The phone rang at half past eleven at night. Jane had just begun to doze off to the sound of her husband’s steady breathing when the shrill ring startled her awake. Her heart skipped a beat—nothing good usually came from late-night calls.
“Tom,” she gently nudged her husband. “Tom, wake up! The phone’s ringing.”
He sat up abruptly in bed and grabbed the receiver. Jane watched his expression intently as it shifted with each passing second, growing paler.
“What do you mean… when?” he asked in a hushed tone. “Yes… yes… I understand. I’ll be there.”
Tom slowly put down the phone, his fingers trembling.
“What happened?” Jane whispered, already sensing the worst.
“Paul and Cathy…” he swallowed hard. “There’s been an accident. Both of them, right on the spot.”
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Jane looked at her husband in disbelief.
Just the day before, they had all been sitting together in the kitchen, drinking tea, with Cathy sharing a new pie recipe. And Paul, Tom’s best friend since college, had been telling fishing tales.
“And what about Sophie?” Jane suddenly remembered. “Oh God, what about Sophie?”
“She was at home,” Tom said as he hastily pulled on his trousers. “I have to go, Jane. They need me for identification and everything else.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No!” he turned sharply. “We can’t leave Lucy alone. We shouldn’t frighten her at this hour.”
Jane nodded. He was right—there was no need to involve their twelve-year-old daughter in this tragedy. At least not now.
Jane didn’t sleep a wink all night. She paced the apartment, frequently glancing at the clock. She checked on sleeping Lucy, who lay with her hand under her cheek, her red hair fanned out on the pillow. So innocent, so vulnerable.
Tom returned in the early morning, looking worn out and with red eyes.
“It’s all confirmed,” he said wearily, collapsing into a chair. “A head-on collision… with a lorry. They never stood a chance.”
“What will happen to Sophie now?” Jane quietly asked, placing a strong cup of coffee before her husband.
“I’m not sure. She’s only got her gran in the village… She’s quite old, barely able to walk.”
They fell silent. Jane gazed out the window at the grey, bleak dawn. Sophie, Tom’s goddaughter, was Lucy’s age. A quiet, shy girl who always stood slightly apart.
“You know,” Tom said slowly, “I was thinking… maybe we should take her in?”
Jane turned sharply:
“Are you serious?”
“Why not? We’ve got room, a spare room. I’m her godfather. We can’t just abandon her to a care home!”
“Tom, but this is… it’s very serious. We need to think it through. We should talk to Lucy.”
“What is there to think about?” he slammed his fist on the table. “The girl is orphaned! My goddaughter! How could I look myself in the mirror if we left her?”
Jane bit her lip. He was right, of course. But it was all so sudden, so unexpected.
“Mum, Dad, what’s happened?” Lucy’s sleepy voice startled them. “Why are you up so early?”
They exchanged glances. The moment of truth had come sooner than expected.
“Sweetheart,” Jane began, “sit down. We have… some really bad news.”
Lucy listened silently, her eyes widening. And when her father mentioned Sophie living with them, she suddenly stood up:
“No!” she exclaimed. “I don’t want it! She should go to her gran!”
“Lucy!” Tom scolded her. “How can you be so heartless? She’s had such a loss…”
“And what about me?” her eyes flashed. “This isn’t my problem! I don’t want to share my home with her! Or share you!”
She stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Jane looked helplessly at her husband:
“Maybe we shouldn’t rush things?”
“No,” he replied firmly. “The decision is made. Sophie will stay with us. Lucy will get used to it.”
A week later, Sophie moved in. Quiet, pale, with dull eyes. She barely spoke, simply nodding in response to questions.
Jane tried to care for her, cooking favorite meals and buying new bed linens with butterflies.
Lucy blatantly ignored Sophie, locking herself in her room, turning away whenever they crossed paths.
“Stop this behavior!” her father reprimanded. “Have a conscience!”
“What am I doing wrong?” Lucy snapped back. “I just don’t notice her. I have the right! This is my home!”
The tension in the house grew each day. Jane felt torn between the two girls, trying to smooth things over. But the harder she tried, the worse it got.
Then, the earrings went missing. Gold ones with little diamonds—a gift from Tom on their tenth anniversary.
“She took them!” Lucy blurted when Jane noticed the loss. “I saw her go into your bedroom when you were out!”
“Not true!” Sophie spoke for the first time, her voice firm. “I didn’t take anything! I’m not a thief!”
She ran to her room, sobbing. Tom looked at his daughter sternly:
“You’re doing this on purpose, right? Trying to get rid of her?”
