Sophie's Secret

“What am I going to wear?”

Sophie heard the shout for the hundredth time that evening. She turned her head just in time to see her sister, Amber, storm into their parents' room. Amber was tearing at her tousled hair, looking less like she was heading to an event and more like she’d just come from a long day at the beach in her crop top and mini skirt.

“What’s the matter, Amber?” Mrs. March asked, not looking up from where she was pinned to Sophie’s hairdo. “I thought I told you to get ready an hour ago.”

“Nothing is working!” Amber groaned, throwing herself onto the edge of the bed.

“What happened to the outfit I laid out for you?” Mrs. March finally looked up, giving her youngest daughter a stern look. “And the deodorant. Please tell me you used it.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “I know, Mom. But those clothes... they just aren't me.”

“What do you mean they aren’t working?” Mrs. March asked. 

“They don’t fit!” Amber snapped. 

Sophie watched as Amber flopped onto the bed, her bare stomach exposed. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Amber looked like a sun-kissed goddess, with mirror-like grey eyes and thick blonde hair bleached pale by the Florida  sun. 

“You’re fine, Amber. The world’s not ending,” Sophie said, a surge of annoyance bubbling up. 

Amber did this every single time they had somewhere important to be. She was never ready on time, but today, being late wasn't an option. It was their sister Lana’s wedding party at her new in-laws' house. They had to be punctual, polished, and prepared. No slacking, no dragging feet—concepts that were completely foreign to Amber. 

Mrs. March struggled to pin Sophie’s hair into an elegant braid, but the silky, short strands kept sliding through her fingers. 

“Oh, honey, I can’t do this,” she sighed, sounding defeated as she jammed in another bobby pin. “Your hair is just too short. It’s not working.” 

“That’s okay,” Sophie said, trying to stay calm. “Maybe I’ll just wear it down.” 

“Mom?” Amber interjected. 

“Maybe a little gel will help…” Mrs. March muttered, completely tuned into Sophie’s hair and ignoring Amber. 

“Mom!”

Sophie shook her head firmly. “I don’t want gel in my hair.”

“Then I don’t know what else to do, baby,” Mrs. March said sadly. “Maybe Daddy—no, that’s a bad idea. All your father knows how to do is fix the sick.”

“Mother!” Amber was losing her patience. “Eva March!”

Mrs. March spun around. “What?”

Now that she had her mother’s full attention, Amber sat up. She ran her fingers through her long, shimmering hair and flashed a sweet, dimpled smile. “Could you just do mine now?”

“I don’t know, baby. I’m still working on Sophie’s,” her mother answered, though she already sounded uncertain. “Can you wait a moment?”

“Momma!” Amber cried, her face falling into a deep frown as if she’d been personally insulted.

“Oh, well!” Mrs. March hesitated for a split second, looking back and forth between her two daughters. “I’m sorry, Sophie. Your hair is just too short for this style. Maybe I can get Jo Jo in here—Jo Jo!” she called toward the next room.

A minute later, Sophie’s older sister walked in, balancing two dresses on a single hanger.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Can you help Sophie make her hair look decent? I have to start on Amber’s,” Mrs. March said, already reaching for Amber’s blonde locks.

“Sure,” Jo Jo said, stepping over.

Jo Jo laid the dresses carefully on the bed. 

It took more than an hour to get everyone’s hair exactly right. Jo Jo and Sophie were finished in less than ten minutes; Sophie simply combed her blonde hair around her slender jawline and tucked a thin silver wreath into the side. Then, she helped Jo Jo weave a long fishtail braid, accenting it with tiny bobby-pin flowers. Amber, predictably, took the longest, unable to commit to a single style. 

When they were finally done, Sophie glanced at the clock and jumped. It was nearly five—they had to be at the party no later than six! 

“So, who are you going to dance with?” Sophie asked as she and Jo Jo got dressed in their shared room. She let a little smirk play on her lips. 

Jo Jo caught the expression and smiled. It always seemed like Sophie was wearing that look, as if she suspected a secret was hiding just beneath the surface. 

“I don’t know. Whoever asks me, I guess,” Jo Jo answered safely. 

Sophie furrowed her brow, her smirk fading into a look of genuine curiosity. “You won’t dance with Peter?”

Peter Timberline was Lucas’s younger brother. He and Jo Jo had been close friends for as long as the family had known the Timberlines—ever since Lana, the eldest March sister, had first met Lucas.

