The next morning Emma and Sharon joined eight other people waiting on the sidewalk in front of the Visitor's Center.

"Is this the Charlestonian Company Walking Tour?" Sharon asked.

"Yes. You are right on time." A tall, distinguished looking gentleman with a neatly trimmed white beard and dressed in a Colonel Sanders type suit, only brown, joined the group. "If everyone is ready, let's get started."

He handed each member of the group a brochure detailing the route they would take.

"My name is Mr. Josiah Hayden. My family has lived in Charleston since before the early 1600s. Our fair city was called Charles Towne and was a walled city back then."

He started off down the street, talking as he went. The group obediently followed him.

"Now if y'all have any questions about anything, you feel free to interrupt me. After I tell you how rude you are, I'll be glad to give you an answer."

The group laughed and he began the tour in earnest.

"We're headed south on Meeting Street, where you'll see quite a few of our historic buildings. We'll venture off Meeting Street once we reach the Battery. Historic Charleston is built on a peninsula. Over there," Mr. Hayden gestured to the east, "is the Cooper River. And over there," he gestured to the west, "is the Ashley River. And down there," this time he gestured toward the south, the direction in which they were walking, "is where the two rivers meet to form the Atlantic Ocean. At least that's what we Charlestonians believe!"

Everyone in the tour group laughed and continued to walk south on Meeting Street. As the group came to each of the historic buildings on the tour, the group stopped while Mr. Hayden regaled them about its history and why the site was important to Charleston. Emma became more and more impatient and uneasy at each stop.

Just past the Fireproof Building ("Yes, it really is fireproof" according to Mr. Hayden in response to someone's question), the group approached Washington Square. Mr. Hayden began to describe how the land was set aside as a park in the early 1800s and who the monument in the center was dedicated to.

"And just after the earthquake of 1886, many families camped out in this area when their homes were damaged, some beyond repair," Mr. Hayden said. Emma's attention strayed away from his dissertation.

Vague memories of tents and people massing around the area pried the edges of her mind. She could see the makeshift shelters, hear the terror just under the calm demeanor of the people milling about. She blinked and realized only picnicking families and couples were on the green expanse.

What is wrong with me? she wondered as she shifted from one foot to another as they listened to Mr. Hayden tell the group why the intersection of Meeting and Broad Streets was called the Four Corners of Law.

"What is wrong with you?" Sharon whispered to her, echoing her own thoughts and concerns.

Emma shrugged, not trusting her voice for reasons she didn't understand. She tried to stay still, tried to listen as Mr. Hayden pointed out St. Michael's Episcopal Church and recounted the history of the church’s bells. The group approached the iron fence surrounding the churchyard.

"Y'all can tour this cemetery at your leisure. When you do, you'll find the graves of two of the signers of the U.S. Constitution. There is also a legend about the grave of a young lady who tragically died in the earthquake of 1886. Every year on her birthday, which just happens to be this Friday, and again on the anniversary of the earthquake and her death, August 31^st, a white rose mysteriously appears on the tombstone. No one knows who leaves it and many people have spent the night in the cemetery to try to find out. Something always seems to happen that turns their attention away from the grave and when they turn back, there's the rose."

Emma's heart was pounding in her throat. "You've come back. You've come home" echoed in her memory. The voice from the dream the day before was loud, so loud Emma looked around to see if anyone else seemed to hear it. Mr. Hayden was already talking about the next site and no one seemed to notice her confusion or discomfort.

The group moved down the street, but Emma seemed unable to move. Sharon turned around and came back to her.

"Emma, are you okay? You are as white as a ghost," Sharon said, taking Emma's elbow. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No, I'm not sick. There's something about that park back there and about this graveyard that just creeped me out, that's all. Let's catch up with everyone else."

"This is the Andrew Hasell House," Mr. Hayden was saying as they rejoined the group. "This is a typical Charleston 'single house.' It is called that because it is one room wide and two rooms deep. The staircase to the upper floors is in the center of the house, between the two rooms. The door facing the street doesn't open into the house proper. It opens onto what you northerners erroneously call a porch, but we Charlestonians know is actually a piazza. The entrance to the house is in the center of the piazza. Now notice a couple of things about the house: First the piazzas are almost always either on the south or the west sides of the house. Does anyone know why?"

"To catch the southwesterly breezes," Emma muttered. Her hand flew to her mouth in surprise almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

"Why, yes, ma'am. That's exactly why," Mr. Hayden said. "The second thing to notice about these houses is there are few if any windows on the opposite side of the house from the porch. Miss, do you know why that is?"

Emma shook her head. She did know, but she wasn't sure how she knew. The discomfort she had felt throughout the tour was building.

