3. Dulcie
DULCIE
D ulcie gazed out the window as they headed back into the trees, wondering what kind of doctor drove a pickup truck.
She was doing her best to keep her wits about her.
The road they had turned onto had a sign that said Fox Hollow Road .
But she wasn’t sure what she could actually do with that information if the doctor turned out to be some kind of serial killer.
Her cell phone was zipped up in the duffel he’d thrown in the back of the truck, along with the rest of her possessions.
But weirdly, she had this sense that she was completely safe with him, maybe safer than she’d ever felt in her life.
It’s just the apple juice talking.
She glanced over at him again.
The occasional streetlamp played on his face, showing her his dark eyes and the harsh angle of his jawline.
He certainly didn’t look like any doctor she had ever known. The man was big and brawny—more like a cowboy that spent time outside chopping wood than a medical man who worked in an office all day. Even his name sounded like a cowboy.
Nobody is messing with this guy, she thought to herself with satisfaction. Though why she would care, she had no idea.
He was offering her a job and a place to stay. That was all. And he was probably only doing it to protect himself from liability in case she was lying and she’d gotten hurt in the crash.
But it was nice of him to take my word…
The truck slowed to a stop and she looked around, trying not to panic when she saw the dark tunnel in front of them.
“It’s a one-lane covered bridge,” West explained. “We always stop before crossing. And during the day, we honk the horn, too.”
Dulcie nodded.
After a moment, the truck eased forward again. She tried not to freak out at the way it bumped and crashed on the wooden boards. Surely, this guy wouldn’t drive on it if it wouldn’t hold. But she still clung to the door, white-knuckled, until they were out on the other side.
“Okay,” he said, his deep voice taking that calming tone again, like she was a wild animal he was trying to tame. “Almost home.”
Home. Now that was a fairytale of an idea.
Not a fairytale, she reminded herself. One day, I’ll make it happen .
It was just that it seemed like for everyone else in the world, having a safe place to live and people to love came easily. Dulcie had spent her whole life fighting tooth and nail for it, and all her efforts seemed to amount to nothing.
The truck was turning again, the thick woods giving way to moonlit fields beyond a split-rail fence. The headlights briefly illuminated a wooden sign that said Lawrence Dairy Farm before the tires bumped onto a gravel drive between tall trees.
“You have cows?” she asked, smiling at the idea. Maybe she was sort of right about him being a cowboy.
“We do,” he said, nodding. “Most of my family works the farm.”
“You guys sell milk?” she guessed.
“Mainly ice cream,” he told her. “But yes, milk too, and cheese.”
“Wow,” she said, nodding. “Am I going to be making ice cream, or working in a doctor’s office?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. “But there’s always plenty to do here, so we’ll put you right to work as soon as you’re feeling better.”
“Oh, I feel fine,” she told him firmly. The sooner she got to work the sooner she could be earning money.
“Well, you’re not working tonight,” he told her. “Doctors and farmers are early birds. We like to get to sleep early.”
She nodded. That made sense. Though she sure hoped he wouldn’t be against a little snack before bed. The apple juice had been heavenly, but she could feel the sugar rush evaporating, leaving a dull ache of hunger in its wake.
Don’t be greedy, Dulcie.
She knew she should just be grateful for a safe place to sleep, if it really was one. She could eat in the morning. It wouldn’t be her first day without a meal.
“Oh, wow,” she murmured as the view suddenly changed, and she forgot all about her empty belly.
They had just passed a predictable red barn, but now that they were coming up the hill, she could see that there were houses here as well.
A stone farmhouse that looked like the three bears’ house in the Goldilocks story stood at the center. It was hung with Christmas lights and even had a big plastic snowman standing by the front walk.
On the left, against the wooded hillside was a green Victorian. And to the right, more old houses were set at intervals against the foot of the mountain.
“Our family has been on this land since the 1800s,” West said, turning right at the stone cottage. “It used to be common for grown children to stay and work the family farm, so there are residences here too.”
