SOPHIE CLOSED THE door and leaned against it in silence, turning when she heard Nona’s familiar footsteps tap over the foyer.

“There you are, dear. Did Christine leave?”

Sophie nodded. “Yes, just now. She said she’ll be back at three to take me to Madame something or other?”

“Madame Desmarais. She’s a miracle worker with a needle and thread. She makes all of Elizabeth’s gowns and believe me, Elizabeth keeps her working day and night.”

Sophie smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

“Oh, Sophie, you have such a lovely smile. I look forward to seeing that more often. Now perhaps you should rest before Christine collects you. She can be a bit overwhelming if you’re not prepared for her.”

Must run in the family.

“Thank you. Do you have a book I might borrow? I’d love to read something.”

“Yes. Come with me.” Nona led her to their library and when Sophie stepped into the room, she sighed in awe. Three walls had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves; the dark mahogany showcased intricate carving. Two high-backed chairs faced a large, stone fireplace. A hearth raised it three feet off the floor and offered a warm place to rest your feet. This could only be described as her dream room. “This is perfect, Nona. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear. I’ll have Daniel add wood to the fire and you can rest in here, if you like. I’ll collect you at three. Richard will be joining us for dinner, so I have requested Elizabeth send over an appropriate gown.”

Sophie smiled her thanks and searched for something to read. There were many medical books, which shouldn’t have surprised her, and she thought she might be disappointed, until she came across “Lady Audley’s Secret,” written by Mary Elizabeth Braddon.

Curling up in one of the chairs, she tucked her feet under her and settled in to read. But she found she was unable to concentrate, and the pages swam before her. Turning her head, she stared out the window.

Where are you, Jamie?

With her chin on her palm, she continued to stare out the window.

Almost an hour into her forced rest, Sophie was grateful when she heard the rustle of fabric behind her. “Miss Sophie?”

“Hm?” Sophie peeked around the high-backed chair.

“Miss Nona says her sister will be here soon.”

Sophie stood, lightly running her fingers over the fabric of her skirts to smooth them, and followed Betty out of the room. She arrived in the foyer just as the butler was opening the front entrance door. Thinking Christine had come a few minutes early, Sophie hurried forward to greet her new friend.

She froze mid-stride and felt her face heat with indignation.

Richard Madden handed his hat and gloves to the expectant butler. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ford. How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Madden.” Sophie clasped her hands tightly behind her back. “Have you found something out about Jamie? Is that why you’re here?”

Before he could answer, Nona bustled into the entryway and greeted Richard with a big smile. “Richard, what a nice surprise.”

“Good afternoon, Nona.” He gave her a slight bow.

Sophie turned back to Richard. “Mr. Madden was just going to tell me what he found out about my husband.”

Richard stood in silence.

“Well? Mr. Madden?” Sophie ground out, a little more pointedly.

Richard turned and spoke directly to Nona. “Is Dr. Wade still here? I thought I’d try to catch him before he left for the hospital.”

“Or, you could answer my question.” Sophie didn’t like being a shrew, but this man’s arrogance irritated her. Call it a fault of hers, but she always felt the need to put male chauvinists like him in their place. That, and she desperately wanted to know where Jamie was.

“Ma’am, I don’t have anything to tell you at present. I really should speak with Dr. Wade before I go any further.”

“Have you found him, then? Is he hurt and you don’t want to tell me? Is that why you need the doctor? It is, isn’t it?” Panic bubbled up and threatened to spill over. “Why are we just standing here? Take me to him.” She moved toward the front door.

Richard didn’t budge.

“Why are you looking at me that way? Take me to Jamie! Please.”

Nona let out a quiet sigh. “Sophie, calm down. I’m certain Michael will tell us everything, once he and Richard have a chance to talk.”

“Please, Nona. I need to see him.” Sophie turned back to Richard. “Where is Jamie? Why are you just standing there?”

Michael rushed in. “Richard, Nona? What is going on here?”