“I’m telling the truth!” Lucy stomped her foot. “She’s pretending to be all innocent, but she’s not…”
“Enough!” Jane cut in. “Let’s not fight. The earrings will turn up. Maybe I misplaced them.”
But three days later, a ring went missing. The only memory Jane had of her mother.
“So this is just another coincidence?” Lucy asked sarcastically. “Or are we pretending nothing’s happening?”
She stood in the living room, hands on her hips—just like a little fury. At the doorway, Sophie stood pale, biting her lips, blinking rapidly to hold back tears.
Jane looked between the girls. For the first time in days, she felt she was beginning to understand something.
Jane sat on the edge of the bathtub, turning a bottle of iodine in her hands. A simple solution had come to her accidentally as she tended to a paper cut on Sophie’s finger. Iodine. As unyielding as lies and as visible as the truth.
That night, once everyone was asleep, she took out her jewelry box. She marked each ring and earring with a tiny dot of iodine.
“What am I doing?” she whispered in the darkness. “How did it come to this…”
The next morning, a pendant went missing. The table was silent. Sophie listlessly stirred her porridge, Lucy stared out the window, and Tom sipped his coffee gloomily.
“Girls,” Jane tried to speak calmly. “Show me your hands.”
They looked at her, puzzled.
“Why?” Lucy frowned.
“Just show me.”
Sophie was the first to extend her open hands—clean, without a single mark. But Lucy hesitated.
“I won’t!” she tried to rise from the table.
“Sit down!” Tom’s voice boomed. “Show your mother your hands now!”
Lucy, biting her lip, extended her hands. Tiny greenish dots showed on her fingertips.
A tense silence filled the kitchen. The ticking of the wall clock, the hum of water in the pipes, and Tom’s heavy breathing were all that could be heard.
“You…” he choked with rage. “You accused Sophie, and you…”
Lucy jumped up, knocking over her chair. Her eyes were filled with horror, and maybe something else—shame?
“I hate you all!” she screamed. “I hate all of you!”
Before anyone could stop her, she dashed to the hallway, slamming the front door behind her.
“Lucy!” Jane moved to chase after her, but Tom held her shoulders.
“Let her cool off,” he said sternly. “Let her think about her behavior.”
But hours passed, and Lucy didn’t return. Her phone went unanswered. By evening, Jane was beside herself.
“We need to call the police,” she said in a shaky voice. “It’s getting dark.”
Then Sophie, who had been silent all day, suddenly stirred:
“I think I know where she might be.”
“How do you know?” Jane asked, surprised.
“I… I sometimes saw her. She likes to sit in the old gazebo in the park. By the pond.”
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Tom asked, startled.
“You never asked,” Sophie shrugged. “I’ll go get her. Alone. Please.”
Jane exchanged looks with her husband. There was something new in Sophie’s voice—an unfamiliar note. Confidence? Determination?
“Go,” she nodded.
An hour passed. Another. Dusk settled outside when the doorbell rang.
Both girls stood on the doorstep—disheveled, flushed. Lucy’s eyes were swollen from crying, but they no longer held anger. And Sophie… Sophie was smiling for the first time.
“Mom,” Lucy said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll return everything.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Jane pulled her daughter to her. “I know.”
“I just thought…” Lucy sniffled. “I thought you’d love her more. She’s so miserable. And I…”
“You’re a silly goose,” Sophie suddenly said. “You can’t steal love. It’s either there or it isn’t.”
Jane stared at her stepdaughter in astonishment. Where did a twelve-year-old girl get such wisdom?
“We talked,” Sophie explained, noticing her gaze. “A long time. About everything.”
“And you know what?” Lucy smiled through her tears. “She’s great. Our Sophie. Can you believe she loves ‘Harry Potter’ too? And she plays chess! Mom, can she move into my room? Please?”
Jane felt a lump in her throat. She embraced both girls, holding them close. Somewhere in the house, Tom blew his nose loudly.
Later, as she sent the girls to bed, she overheard their whispers:
“Hey, can I call you sis?” Lucy’s voice carried softly.
“Sure,” Sophie’s voice held a smile. “On one condition.”
“What condition?”
“Teach me how to make those friendship bracelets? Yours turn out so pretty…”
Jane gently closed the door. In the kitchen, Tom waited—with two glasses.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, pouring the ruby liquid, “Paul and Cathy are probably smiling up there. Somewhere above.”
“You think so?” she took a glass.
“I’m certain. Their girl is home. With family. And she has a sister now.”
Stars twinkled outside the window. Dogs barked in the distance. And in the children’s room, two girls, once strangers, whispered about their girlhood secrets, slowly becoming true sisters.
