Chapter 5
Homecoming
Darcy
Darcy navigated the serpentine roads winding toward the mountain town of Sylva, North Carolina. The Blue Ridge Parkway twisted like a ribbon through the mountains, each curve revealing another secret—trees pressing close, then parting for endless views of forested ridges.
Out West, the mountains had been magnificent—vast skies, jagged peaks, snow-capped ranges, aloof as kings.
But these were different. The Blue Ridge pressed in, intimate and green, wild with hardwoods and rhododendron.
Honeysuckle tangled along the roadside. It felt personal—as if the mountains leaned close to whisper, You belong here.
She rolled the window down, letting the cool air rush in, carrying the roar of the river beside the road—water crashing over rocks, wild and alive.
For a few moments, the tension she’d carried through too many nights on the road lifted, replaced by a peace she couldn’t explain. Something stirred deep in her.
When the town appeared, it felt like a jewel tucked between the hills.
Main Street stretched before her, lined with brick storefronts and bright awnings.
Hand-painted murals brightened alley walls, wind chimes tinkled from shop doors, and a street musician strummed outside a café, his case open for tips.
A mural of the mountains themselves stretched across one building, as though the ridges had followed her straight into town.
Breweries, cafés, and shops spilled warmth and color onto the sidewalks.
At the far end, rising like a sentinel, stood the courthouse perched high above the town—one hundred and four steps climbing the hill like a challenge.
Its white columns seemed to glow in the last light, the golden dome catching fire against the purple ridges, visible from nearly every street like a compass point anchoring the town.
Darcy pulled over, cutting the engine to take it all in. She didn’t have words for it—it wasn’t exactly relief, nor joy, but something like a homecoming.
I’m home, her heart whispered, though her mind argued she couldn’t be.
She scanned the mirrors. A pickup with tinted windows made a slow circuit of the block, its brake lights flaring briefly.
She slid the pepper spray closer, a habit now, not a plan.
Unease hovered close, never truly leaving.
Each car that lingered too long, every face that turned in her direction, frayed her nerves—a shadow forever haunting the edges of her peace.
She eased toward the visitor center, telling herself she’d grab brochures, get her bearings, and find the campground. All the while, her eyes swept the sidewalks, searching for anyone out of place.
The bell over the visitor-center door jingled. She forced a smile at the woman behind the counter.
“Well, hello, honey—welcome to Sylva!” the woman drawled with a warm Southern cadence.
“Can I help you? My name’s Mary Lou, but everyone calls me Lou.” Her eyes sparkled as she leaned on the counter.
“Hi, I’m Darcy.”
“What brings you to our town, Darcy?”
Darcy hesitated, pretending to study the rack of brochures. “I’m tracing my ancestry… and taking a little break,” she said, letting the half-truth settle between them—just enough to change the subject if needed.
“What a lovely endeavor! We all need to explore our past to appreciate our future.” Mary Lou’s smile was radiant.
“I’m camping at Moonshine Creek RV Park,” Darcy added, grateful to pivot the conversation.
“Oh, that’s lovely! My friend Ned runs that campground. You’re in for a real treat—it’s beautiful. A creek runs right through the center, rushing over rocks, and the campsites are nestled behind trees for privacy. Families and folks who want to enjoy our beautiful mountains—safe and clean.”
That sounded perfect to Darcy—especially the safe part. Mary Lou’s eyes lit when she mentioned Ned, and it brought a smile to Darcy’s face.
“Be sure to tell Ned Mary Lou said hello.”
Darcy promised she would.
Mary Lou highlighted the route to Moonshine Creek on a map.
“It’s about fifteen minutes—drive slowly; the roads are steep and winding. Honey, if you need anything while you’re here, just drop by. I’ve lived in Sylva all my life and know almost everyone. Any questions, I’m your gal.”
Darcy thanked her and gathered the brochures, her hands no longer shaking.
Back in the car, she swore she caught a shape in the rearview—just for a second—but when she turned, the street was empty.
After leaving the visitor center, Darcy stopped for lunch at City Limits Café & Books.
She checked her mirrors before pulling out.
When headlights lingered behind, her stomach tightened.
She remembered the glowing cigarette tip outside her camper a couple of nights ago at that Kansas campground—Maybe it’s only nerves. Maybe I’m imagining things.
Darcy balanced her iPhone on the dash, following the GPS’s blue dot up winding roads. Though the speaker’s voice calmly guided each turn, her palms sweated on the switchbacks. At last, she passed stacked boulders and the sign: Welcome to Moonshine Creek.
Darcy guided her camper into the lot beside a weathered wooden office, wind chimes clinking in the breeze. Inside, the faint scent of cedar and coffee hung in the air.
Behind the counter sat Ned—gray-haired and broad-shouldered, with a face etched by mountain sun. He looked up slowly, tipped his cap, and studied her with a glimmer in his blue eyes.
“Hey there. Checking in?”
“Yes, I’m Darcy Nolan. Mary Lou from the visitor center said to tell you hello.”
Ned’s mouth twitched into a grin.
“Mary Lou, huh? That gal makes the best pecan pie this side of the Smokies. Tell her Ned says right back at her.”
As Darcy filled out the guest form, Ned tapped the map and circled a campsite.
