A Safe Place

Posted on Wed Sep 9th, 2026 @ 11:16am by Wanderer Brielle Anders

2,219 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Wandering About
Location: Brielle's Farm – Southern Wisconsin
Timeline: August 16, 2010

The rumble of Walter Miller's pickup echoed across the valley just after supper. Brielle looked up from the vegetable garden. She was kneeling between two rows of late-summer vegetables, fingers buried in dark soil as she pulled weeds from around the plants. The worst of the day's heat had begun to fade, leaving the evening warm rather than oppressive, and long shadows stretched from the farmhouse and barn across the yard. She wiped the back of one dirt-streaked hand across her forehead. "That's odd."

Walter rarely came this late. Not that he needed an invitation anymore. Over the past few weeks, the Miller pickup had become almost as familiar a sight on Brielle's driveway as her own truck. Walter appeared with tools, advice, timber, something Elsie had baked, or occasionally no reason beyond wanting to see how they were doing. But usually not after supper.
Sebastian looked up from beside the chicken coop. He had been attempting to repair a loose section of wire under Brielle's supervision, although his definition of repairing currently involved considerably more inspection than actual work. "Maybe he forgot his shovel."

Brielle smiled faintly. "Maybe." Then she heard the truck again. Her smile faded. Something about Walter's driving felt different. Slow. Careful. Deliberate. Not the easy roll up the driveway of someone arriving for coffee. Brielle rose and brushed the soil from her jeans. Toby had noticed too. The golden retriever trotted out from beneath the porch, tail wagging, but instead of charging towards the gate as he usually did when Walter arrived, he stopped beside Brielle. The old blue Ford rolled to a stop outside the gate.

Walter climbed out first. He closed the driver's door quietly. That was another thing Brielle noticed. Usually Walter slammed it. He removed his cap and ran one hand over his hair before turning towards the passenger side. Brielle frowned. Someone else was with him. A young woman stepped carefully from the truck. She couldn't have been much older than Brielle.
Maybe younger. She wore clothes that looked as though they'd been slept in more than once. Her hair had been pulled back hastily, and exhaustion showed in the set of her shoulders and the dark shadows beneath her eyes. But Brielle's attention went immediately to what she was carrying. A baby. Wrapped tightly in a pale yellow blanket despite the summer warmth, the infant slept against the woman's chest, one tiny cheek pressed against her mother's shirt. The young woman adjusted the baby instinctively as she climbed down. Protective.
Automatic. Brielle recognized the movement.

Walter opened the gate but didn't simply bring the woman forward. Instead, he met Brielle halfway across the yard. "I hope you don't mind me bringing someone." Brielle looked past him. The woman hadn't moved far from the truck. She seemed uncertain whether she was welcome to.

Brielle's eyes returned to Walter. "What happened?"

Walter sighed. "She came into town this morning." He lowered his voice, although there was little chance the woman could hear them from where she stood. "She's been living out of her car for three nights."

Brielle's expression changed. "With the baby?"

Walter nodded. "With the baby."

Brielle looked towards them again. The exhaustion made more sense now. "Where's the car?"

"At my place." That made Brielle look back at him. Walter continued.

"She pulled into Milltown this morning looking for somewhere she could get a proper meal and clean up. Elsie found her before I did." That sounded entirely believable. If Elsie Miller encountered an exhausted young mother with a baby, Carmen probably hadn't stood a chance. "Car's running," Walter added. "Not particularly well, but it's running. I had her follow me home first. It's parked beside the machinery shed with the rest of her things still inside."

"Why didn't she bring it here?" Walter's gaze moved towards the woman.

"Didn't know if you'd say yes." Brielle understood immediately. Walter hadn't wanted to arrive at her farm with a woman, a baby, a car full of belongings and an assumption that Brielle would take responsibility for all of them. He'd brought Carmen to ask. Nothing more. "She left a bad situation," Walter said quietly. He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to.

