“A few days later, Kathryn’s father, who had a working relationship with the Union colonel in charge of the occupation, contacted the colonel and informed him that there was a Confederate spy in their midst, someone in contact with General Lee, who was passing secret information about the town’s defenses. In light of the rumors about Lee’s probable invasion, Harris Presser was arrested in his parents’ shop. Before he was taken out to be hanged, he asked for one favor-a candle to be lighted in the window of his shop-and it was granted. That night, from the limbs of the giant oak tree in front of Kathryn’s window, Harris Presser was hanged. Kathryn was heartbroken, and she knew her father had been responsible.

“She went to see Harris’s parents and asked for the candle that had been burning in the window the night that Harris died. Overcome by grief, they hardly knew what to make of the strange request, but she explained that she wanted something to remember ‘the kindly young man who’d always been so courteous to her.’ They gave it to her, and that night she lit both candles and set them on the windowsill. Her parents found her the next day. She’d committed suicide by hanging herself from the same giant oak tree.”

On the porch, Miles pulled Sarah a little closer to him. “How do you like it so far?” he whispered.

“Shh,” she answered. “We’re getting to the ghost part, I think.” “Those candles burned all night and the following day, until they were nothing more than little knobs of wax. But still they burned. On into the next night, then the next. They burned for three days, as long as Kathryn and Harris had been married, and then they went out. The following year, on Harris and Kathryn’s anniversary, Kathryn’s unused room mysteriously caught fire, but the house was saved. More bad luck followed for the Purdy family-the hotel was lost in a flood and the logging mill was taken to pay debts. In financial ruin, Kathryn’s parents moved away, abandoning the house. But…” Miss Harkins leaned forward, a look of mischief in her eyes. Her voice sank to a whisper.

“Every now and then, people would swear that they could see two candles burning in the window above. Others would swear there was only one… but that another was burning in another abandoned building down the street. And even now, over a hundred years later, people still claim to see candles burning in the windows of some of the abandoned houses down here. And it’s strange-the only people who see them are young couples in love. Whether or not you two will see them depends on your feelings for each other.”

Miss Harkins closed her eyes, as if telling the story had drained her. For a minute she didn’t move, and Sarah and Miles sat frozen in place, afraid to break the spell. Then she finally opened her eyes again and reached for her tea. After saying good-bye, Miles and Sarah descended the porch steps and returned to the gravel path. Miles took Sarah’s hand again as they approached the street. As if still under the spell of Miss Harkins’s story, neither Miles nor Sarah said anything for a long while.

“I’m glad we went there,” Sarah finally offered.

“So you liked it?”

“All women love romantic stories.”

They rounded the corner and neared Front Street; ahead, they could make out the river between the homes, gliding silently, shining black. “Are you ready for something to eat?”

“In a minute,” he said, slowing down, then finally stopping. She looked at him. Over his shoulder, she could see moths fluttering around the glowing street lamp. Miles was staring into the distance, toward the river, and Sarah followed his eyes but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What is it?” she asked.

Miles shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He wanted to start walking again but found he couldn’t. Instead he took a step toward Sarah, pulling her gently toward him. Sarah followed his lead, her stomach tightening. As Miles leaned toward her, she closed her eyes, and when their faces drew near, it was as if nothing else mattered in the world.

The kiss went on and on, and when they finally pulled apart, Miles embraced her. He buried his face in her neck, then kissed the hollow of her shoulder. The moisture of his tongue made her shiver, and she leaned into him, savoring the safe harbor of his arms as the rest of the world went on around them.

A few minutes later they walked back to her apartment, talking softly, his thumb moving gently over the back of her hand.

Once inside, Miles draped his jacket over the back of the chair as Sarah made her way to the kitchen. He wondered if she knew he was watching her. “So what’s for dinner?” he asked.

Sarah opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a large pan covered in tinfoil. “Lasagna, French bread, and a salad. Is that okay?” “Sounds great. Can I give you a hand with anything?”

“It’s pretty much done,” Sarah answered as she put the pan in the oven. “All I have to do is heat this for a half hour or so. But if you want, you can start the fire. And open the wine-it’s on the counter.”

“No problem,” he said.

“I’ll join you in the living room in a few minutes,” Sarah called out as she headed for the bedroom.

In the bedroom, Sarah picked up a hairbrush and began to pull it through her hair.

Much as she wanted to deny it, their kiss had left her feeling a bit shaky. She sensed that tonight was a turning point in their relationship, and she was scared. She knew that she had to tell Miles the real reason for the collapse of her marriage, but it wasn’t easy to talk about. Especially to someone she cared about.

As much as she knew he cared about her as well, there was no telling what his response would be or if it would change his feelings about being with her. Hadn’t he said that he wished that Jonah had a brother or sister? Would he be willing to give that up?

Sarah found her reflection in the mirror.

She didn’t want to do this now, but she knew that if their relationship was to go any further, she would have to tell him. More than anything, she didn’t want history to repeat itself, for Miles to do what Michael had done. She couldn’t go through that again.

Sarah finished brushing her hair, checked her makeup through force of habit, and, resolving to face Miles with the truth, began to leave the bedroom. But instead of heading out the door, she suddenly sat on the edge of the bed. Was she really ready for this?

Right now, the answer to that question frightened her more than she could say.

By the time she finally emerged from the bedroom, the fire was blazing. Miles was returning from the kitchen, carrying the bottle of wine. “Just thought we might need this,” he said, lifting the bottle a little higher.

“I think that’s probably a good idea,” Sarah agreed.

The way she said it seemed off somehow to Miles, and he hesitated. Sarah made herself comfortable on the couch, and after a moment, he put the wine on the end table and sat beside her. For a long time, Sarah simply drank her wine in silence. Finally Miles reached for her hand.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Sarah gently swirled the wine in her glass. “There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” she said quietly.

Miles could hear the sound of cars as they rolled past her apartment. The logs in the fireplace popped, causing a shower of sparks to ascend the chimney. Shadows danced on the walls.

Sarah pulled one leg up and crossed it beneath her. Miles, knowing she was collecting her thoughts, watched her in silence before giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.

It seemed to bring her back to the present. Miles saw the flames flickering in her eyes.