Shelter from the Storm

By C.K. Carr

Cameron Warren gave up on everything after his daughter died

Lea Carver has no money and nowhere else to go when she shows up at his door. She'd rather be anywhere but stuck in that mansion with its cantankerous owner and the slobbery beast he calls a dog.

But she has a duty to see that Sophie, Cameron's niece, is safe. So she stays. And finds that maybe Cameron Warren isn't as beastly as she first thought.

Will she win this Scrooge's heart in time for the holidays? Can he find a way past his loss to love again? Find out now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.K. Carr
• Release date: Nov 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393889502

Book preview

Shelter From the Storm

SHELTER FROM THE STORM

Are you sure you don’t want me to wait, miss? the kindly old gentleman asked as Lea helped Sophie out of the cab of his beat-up truck. She glanced behind her at the brooding house on the hill, separated from the world by an imposing metal gate that looked like it hadn’t been opened in ages, and bit her lip.

The house was huge, three stories tall. Two wings of rooms centered a large entryway surrounded by white columns. It looked like something out of Downton Abbey except none of the rooms were lit and the grounds were covered in a layer of snow that looked gray in the late afternoon light. Half the light posts leading up the long drive were dark, their bulbs burned out.

You said he lives here, right? Cameron Warren? She shivered from more than the early winter chill.

Yeah, he lives here. Never leaves. My sister’s son runs groceries out to the place every Sunday and my uncle’s wife’s brother takes care of the grounds in the summer. Five years and the man’s never set foot outside that gate.

Then we’ll be fine. Thank you for the ride.

He hesitated. If you don’t mind my saying, miss, he’s not the kind of man you want to spend time around.

She reached towards the fading bruise on her cheek before jerking her hand back down. Is he cruel? Will he hit Sophie or me?

Nah. Nothing like that. He was always a good boy. And a good man. Before. He just…He isn’t much for company. And that place of his, well, you can see for yourself.

As long as he feeds us and doesn’t hurt us, we’ll be fine.

You can ask for more from life than that, miss. You and the girl need a safe place, my wife and I’ll take you in.

She smiled up at him, glad to know the world still had decent men in it. Thank you for the offer, but… She glanced back to where Sophie stood, all big eyes and long hair, watching them. This is the only safe place for Sophie. Whatever else he may be, Cameron Warren is her uncle. And the only one who could keep Sophie safe from her grasping aunt and the woman’s vile husband.

Well, like I said, he was a good man once, so I expect he’ll take you in. But you call my number if you need help. I’ll pick you right up and we’ll figure something else out.

She nodded, not bothering to mention that her cellphone was dead. Thank you.

She closed the door and turned to the gate as the truck drove off. Sophie looked up at her through a mess of snot and tears. Lea, can we go home now?

She squeezed the little girl’s hand, trying to hide her own trembling as she stared up at the forbidding mansion. Sophie had already been through too much in her five years of life—losing her mother in that dreadful car accident and then having to move in with her aunt, who barely acknowledged her existence, and her aunt’s husband, who paid a little too much attention to her.

"This is your home now, Sophie."

She hoped. Cameron Warren wasn’t exactly expecting them and, even if the man in the truck hadn’t already warned her, it was clear visitors weren’t welcome.

Sophie started to cry again. You said that at the last place and it was horrible. I don’t want to live here. I want to go home, she wailed. I want my mommy.

Lea pulled her close. I know, sweetie.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Lea stomped her feet to keep warm as the sun set and darkness started to fall. What if he turned them away? What would she do then?

She pressed the intercom button and waited, praying he’d answer.

It had taken four days of sleeping in cramped bus seats, eating cheap food bought at gas stations, and almost every cent she had to get this far. Even if there was somewhere else they could go, she couldn’t afford to get there. He had to answer. He was her last hope.

She glanced around, looking for somewhere, anywhere they could shelter for the night if he didn’t, but all she saw were empty fields surrounded by barbed-wire fences.

She pressed the intercom button again, holding it down for a full minute.

Finally, a gruff voice barked at them, What?

She tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. My name is Lea Carver, sir. I’m nanny to your niece, Sophie. Would you please let us in? It’s cold out here.

She glanced at the black half-dome to the side of the intercom, figuring there was a camera there, willing the man who’d answered to have enough compassion to at least let them stay for the night if nothing else.

What are you doing here? I thought my sister took you in.

Lea lifted her chin. She did, sir. But it wasn’t the right kind of place for a child. Your sister’s husband, sir… She glanced at Sophie, not wanting to say more in front of her.

A waste of space.

Yes, sir.

And worse.

Yes. Sir. She stared at the black half-dome, too proud to beg with more than her eyes.

Fine. Come up. The gate squealed as it slowly opened. Lea looked up the long driveway to the cold and dark house at the top and forced a smile. Come on, Sophie. Let’s go meet your uncle.

Cameron Warren watched the woman and little girl as they started towards the house. His niece looked just like his daughter had at that age, right down to the big eyes that saw too much of the world and the stubborn set to the chin that said she wasn’t always an easy child.

His chest ached as memories and feelings he’d hidden from for five years pushed to the forefront. He could almost hear his daughter’s laughter—like sunshine—as she ran down the hallway with Bear, then just a puppy, chasing after. His gut clenched, remembering the way she’d stare at him with those wide eyes of hers, trusting that he’d keep her safe.

But he hadn’t had he? He’d failed her. Lost her. Because some things you can’t protect against, no matter how much you love someone. He’d tried. He’d bought her every treatment money could buy. Taken her to every specialist he could find. But none of it worked. The cancer won in the end.

All he succeeded in doing was making the pain last longer. Stretched her suffering from six months to two years. Ruined his marriage, too, with all those bitter fights they’d had towards the end.

He slammed his fist down on the desk, startling Bear—now a hundred and fifty pounds of love and slobber—out of a comfortable sleep. The Newfoundland, the only companion he’d had since he lost Maddie, stared at him placidly from his bed next to the fire.

Sorry, bud. Didn’t mean to wake you.

Cameron turned his attention back to the security camera as the woman and his niece made their way up the driveway, the woman pulling one small suitcase behind her. He should’ve offered to drive down and get them, but he was hoping a miracle would occur and they’d turn around and go somewhere else, leave him alone like everyone else had.

The woman was maybe thirty, and attractive, even with the bruised cheek and shadows under her eyes. No surprise that his loathsome brother-in-law had caused her problems. He’d only met the man once but that had been enough to know everything he needed to know.

The woman continued on towards the house, pulling his niece along behind her, gaze focused, intent on her destination. They weren’t going to turn back. And as much as he wanted them to leave, he wouldn’t turn them away. He wasn’t that heartless.

Sighing, he pushed back his chair. Come on, Bear. We have guests.

Sophie complained the whole way to the front door. It was too cold. She was tired. She was hungry. She wanted to go home. Her feet hurt.

It’s just a little ways further, Sophie. You can do it, Lea said for the tenth time. She loved the girl—or else she would’ve left when Mary died—but she was cold and tired, too. And hungry. Not that she held out much hope that she’d find a nice warm meal inside that house. Judging from the outside, she’d probably be lucky to find a shriveled onion and a sprouted potato or two.

The place was even more intimidating the closer they came. She counted the dirty windows. Three floors, two sides, ten windows to a side, plus another set in the back. What was that? A hundred and twenty? And