Everyone knew they were friends, but Sophie was starting to suspect the relationship ran deeper than that. She could see it in the way Jo Jo acted whenever Peter was around. Her sister became more engaging, more full of life, always watching him with a certain twinkle in her eyes. To Sophie, everything about the two of them seemed right. They were clearly meant to be together.

She was genuinely shocked that her sister wouldn’t jump at the chance to dance with him, especially at their own sibling’s wedding party.

“I might dance with him. We'll see,” Jo Jo said, her tone cautious. “Who are you going to dance with?”

Sophie shrugged. She would probably end up dancing with Jamie, the youngest Timberline brother, but even that was up in the air. She’d decide once they got there, depending on how she felt.

She gave a careless shrug. “I don’t know. I might not dance at all.”

But she did know. Sophie had a secret—a secret she…Sophie was sure she wouldn't tell anyone until the timing was perfect.

They dropped the subject as they finished dressing, turning their attention to their outfits instead.

“Oh, yes! I knew you should’ve worn that. That dress with the turquoise sash is so pretty on you,” Jo Jo exclaimed, looking at her little sister with genuine admiration. “And your hair! Oh, Sophie, you’re gorgeous. You look like a glowing goddess. I bet everyone will be looking at you tonight instead of Lana.”

“No, that’s not true,” Sophie laughed. “Lana is way too beautiful. Did you see her in her new dress?”

“I saw her just before she left. I thought I would die,” Jo Jo said, her eyes glowing at the memory. “The white satin and the ribbons… Oh!”

Sophie dove into the closet, rummaging through the shadows for a few seconds. She emerged holding a pair of water-green shoes and held them out for her sister to inspect.

“Would these look okay?”

“Sparkle Ponies! Those with the lemon-peel dress will look stunning.” Jo Jo reached out to touch the shoes gently. “Oooh, I love the tiny sea shells.”

Sophie chuckled. “Yeah, Amber yanked most of them off a while ago, so there are only a few left.” 

Just then, Mrs. March and Amber swept into the room. Amber was dressed in her pale pink dress and brown high-heeled boots, finally ready to go. Sophie could tell their mother had done her makeup; Amber was far too clumsy and impatient to pull off a look that polished. However, the faint red smears at the corners of her mouth were proof she hadn't been quite patient enough to sit perfectly still. 

Amber raced across the room and wrapped herself around Sophie in a tight hug. 

“Carry me out,” she begged, snuggling her cheek into Sophie’s dress. “Pleasssse?” 

“No. You have to walk on your own,” Sophie said, prying Amber’s fingers loose. “I can’t carry you, Amber. You’re ten years old and way too heavy. C’mon, we’re going to be late.” 

“Let’s go, ladies! Time to head out,” Mr. March called, stepping into the room.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw his wife and daughters. “Wow. Don’t you all look incredible.” 

“Daddy!” Amber squealed, racing across the room to leap into his arms. He caught her with a laugh and carried her out to the car, the rest of the family following close behind. 

The drive to the Timberlines' house took barely twenty minutes. Sophie stared out the window, watching the streetlights of the city blur past. She thought she saw a few lanterns already drifting in the sky, and her heart gave a nervous little hop. Finally, the Timberline mansion loomed into view—a massive, glowing estate. 

Before she knew it, they were at the front door ringing the bell. Mr. Timberline greeted them warmly and led them into the ballroom, where a sea of guests had already gathered. 

“We’ll be releasing the lanterns at midnight,” Mr. Timberline explained quickly, over the hum of the crowd. “But in the meantime, feel free to dance, eat, or just mingle. In about five minutes, Luke and Lana are going to kick things off with a tango competition.” 

He turned to Sophie and gave her a conspiratorial grin. “I heard you learned the tango especially for tonight. You ready to go out there and show these grown-ups how it’s done?”

Sophie felt a hot blush creep up her neck, and she ducked her head shyly. She had never told anyone about the tango lessons. She caught a glimpse of her mother smiling out of the corner of her eye and realized what had happened. 

It was that invisible line of communication that always seemed to exist between women, especially mothers who were best friends. It was a leak in the family plumbing: everything that happened in the March house eventually trickled down to Jamie and his brothers, and everything the Timberline boys did eventually made its way back to her mother. 

“—Well, I know she’s excited about it,” Sophie’s mother was saying to Mr. Timberline. “You should’ve seen her persistence. She was determined to master those steps.” 

“Where’s Peter?” Jo Jo asked, cutting through the conversation. Her wide eyes scanned the crowded room, searching for that one familiar face. 

“Here I am.” 

