Then there was Bill McLoughlin. Long before Sarah ever set foot on this property, the real estate developer had wanted this property. He’d wanted to buy it, subdivide it, turn it into something profitable and unrecognizable. The refuge had ended that possibility for good.
There were the other variables also. The pasts the women brought with them. The people their guests were running from. The men who didn’t like being left behind.
Caleb looked down the aisle again.
Whatever was going on here, he didn’t like it. A lot of people were depending on him to not only keep this place running but to keep things safe.
His biggest fear was that he would fail them.
Millie began to collect the dishes from the table.
“Don’t worry about the guys,” Naomi told her. “They’ll be fine. The dogs bark all the time. Any little thing sets them off.”
“Good to know,” Millie murmured, trying to feel reassured.
She set her bowl on the counter beside the sink.
Naomi paused, the water running in the sink and dish soap sudsy. “While we have the time, this might be a good chance to tell you how things work around here.”
“Sounds like a good distraction.” She was curious about the details.
“We can take up to eight women at a time.” Naomi turned off the water and gestured toward the hall leading to the far wing of the house. “The staff each have their own room downstairs, sowe’re close by if anything comes up at night or you need us for anything. All our guests stay on the second floor, and each room has its own bathroom.”
“That’s nice for privacy.”
“Yes, it’s a very nice feature.” She paused before continuing. “We have a screened-in porch out the back, and if you go out that way, there’s a smaller, fenced-in dog run where you can let Biscuit roam. You’re also welcome to walk on the property, but we do prefer you let us know first.”
“Understood.”
“Plus, we do have a chicken coop back there. If your dog likes to chase chickens, please keep him on a short leash.”
“Makes sense.”
“Breakfast is usually simple, and lunch is generally some kind of sandwiches. Our mom comes over a few evenings a week to cook dinner and help with light housekeeping. She just left right before you arrived.”
Caleb had loved talking about his mom. The woman sounded like a force to be reckoned with.
At one time, Millie had been anxious to meet her—to get her approval. That day had never come since Caleb had broken up with her and shipped off somewhere overseas to work special operations for the Navy.
“We don’t expect anyone staying here to pitch in—but if someone wants to, we don’t turn the help down either,” Naomi continued, pushing a bowl into the soapy water of the sink. “We always need a hand with food and laundry and cleaning the bathrooms. But we also want everyone to have time to heal.”
“What are the house rules?”
“I’m glad you asked. We try not to have a lot of ‘rules,’ per se. But, of course, we ask that you don’t tell anyone where you are—it could put everyone here in danger. We ask that you haveno contact with anyone outside the home for the length of your stay.”
“Makes sense.” Millie nodded. “And how long can I stay, exactly?”
“As long as you need. We’ll do everything in our power to help you. We try to give women skills to get jobs if they don’t have those. We try to find new places for our guests to live. We’ll even help with new identities or with pressing charges. We have a counselor available whenever needed and an attorney who volunteers here once a week if any women need legal advice. Whatever you need. We want to help you get back on your feet.”
She glanced around. “Am I the only one here at the moment?”
“We have one other guest right now, and someone new is coming the day after tomorrow.”
Millie snapped upright at the sound of the door opening.
Her muscles locked, every instinct screaming to be ready—to move, to run. Biscuit was on his feet beside her, ears up, body angled toward the hallway as he sensed her tension.
Then Caleb stepped inside.
