everyone.

You also asked if such confusion is common--if those of us who return to earth often find ourselves chasing the wrong souls. The truth is, I don't know. But what I told you as we floated beneath the stars was also true. I know for a fact that it has never happened to us.

Your Devoted
Ethan

Constance Whitman
Washington Mews

My Dearest Constance,

The hands on my pocket watch are no longer moving. It seems as if six o'clock will never come.

But surely it will. And to be alone with you at last! If your grandmother should ever return to earth, I swear I will kiss her for leaving you the mews house. In all of our lives, we have never had a more enchanting backdrop for our first rendezvous.

The anticipation is driving me mad. Still, I promise to be discreet.

Your Devoted, Impatient
Ethan

Constance Whitman
Washington Mews

My Dearest Constance,

I have been determined to make this life one of our happiest. Despite the events of these past few weeks, I promise that my determination has not been diminished.

Dr. Strickland's death has been a trial for both of us. I have lost the man I considered a father. You have been forced to endure the sneers and shouts of people who remain convinced that I was responsible for my mentor's demise. Now, for the sake of your safety, I must end my evening visits to your cottage in the Washington Mews.

I can recall few other sacrifices that have made me suffer so terribly. Our nights together have been among the happiest I have experienced in more than two thousand years. My only solace is that our troubles in this life are certain to pass. Soon, I will be back in your arms, with the moon shining down on us and the breeze blowing through the curtains. I can feel your skin as I write this. Smell the perfume at the base of your neck. Taste your lips . . . I must stop.

We will be together again. Of this I am certain.

Your Devoted,
Ethan

Constance Whitman
Washington Mews

Dear Constance,

I received your note not ten minutes ago. Please forgive my penmanship, as I am far too agitated to form the words I must write.

You say there has been someone lurking across the street from the mews house each night, watching you through the windows. I won’t ask why you waited so long to inform me. I’m afraid your answer can do nothing but anger me.

I must insist that you consider returning to your parents’ house. As unpleasant as your mother and father may be, they can ensure your safety. I wish I could relieve them of this duty, but my presence would only bring more danger to your door.

I have made several discoveries in recent days that have led me to believe that our lives are in jeopardy. There are things I haven’t told you, Constance. Things I hoped I would never need to tell you. A letter is no place for such revelations. I will come to you when the time is right.

Until then, please keep yourself out of harm’s way. You’re all I have, and I can’t bear to lose you again.
I love you.
Ethan

Constance Whitman
152 Central Park West

My Dearest, Most Beloved Constance,

We will meet on the steps of City Hall at ten tomorrow morning. After that, there are a few last errands I must run before I pick you up at the mews house at two o’clock sharp. Our ship sails at five.

I will always regret that our wedding was rushed. Once we’re in Rome, we can have another if you wish. I know we’ll be happy there. We were once before. But I’ll save that tale for our wedding night.  It’s the very best story I know.

I love you.
Ethan