“He won’t tell me where Jamie is!” Panic had been replaced with anger, and Sophie turned back to face Richard. “Please, Mr. Madden. Where is he? If you don’t tell me, I’ll make your life a living hell. Do you hear me? A living hell!”

She registered, barely, Nona’s stifled, “Oh, my!”

“Yes, ma’am, I heard you.” Richard made a sweeping motion with his hand. “In fact, I believe the entire countryside heard you.”

Sophie was beside herself. “You are the most irritating, arrogant, subspecies of a human being I have ever come across.”

“Sophie, I don’t think that’s particularly fair to Richard. He has been trying to help find your husband, and I think you need to be a bit more appreciative.” Nona fluttered to her side and patted her hand.

Sophie took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. “You’re right, Nona, I should apologize.” Turning to Richard, Sophie forced a smile. “Mr. Madden, I am sorry for calling you a subspecies of a human being. Now, please tell me what you have found out about my husband.”

“What about the irritating, arrogant part?”

“Excuse me?”

Richard smiled. Smug and infuriating. “The irritating, arrogant part. You only apologized for the subspecies human being part.”

She clenched her fists at her sides. “I did that because I didn’t want to insult any other subspecies. I withdraw my apology. Where is Jamie?”

“Richard, stop torturing the poor girl. Tell us what you have found out,” Michael said.

Richard turned his back on Sophie and once again spoke directly to Michael. “A new group of wounded have been brought to the hospital. One of the men resembles the description Mrs. Ford gave me, and I hoped you could have a look at him. He’s unconscious and severely wounded.”

Or you could speak to me directly and stop pretending I’m not here.

She glared at Richard, but kept her thoughts to herself.

Turning to the doctor, Sophie begged, “Please Dr. Wade, you have to take me. I’ll be able to tell you if it’s Jamie right away.”

“His wounds are quite gruesome, Mrs. Ford. I’m not sure it would be a good idea for you to see him like that,” Richard interjected.

Sophie continued to seethe. She couldn’t help herself, her hand flew to her breast, and she did her best Scarlett O’Hara imitation. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Madden. I don’t know how I’d survive all of this without it.”

She then turned to Nona. “Please make them take me. If it’s Jamie, he’s going to need me. I have to be there. I don’t want him to wake up alone, wondering what’s going on.”

Before Nona could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. Richard reached out and opened it and Christine sailed through, with another woman in tow.

“Well, doesn’t this look like a party?” Christine chuckled. She looked around at everyone, and her eyes lit on Richard. “Good afternoon, Richard, what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

He gave a slight bow. “Good afternoon, Christine, I hope you are well? Elizabeth, once again a pleasure.”

Christine urged Elizabeth forward, towards Sophie. “Sophie, may I introduce our sister, Mrs. Whitman?”

Sophie shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Elizabeth said.

“Are you ready for Madame’s?” Christine raised her eyebrows in question.

Sophie grabbed her arm. “Will you please take me to the hospital, Christine? Jamie’s there and he needs me.”

“Ma’am, I’m not certain it is your husband,” Richard reiterated.

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. “Please stop ma’aming me.”

Christine and Elizabeth looked at each other like they had just come into the middle of an intense play and missed the entire first act.

“Please, Christine,” Sophie begged.

“Well, of course I will. If your Jamie’s there, I’ll help you find him,” Christine promised.

“Thank you.” Relief washed through Sophie. Finally, someone would take her to Jamie.

“The carriage is right outside. We’ll stop at the hospital and then go from there to Madame Desmarais’,” Elizabeth said.

Sophie could only stare at her. Who could think of shopping when Jamie could be lying, mortally wounded, in a hospital bed?

* * *

When they finally pulled up to the hospital, Sophie shuddered, speechless. This truly was no more than a glorified tent. She had seen photos and read descriptions about what Civil War hospitals were like. She’d been aware tents were often used, but nothing prepared her for the overwhelming sight and smell of blood and dirt. The stench hit her full force, and only by breathing through her mouth was it bearable.

