“Hey, I know you! There are lots of pictures of you here. You’re Tessa, right? Uncle Tony’s sister. When he and Mommy were leaving, he gave me the photo albums so I wouldn’t be bored. I asked him who was on the cover. It was your picture. He said you were his sister. Are you older than him or younger?”
Tessa’s head was spinning. Not only had her fiancé brought some woman and her child to her family home, but he had told the girl she was his sister, not his fiancée. This was getting interesting. She wanted to scream. But the little girl was obviously not to blame for Tony’s lies.
Tessa confirmed the girl’s guess. “Yes, Sophie, my name is Tessa. By the way, how long ago did Uncle Tony and your mom leave?”
“It was still light out. They said they were going back to our old apartment to get the rest of our things and they’d be right back. They promised to bring me a cake. They told me not to touch the stove and not to go outside. They said to be as quiet as possible and not to turn on too many lights. So I looked at the albums while it was light. Then I started to feel sick. I got tired and wanted to sleep. I guess I fell asleep.”
Sophie smiled and finished her story. “So I took a nap, and then you came. I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to put anything away.”
Tessa, who would have been annoyed if a stranger had been rummaging through her grandfather’s things, reassured the child. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’ll put them away myself.”
She guessed the girl, who had been alone for hours, must be hungry. “Sophie, are you hungry?” she asked as gently as she could.
The girl politely refused. “No, thank you. My tummy really hurts.”
Tessa didn’t have much experience with six-year-olds, but it didn’t take a pediatrician to see that Sophie looked unwell. Her face was pale, and the flush on her cheeks looked unnatural. For a moment, Tessa hoped the girl had just been sleeping on her side, but the symmetrical redness on both cheeks dismissed that idea.
The girl’s condition seemed to be worsening. “How about we take your temperature?” Tessa asked.
Sophie agreed meekly. Tessa fetched the first-aid kit, mentally thanking her grandparents for teaching her to always keep basic medical supplies on hand. The old mercury thermometer confirmed her fears: the bright red line shot up to almost 102 degrees.
Tessa tried her fiancé’s number again, but his phone was still off or out of range. She didn’t know what to think. Trying to keep the fear from her face, she asked, “Sophie, do you know your mom’s phone number?”
The girl nodded, wincing in pain. She pulled a small, stuffed-animal-shaped backpack from under the pillow, took out a little address book, and read out the number. But this hope, too, was dashed. The girl’s mother was also unreachable.
Tessa fought to stay calm, but seeing Sophie in pain, she couldn’t just stand by. The girl threw up once, and after comforting her and cleaning up, Tessa turned to the internet.
A quick search of Sophie’s symptoms pointed to appendicitis. Tessa knew she couldn’t make a diagnosis, but every article stressed the danger of delaying medical attention. She couldn’t risk the health, and possibly the life, of this child. It didn’t matter how she had ended up in her house; Tessa had to act.
She dialed 911, briefly explained the situation, and was transferred to a medical dispatcher. As she described the symptoms again, the calm, professional voice on the other end confirmed she had done the right thing. She gave her address, received instructions on what to do if the girl’s condition worsened, and then all she could do was wait. Tony’s number was still unreachable.
During a moment when the girl seemed to be in less pain, Tessa asked, “Sophie, do you have any idea where your papers might be? Like an insurance card? They’ll probably need them.”
“I know,” Sophie replied. “They’re in Mommy’s purse, but I think she took it with her.”
Tessa searched the room. In a large, checkered duffel bag, she found only clothes, a few toys, and a couple of books about a boy wizard.
While they waited for the ambulance, Tessa tried to distract Sophie, whose pain was clearly intensifying. She asked if the girl was in school yet and learned she wasn’t. Not knowing what else to do, she tried talking about the books. “I saw those books when I was looking for your papers. Have you read them? Who’s your favorite character?”
The girl managed a weak smile.
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