Natalie turned to me, her voice warm but steady. “Sophie stepped in without hesitation. A man was choking, and she knew what to do. That kind of action saves lives.”
The questions were simple. Where did I learn CPR? Why did I act? What would I want people to know?
“I took a CPR class in college,” I said into the camera, hands steady. “I’m from Texas. I was here on vacation. I didn’t think—I just moved.”
Jax nodded. “And you’re encouraging people to learn these skills?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “You don’t need to be a professional. You just need to be prepared. CPR. The Heimlich. Those moments matter.”
“And you’re staying in Charleston?”
I smiled. “Actually, I’m moving here. I’m looking for work.”
Natalie’s eyes flicked to me—sharp, assessing—but her smile never faltered.
The camera cut.
Once the crew began packing up, Natalie touched my arm lightly. “Walk with me.”
We moved a few steps down the wharf, out of earshot.
“I meant what I said,” Natalie told me, folding her hands loosely in front of her. “About you stepping in. The city could use more people like that.”
My pulse kicked, surprised and wary all at once. “I was just there.”
“That’s exactly the point,” she said, eyes steady. “You didn’t hesitate. You assessed, you acted, and you stayed calm while everyone else froze. That’s not instinct alone. That’s training.”
I hesitated. “Some of it is.”
Natalie studied me for a beat, then asked, “What’s your background, Sophie? Education. Work.”
The question wasn’t casual. It was deliberate.
“I have a bachelor’s degree in psychology,” I said. “And a master’s in counseling. Both from the University of Texas at Austin.”
Her brows lifted slightly. “Licensed?”
“Yes. Fully licensed as a professional counselor. I’m currently practicing.”
“And yet,” she said, tilting her head, “you don’t sound like someone eager to stay in a therapy room all day.”
A small smile pulled at my mouth. “I’m not.”
She waited.
“I care about people,” I said carefully. “Deeply. But sitting across from someone hour after hour, processing pain without being able to do anything in the moment—it started to feel like I was absorbing instead of helping. What happened on the boat … that was immediate. Useful. It mattered right away.”
Natalie nodded slowly, like something was clicking into place. “You like being where the need is.”
“Yes,” I said. “I want to help in a different way. Prevention. Response. Support systems. Making sure people know what to do before something becomes a crisis.”
Her expression warmed—not with sentiment, but approval.
“That’s exactly the gap,” she said. “Charleston has resources. We have volunteers, nonprofits, first responders. But we don’t always have someone connecting the dots. Someone who understands human behavior under stress and knows how systems work.”
My heart was pounding now.
“I’m putting together something new,” Natalie continued. “We’ll work out the specifics, but I want to offer you a role. Community Response Manager.”
