The call came at half-past eleven at night. Emily had just started to drift off to the steady breathing of her husband when the sharp ring of the phone startled her awake. Her heart raced — nothing good ever happens at this hour.
“John,” she gently nudged her husband. “John, wake up! The phone.”
He sat up abruptly in bed and grabbed the receiver. Emily watched his face intently — it was growing paler by the second.
“What… when?” he asked in a hushed tone. “Yes… yes… I understand. I’ll be there right away.”
John slowly set down the phone, his fingers trembling.
“What happened?” Emily whispered, sensing the worst had happened.
“It’s Peter and Natalie,” he swallowed. “An accident. Both… gone, right there.”
A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the ticking clock. Emily stared at her husband, unable to comprehend.
Just the other day, they’d all been sitting together in the kitchen, drinking tea while Natalie shared her new cake recipe. And Peter, John’s best friend since college, was telling tales of fishing trips.
“What about Claire?” Emily suddenly remembered. “Oh God, what about Claire?”
“She was at home,” John started pulling on his trousers hastily. “I have to go, Em. There needs to be an identification. And everything else.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No!” he turned abruptly. “Alice would be left alone. We can’t scare her in the middle of the night.”
Emily nodded. He was right — no need to involve their twelve-year-old daughter in this tragedy. At least not yet.
She didn’t sleep a wink that night, pacing around the house, glancing at the clock often. She checked on sleeping Alice, who lay peacefully with her hand tucked under her cheek, her red hair spread across the pillow. So innocent, so vulnerable.
John returned in the morning — haggard, red-eyed.
“It’s confirmed,” he said wearily, collapsing into a chair. “Head-on with a lorry. They stood no chance.”
“And what will happen with Claire?” Emily asked quietly, setting a strong cup of coffee in front of him.
“I don’t know. All she has left is an elderly grandmother in the countryside.”
They sat in silence. Emily watched the grey, bleak dawn emerging outside the window. Claire, John’s goddaughter, was the same age as their Alice. A quiet, fair-haired girl who always kept to herself.
“You know,” John said slowly, “I’m thinking… maybe we should take her in?”
Emily turned sharply:
“Are you serious?”
“Why not? We have space, an empty room. I am her godfather. We can’t just put her in an orphanage!”
“John, that’s… that’s a big decision. We need to think it over. Talk to Alice.”
“What’s there to think about?” He slammed his hand on the table. “She’s lost her parents! My goddaughter! I couldn’t live with myself if I abandoned my best friend’s child.”
Emily bit her lip. Of course, he was right. But it was all so sudden, so unexpected.
“Mum, Dad, what happened?” Alice’s sleepy voice startled them both. “Why are you up so early?”
They exchanged glances. The moment of truth had come sooner than expected.
“Sweetheart,” Emily began, “sit down. We have… some very sad news.”
Alice listened silently, her eyes growing wider. And when John mentioned Claire coming to live with them, she suddenly stood up:
“No!” she shouted. “I don’t want to! Let her go to her grandma!”
“Alice!” John reprimanded her. “How can you be so heartless? She’s just lost everything.”
“And what does that have to do with me?” Alice’s eyes flashed. “It’s not my problem! I don’t want to share my home! I don’t want to share you!”
She rushed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Emily looked helplessly at her husband:
“Maybe we shouldn’t rush this?”
“No,” he replied firmly. “It’s settled. Claire will live with us. Alice will get used to it.”
A week later, Claire moved in. Quiet, pale, with lifeless eyes, she barely spoke, only nodding in response to questions.
Emily tried to comfort her. She cooked Claire’s favorite meals and bought new butterfly-patterned bed linen.
Alice ignored Claire demonstratively. She locked herself in her room, and if they crossed paths in the hallway, she’d turn away and walk past.
“Stop behaving like this!” her father scolded. “Show some decency!”
“What am I doing wrong?” Alice retorted. “I’m just ignoring her. It’s my right! It’s my house!”
The tension in the home grew daily. Emily shuffled between the girls, trying to smooth things over. But the more she tried, the worse it became.
Then the earrings went missing. Her favorite golden ones with tiny diamonds — a gift from John on their tenth anniversary.
“It was her!” Alice blurted out when Emily discovered the loss. “I saw her go into your room when you weren’t home!”
“That’s not true!” Claire spoke for the first time. “I didn’t take anything! I’m not a thief!”
She burst into tears and ran to her room. John glared at his daughter:
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Trying to drive her away?”