Jo Jo jumped, spinning around straight into Peter Timberline’s arms. He was incredibly tall, with a thick mane of black curls and eyes the color of melting dark chocolate. A wide grin split his face as he wrapped his long arms around Jo Jo’s frame and gave her a rib-crushing squeeze.

Jo Jo grabbed his jaw, playfully pulling his face down toward hers. “What do you think you’re doing, you big bum?”

“Holding you captive.” Peter tightened his grip, and Jo Jo seemed to melt against him. “You’re my prisoner now, Josephine Elizabeth March.”

Jo Jo’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. She squirmed out of his grasp, giving him a firm shove that sent Peter stumbling backward, shaking with laughter.

Sophie stayed back with the adults, watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and disbelief. How could they be so intimate right in front of everyone without dying of embarrassment? Sophie shuddered at the thought. If she were in Jo Jo's shoes, she would have melted right through the floorboards.

“Come with me!” Peter said, snagging Jo Jo’s arm.  "Let's have fun before the night's over."

Sophie watched them bolt from the room, heading toward the massive kitchen. Where could they possibly be going in such a hurry? 

Mr. Timberline cleared his throat and offered his arm to Mrs. March, playing the perfect gentleman as he prepared to lead the adults away. He gave a careless wave in Sophie’s direction. 

“Run off and find something to do, Sophie. I think Jamie’s in the library again—no, wait—last I saw him, he was helping his mother with the punch. Check the kitchen. You never know with that boy; he might be on Mars for all we know.” He grinned, his blue eyes twinkling through his thick Cajun mustache. “In the meantime, I’m going to show your parents the way to the bar.” 

Standing alone, Sophie allowed herself a moment to take in the room. The Timberline mansion was colossal; this ballroom alone felt like it had swallowed the entire world. Everything was a blur of gold, polished stone, and glass. High above, a massive diamond chandelier sparkled against the ceiling like a captured star.

Sophie turned and hurried through the crowd on the dance floor, weaving toward the kitchen. She had almost reached the door when Mrs. Timberline nearly collided with her, rushing out with a heavy tray.

“Oh, sorry, hon! Too many bodies to avoid…” The words died on her lips as she stepped back to get a full look at Sophie. She let out a soft breath, her chest rising and falling. “My! Aren’t you just pretty tonight!”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Sophie said, flashing a bright smile.

“Ma’am?” Mrs. Timberline frowned down at her, her eyes playful.

“Oh—uh. Auntie?”

“That’s much better,” Mrs. Timberline said, her smile returning. “You’ll get the gist of it soon enough. We’re family now, you know.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting,” Sophie said. She peered over Mrs. Timberline’s shoulder into the warmly lit kitchen and spotted Jo Jo and Peter tucked behind the island. They were devouring shrimp cocktails, snickering wildly between bites. Jamie was nowhere to be seen.

“Have you seen Jamie?” Sophie asked as Mrs. Timberline prepared to move back into the crowd.

“Yes, I sent him off to find something to do. He should be in the ballroom somewhere.”

I was just in the ballroom, Sophie thought.

She hurried back into the main room, her eyes scanning the crowd. Finally, she spotted a familiar face at the long buffet table. Jamie was wearing one of his mother’s pink, frothy aprons wrapped around his slim frame, busily stacking white cupcakes onto a tiered stand. His thick curls stood up at the top of his head, seemingly alive with the static in the room.

Sophie approached him quickly, but he didn't notice her until she was only a few steps away.

“Sophie…?” he stammered, stepping back.

“Do you know any other?” Sophie asked, a soft grin playing on her lips.

He gave a slight shrug. “Maybe one or two.” He paused, finally taking her in. His eyes widened. “Wow! How much did you spend on that dress?”

Sophie’s heart dropped to her feet. That’s the first thing you ask? Not "you look great" or even "nice dress." Just… how much did it cost?

She gave a careless shrug, trying to hide her disappointment. “I don’t know, really.”

She looked up into his face, feeling as if every time she saw him, she had to crane her neck a little further back just to meet his gaze. Jamie was so tall she barely reached his shoulder, his wide frame occasionally making her feel small. But she loved looking at him. At sixteen, his face already held an unusually knowing gleam, perfectly balanced by a lingering boyish charm. His classic French nose was the anchor for his other features, but it was his eyes—those beautiful, sea-born eyes—that she never grew tired of.

He was one of those boys who was beautiful and clearly knew it, mostly because every other girl in the room was busy drooling over him. Boys like Jamie didn't look twice at girls like her. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Sophie…?”

