Chapter Four #2
“That’s okay,” Tessa said. “Fear keeps us alive. But it shouldn’t keep us from living.” She pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and slid it across the counter. “My number. Call anytime, day or night. If you need to talk, or if you just need to hear another voice. I mean it.”
Sharon took the paper, folding it carefully. “Thank you. For the food, and…everything else.”
Tessa stood, rewrapping her scarf. “Ms. Patti said Deputy Warner might be stopping by later to check on you.” Her knowing smile made Sharon blush. “He’s single, you know. And quite the catch around here.”
“I’m not looking for—”
“Neither was I,” Tessa interrupted with a wink. “The best things find us when we’re busy running from something else.”
After she left, Sharon stood at the window, watching Tessa’s car disappear down the winding driveway. The cottage felt warmer somehow, as if she’d left behind more than just groceries and soup.
She thought about what Tessa had said about Shiloh Springs giving second chances, about belonging. Four years ago, she had sat where Sharon was sitting now, terrified and alone. Now she was married, happy, part of this community.
Could that happen to her? The thought seemed impossible, a fantasy from someone else’s life.
And yet…
Sharon glanced at the clock. Would Deputy Warner be stopping by later?
Her stomach fluttered again, though not from fear this time.
She squared her shoulders, decision made.
She would stay, at least for now. She would give Shiloh Springs a chance, give herself a chance.
And she would pray that in doing so, she wasn’t bringing Cooper’s wrath down on this town that had already shown her more kindness than she’d known in a long time.
In the fading light of the December afternoon, Sharon felt something she hadn’t expected to feel when she’d fled from the homeless shelter—hope.
She took her time savoring the homemade soup and fresh bread. The simple meal was a luxury after months of drive-through windows and convenience store chips and soda. When she finished, she washed her bowl and spoon carefully, then began putting away the groceries Tessa had brought.
The cottage felt different now, less like a temporary hiding place and more like a sanctuary.
Sharon found herself moving more slowly, noting details she’d overlooked earlier: the hand-sewn cushions on the window seat, watercolors of local landscapes hung in simple frames, a small bookshelf filled with well-loved paperbacks, including several by one of her favorite authors.
Seems like she had a lot in common with the woman whose house she was currently occupying.
A soft knock at the door startled her from her explorations.
Her heart rate immediately accelerated, the brief period of calm evaporating as the familiar feeling of dread swamped her.
Sharon moved silently to the window beside the front door, easing aside the curtain as she had before when Tessa had shown up.
This time, instead of a friendly stranger with grocery bags, she saw a broad-shouldered man in a tan sheriff’s uniform.
Immediately, her heart raced for an entirely different reason.
Deputy Dusty Warner.
He stood on the porch, hat in hand, scanning the surrounding area with the practiced gaze of someone accustomed to noticing details.
In the fading afternoon light, he looked different than he had on the roadside—less official, more human.
His golden-blonde hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it.
Sharon hesitated, her instinct to hide warring with the knowledge that he’d already seen her.
Already helped her. Already had every opportunity to call the feds if that had been his intention.
She wanted to trust him. So far, he hadn’t done anything to make her think he was anything more than what he appeared, a kind law officer with good intentions.
Dusty turned toward the window as if sensing her presence. Their eyes met through the glass, and she saw a brief smile flash across his face. He didn’t wave like Tessa had, just gave a small nod of acknowledgment and waited, leaving the choice to her.
Something about that—about being given a choice—made the decision easier.
Sharon opened the door halfway, keeping one hand on the frame. “Deputy Warner.”
“Ms. Elliott,” he replied, the hint of a smile suggesting he knew perfectly well that wasn’t her real name. “Ms. Patti asked me to stop by and make sure everything was okay out here. Mentioned Tessa would drop by with supplies.”
“She was here. Brought groceries.” Sharon didn’t move to invite him in.
Dusty nodded, seemingly unbothered by her caution. “Mind if I come in? Ms. Patti asked me to check on a couple of things.”
Sharon studied him. In the dawn’s morning light, on the side of the road heading into town, he’d seemed less intimidating—just a local deputy doing his job.
Now, with evening shadows gathering around the cottage, his presence felt more significant.
