I knew it was working then, so I concentrated even harder, dredging up the specific memories I’d saved for this moment, letting them flood my mind, and hopefully his as well.
Some of the memories were not clear—dim human memories, seen through weak eyes and heard through weak ears: the first time I’d seen his face… the way it felt when he’d held me in the meadow… the sound of his voice through the darkness of my faltering consciousness when he’d saved me from James… his face as he waited under a canopy of flowers to marry me… every precious moment from the island… his cold hands touching our baby through my skin…
And the sharp memories, perfectly recalled: his face when I’d opened my eyes to my new life, to the endless dawn of immortality… that first kiss… that first night…