“I am a farmer through and through, and I sure do love it out here. Do you like rabbits?”
His gaze is intensely focused on my face as he leans close to me.
“Oh, um, sure, they’re cute.”
“We have a bunch of new rabbit babies, just born yesterday.”
“Wow,” is all I can think to say.
He continues to tell me all of their names and genders, even sharing details on the birth, which he apparently stayed awake for through part of the night.
Luke and I listen for the next ten minutes until he pulls the truck up to an enormous house. It barely qualifies as a house. It reminds me of an old white plantation home, only much larger. It’s three stories high with a white railing and porch on each level and two large red brick chimneys decorating the side.
I can’t make out any more details in the rain, but I immediately know what Luke meant about the peacefulness this place brings. The anxiety I’ve felt since the attack this morning is starting to abate.
He parks the old truck under a carport with a covered walkway leading to a side door.
“I’m going to go check on the baby rabbits now. Do you want to come, Kate?”
Luke looks up at Tommy. “Kate really isn’t feeling well tonight. Maybe we can go see them tomorrow.”
Tommy nods. “What’s wrong with her?” He looks down at me, tilting his head to the side.
“She’ll be okay. She just needs to have dinner and rest, okay?”
Luke opens the door, and I scoot out behind him.
“I’d like to see them in the morning, Tommy,” I say.
His smile returns as he opens his door and hops out, heading toward a barn in the distance.
“Should he be going out in this weather?”
Luke nods. “He’ll just check on them and come right back.” He gestures toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get some food in you.”
He leads me under the covered pathway, the rain still pouring down. Night is fully upon us now. He opens the door, and we step into a mudroom with brick flooring.
“The Bells and Tommy live here full-time.”
We go through a low doorway, and Luke nearly has to duck down. The house has the kind of classic architecture that looks like an old movie set.
We step into a large kitchen with two islands. It’s a blend of old and new. The wooden beams look like they’ve been there for two hundred years along with the painted shiplap along the walls and ceilings. The fresh white paint on the new cabinets and black stainless steel appliances are offset by an enormous slab of ebony quartz with white veins. It’s breathtaking and inviting. A single lamp lights up the space, making it feel intimate.
A half-eaten pie is sitting on one of the islands, and Luke immediately approaches it, lifting off the cellophane.
“Okay, this will probably make you feel better than any medication. Linnet’s lemon pie is out of this world.”
He reaches into a drawer for two forks, handing one to me. I take a small bite. The crust is perfectly buttery, edges formed with vanilla wafers. The yellow filling is tart with just a hint of sweet, melting on my tongue.
I’ve died and gone to heaven on a chariot of fire.
“Oh my gosh,” I moan, embarrassingly loud. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.
“You’d better not be eating my pie before your dinner, young man!”
I jump at the unexpected sound of a third party.
Luke grins, turning to face the speaker. She’s an older woman in her late seventies, greyhaired, and dressed in the same floor-length nightgown all the ladies at my dad’s care facility wear.