“I’m telling the truth!” Alice stomped her foot. “She’s pretending! Acting all innocent, but she…”
“Enough!” Emily interrupted. “Let’s not argue. The earrings will turn up. Maybe I’ve misplaced them and forgotten.”
But three days later, the ring disappeared too. The only keepsake Emily had from her mother.
“So this just randomly vanished too?” Alice asked sarcastically. “Or are we pretending nothing happened?”
She stood in the living room, hands on her hips — a tiny storm of fury. At the door, Claire paused, biting her lip and blinking rapidly as if holding back tears.
Emily glanced between the girls. For the first time, she felt she was starting to understand something.
Emily sat on the edge of the bathtub, turning a bottle of antiseptic in her hands. A simple solution came to her by accident — she had just treated Claire’s paper cut when the thought struck. The antiseptic — as indelible as lies, as visible as truth.
Waiting until everyone was asleep, she took out the jewelry box. Carefully, she marked each ring and earring with a tiny dot.
“What am I doing?” she whispered into the darkness. “God, how did it come to this…”
The next morning, a necklace was missing. The breakfast table was silent. Claire pushed her porridge around with a spoon, Alice stared pointedly out the window, and John drank his coffee gloomily.
“Girls,” Emily tried to keep her voice calm. “Show me your hands.”
They looked at her in surprise.
“Why?” Alice frowned.
“Just show me.”
Claire was first to present her open palms — clean, without a single mark. But Alice hesitated.
“I won’t!” she tried to get up from the table.
“Sit!” John’s voice boomed. “Show your mother your hands now!”
Alice, biting her lip, extended her hands. On the tips of her fingers were tiny green dots.
A deafening silence filled the kitchen. The ticking clock was audible, the pipes hummed, and John’s heavy breathing echoed.
“You…” he choked on his anger. “You accused Claire, and yourself…”
Alice jumped up, knocking over her chair. Her eyes swam with fear and something else — maybe shame?
“I hate you all!” she shouted. “I hate all of you!”
Before anyone could stop her, she ran to the hallway. The front door slammed shut.
“Alice!” Emily rushed after her, but her husband caught her by the shoulders.
“Let her go,” he said harshly. “Let her think about her actions.”
But hours passed without Alice returning. Her phone was silent. By evening, Emily was beside herself with worry.
“We should call the police,” she said in a trembling voice. “It’s getting dark…”
Then Claire, who had been silent all day, suddenly spoke up:
“I might know where she is.”
“How do you know?” Emily was surprised.
“I… well, I’ve seen her sometimes. She likes to sit in the old gazebo in the park. By the pond.”
“Why didn’t you say earlier?” John was startled.
“You never asked,” Claire shrugged. “I’ll go find her. Alone, please.”
Emily exchanged a look with her husband. There was something new in Claire’s voice — a kind of unfamiliar tone. Confidence? Resolve?
“Go,” she nodded.
An hour passed. Then another. The twilight had deepened outside when the doorbell rang.
Both girls stood on the doorstep — disheveled, flushed. Alice’s eyes were swollen from crying, but the anger was gone. And Claire… Claire was smiling for the first time.
“Mum,” Alice said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’ll… I’ll return everything.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Emily pulled her daughter close. “I know.”
“It’s just that I thought…” Alice sobbed. “I thought you’d love her more. She’s so sad. And I…”
“Silly,” Claire said suddenly. “You’re so silly, Alice. You can’t steal love. It’s either there or it isn’t.”
Emily was amazed at her goddaughter. How could a twelve-year-old have such wisdom?
“We talked,” Claire explained, noticing Emily’s gaze. “We talked for a long time. About everything.”
“And you know what?” Alice suddenly smiled through her tears. “She’s amazing. Our Claire. And can you imagine, she likes ‘Harry Potter’ too! And plays chess! Mum, can she sleep in my room? Please?”
Emily felt a lump in her throat. She hugged both girls tightly. Somewhere in the house, John blew his nose loudly.
Later, as she put the girls to bed, she overheard their whispers:
“Hey, can I call you sis?” Alice’s voice drifted over.
“Sure,” Claire’s voice carried a smile. “But only if…”
“What?”
“Teach me to make friendship bracelets? Yours are so pretty…”
Emily gently closed the door. In the kitchen, John waited with two glasses.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, pouring the wine, “I bet Peter and Natalie are happy now. Up there.”
“Do you think so?” she accepted the glass.
“I’m sure. Their daughter is home. With family. And now she has a sister.”
Stars twinkled outside. Somewhere far off, dogs barked. And in the kids’ room, two girls who had once been strangers whispered about all things girlhood, slowly becoming true sisters.