Jamie’s voice snapped her back to reality. He was watching her, one eyebrow raised quizzically as he waited for her to rejoin the conversation.

Sophie bit her bottom lip. “You thought I wouldn’t be here.”

“Can you blame me? Last I heard, you were taking a very ‘important’ test and ‘possibly wouldn’t make it.’”

“That was the day before!” She laughed, reaching out to pat his arm while he continued stacking cupcakes. “You can’t blame me for doing what I have to do.”

“Well then, this conversation is over,” Jamie said, his voice thick with teasing.

They grew quiet, his gaze dropping to where her hand still rested on his arm. Slowly, their eyes met and locked.

Sophie felt a rush of warmth flood through her. This was it—her chance to finally tell him. She didn't know how he would react, but she felt like if she could just get the words out, everything would finally be alright. She needed to tell him. Her knees felt like they were turning to water.

Suddenly, Jamie yanked his arm away as if her touch had burned him. He grabbed his tray, his face unreadable, and turned to leave.

“Stay out of the cupcakes,” he told her over his shoulder. “You know your limits.”

How many times did he need to remind her? Everyone knew that when Sophie had too much sugar, her body overreacted. She’d turn hysterically hilarious, laughing wildly until she eventually just passed out.

As Jamie carried the tray toward the kitchen, Sophie hurried to keep pace with him.

“Why are you even cooking?” she asked.

“Mother needs help,” he said, his tone dry and clipped.

Sophie nudged him with her shoulder, her smile bright and persistent. “It’s your brother’s wedding party, Jamie. Take some time off. Relax.”

“Relax? No.”

She jumped directly into his path, forcing him to stop, and reached for the tray.

“Then I’ll help you,” she volunteered. “You’ve been way too tense lately. Loosen up! Shake those shoulders.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and tugged the tray back toward his chest, but Sophie didn't let go.

“Jamie—”

“Sophie!” he snapped, though his eyes softened slightly. “I don’t want you ruining that dress. It’s too fancy for kitchen work. Go dance or something.”

Her eyes darkened. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Oh, really? Well, maybe you can just keep smiling like you always do. I’m sure that’ll help.”

Sophie froze, a wave of hurt crashing over her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “Are you being sarcastic right now?”

He narrowed his eyes, but Sophie didn't back down. This was it. She saw her opening.

“I need to tell you something, Jamie. Please... just don’t freak out.”

He stared at her, the tray still poised between them.

“I—”

The words died on her lips. Over Jamie’s shoulder, she saw a man stumble, heading straight for the massive tier of cupcakes. The tower wobbled dangerously. Sophie knew exactly what was coming next. She lunged toward it, her hands outstretched to catch the frame, but it was just like her dream. The tier crashed to the floor, exploding in a mess of white icing and cake.

The crowd scattered, yelping as they tried to avoid being plastered in frosting.

Jamie rushed to her side and grabbed her arm, his eyes wide with confusion. “Sophie... how did you know that was going to happen? You moved before he even hit it.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Sophie said, her voice trembling. “I’ve seen this before. It’s like those movies we watched last summer, Jamie. The days are repeating. I’m living the same day all over again. Like a loop.”

Jamie gave her a blank look, as if she’d just told him the earth was spinning backward. Then, Sophie’s heart dropped. A twinkle appeared in his eyes, and he started to laugh. He laughed so hard he couldn't even catch his breath, while Sophie just stood there, watching him with a heavy, sad ache in her chest.

“Forget it.”

Sophie couldn't stand the sound of his laughter for another second. She turned and fled.

She pushed through the crowd, ignored the music, and burst out the front door. She trudged through the back garden until she reached the stone wall at the edge of the property. She climbed the white steps and sat on the ledge, staring out at the dark expanse of the sea.

So much for her secret. It was obvious Jamie didn't care—at least, not in the way she needed him to. She could be at the end of the world and he wouldn't notice. Sophie sighed, letting the ocean wind tug at her short hair. The image of Jo Jo and Peter laughing in the kitchen flashed through her mind. Jo Jo was so lucky; she didn't have to live in a loop. She just had to live.

“I love you, cher,” Sophie whispered to the waves.

A few minutes later, the crunch of footsteps on gravel broke the silence. Sophie didn't turn around. She didn't have to; she knew the weight of his presence. Jamie towered over her, his shadow stretching across the stone. He reached out, gently resting his large hand on her head.

Slowly, he tilted her head back until she was looking up at him. He stared into her face for a long time, studying her tiny, perfect features as if he were seeing them for the first time. He said nothing, and for once, Sophie found no need to talk to him.

