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Chapter Nine
She was not the reincarnation of Katherine.
Driving back to the boarding house in the faint lavender hush before dawn, Stefan thought about that.
He'd said as much to her, and it was true, but he was only now realizing how long he'd been
working toward that conclusion. He'd been aware of Elena's every breath and move for weeks, and
he'd catalogued every difference.
Her hair was a shade or two paler than Katherine's, and her eyebrows and lashes were darker.
Katherine's had been almost silvery. And she was taller than Katherine by a good handspan. She
moved with greater freedom, too; the girls of this age were more comfortable with their bodies.
Even her eyes, those eyes that had transfixed him with the shock of recognition that first day, were
not really the same. Katherine's eyes had usually been wide with childlike wonder, or else cast down
as was proper for a young girl of the late fifteenth century. But Elena's eyes met you straight on,
looked at you steadily and without flinching. And sometimes they narrowed with determination or
challenge in a way Katherine's never had.
In grace and beauty and sheer fascination, they were alike. But where Katherine had been a white
kitten, Elena was a snow-white tigress.
As he drove past the silhouettes of maple trees, Stefan cringed from the memory that sprang up
suddenly. He would not think about that, he would not let himself… but the images were already
unreeling before him. It was as if the journal had fallen open and he could do no more than stare
helplessly at the page while the story played itself out in his mind.
White, Katherine had been wearing white that day. A new white gown of Venetian silk with slashed
sleeves to show the fine linen chemise underneath. She had a necklace of gold and pearls about her
neck and tiny pearl drop earrings in her ears.
She had been so delighted with the new dress her father had commissioned especially for her.
She had pirouetted in front of Stefan, lifting the full, floor-length skirt in one small hand to show the
yellow brocaded underskirt beneath…
"You see, it is even embroidered with my initials. Papa had that done. Mein lieber Papa …" Her
voice trailed off, and she stopped twirling, one hand slowly settling to her side. "But what is wrong,
Stefan? You are not smiling."
He could not even try. The sight of her there, white and gold like some ethereal vision, was a
physical pain to him. If he lost her, he did not know how he could live.
His fingers closed convulsively around the cool engraved metal. "Katherine, how can I smile, how
can I be happy when…"
"When?"