Brielle looked at the woman again. The way she held herself. The exhaustion. The hesitation. The baby held securely against her chest. Something cold and familiar moved through Brielle's stomach. She knew what a bad situation could mean. Walter studied her face. "I thought of you." Brielle looked at him. For a second, she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that. Then she understood. He hadn't thought of her because she was weak. He'd thought of her because she'd survived. Because she might understand. The young woman finally approached. Slowly. As though she was afraid of imposing simply by walking closer.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Brielle frowned. "For what?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard. "For... this." She made a tiny helpless gesture that seemed to encompass herself, Walter, the baby and perhaps her entire situation. "My name's Carmen." She looked down. "This is Leah." Almost as though hearing her name, the baby stirred. Tiny fingers escaped the blanket. They flexed once before settling against Carmen's shirt. Brielle stepped slightly closer. Leah couldn't have been more than five months old. Dark wisps of hair framed a sleepy little face. Her nose wrinkled briefly before she released a tiny sigh and settled again.

Miranda had appeared beside Brielle without anyone noticing. "She's so little."

Carmen smiled. It was tired, but genuine. "She thinks she's much bigger." Almost on cue, Leah made a determined little squeaking noise. Her face scrunched. One fist waved briefly in the air. Then she went straight back to sleep.

Walter chuckled. "Strong opinions already."

Miranda moved closer. "Can I touch her?"

"Miranda," Brielle warned gently.

Carmen surprised her by smiling. "It's okay."

Miranda extended one finger and very carefully touched Leah's tiny hand. The baby's fingers closed around it automatically.

Miranda gasped. "Mommy!"

"I see."

"She's holding me."

Carmen's smile grew slightly. "She does that."

Sebastian had wandered over as well, although he maintained what he apparently considered a respectable distance. "She's really small."

Miranda frowned at him. "I already said that."

"I know."

"You don't have to say it again."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. For just a moment Carmen looked between the two children. Something in her expression softened. Then the uncertainty returned. They stood in awkward silence. Carmen shifted Leah against her chest. Walter looked at Brielle. Brielle looked at Carmen. There were dozens of questions she could have asked. Where had she come from?
Who was she running from? Did anyone know where she'd gone? Was someone looking for her? How long did she intend to stay?

Instead, Brielle asked the only question that mattered right now. "Have you eaten today?"

Carmen hesitated. "Not really."

Walter snorted. "Coffee doesn't count."

Carmen looked embarrassed. "It was all I could afford."

Brielle's eyes moved to Leah. "And her?"

"I've got formula." The answer came immediately. Too immediately. Whatever else Carmen had gone without, Leah hadn't. Brielle understood that too. She looked back towards the farmhouse. There was soup left. Bread.Probably enough chicken. The spare bedroom had become a dumping ground for boxes they hadn't unpacked yet, but those could be moved.
There was an old crib stored in one of the outbuildings. Brielle had seen it when she'd first inspected the property and hadn't had any reason to throw it away. She looked at Carmen again. The young woman was waiting. Not asking. Waiting. As though she'd learned long ago that asking for too much was dangerous. Brielle knew that feeling. Without another word, she bent and picked up the baby bag resting beside Carmen's feet. Carmen blinked. "Brielle..."

"You've come this far."

"I don't understand."

"You and Leah can stay here."

Carmen stared at her. Walter said nothing. "I don't have much money."

"I wasn't asking."

"I can pay something."

"Carmen."

"I don't want charity."

Neither did Brielle. That, more than anything else, decided it. "I didn't say anything about charity." Carmen went quiet. Brielle adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "You need somewhere safe. I have a spare room."

"I'll work."

Brielle's mouth twitched. "I'd expect nothing less." Something shifted in Carmen's expression. Not quite relief. Not yet. Relief required believing the offer was real. Walter smiled quietly to himself. He'd been hoping she'd say exactly that. Carmen looked towards his truck. "My things..."

"Still in your car," Walter said. "Safe and locked."

Brielle glanced at him. "Bring it over tomorrow."

Walter nodded. "Was planning to."

Carmen looked between them. "You don't have to do that."

Walter put his cap back on. "Young lady, if you haven't figured it out yet, you're going to discover that telling Elsie and me what we don't have to do is generally a waste of time."

