4. West
WEST
W est gazed at his daughter in amazement.
Like father, like daughter, he thought to himself.
“She’s not a princess, honey,” Mom told her gently. “This is Miss Dulcie. She’s going to stay in your guest room for a little while and help us out on the farm.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, frowning.
“Let’s get you put back to bed,” West said quickly, pretty sure Elizabeth’s next observation might not be as complimentary.
Dulcie was certainly looking a little worse-for-the-wear after whatever adventures had brought her to Sugarville Grove, and Elizabeth had all the tact of a typical four-year-old. “Come on.”
She placed her little hand in his and allowed herself to be led back to the hallway. But before they reached the stairs, she slipped out of his grasp and darted back to the kitchen door.
“Good night, Miss Dulcie,” she said, in her bell-clear voice, then dashed back to West before anyone could reply.
“That was very nice,” West told her. “Is it okay with you for us to have a guest for a little while?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “But I think she needs a bath.”
Well, Elizabeth was precocious, but she was also brutally honest. He was grateful that he’d gotten her out of there quickly.
“She’s been traveling for a long time,” he guessed. “And she was in a car accident today. So, I’m sure she’s really looking forward to a nice bath and some rest.”
“A car accident?” Elizabeth asked worriedly.
“But she’s just fine,” West said, feeling bad about even mentioning it before bedtime. Elizabeth had been in the car during a minor fender-bender once, and the experience stuck with her, even though no one had been hurt. “Thank goodness.”
Elizabeth nodded and focused her energy on climbing the stairs.
She’s so serious , he thought to himself, not for the first time. Is that my fault?
He was doing his best to be a good parent, but it was tough not to worry.
And he couldn’t even feel sorry for himself, since she was doing so well. After all, his brother Zane had been left alone with preemie twin boys in the NICU. In comparison, West’s wife leaving him with a toddler didn’t seem like much of a challenge.
“Two more stories?” Elizabeth asked shrewdly when they stepped into her room.
It was a cozy space with a wall lined with overflowing bookshelves, her much-loved teddy bear in the bed, and a little nightlight in the corner.
“Miss Dulcie needs my help right now,” West told her. “And you already had your two stories. What if we sing our song again?”
“Okay,” Elizabeth agreed.
She scrambled into bed, and he began singing the James Taylor ballad about the cowboy that Elizabeth had adored since the first time she heard it.
He strongly suspected that it reminded her of her Uncle Tripp.
Her little voice joined his as he sat on the side of her bed and patted her hand until they finished their song.
“Good night, Daddy,” Elizabeth said softly, her eyes already at half-mast. “Make sure she gets her bath. A princess shouldn’t be all dirty.”
He smiled and stroked her hair for a moment before leaning in to kiss her pillowy cheek and heading out.
He stopped by his own room across the hall and grabbed a pair of his pajamas for Dulcie.
The fit wouldn’t be great, but he didn’t really have any other options in the house.
He added an extra blanket and towels from the hall closet to his armful of things, and on a whim he grabbed a couple of books from the shelf in the hallway.
By the time he got down to the kitchen again, Mom and Dulcie were talking avidly.
“There he is,” Mom said, nodding to West.
“Hey,” he said. “I brought you some pajamas, they’ll be a little big, and some towels.”
“Books,” she said happily.
“It’s nice to have a book, especially if you’re having trouble sleeping,” he said, feeling bad that they were basically all old children’s books.
“ Anne of Green Gables ,” she said happily, her eyes fixed on one of the books. “I remember that one.”
“Come on,” he told her. “I’ll show you your room.”
“I’m just going to start a little something for you, Dulcie,” Mom said. “When you’ve had your bath, don’t forget to come back out for a bedtime snack.”
“Oh, thank you,” Dulcie said, sounding almost relieved and confirming West’s suspicions that she needed a solid meal.
“It’s a little drafty out here,” West warned her as he led her to the enclosed sunporch Milly had used as an office. “But there’s a bed and I brought you an extra blanket.”
He was glad all over again that he had a local woman come in to clean once a week.
Left to his own devices, he wouldn’t have prioritized this space.
Though the room was a bit cluttered with old med school texts and notebooks, there wasn’t a speck of dust, and the bed was freshly made and ready for a guest.
“It’s great,” Dulcie said, sounding like she meant it. “So many books.”
“These ones won’t be fun to read,” he laughed. “They’re just my old med-school books.”
“Wow,” she said. “You read them all?”
He had practically memorized them all in a herculean effort, fueled by gallons of instant coffee and luck. He still couldn’t believe sometimes that he’d pulled it off. But he simply nodded, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction that she was impressed .
“There’s a bathroom right next door,” he told her. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“West,” she said suddenly as he was leaving.
He stopped in his tracks and turned back to her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Those big, blue eyes were filled with emotion and for a moment, he could sense exactly how lost and desperate she really was, and it hit him how bravely she had been trying to cover it up until now.
West felt ten-feet-tall and awed at the same time in the face of her trust. He had a feeling it wasn’t something she gave out freely.
“It’s my pleasure,” he told her honestly.
He half-jogged back to the kitchen before they could exchange another word.
This is a good deed, he reminded himself. Not a way to make yourself feel big.
“She’s lovely,” Mom said as he came in.
He joined her by the stove, where she was stirring leftover chicken stew in the pan. The kitchen already smelled amazing.
“I put a can of those crescent rolls in the oven,” she said, wrapping an arm around him. “I hope you weren’t saving them for anything. She looks like she’s missed way too many meals.”
“That’s great,” he told her. “And you’re right, she needs to eat as much as she can. Old Joe Fournier called thinking she’d gotten herself a concussion in the accident. But I think she just fainted from low blood sugar.”
Mom clucked disapprovingly, her eyes fixed on the stew.
