The children’s ranch was massive. A long, narrow driveway with board fencing on both sides led to the two-story main home constructed out of cedar logs and a stone foundation.
Amy stopped the car in the circular driveway and turned off the engine. “So what do you think?”
Julie gazed in awe at the majestic surroundings. “It’s certainly in the middle of nowhere.”
“Doc owns a thousand acres.” Amy opened the car door and got out.
Reluctantly, she climbed out of the car, then grabbed the brown paper bag from the back seat, which held all her worldly belongings. A few changes of clothes, a brush, and toiletries that Amy had generously supplied. Gazing at the house again, she took a deep breath. Tension knotted her muscles despite the sense of peacefulness the place emanated.
“Julie.” Amy wove her arm around Julie’s elbow. “Once you’re adjusted, trust me, you’ll never want to leave.”
“If I don’t earn my keep, Dr. Wellington might ask that I leave.”
Amy tugged her elbow, drawing her in tighter. “Don’t you worry about that. You’re going to do fine.”
They followed the sidewalk to the front steps.
Amy’s eyes lit. “Don’t you just love this big porch?”
“Impressive.” The covered front porch spanned the length of the house, and various wooden chairs made it an inviting space to watch the sunset. She noticed a plaque near the door and touched the raised bumps.
“It’s Braille,” Amy explained. “Welcome to Hannah’s Henhouse.”
“Henhouse?”
“Odd, isn’t it?” Amy chuckled. “This place reminds me of the resort I stayed at in Montana.” She rang the doorbell. “Hannah was Doc’s wife. She passed away a few years ago. I think he used to tease her about being a mother hen.”
The door opened, and a woman who appeared to be in her early sixties greeted them with a smile. “May I help you?”
“My name is Amy Sawyer, and we’re here to see Dr. Wellington.”
“Oh yes. He’s expecting you.” She opened the door wider.
The foyer held a large round table in the center, which held a tall iron vase of birch tree limbs bluntly cut.
“Hi, I’m Cynthia Hunt. You must be Julie, my new helper.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Hunt. I, ah—” She shifted the bag with her clothes to her opposite arm and extended her right hand. “I look forward to working with you.”
“Same here,” she said, shaking her hand. “Please, call me Cynthia.”
The woman’s friendly smile eased some of Julie’s nerves.
“Let me show you to your room first so you can drop off your belongings.” Cynthia eyed the brown sack. “Then I’ll take you on the grand tour. Are you a fan of horseback riding?”
“I’m not sure if I’ve ever ridden a horse before.”
The woman’s brows angled curiously, and her head tilted to one side.
“Julie was in a terrible accident,” Amy explained.
“I lost my memory.” She chewed her lip, trying to decide if she should tell her everything. She needed to make a good impression; she needed the job. Her hospital bill was enormous. When Amy had contacted the bus companies to file a claim on Julie’s behalf, a claim couldn’t be processed without the required information—full name, photo identification, and proof of purchase by either a copy of the credit card statement or receipt.
Amy cupped Julie’s shoulder with her hand. “She’s undergone multiple surgeries and almost lost sight in one eye.”
“Oh my.” The woman pressed her hand to her chest.
“Truth is,” she blurted, “I don’t even know if my name is Julie.” Acid clawed at the back of her throat. Would the woman still want to work with her?
“I see.” Cynthia forced a smile she couldn’t hold. Her shoulders straightened and spine stiffened. “Is Dr. Wellington aware?”
Amy nodded. “He is.”
Cynthia turned away from Amy. “Do you require any special assistance, Julie—should I call you Julie?”
“I’ll answer to anything, but yes, Julie is fine. And no, I don’t need assistance. I’ll be your best worker.”
Cynthia eyed her hard. “Your memory loss explains why I didn’t receive a copy of your background check.”
Julie stole a glance at Amy, whose brows had arched. “I thought Doc said everything was worked out.”
The woman continued to scrutinize every inch of her. “You’ll only be around the children under direct supervision. It’s for the safety of the children.”
Julie nodded. “I understand.”
“And you’ll abide by the rules?”
“Of course.” Julie hated to believe she might be a danger to the children, but how did she know if she even liked children—she couldn’t even vouch for herself.
“Julie had her fingerprints run through the FBI program, and nothing came back,” Amy said. “She volunteered to have her prints checked, hoping it would lead to finding her identity. What more does your background check involve?”
“I call former employers, check personal references.”
“I’ll vouch for her. I’ve known her almost four months, and I’ve never seen a kinder, gentler soul.”
Julie would have described Amy the same way.
Cynthia’s expression warmed. “Julie, you’re fortunate to have such a wonderful friend like Amy.”
“I’m blessed,” Julie replied.
“Your room is in the west wing.” Cynthia made a nod toward another room and started walking. “Our days begin early. Sometimes before sunrise . . .”
Julie glanced over her shoulder at Amy and mouthed, “Thank you.”
As Cynthia led them through an empty sitting room where leather chairs flanked a matching L-shaped couch, Julie inhaled the wood-burning scent coming from the fireplace and smiled. She looked forward to spending time in this room. Perhaps she would be able to borrow a book from one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves. The volunteer at the hospital had loaned her several books from her cart. Some of the stories were better than the others, but they served the purpose of passing the time.
Her bedroom was much larger than the hospital room. Brighter too. The lemony yellow walls complemented the blue-and-white checked curtains. She placed her belongings on the bed, then walked over to the large window. The big red barn caught her attention. Situated a few feet beside it was a long paddock with six stall doors, all closed. Not far from it sat a massive pole barn.
“That building to the right is the indoor riding area. The children love being able to ride during the winter.” The woman frowned. She shook her head, making a tsk-tsk sound with her tongue.
Following the woman’s gaze to the muddy pathway that led to the different buildings, Julie said, “I’ll keep the floors mopped.”
Cynthia smiled. “Oh, bless you, child. We’re going to get along perfectly.”
Julie smiled. Mopping was a chore she could certainly do. She’d make sure the floors were shiny enough to eat off them.
Cynthia motioned toward the door. “Ready to see the rest of the house?”
“Sure,” Julie replied.
Cynthia explained whose bedrooms were where without opening the doors. As they neared the front door, Amy stopped.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to leave.” Amy glanced at her wristwatch. “I changed shifts with one of my coworkers today, so I need to get going now or I’ll risk being late.”
Julie’s breath hitched. Even though Amy had said on the way there that she wouldn’t be able to stay long, Julie wasn’t ready for her friend to leave. She was fine. Cynthia was kind, a sweet motherly type. Relax. Breathe.
“I’ll stop out on my next day off,” her friend said reassuringly.
Julie nodded. She trusted Amy. Her friend wouldn’t leave her somewhere unsafe. “Thanks for bringing me. I look forward to seeing you soon.”
Once Amy left, Cynthia continued the tour. The house was larger than it looked, with its various sitting areas, studies, and multiple kitchens on the main level and in the basement. The walls in the basement were finished with rough-cut timber from what looked like an old barn, and rafter beams sectioned off an area that housed a pool table. A leather love seat, couch, and chairs were around an oversized coffee table made from what looked like a massive tree slab. The shiny finish on the top brought out the rings of the old oak beautifully.
Drawn to the french doors, Julie gazed outside at the barnyard. A herd of horses trotted up to the fence, where a man was spreading hay on the ground. Some of the horses had spots; others had patches; some of their wintery coats were various shades of brown; others were black or white. Mixed in the group were several ponies with their long manes past their necks and bangs that covered their eyes; their big, rounded bellies were quite a sight. Her gaze flitted from the four-legged creatures over to the redheaded man feeding them.
Why does he look familiar?