When the telephone trilled half an hour later, I considered leaving it so the noise would wake Ruth, but after six rings, I couldn’t stand it anymore and picked up. “Hello?”

“Ruth?”

“No, it’s Delilah.”

There was a long pause. “You sound just like her. I thought she was playing the fool.”

“No. Who am I speaking to?”

“Her husband, Vincent.”

“She hasn’t gotten up yet but I can call her for you if you like?”

“No!” he virtually shouted before lowering his voice. “She probably won’t want to talk to me anyway.” Before I could ask why, he continued with, “So, you’re the long-lost sister. I always thought she’d made you up.”

“That’s me,” I said. “Not made up.”

“It just seemed so improbable that a family would have two sisters called Ruth and Delilah. Aren’t you a nun?”

“No, I left the convent when I was still a novice.”

“Still, from what Ruth says, you’re very different.”

“Like shooting stars and mason jars,” I murmured, remembering.

“What?”

“It’s something our father used to say. That we were as different as shooting stars and mason jars. Ruth was the shooting star, of course.”

“Huh,” he said. It was clearly the first time he’d heard the anecdote. That Ruth hadn’t bragged about it to him vindicated her somehow. “So, how is Ruth?” he asked, changing the subject. “Really, I mean.”

“Well . . .” I glanced at her closed bedroom door, not quite sure how to answer that. Why was he asking me, anyway?

“Look, I’m only asking because I’m worried about her.”

“There’s really nothing to worry about,” I said tartly. If anyone could win their own battles, Ruth could. “She’s absolutely fine.” In perfect fighting shape, in fact.

He sighed and went quiet for a bit before blurting out, “She almost died a few weeks ago. Did she tell you that?”

“No.” That was a surprise. “What happened?”

“She tried to commit suicide. Well, she says she didn’t mean to actually commit suicide but I found her in the bath with a razor next to her. She’d taken pills and passed out. She almost drowned.”

I was so taken aback that I didn’t know what to say.

“Look,” he continued. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that but you need to know her frame of mind.” He sighed again. “Anyway, please just keep an eye out for her. Ruth likes to put on a good show, but I worry about what’s going on underneath sometimes.”

I said goodbye, mulling over what he’d said. It didn’t seem plausible. The Ruth I knew loved herself way too much to ever purposefully harm herself, so I was more inclined to believe her version of events than his. Still, it gave me pause and I couldn’t quiet the niggling voice that wondered just how wounded my sister was.