The Letters by Suzanne Woods Fisher

nape of her neck. Her eyes were gray and warm, fringed by dark lashes and framed by dark eyebrows. She was quite pretty, without a stitch of makeup.
    The boys looked around and became aware for the first time that a stranger had come. They instantly stopped fidgeting and stood like statues.
    “Pardon the commotion,” Rose Schrock said with a smile. “We’re a noisy crowd. So you aren’t sure how long you’ll be staying?”
    “If that’s all right,” Delia said. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
    Rose only laughed. “You don’t look like the type to trouble anybody. We grow our own troubles—it would be a novelty to have some we aren’t already used to. These are my sons, Luke and Sammy.” She reached for Delia’s hand. “Why don’t you come inside?”
    A moment or two later, Delia watched Rose put fresh sheets on the bed and plump the pillows. Delia thought it was strange that she didn’t ask for any money or registration information. She showed Delia how to turn the lanterns on and off, and the pilot light on the stove.
    When Rose went up to the house and Delia was alone in this sparsely furnished . . . basement! . . . panic rose. She hadn’t thought this through. She had a toothbrush in her purse, of course, who didn’t? She had a change of clothing in her gym bag, kept in the trunk of the car. But that was all. No nightgown. No face cream. Not even a book to read.
    Maybe she should go back to Philadelphia. She could leave some cash on the nightstand and leave. She heard a knock on the door and Rose popped her head in again. “I noticedthat you didn’t have much luggage, and thought that maybe something had happened to your things. So, I brought a few items for you.” In her arms was a nightgown, a Farmer’s Journal magazine, a spare toothbrush and toothpaste, and a hairbrush. She lowered her voice. “I included some ladies’ unmentionables.” Color filled her cheeks, and her voice dropped. “Just in case you might have forgotten to pack some.”
    Mouthwatering aromas wafted down from the house. Delia’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten much today.
    A big yellow dog came bursting through the door and hurried over to sniff Delia.
    “That’s Chase,” Rose said. “He’s a good friend and companion.”
    Delia looked at the dog. “Is he named Chase because he chases squirrels?”
    “No. Because he chases his tail.”
    The big dog watched Delia. It took a few steps forward, sat on its haunches, and lifted a paw as if it was saying hello to Delia. She tentatively reached out to shake its paw. It was the oddest thing—there was a look in this dog’s soulful eyes as if he knew Delia was hurting and felt empathy for her. What an absurd thought!
    “Oh, you’ve passed the test. He likes you. You must have a knack for pets.”
    Delia had never had a pet. Why did it suddenly seem as if she had missed something? “I’m afraid not.” Her son had always wanted a dog but Charles refused. He said that he’d had enough animal rearing in his childhood to last a lifetime. A slight smile tugged at Delia’s lips. It was ironic that Will was going to be a vet—not a neurosurgeon like Charles had planned for him to be. She had never told Will, but she hadbeen a little disappointed by his decision too. She had hoped he would follow in Charles’s footsteps. After shaking this big dog’s paw, she felt a glimmer of understanding of something Will talked about—that when an animal knew you, you felt some kind of special connection to it.
    Already, Delia’s life was changing. She was changing. Her stomach tightened. She had never liked change, and here she was faced with overwhelming change.
    A knock at the door startled Delia.
    Rose looked over at the door. “That’s my daughter, Mim, bringing some dinner down to you. Just in case you haven’t eaten.”
    Tears pricked Delia’s eyes. How long had it been since someone had fussed over her? Maybe she would stay one night. Just one. She put down