Chapter Twenty-Five

Home and Not Alone

W illow stood at the threshold of her grandmother’s home, the keys trembling in her hand. Dale waited patiently beside her, his expression calm but watchful.

“It’s just a door,” she whispered to herself, drawing in a slow, steadying breath.

She inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The security screen creaked open first, followed by the heavy wooden door, revealing the cool interior. Joan’s scent lingered faintly in the air, a mix of woodsmoke, dried herbs, and something uniquely her.

Willow stepped inside .

The front room was simple but inviting, with well-worn furniture that spoke of years of use. A crocheted blanket draped over the back of the couch; its colors faded but still vibrant enough to catch the eye. Bookshelves lined one wall, crammed with a mix of paperbacks and binders labeled with meticulous handwriting.

“The solar batteries and well room are in the back, to the right,” Dale said, his voice low so as not to disrupt her moment. “There’s a box fan in there to vent the air, but you’ll want to keep the door closed. Battery fumes aren’t exactly good for you.”

Willow nodded absently, her gaze scanning every detail. She stopped at a small calendar pinned to the refrigerator.

“Your grandmother kept track of everything on that,” Dale said, stepping up beside her. “Water filter changes, oil for the generator, firewood deliveries—you name it. She even wrote down the number for the well repair guy, though I doubt she liked him much.”

Willow touched the corner of the calendar, her fingers lingering on the thick paper. Each date felt like a whisper from her grandmother, a reminder of the rhythm she had carved out in this remote world.

“She built the inside walls herself,” Dale continued, motioning to the wooden beams that gave the house its rustic charm. “Did a damn fine job, though I doubt it would pass a building inspection. People live differently out here. What matters is it’s sturdy and comfortable.”

Willow’s throat tightened as she noticed the imperfections, the slight unevenness of the wall trim, and the sections that were wood and hadn’t been painted. Each flaw felt like a fingerprint, a tangible mark of her grandmother’s presence.

“This place isn’t insured,” Dale added, almost as an afterthought. “Not the structure, anyway. Joan set up a policy to cover what’s inside, though. Said if it burned down, she’d just live in her truck.”

Willow let out a soft, breathy laugh. “That sounds like her.”

Dale’s expression softened, his gaze drifting over the room. “She loved this place. Fought hard to make it hers.”

Willow swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. She could feel her grandmother here, in every corner, every detail.

“The fuse box and inverter are in the well room,” Dale said, breaking the silence. “I’ll give you a rundown on how it all works. It’s a lot to take in, but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

They moved through the small house, Dale explaining the practical details with patience. He showed her how to operate the ceiling fan, the kitchen lights, and the outdoor floodlights. Each switch felt foreign beneath her fingers, a reminder of how long it had been since she’d controlled anything in her environment .

“Do what you can at your own pace,” Dale said gently. “No one’s rushing you.”

Willow nodded, her chest tightening. She wanted to tell him how much his support meant, but the words caught in her throat.

They entered the bedroom next. It was larger than she expected, twice the size of her prison cell, with a single bed neatly made in the corner. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the wooden floor.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. This was hers. Her very own space.

She walked to the window and ran her fingers over the latch. The grate outside was sturdy but designed to swing open from the inside. She unlatched it and pushed it open, letting the sunlight flood in.

Turning to face Dale, she said quietly, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Dale stepped closer, his expression calm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said. “I’ll help with whatever you need, for as long as you need.”

His words brought a flicker of comfort, but the panic still bubbled beneath the surface.

“I’ll get my trailer hooked up and head out,” Dale said, stepping back to give her space. “Do you have any questions before I go?”

Willow stared at him, her heart pounding. It wasn’t the size of the property or the complexity of the utilities that scared her. It was freedom. After so many years of being told when to wake, when to eat, when to sleep, the idea of making her own decisions felt paralyzing.

“Could you stay here tonight?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Dale paused, then nodded. “Of course.”

He walked to the front room, picked up the cell phone he’d left on the table, and handed it to her. “This is yours now. No passcode yet, but it’s easy to use. Even I figured it out.” He winked, his easy grin breaking through the tension.

Willow took the phone.

“I’ll make us dinner,” Dale said. “We can eat outside while the weather is nice. How does that sound?”

Willow let out a shaky breath and nodded.

“It sounds perfect.”