The Little Dale Remedy. Eleanor Jones
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the center of the town, with ducks waddling and quacking on the bank. The town seemed like a friendly place to make a fresh start.
She’d driven another mile before Rose Cottage appeared around a bend. It had felt instantly welcoming, small and quaint with a tiny front garden, standing all alone in beautiful surroundings. The view of the Lakeland hills and wide open sky beyond was amazing.
After arriving at Rose Cottage, Maddie had headed over to Sky View Stables to see Cass Munro. Maddie was starting her new job there tomorrow, helping Cass with chores and with her eight-year-old stepson, Robbie. Cass had turned out to be slightly built, very friendly and approachable and obviously pregnant. She had swung back her shiny dark hair and smiled at Maddie. “Now you know why I need help,” she’d said, patting her stomach. “And I didn’t want some experienced old nanny type looking down her nose at me, so I hired you.”
Maddie had smiled back at her. “Well, I’ve certainly had no experience, so you’re okay there.”
“Perfect. I’ll show you round. Do you know much about horses?”
Maddie had considered telling her the truth. Oh, yes. I was once a promising young jockey, engaged to my boss’s son, working with Thoroughbreds and looking forward to a long and successful love affair with the racing industry...until some prat knocked me off my bike early one morning, leaving me for dead on the side of the lane...
Biting her tongue, though, she had just smiled and given a little shake of her head. No sad, pitying faces and no one to judge her. That’s why she’d come here, and it meant keeping quiet about her past, no matter how nice Cass Munro seemed to be. “A bit,” she’d said, not wanting to be totally dishonest.
Now, three hours later as nighttime hovered, sitting alone in the secluded cottage after her disturbing visitor left, Maddie tried to focus on how much she was looking forward to tomorrow. Seeing the stable yard at Sky View had reinforced her passion to ride again, maybe even compete in some way, and she wasn’t going to let some rude, obnoxious, deranged man upset her. And he had upset her, if she was honest with herself, and had frightened her a little. Glancing around the cold and empty cottage, she picked up on a vibe she hadn’t noticed earlier. A sad and lonely vibe, as if someone had suffered here.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and stood up. This was ridiculous; she’d come here to put her future straight again and drive away the emptiness and fear that had filled her life for the past year and a half. It was her own vibe she could feel, simple as that. All that the cottage needed was a glowing fire in the grate, a good cleaning to sweep away the cobwebs and the aroma of the stew her mother had insisted she take.
* * *
OVER AN HOUR LATER, tired and aching but feeling so much happier, Maddie surveyed her handiwork. She’d found wood neatly stacked right outside the back door, and now flames flickered red and gold in both the kitchen log burner and the open fire in the small sitting room. The enticing aromas of wood smoke and stew simmering on the stove drifted through the cottage.
She pushed the vacuum cleaner back into the cupboard beneath the steep, narrow staircase then sank into a chair in the kitchen to try to ease the nagging pain that spread through her back and down into her left leg. She’d overdone it; she knew that by the way her leg was suddenly refusing to do what she told it to. Damn her stupid injuries and damn the man who’d caused them. She’d eat the stew and have an early night, she decided—build up a bit of strength for her big day tomorrow.
And as for the fierce and angry man who’d unsettled her with his unexpected visit...well, she’d just have to hope the rental company would sort it out when he called them in the morning. With a bit of luck, she wouldn’t even see him again. If he did come back to harass her, she’d just ring the police. And tonight she’d check that all her windows and doors were locked yet again...just to be sure.
A GRIPING, FAMILIAR pain in the region of his heart made Ross Noble lighten his foot on the accelerator of his big, old pickup truck. How could he have believed he would be able to just drive back into Little Dale as if nothing had happened? As the vehicle slowed down, he glanced in the rearview mirror at Meg, his six-year-old daughter. “Come on, Dad, we’re nearly there,” she cried, her eyes alight with excitement.
“Perhaps we should just turn around and go back home to Scotland,” he suggested.
Her face fell. “But you said that this was my real home.”
“And it is.” He sighed. “It’s just...”
For Ross, the area held nothing but sad memories. He had vowed never to set foot in Little Dale again, but his daughter had been born here, and she had a right to know her heritage. She might not remember her mother, Jenny, or her grandma, Anne Maddox, but Little Dale was the place where they all used to live when she was a baby and Ross was only too well aware that Meg longed for a proper family life and other kids to play with. Suddenly, though, he was questioning his decision to bring her back here and questioning his own ability to get past all the bad memories.
Stalling for time, he pulled his truck onto the shoulder and jumped out. “Seems like Red needs to stretch his legs,” he told Meg, who was peering out of the window impatiently.
Next to his daughter, his huge copper-colored dog whined softly. Ross opened the back door and let Red out, kneeling down and cradling the dog’s big face between his palms. His heart ached with regret. “Am I really doing the right thing, lad?” he murmured. “Or should we just turn around and get out of here?”
Well used to his master’s ramblings, Red pushed against him, eager to get out of the confined space. “I know.” Ross sighed, giving the dog one last rub behind the ears before slamming the back door. “It’s the right thing to do...for Meg’s sake. She deserves to know where she came from.”
Memories assailed him, of Jenny, his sweet young wife, when she was whole. They had been so in love back then; how had he let it all go so terribly wrong? Perhaps her mother was right; perhaps it really had all been his fault. If he hadn’t been so selfish then maybe she’d still be alive today to watch their daughter growing up. He’d been too engrossed in his work, though, to realize how ill Jenny was becoming, how much she struggled with depression after Meg was born...until it was too late.
Ross climbed back into the driver’s seat, closing the door with a heavy clunk. How he felt was irrelevant. He’d lost the right to be selfish. Now it was all about Meg. When Jenny died, he’d sworn to dedicate the rest of his life to his daughter’s happiness, and he intended to keep that promise. He couldn’t expect her to live in a trailer forever, especially not now, when a real house awaited them.
“Well, Meg,” he said, reaching across to ruffle his daughter’s hair. “You’ll soon be home.”
“Home,” Meg echoed, her bright little face shining. “Isn’t it your home, too, Daddy?”
The powerful engine rumbled into life and he nosed the big vehicle back out into the lane, glancing in his wing mirror to make sure that the travel trailer, their home for the past six years, was clear of the verge. “I hope so, Meg.”
The little girl grinned, pressing her face against the window, eager to take in all her surroundings.
It would be strange, Ross thought, as the landmarks became ever more familiar, to stay in one place and live in a house again, especially one where so much had happened. But Meg was school-age now, and she needed that stability. When they found out Anne Maddox had left Rose Cottage to her granddaughter, it was as if it was meant to be.
The sign for Little Dale appeared ahead of them. “Well, Jenny,” he said under his breath, “are you waiting here for us, watching our every move?”
“Who is waiting?” Meg asked, overhearing.
Ross smiled at her. “Your mum, I hope. She’ll be watching over you from heaven, I guess.”
Meg nodded