“I put you in Site Seven—right near the office and the market. Real handy if you need anything, and folks say it’s a favorite spot.”
She glanced at the map and felt a wave of relief. Being close to the office and little market made everything feel easier—and safer. Ned watched her with quiet attentiveness, letting a comfortable silence settle.
After he handed her the site number, his tone softened.
“Creek’ll lull you right to sleep. Nothin’ safer than Moonshine at night.” She wanted to trust him—to believe in the easy warmth of Southern hospitality—but trust was something you used up and never quite got back.
Darcy thanked him, feeling the knot of worry in her chest lessen. As she stepped outside toward her camper, she looked back to see Ned humming, already filling the coffee pot, sunlight glinting on his silver hair.
After finding her campsite, Darcy stood by the creek, letting the cool air steady her.
Each site was private and shaded by tall hardwoods.
Water tumbled over stones, its steady sound filling the air.
Moonshine Creek shimmered under fading light, the current catching flashes of gold and silver before sliding into shadow.
She trailed her fingers in the cold water, the chill cutting through the weariness that clung to her bones. Somewhere down the hollow, a dog barked, answered by another across the ridge.
She tried to imagine this place as a new beginning. But even surrounded by quiet woods and the soft rush of water, a tingle of worry lingered at the edge of her quiet. After one more check behind her, she stepped in and secured the door.
Sheriff Burke Scott
Sheriff Burke Scott stepped off the curb toward the visitor center just as a petite, strawberry-blonde woman emerged—a flash of gold in the sunlight. She moved with quiet confidence, turning heads as she crossed toward City Limits Café & Books.
He pushed through the door with a grin. “Hi there, Miss Lou! How are you today?”
Mary Lou beamed. “Oh, Burke! Good to see you! I’m doing great—how about you?”
“Can’t complain.” He rested a hand on the counter, his tanned fingers drumming absently.
At thirty-eight, Burke had grown comfortably into his father’s legacy as sheriff.
The town adored him—steady, devoted, a fixture.
He cut an unmistakable figure in the pressed khaki uniform and badge that gleamed on his chest. Six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, sun-browned from long days on mountain roads, with hair the color of wheat in summer and eyes bluer than a Carolina sky—he looked every bit the lawman the mountains could trust.
Ladies fussed and schemed, forever trying to set him up, while younger women in town found excuses to stop by the station with homemade pies or traffic questions they already knew the answers to.
Burke dated now and then, but nothing ever stuck.
Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that charm could draw people close—but quiet guardedness kept him safe.
His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer. “So, who was that little blonde who just left?”
Mary Lou’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, you noticed, did you? That was Darcy.”
“Darcy,” he repeated, tasting the name. “A tourist?”
“Actually, she’s here researching her ancestry. Some of her relatives lived around here long ago.”
“Really? Do you know who?”
“I didn’t catch their names, honey, but she’s staying at Moonshine.”
“Camping?” His brows lifted.
“Alone? Now, Burke, you know I didn’t ask her that!”
Mary Lou laughed.
Burke chuckled, the sound easy and warm. “Well, I might swing by and check on ole Ned later—just make sure everything’s good at the park.”
Mary Lou raised a brow, but he only smiled and tipped his hat.
Outside, sunlight caught that same flash of hair as the woman stepped into the café. Curiosity tugged at him before he could help it.
Feeling the pull of coffee—and maybe something else—Burke headed into City Limits Café & Books and slid onto a stool at the counter.
“Hi, Sheriff! What’ll it be?” Willow called.
“Just black coffee, please.”
“Coming right up!”
Burke scanned the room. A glass of tea sat four stools down. A moment later, the woman’s head appeared from behind the book nook. When she noticed him, she offered a polite smile and ducked back to her seat.
As Willow set a BLT in front of her, grinning proudly, she said, “Those tomatoes are my pride and joy—organic and from my own garden. So enjoy!”
“It looks delicious,” Darcy said.
A deep voice chimed in from the counter. “Willow grows the best tomatoes and veggies in Jackson County—and you can’t beat her BLT.”
Darcy turned, startled, and he extended his hand. “Burke Scott,” he said.
She shook it—measured, reserved. The brief contact sent a small current through him, something he couldn’t quite define.
“Darcy Nolan. Nice to meet you, Officer.”
“Sheriff,” he corrected with a grin.
“Oh—you’re the sheriff! Sorry, I thought you were with the police.”
“The county sheriff’s department covers our town. We’re not big enough for both,” he explained.
“Got it.” She smiled politely, then turned back to her sandwich.
Burke sipped his coffee, pretending not to notice the knowing grin Willow flashed him from behind the espresso machine. But he did notice Darcy’s eyes—how they flicked to the door, then the windows, as if mapping every exit.
He dropped a few bills on the counter. “See you later, Willow. Nice to meet you, Darcy Nolan.”
Outside, sunlight flashed off windshields as the town began to stir. He slid on his sunglasses but couldn’t shake thoughts of her.
Sylva saw its share of wanderers—hikers, visitors, folks just passing through—but there was a quiet in her that didn’t belong to a smile like hers. She left an impression behind, unresolved—a mystery he couldn’t quite name.