A quiet night fell over the small town, illuminated only by the moonlight and the dim streetlights. Jim Clancy sat on the porch of his house, gazing up at the starry sky. The cool night breeze blew softly, carrying the scent of nearby pines. He felt at peace, but something was troubling him. Melinda, his wife, had been particularly quiet that evening.

A few minutes later, Melinda stepped out of the house, wrapped in a light blanket. She slowly approached and sat next to Jim, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer.

“Are you okay?” Jim asked, his deep voice gentle, looking at her with concern.

Melinda nodded, but her eyes were distant.

“I saw him again,” she whispered. She was referring to a spirit, something that had always been part of her life. Melinda had the gift of communicating with the dead, a gift that often led her to difficult and emotional situations.

Jim squeezed her tighter, offering his silent support. He knew these experiences always affected her, but he also knew that her love for helping others, both the living and the dead, was what made her who she was.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, always respecting if Melinda needed her space.

She took a deep breath and nodded.

“He was a young man... died in a car accident. He was so scared and didn’t know how to find peace,” her voice trembled slightly. “I promised I’d help him.”

Jim stroked her hair, resting his chin on her head.

“You know you will,” he said confidently. “You’re amazing at what you do, Mel. No one could do what you do better than you.”

Melinda looked up at him and smiled, grateful for his unwavering support. She knew she could always count on Jim. Even in the darkest moments, he was her anchor, the one who kept her strong when emotions overwhelmed her.