Sophie followed Richard past rows of soldiers in various stages of injuries and consciousness before he paused at a cot in the back corner of the tent. Once Richard stepped aside, Sophie took a deep breath, inched closer to the young man—and nearly passed out. Feeling Richard’s firm grip to her elbow, Sophie forced herself to look.

A gash from one side of his forehead to the other didn’t appear to have been cleaned and was left open to the air. From what she could see, under the inadequate coverage of another bandage, his right eye appeared to be bulging from its socket. A makeshift binding on his arm barely covered his missing right hand.

Sophie covered her mouth with her fingers. Her heart broke for the young man left to die in the corner of a filthy tent. Richard pulled her into his arms and held her as she wept into his chest, and although the faint scent of alcohol wafted from him, she was too upset to care. “I’ve lost him. He’s gone. How did I get here? What am I going to do without him? I can’t live without him.”

Christine rushed over and pulled her gently away from Richard. “Sophie, it’s all right. He’s not dead, can you see? He’s breathing. Your James is alive. Michael will have a look at him, and we will all take care of him so that he comes back to you quickly. Shhh, Sophie, look. He’s alive. You need to believe he’s going to be all right.”

But he wasn’t Jamie. He was someone else’s husband, son, brother. Someone else’s friend or lover. He wasn’t hers.

Her stomach churned at the realization she was somewhere Jamie might never find, and her breath left her body at the thought that they might be lost to each other, without hope. She was in 1863, and he was stuck in the future to mourn her death—or disappearance—or whatever.

Her hand found its way to her chest as her step faltered, and she bent at the waist in agony from the pain. Christine held her steady, and Sophie took a deep, ragged breath. “Christine, it’s not Jamie. It’s not him. He’s truly lost to me. He’s gone.”

Sophie took the handkerchief Christine offered and wiped away her tears. Christine wrapped her arm firmly around Sophie’s waist as she took a deep breath and tried to take a measure of the comfort Christine offered.

Turning, Sophie addressed them all, “Thank you, everyone for bringing me here, and for the patience and kindness you have shown.” She took a deep breath. “Christine, would you mind terribly taking me home? I don’t feel up to shopping at the moment.”

“Of course, Sophie.”

Sophie followed the women out of the hospital and into the carriage, although she saw nothing as she slid the curtain aside and stared off into space. She had to figure out what to do from here. In the 1800s, women were vulnerable. Men made the rules and kept women housed and fed. Women didn’t work for a living, unless they “worked” for a living and that was something Sophie would never do.

I have to find a way home.

Arriving at the house to find the butler, Daniel, waiting on the porch, Sophie allowed him to assist her from the carriage. She followed everyone inside and absently removed her gloves and bonnet.

“Sophie, let’s get you upstairs and then you can rest, all right?” Nona asked.

Sophie nodded and climbed the stairs, grasping the exquisitely carved handrail until her knuckles were white. Christine, Nona, and Elizabeth followed.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” Elizabeth asked.

Sophie shook her head.

“How about some water?”

“No, thank you,” Sophie whispered.

“Nona, Elizabeth, why don’t the both of you go downstairs and I’ll sit with Sophie for a little while? It will give us some time to talk.”

As Elizabeth and Nona reluctantly left, Sophie paced the room, chewing on her thumbnail as tears streamed down her face.

“Sophie?”

“Hm?”

“We will find James.”

Without looking up, Sophie shook her head, stalled briefly, and then started to pace again. “We must take care of that young man, Christine.”

“We will.”

Sophie grabbed her arm, her heart racing with an unnamed fear. Something about this soldier was significant. She didn’t know what, couldn’t put it into words, but knew she had to do something. “Will you please ask Dr. Wade to take personal care of him. I can’t tell you why it’s important, because I don’t know, to be honest. But it is.”

“Of course.” Sophie started to pace again, and Christine laid her gloves on the side table. “Is there something else?”

“Like?”

“Something you’re not telling me?”

