Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“She doesn’t have to. You can rinse it in a bowl.”
“What about that, Beatrice?” she asks. “If you’re a good girl, you can have a slice of cake.”
“That’s right.” Holding out my hand, I say, “Come on. It’s nice and warm inside.”
Sophie puts her small hand in mine. Emotions tighten my chest as I lead the frail child inside. The boy who nicked the cereal and milk was a girl, and this poor girl lives with her brothers somewhere next to the river.
I need to alert Angelo. What will he do? Will he take the kids back to their grandfather? From the little Sophie told me, their grandfather doesn’t seem to care much about them. If he did, he’d never have left them behind to fend for themselves. How are the poor kids surviving alone in the open and in the midst of winter?
Sophie glances around. “It looks different.”
I stop. “Did you climb through the window to watch television yesterday?”
She averts her gaze.
“I won’t be angry, Sophie. I just need to know if it was you.”
“Why?” she asks, peeking at me through her eyelashes.
“If it wasn’t you, I’ll be worried. Then it means someone else was here while I was gone.”
She bites her lip. “Are you angry about the popcorn?”
“Of course not. I’m just concerned when I think that you could’ve burned yourself.”
“I know how to make popcorn in the microwave. Johan showed me how to do it. We did it a lot when we lived here.”
“You lived here?” I ask as my earlier suspicion grows. “In the house?”
“Yes,” she says, cocking a shoulder.
The pieces click together. If she lived here, she must be a part of my husband’s family on his mother’s side.
“You shouldn’t climb through the window,” I chide gently. “You can make popcorn and watch television any time you like as long as you use the door.”
“The door was locked,” she exclaims.
“Then you should’ve waited for me. The same goes for taking things from the cupboard. Or the windowsill. You shouldn’t simply help yourself. You should ask. It’s not right to take something that doesn’t belong to you. People may get angry.”
“I’m sorry I took the cereal.” She pouts. “And the cake. I was hungry.”
I squeeze her hand. “I know, sweetheart. Next time, please ask. I’m not trying to be mean. I just want to make sure you don’t pick up habits that can get you into trouble.”
“Are you going to take me back to the camp because I took your cereal?” she asks in a small voice.
“Oh, Sophie.” I hug her to me. “Right now, we’re just going to wash up and have a slice of cake. Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. Just promise me you won’t climb through anyone’s window again.”
She pulls away. “If I promise, can I have two pieces of cake?”
“I already told you that you may have cake.” I smile. “We’ll see about the two slices.”
“Okay,” she agrees meekly.
I bring her to the kitchen and make her sit in a chair by the sink. I still have some of the products the pharmacist gave me left. After fetching the oil and shampoo from the bathroom, I give Sophie a bowl with soapy water in which she washes Beatrice’s hair while I comb the oil through her short hair before washing and rinsing it with her head tilted back in the sink. Once her hair is clean, I trim it as best as I can with the kitchen scissors.
“Do you cut your own hair?” I ask as I dry it with the hairdryer by the kitchen table.
“My brothers do. Beatrice won’t let them cut her hair.” She looks up at me, swinging her legs. “Can I let mine grow long like yours?”
“Sure, but you have to wash it often so that it’s pretty and shiny.” I give her a dry washcloth to serve as a towel for the doll. “Shall we go find Beatrice something to wear?”
She follows me upstairs obediently. When I suggest a shower, her fear of water and submersing her head in it becomes apparent again. With a little coaxing, I manage to scrub her clean in a few centimeters of water in the bath before giving her one of my T-shirts, a pair of shorts, and socks to wear. We dress Beatrice in a red silk scarf, which Sophie says the doll loves.
While we make the frosting in the kitchen, I contemplate how to bring up the matter that’s on my mind without scaring her away. It’s not until Sophie is seated at the table with a big slice of cake in front of her and a small slice served on a saucer for Beatrice that I say, “Why don’t you stay here for a while, Sophie? Beatrice must be cold down there by the river.”
Sophie shrugs and shoves a spoon full of cake into her mouth. “It’s warm in the cave when we make a fire.”