Sophie took a pull of her lukewarm coffee. “It’s important, yes, but you don’t need to look now. This is so strange, I’m not sure how to put it into words.”

“You’re never at a loss for words, Soph,” Goebel encouraged.

As the sun started its ascent, the sky became a hazy bluish gray, replete with oranges and pinks. The birds were chirping loudly, and, from somewhere in the distance, Sophie could hear a car door slam. Most likely that little place across the road, where a young couple lived. She’d yet to meet them but had seen them coming and going. Probably yuppies, she thought, with jobs downtown in Charleston.

“You’re distracted, Soph. Go on, try to focus and tell me why you came outside so early.”

“I thought I was dreaming when I first woke. I was sweating, my heart felt like it was going to explode. I was nervous and shaky, thinking I’d had a nightmare. I felt a woman’s fear and pain, saw her as she tumbled down a set of stairs, but it wasn’t like I was seeing this as it happened now. This wasn’t in real time like those kids who went missing last year. This was in the nineteen twenties. The woman—that’s what I’ve been calling her in my mind—wore a low-waisted dress with a hemline and bodice typical of the early nineteen twenties. She had on a chemise or camisole and bloomers, no corset. That’s what is so weird. I felt the lightness of her undergarments. Very different from what I would have felt had she been wearing a corset.

“As you can see”—she touched her nightgown—“there is nothing at all restraining here.” She wore a loose, light green, cotton gown with a pocket. Sophie was big on pockets. “This is perfectly comfortable, with no pressure on me at all. And that was the same way that woman’s undergarments felt.”

“I can see that, but you know I like you better without it,” he added, with a twinkle in his eye. “Now, go on and finish your story. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sophie reached for his hand, giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll hunt you down if you do.”

“Never. I love you too much.”

“Ditto, sweet man. Keep talking to me that way, and I’ll never get the words out.”

“And you’re stalling,” Goebel said, leaning forward to place a light kiss on her nose.