A mute, foundling girl hides from her pursuers with the help of a reluctant recluse. The two of them have nothing in common except deep emotional scars. Who is she? How did she end up unconscious and scantily clothed on Evan's isolated property? Why...
Sophie must have heard me coming, because she quelled my fear by flipping on the porch light. It was then I remembered she had also pulled the shades thus explaining why no illumination leaked from inside.
Upon entering, I smelled something delicious cooking that made my mouth water.
Sophie picked up her pad and wrote: You look really tired.
"Twelve-hour shifts and an hour commute each way wears me out." That wasn't really true under normal circumstances. If I appeared haggard, I blamed it on being anxious.
She beckoned me into the kitchen and pointed to a chair at the dinette already set with plates and tableware. From the stovetop, she carried over a pot filled with a thick meat stew.
"Wow, Sophie, this will really hit the spot."
She smiled, pleased with the compliment. From the refrigerator, she pulled a beer and held it up, her way of asking if I wanted one.
"Yes, please."
She popped the top and set it in front of me. After sitting, she bowed her head in prayer.
After she finished praying, I dug in. It was no exaggeration when I told her it was the tastiest stew I ever ate. The spices she used to enhance the flavor worked perfectly.
We both ate in silence. I helped myself to seconds.
She picked up her pad: I was going to bake a loaf of bread, but the inside of our oven was too revolting.
It didn't escape my notice how she had written our oven. "I bought oven cleaner and bubble bath, but they didn't have the sparkly kind."
"That's ok. I scrubbed the tub and cleaned the whole bathroom. I found the vacuum and gave the entire house a good cleaning. There were enough dust bunnies under the bed to stuff a pillow. By the way, when's the last time you changed out that vacuum bag?"
With a straight face, I joked, "You mean there's a bag inside that needs emptied?"
Her lips formed a straight line, and she folded her arms in front of her chest.
"I have spares in the shed on a shelf near where we parked the four-wheeler."
She got up and started clearing the table. I popped out of my chair and went to her. "Sophie, enough."
She turned to face me.
"I appreciate the dinner and applaud your initiative, but you're doing too much."
She pushed past me and walked into the living room. She seemed angry. I filled the sink with hot water and dish soap intending to get started on the dirty dishes.
A minute later, Sophie returned holding her Bible. She pointed to a passage: If a man is not willing to work then neither shall he eat.
"I agree with the sentiment, but somewhere in that book I recall a passage about there being a time to every purpose, including a time to rest. You shouldn't spend your entire day working."
She wrote: Why not? You work ridiculous long hours so why shouldn't I?
"That's different."
How so?
"I get paid."
So do I. You buy me things and keep a roof over my head and allow me to sleep in your bed.
"You're not going to let me win this argument, are you?"
She wrote: Nope. I enjoy working.
"That's fine, but you're my guest and not my slave. Please, don't overdo it."
One corner of her mouth turned up into a half smile. She wrote: Since you said please, I'll leave you to the dishes while I enjoy a bubble bath.
"Go for it, girl."
I finished the dishes and plopped onto the sofa in the living room. It was too late for the evening news, but I turned on the TV anyway just to have some background noise while I waited for Sophie to finish bathing. I wished there was enough space in the cramped room for me to add another armchair. There wasn't even enough space to unfold a sofa bed if I were to purchase one. Sleeping on the old worn cushions was giving me a permanent backache, but I couldn't bring myself to ask Sophie to switch up.
Funny, wasn't it? I found people to be annoying, but I enjoyed the company of my silent guest and felt good about going out of my way to make her feel safe and happy. But I also reminded myself not to get too attached. She would eventually leave me, probably this weekend.
Sophie soaked for nearly half an hour before I heard the hum of the hair dryer. The hair dryer and curling iron were among the few things Emily left behind. I'm glad Sophie could make use of them.
She lingered another half hour in the bathroom drying her long hair and doing whatever it was that women did that took them so long.
I dozed off and woke when I felt the sofa shift as she sat beside me. She grabbed my wrist. Uh oh, was she going to squeeze me again? She let go and wrote on her pad: Can I ask a special favor?
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