"Well, it was twofold," Mr. Hayden said. "Ninety percent or more of the houses on the peninsula are built with the narrow end to the street. That way, many homes could be built in a relatively small area. Remember, this part of Charleston is on a peninsula and was once a walled city. Well, we Southerners value our privacy and since our houses here are built close together, it would be easy to sit on your piazza and see right into your neighbor's house if there were windows on the rear wall. Back in the day when these houses were built, men were never seen outside their home without their suit coat on. They were considered undressed with it off and especially with their collar unbuttoned. A lady's modesty was even more valued, so, no windows on the side of the house facing a neighbor's piazza to be seen through. The other reason is the windowless wall often acted as a firewall when one of the many fires that plagued Charleston swept through the city."

Memories of sitting on an upper piazza, the top buttons of her dress undone haunted the periphery of Emma's mind. She shook her head, trying to clear the unwanted, unknown memories. Sharon gave her a strange look.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel?" Sharon asked her. "You don't look so good and you're acting really weird. And how did you know why the porches face the south or west? You told me you hadn't studied up on Charleston, yet you sure seem to know a lot about the place."

Emma's tears were close to the surface. She wanted to run from the strange memories that seemed to be coming to her and yet she knew she couldn’t.

"No, I'm fine. I want to finish this tour. I'm not sick and I don't know how I know these things; I just do."

Emma stayed at the rear of the group for the next several blocks, listening carefully to Mr. Hayden's description of each building they came to. She shook with ghosts of memories as they passed the garden gate at one of the homes. Before she even looked through the wrought iron, she knew the layout of the yard, with the Palmetto trees lining the rear and the tea olive tree in the center surrounded by a variety of azalea bushes. But she managed to hide her emotions until they reached 8 Meeting Street.

"See those flat plates up there at the corners of the upper two floors?" Mr. Hayden said, pointing.

"They're earthquake bolts," Emma blurted out before she could stop herself.

The group turned and stared at her.

"I'm sorry," she said, blushing, tears once again stinging her eyes.

"Don't be sorry," Mr. Hayden said. "You're absolutely right. After the earthquake of 1886, these bolts were inserted between the floors and then the bolts were turned until the house stood upright again. You'll notice just the washers, like these, on some houses, but on others the owners tried to hide them with lions' heads or some other type of decoration."

Emma swore to herself she would bite her tongue through the rest of the tour. Even though no one, including Mr. Hayden, seemed disturbed by her answers, she was. She wondered if Sharon thought she had lied about not researching Charleston before they left Fort Worth.

How is it I know these things? she wondered. I've never been here before; I didn't read even one book on the history of the city. I only looked at the journals to decide which antiques to look for. Oh, how I wish these strange memories would go away!

As they approached the William Ravenel House at 13 East Battery, Emma could see the house with its huge, three-story portico. The Tower of the Winds survived! she thought excitedly. Then, just as quickly, How did I know what the name of the tower is? Survived? Survived what?

"This is the William Ravenel House," Mr. Hayden was saying. "Before the earthquake, this house boasted a massive, three-story porch, one of the largest in the city. He called it 'The Tower of the Winds.' But, as you can see, that tower is now gone. The earthquake caused the tower to crash into the yard with so much force that one piece was driven deep into the ground. It was found under a tree in the yard when the tree became uprooted after a hurricane in the 1950s."

Emma rubbed her face, closed her eyes, and then looked back at the house. Why can I see the tower if it is no longer there? Terror gripped her, but she would not let it take over. She certainly wouldn't let Sharon see. Sharon would think she was definitely sick and she knew she wasn't sick, although she was thoroughly confused.

Emma followed as the group moved on up the street. She didn't want to hear any more of what Mr. Hayden had to say, but couldn't pull herself away to return to the hotel. As he enthralled the rest of the group with more history about more of the houses and buildings, Emma often knew what he was going to say before he said it. Her discomfort continued to grow as the tour went on. The tour seemed to go on forever before they finally got back to the Visitor's Center. The rest of the group stood around visiting and chatting, but Emma headed back to the hotel.

"Hey! Wait up," Sharon called after her.

Emma stopped and turned toward her friend. She expected Sharon to be angry, to not believe she really hadn't done any reading about Charleston before the trip, but Sharon hugged her, then took her by the arm and led her down the street.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Emma shrugged.

"I don't know. I shouldn't know anything about this place. I honestly didn't do any homework like I usually do before a trip. But I felt I knew what was around every corner, what Mr. Hayden was going to say before he said it. But all the memories, all the knowledge feels surreal – like it happened a long time ago."

"I don't understand any of it," Sharon said. "But I do believe you. You have never lied to me before and I know you aren't now. I just wish I knew how to help you."

"Thank you, Sharon," Emma said. "I was so afraid you were mad at me."

"Let's go get freshened up and get ready to go see the stores on our lists. Maybe you'll feel better once you’re back in your element."

"My element?" Emma laughed. "And what do you consider my element?"

"Antiques, antique stores, antique store owners," Sharon said, squeezing Emma's arm. "I think the only time you're really comfortable is when you are surrounded by them."

"You're probably right," Emma agreed. "I'm particularly interested in seeing Out of the Closet and meeting Peter Jenkins. I'm curious about how he and Lesley know each other."