“She seems like a good kid,” West said. “She’ll bounce back. She just needs a safe place to live and some solid meals in her.”
“Do you know she told me she’s twenty-one years old?” Mom asked. “She looks like she could be a teenager.”
“I hadn’t really thought about her age,” he said, shaking his head.
But Mom was right, Dulcie seemed far too physically delicate to be in her twenties.
Except those eyes…
She had the eyes of a young woman who had seen too much of the world’s sadness.
“I didn’t ask her much,” Mom went on. “But whatever she’s been through, she seems sweet as pie. She’ll be a good addition around here, for as long as she wants to stay. Let me know if you want me to keep her busy tomorrow.”
“I figure she’ll probably sleep all day,” West said. “But as soon as she’s up to it, I’d love for you to find something easy for her to do.”
“Oh, there’s always plenty to do around here,” Mom said with a smile.
There were always plenty of hands to do it too, but West knew that his mother had the same instinct to be kind to the girl that he did. They were both just looking for an excuse to take care of her for a little while.
If West had a generous nature, he had definitely come by it honestly. Maggie Lawrence was always quick to take in strays, whether it was an injured wild animal, a calf that needed bottle-feeding, or a person who just needed a helping hand.
“Now, I know I said I’d fix her snack,” Mom said after a moment. “But I’ve got the early milking tomorrow.”
“I’ve got this, Ma,” he told her. “Thanks for being here for us, and for making her feel welcome. This was much better than having her come in and think she was in a bachelor pad or something.”
“It’s not much of a bachelor pad,” Mom said, looking around at the old-fashioned kitchen with twinkling eyes.
“I guess not,” he admitted.
“Sleep well, son,” Mom said, going up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good boy.”
She patted his shoulder and then padded off for the front door. He heard her pull on her boots and coat, and then the front door creaked open and closed again.
The stew was bubbling now. He pulled down one of the glazed-clay bowls Mom had made from the cupboard, as well as a plate and a spoon.
The timer went off, and he grabbed the rolls from the oven, feeling bad they weren’t homemade.
He was just fixing her a big glass of chocolate milk when he heard light footsteps in the hall.
“Hey,” Dulcie said softly.
She stepped inside, looking so adorable with her long, damp hair and his pajamas rolled up at the ankles and wrists that his heart ached.
If he and Elizabeth had thought she looked like a princess before, she looked even more the part now. There was a regal quality to her posture that he hadn’t noticed before when there was so much else going on with her.
“Come on in,” he said. “Sit down. I’ve got some supper ready for you.”
“Thank you,” she said, smiling. “It smells amazing.”
He smiled too. She was clearly more relaxed now. A hot shower and a little time with his mom would put anyone at ease.
He placed the glass of chocolate milk in front of her and her eyes lit up. She grabbed it immediately and chugged it down while he ladled out a generous portion of stew into the bowl.
“This may need to cool a little,” he warned her as he set it on the table.
She nodded to him, but her eyes were on the stew.
It made his chest hurt to think about how hungry she must be, so he busied himself putting a couple of rolls on a plate for her and pouring her a glass of water.
“Mmmm,” she moaned over a bite of stew after she’d blown on the spoon to cool it.
“It’s good, right?” he asked. “My dad made it, but Mom brought over a pot for Elizabeth and me.”
“It must be so good to have family nearby,” she said.
“You probably don’t remember it,” he said. “But there was a little stone house when we first pulled in. It used to be my grandparents’ place, but Mom and Dad moved in there when my brother Tag got married. They opened up the kitchen and modernized it, so we share a lot of meals over there.”
She smiled and he couldn’t help noticing the hint of sadness in her eyes .
“You have a big family?” he heard himself ask.
She only shook her head and took a big bite of stew, and he wanted to kick himself. If she had a big family, she wouldn’t be out here on her own, would she?
Her bowl was empty a minute later and she polished off a roll too, but stopped before eating the second one, patting her belly and leaning back, looking satisfied.
“Better?” West asked her.
“Much,” she said, nodding with a sleepy smile.
“Well, you’re welcome to sleep in as late as you need tomorrow,” he told her. “But it’s likely that you’ll wake up early even if you don’t really want to. The farm isn’t exactly quiet in the mornings.”
“That’s okay,” she told him. “I don’t need a lot of sleep.”
Like fun you don’t, he thought to himself, but didn’t say it out loud.
“If you wake up in the night and you need anything, I’ll be upstairs in the room across from the one with the sign that says Elizabeth ,” he told her. “Obviously, feel free to eat anything in the kitchen, and just generally make yourself at home. Okay?”
She nodded and he wasn’t sure, but her eyes were glistening, almost like she wanted to cry.
She probably wants to yawn, he scolded himself. Let her get some sleep.
But she insisted on helping when he moved to clean up her bowl and plate. They washed up the pan and the few dishes together—nothing but the clink of the silverware and the hush of the running water to interrupt the companionable silence that fell over them.
It reminded West a little bit of being married. He had always liked those small moments of peace in the evenings after getting the baby off to sleep. Even though they usually just spent the time cleaning up or planning the next day’s tasks, there was something nice about sharing that quiet hour.
When they were finished, she dried her hands on the Christmas towel hanging from the stove. He wanted to walk her back to her room, but somehow that felt too intimate now that they were alone downstairs. He cleared his throat.
“I’m going to head up to bed,” he told her. “Don’t be shy about waking me if you need anything.”
“Thank you, West,” she said softly, turning to look up at him with those big, serious eyes.
Beautiful, he thought without meaning to, immediately feeling like a monster.
“Sleep well, Dulcie,” he told her before turning and heading upstairs.
She needs help, he reminded himself firmly. She doesn’t need me noticing that she’s pretty.