For the first time, Carmen laughed. It was quiet. Brief. But it was there. Brielle smiled. "Come inside."

The farmhouse changed shape remarkably quickly when a baby arrived. Boxes came out of the spare bedroom. Sebastian carried them downstairs. Miranda attempted to help and mostly carried individual objects that could easily have been left inside the boxes. Brielle found the old crib in storage. Walter helped bring it into the house before leaving.
It was dusty but solid. "Needs cleaning," Brielle said.

"I can do it," Carmen replied immediately.

"You can eat first."

"But—"

"Food." Carmen looked as though she might argue. Brielle raised an eyebrow. Walter laughed.

"You're outnumbered."

Carmen sighed. "Apparently."

By the time Walter finally left, the spare room looked less like storage and more like somewhere a person might actually sleep. Carmen's car would come tomorrow. Her clothes. Whatever possessions she'd managed to take when she'd left. For tonight, she had the baby bag, the clothes she was wearing and Leah. It was enough. Dinner was quiet at first.
Carmen ate carefully. Too carefully. As though worried that taking too much might be noticed. Brielle noticed anyway. She simply put more bread on the table.Miranda talked enough for everyone. She explained the chickens. All six of them. By name.Then the goats. Then Toby. Then Midnight. Carmen listened. Sebastian occasionally corrected his sister. Miranda objected. Leah woke halfway through the meal and announced her displeasure loudly enough to silence the entire table. Toby retreated beneath Brielle's chair. Sebastian stared.

"She's loud."

Carmen laughed as she lifted her daughter. "Very."

Miranda looked delighted. Brielle found herself smiling. The farmhouse hadn't sounded like this yesterday. It was fuller. Messier. Noisier. Somehow, she didn't mind. Later that evening, after Sebastian and Miranda had finally gone to bed, Brielle passed the spare room and noticed the door standing partly open. She stopped. Carmen stood beside the crib. Leah was asleep inside it. Clean now. Fed. One tiny hand curled around the edge of her blanket. The room was dim except for a bedside lamp. Carmen didn't notice Brielle immediately. She was simply watching her daughter breathe. Brielle knew that too. The quiet checks. The irrational need to make sure a sleeping child was still breathing. Eventually Carmen spoke.
"I haven't slept properly since she was born." Brielle leaned against the doorframe.

"Babies will do that."

Carmen gave a tiny smile. "Not because of her."

The smile disappeared. "I've always been listening for..." She stopped. Her shoulders tightened.

Brielle didn't ask her to finish. "You don't have to explain." Carmen looked at her. For a moment, neither woman spoke. There were some things that didn't need explaining. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. Outside the open window, crickets sang across the valley. A warm breeze stirred the curtains. Somewhere downstairs, Toby shifted on the kitchen floor. The farmhouse creaked softly as old houses did when the temperature dropped after sunset. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.

Carmen looked down at Leah. "My car really is okay?"

"It's at Walter's."

"He barely knows me."

Brielle smiled faintly. "That's Walter."

"And tomorrow he'll bring it here?"

"Apparently."

Carmen was quiet. "Then I can leave if this doesn't work."

There it was. Brielle understood immediately why the car mattered. t wasn't simply transportation. It was a way out. A choice. Carmen needed to know she still had one.

"Yes." Brielle's answer was immediate. "If you decide you want to leave, you leave."

Carmen looked at her. "No one here is going to stop you." Something in the younger woman's face crumpled for half a second before she regained control. She looked quickly back at Leah. "Thank you."

Brielle nodded. "You don't owe me anything."

"I said I'd work."

"That's different."

That earned another small smile. They stood together beside the crib. Two mothers. Two women who had learned to listen for sounds no one should have to listen for. Two women who had somehow ended up on the same quiet Wisconsin farm. Outside, the crickets continued their endless summer chorus. The farmhouse was warm. Safe. Quiet. And Carmen's car waited only a few miles away at the Miller farm, ready to be brought over in the morning. She wasn't trapped here. She was choosing to stay. Brielle understood how important the difference was. For the first time in many months... Neither woman felt entirely alone.

TBC

 

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