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 stomachtightened. 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.
