The barn is a mess and needs to be cleaned, and the horse stall is the culprit. I haven't been able to get around to cleaning after I've been busy with the new season, which I also need to get started on. It's April, the start of the crop season. But with Sophie around, I can't even get this done in time. I can't stop thinking about her. She obviously is not from around here by her earlier reaction, and I want to know what is happening. But I'm afraid if I push her into answering questions, she will lose the little trust she might already have in me, and I won't be able to help her in the ways I feel God calling me to.
I've only gotten a quarter done cleaning up in Belle's stall when I hear screaming. A girl scream-the kind that you would make if you're terrified and have the fight-or-flight response. I'm not sure why, but it got me to drop the shovel and out the gate in seconds. Standing by the barn door, I spot Sophie running with Andy not far behind, and she, in fact, looks frightened.
What the heck is he doing to her?
"Andy!" I raise my voice when Sophie runs toward me and hides behind me like I'm her shield or safe place. He stops running and leans over with his hand on his knees as if out of breath. "What do you think you're doing chasing her down?" I ask, desperate to know because they sure weren't playing a friendly game of tag.
"She is a runner, big brother. She would do great in track, don't you think?" He smiles with a little chuckle behind it as if any of it was funny. It's not.
"Answer the question, Andy, why were you chasing her? Sophie was obviously not enjoying it." I ask again, and he gives me an eye roll instead of answering my question-this kid. Sometimes, I question if he's really seventeen years old. With a sigh, I relax my shoulders, giving up asking any further, and head back to Belle's stall to finish cleaning up the manure. But then I realize Sophie is holding onto me from the back of my button-up, and I freeze. Not knowing what to do or say, I make awkward eye contact. She sniffles, and a tear runs down her left cheek. I almost do something ridiculous, like whip it away with my thumb, but my arms stay at my sides.
Something isn't right being chased in Andy's sense; fun shouldn't make you cry. Something about this set off a trigger, but why?
When she breaks down into a sob and starts falling to her knees, I reach out without much of a single thought, grasp her by the shoulders, and hold her up against me so she's not sitting in the mud. "Sophie, Sophie, you need to talk to me. What's going on?" I say what I hope sounds soothing while feeling mad inside. Taking my focus off her for just a second, I say. "You're going to apologize right now, Andy." I pin my gaze on him, not letting this get by. he has to apologize for whatever he did, no expectations.
"Okay, jeez." He holds his hands up in defense. "I'm sorry, ok. I'm sorry for trying to help you out and for chasing you out of the kitchen to be funny." Andy says before running back toward the house, leaving me confused and alone with a girl I have no idea what to do with. Or maybe I do?
"Sophie? Darlin, you're safe now he's gone." I tell her, and forcing myself out of my comfort zone, I reach forward to touch her cheek and whip her tears away. She hiccups. I sigh. She looks at me with her glassy-teared eyes as they fall. I frown, wiping them away. "You want to talk about it. I can be a pretty good listener?" I ask, and as expected, she shakes her head. "Alright, how about you help me in the barn and get this done faster so we can go to town? You can pick out some clothes and maybe a pair or two of shoes."
She nods her head not once or twice but four times and brings her arm to her face to whip her cheeks dry, which reminds me that my palm is still touching that very spot on her face. I yank my hand back, and she wipes her face dry with the sleeve of my old shirt that I handed down to Andy when he stays over for the weekend and doesn't have to pack a big bag every time. "Let's go, Mr. Davis, no reason to waste time," Sophie says, popping up on her feet with a smile on her sad-looking face as if she wasn't just sobbing her eyes out a minute ago.
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"How about this one?" I hold up a t-shirt with silver sparkles all over and a heart in the middle that looks like someone took scissors through it out of hatred. It's the ugliest shirt I've ever laid eyes on. Sophie turns her body just enough to turn her head comfortably to get a good look at it. I stretched my arms wider so she could get a full inspection, and while I was fully prepared for her to smile, I sure was not ready for a full burst of laughter to break through her. A smile stretches over my face. It feels nice to hear some new laughter; for once, back on the farm in the barn, she would make small talk and chuckle over the littlest things while I listened, but nothing like this. Nothing could beat this sound.
"That is the ugliest shirt I've ever seen in my life, Mr. Davis." She hollers out a laugh, bending over with a hand on her belly, and stumbles forward, almost losing her balance, but grabs the end of the rack and laughs some more like everything is suddenly so funny. I nearly want to laugh with her, but I refrain and just stick with a big grin, watching the joy blossom through her soul.
