Page 3 of Whispers of Helena
Her tone, steady and firm, sends a chill down my spine. I swallow, holding her gaze. “What can you tell me about Silas?”
She pulls back, hands clasped tight. “Not my place to speak on a man’s troubles,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “But he hasn’t been the same since Caroline passed. Rarely leaves the property.”
“Caroline…his wife?”
A somber nod. She pats my arm gently. “Just take good care of that boy.”
“I will,” I say, reaching for my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
She clears my plate and waves me off with a smile. “Your money’s no good here, sweetheart. Just come see me anytime.”
“Are you sure? I feel like I should leave you something.”
She shakes her head. “Consider it a welcome gift.”
I give her a smile and nod. “Well, thank you. Hope to see you again.” I gather my things and take one more sip of coffee. The warmth of the diner fades as I step back into the biting cold, a shiver running down my spine as I consider what lies ahead.
Devil’s RidgeRanch
Parked at the entrance, I sit in my truck watching the brandedwooden sign sway lazily in the cold wind. Weather and time have softened its letters, and I study the name for a long moment. Beyond it, the dirt road stretches into the distance, winding its way toward the main house, partially veiled by the haze of lightly falling flurries. The clouds are thick, gray, and unrelenting above; a late winter canvas that goes on and on.
“You’re stronger than this, Helena. Just turn onto the drive and get it over with.” My voice is brittle, it barely convinces me. I’ve been restless since the assignment landed in my lap over a month ago, nerves buzzing, an old ache stirring just beneath my skin. But I know that once I set foot on this land, there’s no turning back.
Six-year-old boy in need of a nanny.
Forty-six-year-old widower in need of someone to run the house for the summer.
I’ve spent the last four years working as a nanny in the polished homes of Cheyenne’s well-to-do. But this…this feels different, something old and dusty in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t been so far from everything in a long time and certainly never crossed a threshold quite like this.
With a sigh, I throw the truck into drive and start down the gravel road; the tires crunching against stones and patches of lingering ice. As I near the house, the wind fades, and the flurries pause, leaving a quiet stillness. The road is bumpy, edged with heaps of half-melted snow, and I grip the wheel tighter, watching as the house grows clearer.
It stands somber and weather-worn. The front porch shows its age with faded boards and a tattered, fluttering screen door. An empty porch swing sways gently, as though caught in an old memory. My eyes roam over the place until a figure by the barn catches my attention. A tall man slips quickly inside, disappearing into shadow, as if he hadn’t meant to be seen.
I shake off the strange unease, open my door, and step out, the cold air pinching at my cheeks. Circling to the passenger side, I gather the few belongings I’ve brought—a small suitcase and alarge tote—then take a deep breath, the place settling around me as I start toward the steps.
Just as I reach the porch, another man appears from the direction of the barn, different from the one I glimpsed before. He’s smiling, hands tucked into the pockets of his heavy coat as he approaches.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, a kindness in his voice as he stops a few paces away.
“My name is Helena Toth. I’m here for the nanny position.” I set my tote down to dig the paperwork from the agency out of the pocket of my jeans. Handing it to him, I feel his gaze linger for a moment before he takes it.
I glance out over the tree line, taking in a quick assessment while he unfolds the paper, eyes scanning the information. “Well, lovely to meet you, Helena. I’m Eli. I can show you inside.”
“You’re Eli?”
He nods, a curious tilt to his head. “That’d be me.”
“Ruth at the diner mentioned you this morning,” I say, a tenderness in my voice at the memory of her kindness.
His face softens with a faint smile. “Ruth’s my sister.”
“She’s very nice,” I say, recalling her steady, motherly presence.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “She is when she wants to be. If she took to you quickly, then we’ll be friends in no time, I’m sure.”
I return his smile, hopeful as he leads me toward the door. He pulls a set of keys from his pocket, each one aged with time, and unlocks the door, guiding me into a cozy interior. Inside, the subtle smell of cedar mixes with the lingering scent of breakfast. We both remove our coats and scarves, hanging them in the closet. The entryway walls are a deep green, adorned with quiet nature scenes framed in polished wood. I let my eyes roam, taking in the high ceiling and the soft, welcoming light filtering in from a nearby window. It’s odd how the exterior is worn, appearing neglected, but the interior is well cared for, almost welcoming.
Eli leads me to the kitchen, an expansive space with a six-burner stove, double ovens, and a large refrigerator along one wall.In the center, a butcher-block island stretches wide, a few chairs pulled up to one side. Across the room, a dining table large enough to seat twelve sits beneath an iron chandelier.
