A person didn't need to speak to play cards well. Sophie was ruthless and aggressive. Sometimes too aggressive. Often, she knocked too soon and would be set back. We sat at my small kitchen table and played Gin for about an hour. Each of us won the same number of games. When I asked if she wanted to play something else, she was adamant about playing a tiebreaker.

After a few hands, my score was 96 to her 98. The next hand would determine the winner. By dumb luck, I was dealt a perfect run and a set of two kings. When Sophie discarded a king, I knew I had won with a big gin.

I almost didn't pick up the king, thinking I should let her win. Maybe she needed a small triumph. If she discovered I handed a victory to her though, I didn't think she'd like it. She'd want to beat me on her own terms.

I picked up the king and threw down. "Gin!"

Sophie blew a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes and shrugged in a you win some, you lose some gesture. Then she picked up her pad and wrote: Can I drink one of the beers in your fridge?

I hesitated, remembering her age. "Just one, okay?"

She saluted and wrote: You want one?

"Not tonight."

Sophie returned to the table with her beer and regarded me.

After a few minutes of silence, I asked, "What do you plan to do tomorrow while I'm at work?"

She sipped her beer and seemed lost in thought. She picked up her pad: Make your breakfast, read my Bible, and then I'm going to clean your cabin.

"No, Sophie, you don't have to clean. You're my guest, and I want you to relax."

Cleaning relaxes me, and your windows are filthy. Have you ever washed them?

"Why should I? That's what the rain is for."

I'm gonna come across this table and squeeze your wrists.

I made a big deal out of sitting on my hands. "Please don't, they're already black and blue."

She grinned. What about breakfast? What do you eat?

"I get up at half past four in order to be at work by six, and I don't eat breakfast. Please don't get up early on my account."

I'm used to getting up early and going to bed early.

"Because you grew up on a farm?"

She cocked her head. How do you know that?

"You told me about shooting groundhogs."

She nodded.

It seemed the perfect opportunity to pry more information from her. "What kind of farm?"

After studying me for a long moment, she wrote: Dairy.

Her curt response and cautious facial expression left me with the impression I shouldn't push further.

After finishing her beer, Sophie moved to the sofa. I had left the TV on after watching the news. The last few minutes of Jeopardy was being broadcast.

I joined her and we watched until the show was over.

I pulled the iPad out from the end table drawer. "Sophie, I can only get a few local stations with my digital antenna. If you want more variety, I can open a browser window and sign us up for Netflix."

She shook her head and wrote: I don't watch much.

"You're really a low maintenance woman, you know that?"

Blowing a raspberry, she wrote: How can you say that after all the money you spent on me today?

"I already told you, it wasn't really that much."

Her expression grew pensive. Evan, thank you so much for saving me and taking care of me.

I didn't know how to respond, so I simply said, "You're welcome."

She wrote: God bless you.

I didn't know how to respond to that either.

For a moment, she chewed on the end of her purple ink pen then wrote: Will you do me another favor?

"I will if I can."

Sophie seemed a little hesitant, and she wouldn't hold my gaze as if embarrassed. Will you tuck me in like you did last night with the blanket?

Her request warmed my heart. "Of course."

You probably think I'm a stupid girl, but when you did that, it made me feel safe. My dad used to tuck me in.

Another interesting revelation.

I felt her tug my sleeve. On the pad she had written: Is something wrong?

"No. Sorry. I was lost in thought. You are not a stupid girl, and I'm honored you feel safe with me."

That got a smile out of her. She wrote: After I brush my teeth with my new toothbrush (not yours). That was followed by a smiley face. I'll go to the bedroom and close the door to change into my unicorn nightshirt. When I open the door, I'll be ready for you.

"I've been meaning to ask, why do you leave the door open? Not that I mind, but don't you want privacy?"

She laid a hand on my wrist. I held my breath hoping she wouldn't squeeze me. I realized it was meant to be a comforting touch when she removed her hand and wrote: I want heat from the wood stove to find me. You keep this place too darn cold for me to close the door.

"Okay, okay, if I wake up in the middle of the night, I'll get off the sofa and add another log."

Thank you!!!!!!!!

I watched the cop show that came on after Jeopardy while Sophie got ready for bed but had trouble focusing.

She exited the bathroom, shot me a quick smile, and closed the door after entering the bedroom. A few minutes later, she opened the door and stood in the doorway, her beautiful, long red hair tumbling in an unruly way down across her shoulders onto her unicorn nightshirt.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded.

I followed her into the bedroom and found her kneeling at bedside, hands folded neatly on the sheets in front of her in prayer. I felt like an intruder on Sophie's private moment. She prayed a long time which left me feeling awkward.

Finally, she climbed into bed and lay on her back, looking up at me.

I pulled the sheet up. Sophie grabbed the hem of the sheet in both fists, holding it in place at her shoulders. I unfolded the blanket and draped it over her, all the way up to her neck so only her head stuck out. I pushed the blanket tight under her shoulders. "There. My angel is safely tucked away in her cocoon."

She smiled, and in my mind's eye I imagined what she must have looked like as a little girl. Bending over, I kissed her forehead. "Good night, Sophie."

She responded with a toothy grin. Then she closed her eyes.

I retreated to the living room. Finally alone, I decided it was time to research my guest. I grabbed my iPad and did a Google search on Sophia Marie Bieler and Minnesota. The search results came up empty. I tried different combinations and spellings of her name.

Nothing.

I visited all the major social media sites and tried her name in various combinations. When nothing relevant appeared, I became frustrated. How was it possible a pretty teen girl had no digital footprint? Did she use an alias on social media as some cautious females sometimes did?

She either lied to me about her name, which I doubted, or she really was an angel sent from heaven. A few days ago, I would've dismissed that idea as idiotic. Now, I wasn't so sure. The responsibility of caring for Sophie gave me purpose. She was good for me, making me feel needed.

Glancing at the open door to the bedroom, I mumbled, "Who are you?"