God, what can I do to make sure she smiles and laughs like this forever?
She takes a few steps until we are just a foot apart and snatches the t-shirt out of my hand. She tosses it on a nearby shelf and tilts her head back so we are looking into each other's eyes, and as awkward as it is, I don't look away. "You are not fit to help a girl out when it comes to clothes shopping." She says and even dares to look me up and down with judgment all over her face. "And for your outfits, you have no sense of style there all the same."
My mouth gaps open, too stunned to speak. She did not just say that about me-my everyday clothes. I think my heart just got ripped out of my chest and stomped on. Seeing her arm suddenly fly by my face, I flinch back, and she yanks my hat off my head and sets it on her own. Putting one hand on her hip while the other on the rim of the hat, tilting it down in greeting and mocks my voice. "Howdy." She says in a deep, girlish voice far from mine and bursts into a fit of chuckles.
Glaring down at her, I cross my arms over my chest. "I do not sound like that little girl. Now give me back my hat before you bend it." I tell her, but I don't really mean it. My hat is already bent from wearing it every hour of every day.
"You're probably right. I should. You might be carrying lice." She takes it off her head and sets it back on mine crookedly.
Excuse me?
"First my clothes and now my hair? I do not have lice." I say and fix my hat, pressing it down.
"Well, I can't help it when it's true, but FYI, I'm not a little girl. I'm fifteen, almost sixteen in a few months." She says with a bit of sass and spins on her heel. Her hair whips around an inch away from hitting my chin, and she goes on her business to shop for clothes. I just stand back and watch her look through and pull shirts of all varieties off the shelf and follow her around when she moves to the pants section, grabbing a few of everything as well. Jeans, shorts, and leggings. On to the shoes, she immediately goes to the sneakers, which, in my opinion, is a bad start. In the countryside, those won't last; she needs a good pair of boots. So, I take action in my own hands and walk through the next aisle with the cowboy boots.
Pulling a pair off the shelf, I look over at the end of the aisle and notice Sophie sitting on the bench, trying on a new pair of black and white sneakers. And making my way over, I set them down on the floor in front of her. She looks at them momentarily before looking up at me, arching a brow. "Really? You want me to get boots."
I nod my head, not seeing the problem here. "Yeah, you need them if you plan to stick around a little longer. You'll soon realize that they will be your best friend during rainstorms and mud on the farm. It can get pretty bad." I tell her. "Try them on."
"Wait, what?" She says, and her brows pinch together as if I didn't just say anything straightforward and to the point.
"I said try them on."
"N-no, no. Before that, what do you mean if I decide to stay a little longer?" She says, "I thought we agreed for me to leave after the storm passed?"
Here we go-time to let it all out, Davis.
Stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets, I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling unprepared for this conversation.
What if it freaks her out, and she thinks I'm some pervert? Oh God, give me strength.
"You remember when you came downstairs for breakfast and my family were there?" I say, then pause, letting her nod along before continuing. "Well, let's just say my dad was not a fan, so I explained everything about last night in great detail, all the way from me getting out of bed to having this sense that God sent you to my front porch for a reason. God wants me to help you, but I don't understand why or know how yet."
Sophie shuffles in her seat on the bench, suddenly looking nervous and uncomfortable. Maybe the mention of God? Getting my nerves under control, I start by saying. "Anyway, I told my dad that you're young and had nowhere to go, but I didn't know you were fifteen years young until a moment ago, which honestly works better in your and my favor over my dad, but it's your call. If you want to stay, stay; if you want to leave, you can leave whenever you want." I say, making it very clear. I will not hold her against her will like a criminal.
She nods her head franticly. Tears threatened to spill from her light brown eyes. She stands up with a single new shoe on her foot and turns her whole body toward me, hitting her palms against the lower part of her hip, not knowing what to do with her hands. "Y-you would do that for me. Y-you'll let me s-stay?"
"Sophie, darlin, you are part of this big story, and God is writing it right now. Your story, and I'm just part of it. I'm going to help with whatever you need because I believe He has a purpose and reason for our meeting last night."
"Can I hug you? I really need a hug right now." She says, finally holding her arms still out and open, ready to embrace me. I nod, refusing to even think about turning her down. If that's what she needs right now, my arms are open. I hold her with her head pressed against my chest. She lets out soft little sobs, holding onto me like I've never been held before.
God, please help me help her.