Page 71 of Saving Sophia

A small flicker of doubt flitted through my mind as I wondered why he would be looking for us.

Callie crossed her arms and glared at Griff. “Well, I don’t answer to Ethan, and I certainly don’t answer to?—”

He cut her off with his body, propelling her forward with sheer force of will without touching her at all. He swept us up in his wake, opening the door to the pool and shooing us through.

“Fine. I wanted to talk to Ethan about the awful décor in this place anyway,” Callie grumbled, sulking through the door with me following close behind.

21

SOPHIA

We came back into the main reception area where Ethan, Evie, and Rook stood around a large white box laid out on the front desk. Callie, Griff, and I joined them, forming a circle of six. At first, I was confused, but when Ethan carefully opened the box, I remembered.

It wasn’t pretty.

She lay inside, wrapped in white tissue, the box a doll-sized coffin. It was difficult to see much of her face because of the soot and ash. Her hair had melted into a charred, solid clump and her once-fancy, now-discolored dress reeked of smoke.

“Oh no,” I whispered, my hand hovering over her, unsure until Ethan pushed the box toward me.

“Shit.” Rook blew out a sad breath. “I forgot how bad she looked.”

“I never saw her,” Griff said. His voice so soft I didn’t recognize it as him at first.

“What is this?” Callie asked, her eyes gauging the seriousness of everyone’s expressions.

“Caroline,” Evie said.

“Aunt Carol’s doll,” I added, gingerly exploring her little burned face, trying not to disturb her brittle clothes. “She was in a fire.” I thought of Mrs. Helmsley’s unicorn, broken by the moon-faced man. I knew what it felt like to lose a treasure from the past.

“You can fix her, right?” Callie asked. “Soap’s amazing. There isn’t a doll she can’t fix.” Her confidence warmed my heart.

I glanced at her, grateful for the praise, but daunted at the hope everyone was placing on me. “I’d need some supplies … but … I think I can do something.”

“Whatever you need,” Ethan said.

“You have to understand.” I looked carefully at each of the faces around me, worried about all the hope I saw. “She won’t be the same.” I lifted her from the tissue and turned her over gently. “She’s too damaged for a simple restoration. Will Aunt Carol be disappointed if she’s different?”

“I trust you,” Ethan said.

I could feel Caroline reaching out under all the ash and soot. She wanted to heal. To be out of that box and back with Aunt Carol again. “Can we go into town tomorrow?” I asked. “I need new wefts, epoxy sculpt, fabric, oh, and elastic too.” I stopped talking, but the list kept growing in my head.

“Shopping day,” Callie squealed. “And after we get the stuff for Caroline, I have an idea.”

* * *

Later, as Ethan and I strolled hand in hand back up to the cabin, we paused on the porch to take in the sunset. It was nothing like the oranges and browns of the L.A. skyline. The colors were more vivid, closer somehow. The sky swirled with outbursts of purples and oranges and pinks mixing around swollen gray clouds outlined with a fiery yellow light.

Ethan wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close against his chest. “I left a message for Hayden.” He rested his chin on top of my head, the rumble of his voice vibrating through my back. “He’s going to need to talk to you. Did you talk to Callie?”

I dropped my head, and he turned me around to face him. His hands found my shoulders and gently stroked up and down my arms.

“I … didn’t get the chance. I meant to …” The words felt like excuses. I dropped my eyes to the weathered planks of the cedar porch.

“Tomorrow then.” His voice was kind, but firm. “You’ll be with her most of the day. I expect you to make the chance happen. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” He was right. I needed to tell her.

He tipped my chin up, and a little thrill rippled through my core. “Yes what?”

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