The rain hadn't let up. I didn't want Sophie's new sneakers to get soaked, so I asked her to wait under the store canopy while I fetched the truck. After she climbed in and buckled up, she looked at me and smacked her forehead, the universal gesture for being forgetful.

"What is it?"

She reached over and plucked the grocery list from my shirt pocket.

"I didn't forget. We'll go to a grocery store after we stop for a bite to eat."

She grew animated, excited. She pulled out one of her newly purchased purple pens and wrote on a pad: McDonalds, yay! Shamrock shakes.

"Sorry, princess. It's the wrong time of year for shamrock shakes."

Sophie pouted and rubbed her eyes with her fists, pantomiming like she was crying.

"How about Cracker Barrel? Are you down with that?"

She raised a palm inviting a high five.

I obliged her and smacked her hand.

We sat at a table across from one another. Sophie gawked all around at the ranch themed décor. I really enjoyed observing her, the way she regarded everything with curiosity.

Sophie wanted only water for her drink. I had the same. I watched her as she studied the menu, her blue eyes darting from the top of the menu to the bottom, then from page-to-page.

When the waiter returned for our order, she pointed to a photo on the menu of a chopped salad garnished with salmon. To keep things simple, I ordered the same.

She knew how to choose a healthy meal. I continued to file away little things like that, hoping to later recall those facts to connect the dots and hopefully bring Sophie's life into focus.

After the waiter walked away, she met my gaze. I wondered if now was a good time to trick some information out of her. "Some people don't look like the name they are given. Do you know what I mean?"

She cocked her head.

"The guy at the electronics counter. Did he look like a Brad to you?"

She didn't respond.

"I think he looked more like a Steve."

She shrugged.

"You definitely look like a Sophie. I'm sitting here trying to figure out what your middle name might be. Hmm, I'm thinking Jean. Yeah, you look like a Sophie Jean."

She rolled her eyes.

"Sophie Mae?"

She shook her head.

"Sophie Jo?"

Another shake of the head.

I kept my tone light and teasing. "Well, I've exhausted my three guesses. You win. So, what is your middle name?"

She pulled her purple ink pen from where she had parked it behind her ear and wrote on the paper napkin: Marie.

Not wanting to break the momentum, I continued, "Sophia Marie...?"

She wrote: Sophia Marie Bieler.

I mulled it over. Sophia Marie Bieler. She had told me she came from Minnesota. It was a start. Maybe I could work with that. "Such a pretty name. I like the way it rolls off my tongue."

She blew out her lips as if scoffing.

After our food arrived, we dug in.

While eating Sophie looked at me wearing a puzzled expression.

"What?"

She set down her fork and pointed at me.

"You want me to talk about myself? You want to know more about me?"

She nodded.

"What do you want to know?"

In the space left on her napkin, she wrote: Are you rich? You spent a lot of money on me today.

I snorted. "Rich? Not hardly. You've seen my cabin. Besides, what I spent today really wasn't all that much."

She grabbed a new napkin out of the holder and wrote: Thank you so much.

"You're welcome. I work at an Amazon fulfillment center. It's a big warehouse where I drive a forklift and load and unload trucks. The pay is good, but I'm not rich. My secret is I have very few expenses, so I've managed to save a lot of my pay. The cabin and acreage where I live belonged to my dad. Originally, it was a hunting cabin. I inherited it free and clear, my truck too. As you've seen, my possessions are meager. I get my water from a well, I have a septic system, I burn my trash, and I cut and chop wood for heat in the winter. I have only an electric bill and a monthly cellphone and Internet subscription."

While thinking about it, I said, "By the way, I have an iPad for Internet access. Feel free to use it. You'll find it in the end table drawer in the living room."

She studied me and wrote: You mentioned your dad?

Why had she zeroed in on that? "I don't want to burden you with my history."

Sophie scowled and wrote: You expect me to open up to you. It's a two-way street, Evan.

I couldn't argue with her logic. "I never talk about my family."

She folded her arms across her chest and stared at me.

"Okay, okay, uh, my father is dead. He died three years ago. My mom left us when I was six. I had an older brother, Kyle, who was killed-in-action in the Middle East war when I was your age, sixteen."

There was something else I wanted Sophie to know. "Full disclosure, I used to be married. Emily left me seventeen months ago." I scoffed. "Not that I'm counting, right?"

Her being mute made Sophie a good listener. She kept her gaze fixed on me, inviting me to continue speaking.

"I carried a lot of anger over losing my family, especially my brother. He had been the smart one with a bright future. It should've been me who died. I understood that I suffered from survivor's guilt but that understanding didn't change how I felt."

Might as well tell her the rest. "The anger often turned my mood ugly. During my dark periods, Emily thought she could fix me. Eventually, she gave up and left me. I don't blame her. I was hard to live with back then, and I harbor no ill will toward her. Thank God, we didn't have kids. They're the ones who get hurt when parents split."

I stopped to take a drink of water, wishing it was something stronger. "The irony is after she left, I snapped out of my funk. I had nobody else in my life. I sold my parent's house. I sold everything except for the cabin and the acreage it sits on. The cabin is perfect for me. Being isolated means I don't have to deal with people. I get enough of people being around them at work. People disappoint me, they hurt me, they always leave me. Everyone leaves me, but the cabin is my safe haven, my sanctuary."

I stopped to take a breath. "My story isn't pretty, is it?"

Sophie dropped her gaze to the tabletop.

"I hope I haven't caused you discomfort. You're safe with me, and I'm going to help you through whatever situation you're finding yourself in. Actually, I feel a need to help you in order to focus on someone else's happiness for a change instead of my own sorry ass life."

She paused for a long time before writing: Maybe we can help each other.

"You already helped me. Getting all that out of my system has me feeling a little lighter."

She wrote: Maybe God meant for us to find each other.

How had it come to this? My plan had been to get Sophie to open up. Somehow she had flipped things around, and I still knew nothing more about her.

From all appearances, Evan is becoming emotionally attached to Sophie, not romantically but as her friend and protector. Given his history of being abandoned, is he setting himself up to get hurt?

Top Photo Source: McDonalds