Jamie sat down beside her on the sea wall. Sophie’s tongue felt tied in knots; she had no idea what to say. Her shoulders rose and fell in a heavy rhythm as she watched the waves flower into white foam against the harbor.

“You think I’m crazy,” she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the wind. “But I saw it. I promise I did.”

“Yeah, sure,” he grunted.

“I wish I could prove it to you.”

“No need. Just watch where you’re going next time, idiot.”

Sophie turned to him, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Jamie captured her gaze and held it, his expression suddenly grave. “You... died. Before. You were swimming in the cove and you drowned.” She saw him swallow. "I...couldn't save you in time. You just disappeared."

Sophie’s heart froze in her chest like a block of ice. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, yet strangely enough, she felt the truth in every word that fell from his lips.

“How?” she whispered. “How could you possibly know that, Jamie?”

“Well,” he said, dangling his long legs over the edge of the wall. He stared down at his hands, his voice dropping an octave. “I’ve been cheating a little. With life. So don't worry, you won't drown again. I'll make sure of that.”

“Cheating?”

“Yes.” He turned back to her, his eyes landing on her face with a raw, startling honesty. “I have an hourglass that turns back time. You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’ve used it a few times to fix things. To help me.” He paused, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. “Remember the first time I painted a picture for you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, the memory vivid in her mind. “The first one in the series you did of me. Girl in a Blue Dress.” 

A slow smile curled his lips. “Well, back then, I didn't know the first thing about painting. The only thing I knew about art was that I was failing at it. That one painting actually took me six months to finish.” 

Sophie could only stare, her mind reeling. She was stunned. All this time, she thought she knew everything there was to know about Jamie Timberline. But an hourglass that controlled time? Who could have imagined such a thing? 

Jamie continued, listing the moments he’d reached for the hourglass to manipulate reality. Every single example involved doing something for her. Except for one. 

“That time I wrote that song for you—” 

“You wrote that in just one day!” Sophie interrupted. 

“It actually took me two months.” 

“Oh!” Sophie let out a soft cry, smiling sheepishly at him. That song had been her favorite since the moment she heard it. She listened to it every single night to calm her nerves and help her sleep; Jamie’s resonant Cajun accent was incredibly lulling, like warm ocean waves on the beach.

But why hadn't he told her until now? Was he afraid she’d think he was crazy? Had he tried to tell her in other versions of this day, or was her own confession the only thing that finally forced the truth out of him? 

Or were they both just crazy?

Sophie leaned into the thought. If she had to be out of her mind, there was no one she’d rather be crazy with than Jamie.

She sighed and turned back to the sea, inhaling a deep, salty breath. The evening air was cooling down, and her shoes were starting to feel uncomfortably tight. She looked down at her thin fingers, resting on the cold stone.

“I wish I could play the guitar like you do,” she said softly.

“You can. I’ll teach you.”

“Ah! But it’s impossible for me,” she insisted. “My hands are just too small.” She held up her right hand to show him.

“Actually, our hands aren't that different. See?” Jamie gently spread her fingers and pressed his palm against hers for comparison. His chest brushed against her shoulder, and Sophie found herself staring at his long eyelashes as they grazed her cheekbones.

He looked down at her, his gaze tender and lingering. His breath slowed, matching her own, as the rest of the world—the party, the cupcakes, and the repeating days—finally faded into the background.

Caught off guard, Sophie soaked in his presence like a sponge. As far as she could remember, Jamie had never been this close to her. The proximity was overwhelming; she felt a sharp, pricking sensation in her chest and instinctively pulled her hand away.

“Yes, they are different,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Jamie straightened up, the moment broken. He turned and descended the steps, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Sophie stood up, looking down at his retreating back.

“Do you... like me, Jamie?” she asked tentatively.

He didn't stop. “Why ask that now?”

“Because I love you.”

Abruptly, Jamie froze. He turned slowly, walked back to the base of the wall, and looked straight up at her. A steady gleam sparkled in his blue eyes, and he appeared remarkably calm. When he spoke again, his voice was thick with a sudden, raw passion.

“I’ve always loved you, Sophie. From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew you belonged to me. That you were created only for me. I’ve loved you ever since.”

Sophie stood frozen, startled by the sheer weight of his confession. She’d never known Jamie could be so blunt, so fiercely honest about his deepest feelings. An overwhelming surge of joy began to drown out her fear.

He stared up at her for a few seconds longer, holding her gaze, then turned and began to walk slowly along the fence line.

"Let's go inside." 

"Alright."