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I woke to find myself sitting on an outdoor balcony, glass of champagne in hand. I was dressed in the same black, floor-length nightgown I’d worn to bed, one I’d purchased from an antique store a week earlier. But the balcony I was on wasn’t my own, nor was I alone. Sitting next to me was a woman in a pink dress, the shade of which matched her rose-colored cheeks.

The woman raised the champagne glass, toasting me. “Cheers.”

We clinked glasses, though I wasn’t sure what we were celebrating.

I looked over at her and said, “Where am I?”

“You know where you are, don’t you? You’ve been here before.”

I had, and at present, I was in a dream.

“I have been here before, Noelle. What are we celebrating tonight?”

“We’re celebrating you.”

“Why?”

“You’re getting married soon, aren’t you?”

“This summer,” I said. “How did you know?”

“I like summer. Summer is warm and trusting, like being wrapped in a blanket in front of a roaring fire.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Maybe it’s time you start. What I don’t like is winter.”

“Why not?”

“Winter is like a trickster, full of lies.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

She tipped her head back, polishing off the rest of her champagne.

Then she stood.

“I should get us another bottle,” she said. “Tonight is a special night. It’s different because you’re here. I don’t know how long I have until I leave, or you leave. I say we make the most of our time together.”

She walked toward the sliding glass door, and I turned, peering into a bedroom that contained a memory I’d tried hard to forget. As she reached for the door’s handle, I glanced around the balcony, my eyes coming to rest on a bottle of champagne nestled inside a bucket of ice.

“Wait,” I said.

Noelle glanced over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“There’s no need to go inside.” I pointed at my discovery. “There’s another bottle of champagne right here. See?”

She turned around and leaned in, giving it a good look. “Oh, my. You’re right. I’d forgotten it was there.”

“Why is it outside, though—and not inside, with the others?”

“This one is special, a surprise I was saving until later.”

“A surprise for whom?”

She stared into the darkness, a hollow look of emptiness on her face. “I suppose now it’s a surprise for us. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Who will understand?”

She sat beside me again, putting her hand over mine. “Thank you for being with him in those final hours of his life. And thank you for what you’re trying to do for me. I know how hard it must be for you to be here again. I feel it, the pain you carry, the guilt rushing through you.”

“What do you know my visit with your husband?”

“I know it’s not your fault. He would have killed himself whether you were here that day or not. He was determined, and he’d made his decision. There was no talking him out of it.”

“What about your daughter, left to live her life without a mother or a father now? How could he do that, knowing how she’d suffer?”

A breeze trickled by, blowing a mist of cool spring air.

Noelle breathed it in, smiling.

“I’ve seen what my husband would have become had he not chosen to take his own life,” Noelle said. “Think of it like a sliding door, a glimpse down two paths, and what happens on each.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing good. Our daughter is receiving the best possible care now, and she is loved. She will suffer for a time, but she will go on to live a good life, a full life.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I see things in a different way now, in ways that weren’t possible when I was alive. It’s as if a veil has been lifted.”

I’d had many dreams I considered to be more than regular dreams in the past. None of them had been this clear, this easy to interpret and understand. There was something different happening now. I wondered why they’d changed.

“Why am I here, Noelle?” I asked.

“You chose to be here tonight, and I’m glad you are. Stay as long as you like. It’s lonely, the days and nights all blending together until I’m not even certain what day it is anymore.”

“Can’t you leave?”

“Not yet, but soon.” She paused, then added, “Tonight is different than the rest.”

“How so?”

“Days repeat. I try to leave, and when I do, I find myself right back here again.”

“Do you keep reliving what happened on the night you died?” I asked.

There was sorrow in her eyes as she said, “Death is a subject I don’t care to talk about. Why speak of things so grim in this moment when we can speak of better times instead?”

Better times.

She wouldn’t have more of those, not in this life.

Noelle grabbed her champagne glass, wiggling it at me. “Well, aren’t you going to open it? I see no point in letting it go to waste.”

I’d become so caught up in our conversation, I’d forgotten it was there.

I lifted the champagne out of the bucket, wiping the ice chips away as I glanced at the bottle. The label said Chateau Marmot, a champagne I had never heard of before. I wrapped a hand around the cork, twisting it until it came free, making a distinct popping sound as champagne fizzled out of the top.

“Looks like we lost a little bit,” I said.

“Don’t trouble yourself. There’s still plenty for each of us.”

I poured each of us a glass, and for a time we sat, sipping on champagne and enjoying echoes of sounds flowing through the coastal air. As much as I felt I could remain in this moment forever, I could not. I needed to make the most of it before I woke, as I doubted the opportunity would present itself again.

“I know you don’t want to talk about what happened to you, but we should,” I said.

She tipped her head to the side, blinking at me. “Can I ask you a question first?”

“Sure.”

“You’ve had dreams like this before, haven’t you?”

“I often do when I’m working a homicide investigation.”

“Are they much the same?”

“They’re not, though this one is far less confusing.”

“In what way?”

I thought about the easiest way to explain it.

“This one is a lot clearer,” I said.

“There’s a reason for that, don’t you think?”

I turned toward her. “I don’t follow.”

“You’ve never fully acknowledged these dreams.”

“Yes, I have.”

“What I mean to say is, you don’t acknowledge they are anything more than your subconscious working overtime to understand things you’re confused about.”

I struggled to grasp her meaning.

“I’ve had dreams like these the majority of my life, starting when I was a child,” I said. “I’ve always known they have a deeper meaning, but I don’t always understand their interpretation.”

“There are few in life you trust enough to share these dreams with, and when you do, you treat the dreams as if they’re an extension of your subconscious. Maybe that’s why they don’t serve you in the way they could.”

It felt as though she was trying to tell me something, but whatever it was, she wasn’t coming right out and saying it.

“What is it you want me to know?” I asked.

“Have you ever considered you have a gift, something bigger than your physical self that you tap into when you need it the most?”

“I’ve never given it enough thought one way or the other.”

“Of course you have. It’s on your mind, even now. And still, you don’t trust it enough to fully immerse yourself.”

“I never said I don’t trust it.”

“You’ve never said you do. Why not?”

“If I admit these dreams are more than the fabric of my imagination, it would make me question myself,” I said. “It would make me feel like it means I’m not normal.”

“You’re so much more than normal, and your gift ... not only should you trust it, but you should also lean into it, taking the wisdom and using it to assist you along the way. Only then will you see things with a lot more clarity.”

I was starting to wonder if we were ever going to circle back to her murder.

“I’ll give it some thought,” I said.

“I’m glad.”

“Can we talk about the night you died?”

“I will answer what I can. But first, more champagne.”

I poured her another glass.

“Did you see the person who murdered you?” I asked.

“I saw everything.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“I can’t. There are certain things you must realize for yourself.”

“Why did you write Gabe a letter?”

“I wanted to move on from who he was, who I was, and I realized I couldn’t until I forgave him.”

“I’ve seen him. He seems like a changed man, but I don’t know. I have another question. There was a woman who fled from the women’s center. I know you wanted to hire a private investigator to find her. Did you?”

In the last couple of minutes, I’d noticed a shift in her appearance.

She was fading.

“It’s been nice, sitting here, talking to you tonight,” she said.

“Please don’t go. I have so many questions you haven’t answered yet.”

“Look at me, Georgiana.”

I did as she asked.

“What’s in front of you is just as important as what’s behind,” she said. “Think about all we’ve discussed tonight, and know this, I’ve already told you everything you need to know.”