“It sounds like most of you guys still do work on the farm,” she pointed out.
“True,” he said, nodding.
But she didn’t hear what he said next as the drive curved to reveal a beautiful red Victorian with a wraparound porch. Evergreen boughs strung with lights hung from the roof, and a warm glow came from the front windows, spilling out onto the snowy lawn.
She could see even from the truck that it wasn’t perfect.
The paint on the columns was lumpy from repainting, and the wooden porch swing had been weathered gray by harsh winters.
She was pretty sure the steps up to the front door would squeak and the walls inside would be covered in old-fashioned paper.
But it was the exact image of home she had always pictured, imperfections and all. She could just imagine the fireplace inside and the cat curled up by the kitchen stove. It would be heaven to live in a place like this.
“Here we go,” West said, pulling up to it. “We’ll just get you settled, and you can get some rest.”
She stayed where she was for just a moment, trying to memorize this feeling. She would be calling up the image of this house in her mind for a long time. By the time she got her seatbelt off, West was opening her door for her, the duffel slung over his shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked.
His eyes searched her face and for a moment she felt… cared for. Then she remembered that he was a professional, and probably just looking to see if her pupils were dilated or something.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, taking the hand he offered as she climbed down.
His big hand was so warm, and she felt a funny little shiver of satisfaction at his touch.
“My mom is in here, and she’ll have about a million questions,” West chuckled. “I’ll try my best to get you out of a whole interrogation.”
Dulcie smiled in spite of herself. Of course there was a friendly older lady in this house. She felt her shoulders go down a little as her nerves settled.
As she climbed the squeaky front steps, she noticed the toys on the front porch.
There was a sort of wooden table with a cover on top and a plastic pail of molds and old cookie cutters beside it, along with a tricycle, a folded umbrella stroller that looked like it had been there forever, and a small pair of rain boots.
They have kids, she thought to herself, feeling safer immediately. That means there’s a wife, too. He’s definitely not a serial killer.
West opened up the door and gestured for her to step inside.
Old instincts died hard, and she found herself scanning the dark hallway before stepping in.
West came in after her, flicking a wall switch to reveal an entry with a wooden bench along one wall and a narrow table against the other. He tossed his keys into a lumpy pottery bowl on the table, then kicked off his boots, and gestured to the end of the hall.
Dulcie put her own shoes next to his, then followed him back to a bright kitchen that smelled absolutely heavenly. Just like she had predicted, it was hung with old-fashioned wallpaper and outfitted with plain wooden cupboards and an avocado-green stove and fridge.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” a woman said, hopping up from the table where it looked like she had been reading a thick library-bound book and sipping tea from an earthenware mug. “Who can this be?”
“Hey, Ma,” West said. “This is Dulcie. She had some trouble with her car on the way through town.”
“Isn’t that a pretty name?” the lady said, turning her blue-eyed gaze to Dulcie. “I’m Maggie. Maggie Lawrence. You’ll be staying on the farm then?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dulcie said politely.
“Dulcie was looking for work,” West said quietly. “I let her know we’ll be able to keep her plenty busy around here once she’s settled.”
Maggie’s expression looked almost confused for a moment, then her eyes lit up and she turned back to Dulcie.
“We sure will,” she said kindly. “Thank goodness you’re here. And West has the prettiest guest room. You’ll be nice and cozy until you find a place of your own.”
“I don’t want to impose,” Dulcie said.
“Oh, we always have extra people on the farm,” Maggie said dismissively. “Besides, when you have a big old country house, you hate to see it empty, right, son?”
West smiled down at his mom with obvious fondness.
“ Daddy? ” a little voice called out from the hall.
“We’re in the kitchen, honey,” West said, heading for the door.
But before he crossed the room, a tiny figure appeared in the threshold. She had honey-blonde hair, fuzzy purple pajamas, and piercing blue eyes, just like her daddy’s, which instantly landed on Dulcie and then widened.
“Are you a princess?” she whispered.