More dangerous, perhaps, though not in the way she’d grown accustomed to feeling.
“What things?” she asked, not budging from the doorway.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“She said the latch on the back door has been sticking. Camilla asked Douglas to stop by, but he didn’t have a chance.
She wanted me to take a look.” He held up a small toolkit she hadn’t noticed.
“Douglas would normally handle it, but he’s overseeing a job site in the next county over.
Not that him being over there makes Ms. Patti happy.
He’s supposed to be sticking closer to home and letting Liam handle the on-site construction jobs. ”
Sharon hesitated, then stepped back reluctantly. “Fine.”
“Appreciate it.” Dusty stepped inside, careful to maintain a respectful distance as he entered. “Nice place, isn’t it? Ms. Patti and Douglas keep it up well, considering how old it is.”
Sharon followed him as he moved through the cottage with the confidence of familiarity. “You’ve been here before?”
“Helped Douglas replace the roof last spring,” he said, heading straight for the kitchen and the back door beyond.
“The Boudreaus bought the place recently from Old Man Johnson. He used it for years as a rental property, and Ms. Patti’s company managed the place, did upgrades and repairs.
For the last couple of years, it’s housed several women who are now engaged and/or married to Boudreau men.
It’s also a good place for folks who need a place to catch their breath. ”
That phrase again, the same one Tessa had used. Sharon watched as Dusty set his toolkit on the kitchen counter and examined the back door.
“Tessa mentioned she stayed here once,” Sharon said cautiously.
Dusty nodded, running his hand along the door frame. “Before she was a Boudreau. That was a rough time. Rafe was beside himself trying to keep her safe.” He glanced back at Sharon. “Small towns are good for that—keeping people safe…when they let us.”
The pointed comment hung in the air between them. Sharon crossed her arms defensively. “I didn’t ask for help.”
“No, ma’am, you sure didn’t.” Dusty turned his attention back to the door, testing its swing. It wasn’t hard to see where the door caught on closing, heard the slight creak in the hinges.
Sharon felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I don’t like police.”
“Most folks who’ve been running for a while don’t.” He said it matter-of-factly, without judgment, as he dug in his toolkit for a screwdriver. “This door’s got a simple problem. Hinges need tightening, and the frame’s shifted a bit with the seasons. Normal for a place this old.”
Sharon watched him work, struck by the incongruity of a uniformed deputy performing such a mundane task, something a handyman would normally accomplish. “Isn’t this below your pay grade, Deputy?”
Dusty let out a low chuckle that did something unexpected to Sharon’s pulse. “In Shiloh Springs, everybody pitches in. Especially for Ms. Patti. Besides,” he glanced up, his hazel eyes meeting hers directly, “it gave me an excuse to check on you.”
“I don’t need checking up on.” The protest sprang from her lips before she could stop it.
“No?” He raised an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “Is that why you look like you haven’t slept properly in weeks until today? Why your hands shake when you think no one’s looking? Why you’ve got at least two escape routes planned from every room in this cottage already?”
Sharon stiffened, shocked he’d been able to read her so easily from one simple meeting. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Know enough.” He returned to adjusting the door hinges.
“Know you’re scared. Know you’re smart—smart enough to have stayed ahead of whoever’s after you.
Know you’re exhausted.” He glanced at her again.
“And I know that sooner or later, everybody needs help. Even people who think they’re better off alone. ”
The perceptiveness of his assessment was unsettling. Sharon moved to the kitchen window, putting more distance between them as she gazed out at the darkening yard. “I’ve found that help almost always comes with strings attached.”
“Not in Shiloh Springs, and especially not from the Boudreaus.” Dusty tested the door again, nodding with satisfaction when it swung smoothly. “Perfect. That should hold for a while.”
He put his tools away, wiping his hands on a rag from his back pocket. In the confined space of the kitchen, he seemed taller than she remembered, broad-shouldered and solid in a way that should have made her nervous, but didn’t.
“Ms. Patti asked me to tell you that Douglas will be by tomorrow if there’s anything else that needs fixing around here,” he said before grinning, a twinkle in his eyes belying a spark of humor. “And that you’re invited to Sunday dinner at their place if you’re feeling up to it.”