Chapter 4 - The Sanctuary on Isle of Hope
At four o'clock that afternoon, my Isle of Hope residence looked less like a bachelor’s house and more like an emergency distribution hub.
Deb, my café manager, had rallied six of our senior staff members.
Two delivery vans from a local baby boutique had pulled into the circular gravel driveway, unloading an antique white wooden crib, three boxes of organic formula, and racks of children's clothes.
Louise was busy in the kitchen preparing homemade chicken noodle soup, while two employees assembled a mahogany twin bed in the second-floor master suite.
When my truck pulled into the driveway, the rain had finally stopped, leaving the ancient live oaks draped in Spanish moss glistening under the late afternoon sun.
I carried Penny in a secure car seat, while Maddie walked beside me, staring in utter wonder at the wide wraparound porch and the winding tidal river behind the property.
“Do you live in a castle, Mr. Owen?” Maddie asked, her eyes round as saucers.
“It's just an old house with a lot of empty rooms, Maddie,” I laughed softly, unlocking the front door.
“And today, two of those rooms belong to you and Penny.”
When Maddie stepped onto the polished pine hardwood of the foyer, she froze.
She looked down at her damp sneakers, carefully slipping them off and placing them neatly on the doormat before taking another step.
Deb came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron, smiling with grandmotherly warmth.
“Welcome home, little lady!” Deb cheered, offering Maddie a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie on a napkin.
Maddie took the cookie, smelled the warm chocolate, then looked at Penny’s car seat.
“Can Penny eat this?” Maddie asked.
“Penny is having warm formula and mashed bananas, sweetie,” Deb assured her, gently ruffling her hair.
“That cookie is just for you.”
Maddie took a small, reverent bite, her eyes closing as the sweet flavor hit her tongue.
Upstairs, the nursery was bathed in golden afternoon light.
The white crib stood beside the wide window overlooking the salt marsh, draped in soft pink fleece blankets.
Beside it sat the twin bed with a lavender floral duvet and three plush stuffed animals: a yellow giraffe, a brown bear, and a white bunny.
Maddie ran her hands over the soft duvet, turning to me with an expression of pure, unadulterated awe.
“Is this really my bed?”
“It's yours, Maddie,” I said, setting Penny’s car seat down on the rug.
“And look over there.”
I pointed to the adjoining bathroom, where Louise had filled the wide clawfoot tub with warm water and a mountain of fragrant vanilla bubbles.
For the next forty minutes, the second floor echoed with the sound of splashing water, squeals of laughter, and Penny’s happy babbles.
Louise and Deb washed Penny’s delicate skin, treating her cradle cap and diaper rash with medicated lotions, while Maddie splashed bubbles onto her sister’s belly.
When they emerged, Penny was dressed in a soft yellow footed sleeper, smelling of lavender and chamomile.
Maddie wore clean flannel pajamas with pink clouds, her hair brushed and tied back with a new satin ribbon Deb had brought.
Sitting at the kitchen table, Maddie ate two full bowls of chicken soup, finishing every single carrot and noodle.
Penny drank six ounces of formula, burped loudly against my shoulder, and fell into a deep, untroubled slumber against my chest.
As I laid Penny into the white crib, Maddie climbed under her lavender duvet, pulling the covers up to her chin.
She held the yellow giraffe tight against her chest, looking up at me through heavy, sleepy eyelashes.
“Mr. Owen?” she whispered into the dim room.
“Yes, Maddie?”
“Are you sure Tracy won't come through the window?”
I walked over, pulling the heavy brass latch shut and drawing the warm velvet drapes.
“Tracy doesn't know where this house is, Maddie,” I said softly, sitting on the edge of her mattress.
“And even if she did, I have two private security officers at the front gate who won't let anyone past that driveway.”
“You are safe here. Both of you.”
Maddie smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep claimed her exhausted body.
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“Thank you, Mr. Owen,” she mumbled into her pillow.
“Thank you for the cups.”