Sophie’s head whipped up. “Why would you say that?”

Christine sat slowly in one of the chairs near the fireplace and smiled up at Sophie. “I’m certain I couldn’t say.”

Sophie watched Christine through narrowed eyes for several seconds, her heart racing as she assessed the woman. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me what?”

“I can’t tell you that—” A quiet snort escaped and Sophie stalled. “Nice try.”

Christine folded her hands in her lap. “Sophie, you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.” Sophie rubbed her forehead with her palm.

“Why not?”

“I just can’t tell you,” Sophie stressed.

“Sophie, you can. Will you trust me?”

“Christine, it’s far more than you could ever comprehend. You’ll never believe me and just think I’m crazy.”

“What if I promise to believe you no matter what?”

A groan escaped as Sophie stopped pacing briefly. “You really think you could do that, no matter how farfetched you might think my story is?”

“I really think I could do that, Sophie. Will you try?”

Sophie took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned away from Christine and whispered, “I’m from the future. The year 2017, to be exact.”

“I’m sorry?”

Sophie faced her again. “I’m from the future, Christine. I was born in 1991...”

Christine stood with a gasp. “I knew it,” she breathed out.

“What?” Sophie squeaked.

Christine paced the room. “My late husband was from the future. 1973 to be exact.”

“What the fu—I mean, really?”

She nodded. “It’s why he felt like he was unbreakable. He thought he knew enough about the war that he’d see the danger coming.” She blinked back tears. “He was wrong.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and sat down again. “It’s done, Sophie. I don’t want to revisit it.”

Sophie kneeled in front of her and took her hand. “Do I see an asylum in my future?”

“It’s quite an extraordinary story, Sophie, but I do believe you.”

Sophie let out the breath she’d been holding. “You do?”

“Yes. But you could always tell me something that’s going to happen to prove your story.”

“Um... an act will be passed called The First Conscription Act. All men aged twenty to forty-five will be drafted into the military. They can pay their way out or find a substitute, but the poor will protest and riots will break out in New York. But that doesn’t happen until March.” Sophie rubbed her forehead. “There isn’t anything significant happening until then, so I can’t really prove anything until then.”

“Well, perhaps I’ll reserve judgment until March.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You’re not just saying that so it lulls me into a false sense of security?”

“If I were?” Christine had an evil glint in her eye.

“Men in white coats aren’t going to come in the middle of the night and carry me off on a stretcher, are they?”

Christine giggled. “You have quite the imagination. I don’t think we should spread this information to the masses but I also don’t think you’re lying or mad.”

Sophie stared at Christine, eyes filling with tears. “Thank you, Christine. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Well, enough of that. I want to know everything that’s going to happen with this war. Don’t leave out any details.” She clapped her hands in excitement.

“I won’t—­on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You cannot tell anyone about the war. I don’t think the outcome should be altered.”

Christine nodded. “I’ll keep your secret, Sophie. I kept Peter’s.”

Sophie smiled sadly. “Also, you must help me find my way home. I have to go back.”

* * *

Bernadette Desmarais sat with her husband, Philippe, in their spacious, modern kitchen in Portland, Oregon – present day. “This is not going well,” Philippe said as he ran his hands over his beard.

“Oui,” Bernadette replied. “But what choice do we have? She’s the one.”

“He will die without her, cherie.”

Bernadette stood and paced. “Oui.”

“They must be reunited.”

“He was not part of the plan, Philippe.”

“I understand that, however, she will waste precious time trying to find her way home. James must join her, or she will be unable to guide the others to stop the threat.”

“She is strong.”

“Oui, however, that strength is not focused where it should be.” Philippe stood and wrapped his arms around his wife. “Imagine living without me. You would not fare so well.”

Bernadette playfully slapped his arm. “It is you that would not fare so well without me, husband. Don’t forget that.”

Philippe chuckled. “You’re probably right.”

“I’ll visit him tomorrow, but at the very least, he goes within the week.”