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Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6) 40. Clyde 75%
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40. Clyde

forty

Clyde

A t four thirty, Ruther and Corey stood patiently waiting for me in the café. I was glad I’d taken a few minutes to rush up to my apartment to shower and change, since I’d been sweaty and smelled like food. Both men smiled as I came out.

Ruther leaned over and kissed me, causing me to blush again. I wasn’t used to such public affection, but damned if I didn’t like it. I guess it went a long way to show how comfortable I was in Crawford City, not to feel the need to look around to see who’d seen the kiss.

“You smell good,” Ruther said quietly.

“Yeah, I got off early for a shower. I wouldn’t be much company if I smelled like I’d worked all day.”

Corey led the way to the library, and Ruther walked arm in arm with me. It felt so strange that he showed this kind of affection, but like the kiss, I wasn’t going to complain. It was just too nice.

The library was a stone’s throw from the café, so we hadn’t gone far before Corey opened the door for us, and we walked inside. Besides the café, this was my most visited spot in town. I didn’t have cable or any streaming services, didn’t think I could afford them, but Mrs. Cole had left a TV and DVD player at the apartment, so I often checked out movies from the library for free.

I also loved reading, and Chris quickly learned my favorite authors and was constantly recommending a new book for me to try out.

Chris and Roth were standing together behind the front counter, working. It was still so weird to see a famous music star working in a small-town library. Chris noticed us and smiled, although he looked slightly concerned when he glanced at Ruther.

I remembered Ruther’s panic attack last summer when Chris came over to his table, and I immediately tightened my grip on his arm. I’d forgotten that Chris had been the trigger for that incident. I hadn’t put two and two together that Chris and Roth had bought Ruther’s home. I didn’t know much about that, only that Chris’s parents lived with him, and his mom had invited me to join them for dinner. Something I hadn’t taken her up on yet.

Both men greeted us, then Chris asked Roth to watch the front while he showed us his discovery.

Of course, Roth agreed, and we followed Chris into a room behind the circulation desk. It wasn’t very inviting. The room had no windows, the fluorescent light was way too intense, and every corner was crammed full of books.

“I found an old photograph in the historical material that was sent, well, a while ago,” he said to Ruther, clearly avoiding something. “This photo is of the old Quaker meeting house that was here years ago. I only figured out where exactly it’d been located after I received the latest of your family’s archive of Crawford City.”

He pulled another picture out from behind the first and pointed at a particular area. “See, this is the corner of what used to be called the First National Crawford Bank and Trust. You can see the name on the building. You can also see a road that runs right along the bank, and there’s the old meeting house.”

We all looked at the photo. I had no idea where this was going, but I was here for moral support, not because I could offer feedback.

“That’s interesting, but—” Ruther began, but Chris quickly pressed on.

“Mr. Crawford, Jake told me you’re looking to develop the property that runs on the other side of the old railroad tracks. I thought you might like to know, before the railroad came to town, that road in the photograph ran directly into the property you’re considering. The road is long gone, of course, and the whole section of town across the street where it used to run has been built up, but I thought you might want to install a monument at the meeting house site. It’d be near the exit from the neighborhood you’re building. Something to commemorate Crawford City’s pioneer past, especially the part about our Quaker roots.”

I stared at the two pictures. The old building looked just like any old church did back in the day. It was a plain rectangular building with planks that ran horizontally, most likely painted white. What appeared to be a bell hung on the roof above the doorway.

“I don’t remember ever seeing this picture,” Ruther said, and for a moment, it looked like he might get emotional. “I wonder—”

Corey was staring at the picture too. “Do you mind if we take these with us?” he asked.

Chris stiffened. “They technically belong to you, but I’ve searched through the county records, through our archives, and as far as I can tell, these two pictures are the only ones left of those old buildings.”

Ruther laughed. “Chris, I admire your commitment to preserving them. Mind if we snap some pictures using our phones?”

“Of course, go right ahead. I can also scan these at a high resolution and save the digital copies to a flash drive for you.”

“That’d be wonderful. Thank you,” Corey said.

Chris smiled, carefully picked up both pictures, and darted out the door.

“What do you think?” Ruther asked Corey.

“I think it’d be a great way to enter the community. Make a very public nod to the past and your family’s history here.”

“Besides the name?” I asked and was surprised I’d said anything. It wasn’t like me to comment. Maybe it was because it seemed obvious that since the town was named after his family, that should be enough.

“Yes, besides the name,” Ruther said and playfully bumped against me. “My family were Quakers. My third great-grandpa was lynched, probably right where we’re standing, because he dared to stand against the Confederacy. I no longer practice Quakerism, but I think it’d be good to honor my roots.”

I nodded, feeling embarrassed that I’d intervened.

Corey and Ruther were discussing what they’d do with a building if they put a replica in its place when Chris walked back in with the photographs and handed Corey a flash drive with the digital copies.

“You’re thinking about replacing the building?” Chris asked.

“Maybe,” Corey responded, “but we need to speak to the mayor and town council. We wouldn’t want to maintain it, and what purpose would it serve?”

I did look up then, interested all of a sudden. “Crawford City doesn’t have a good, neutral spot for groups to meet. There’s the church, but some people aren’t comfortable with churches as meeting places, like my support group. It could be a community center, especially if it’s just outside the main streets of town.

I thought of when I’d helped Ruther out of the woods. The path we’d followed had looked like it used to be a road or a driveway or something. I knew exactly where they were talking about.

Ruther looked at me and nodded. “It could be a community center. These old buildings weren’t fancy; they were built to be anything but. Simple, one-room buildings with hard, uncomfortable benches. We could restore it to be historically relevant, but the benches and stuff could be moved out of the way for meetings.”

Chris looked around the room. “What’s the potential for building a basement?” he asked.

Both men stared at him, then shrugged. “Not sure, why?” Ruther asked.

“Because this room is getting out of hand fast. If you were to build a basement under the main structure, we could use it to store Crawford City's historical references. That way, it could be part of the library system.” He quickly laughed. “Not that we’d have any money to help finance it. We barely have enough funds to function here, but we could staff it with volunteers if it was tied to us.”

“That’s a good idea, Chris, thanks,” Ruther said, shaking his hand. “We have a lot to think about.”

I followed them out of the library and noticed that the nerves Ruther seemed to have developed when we’d gone in had vanished. We walked across the street almost like we were drawn to where the meeting house once stood.

The old bank had been converted long ago and now stood empty. We wandered down the dead-end street, and I could see the old motel from where we stood. “So, this is where it used to stand,” Corey said, looking at the photo on his phone.

“That’s the hardware store back there,” Ruther said, pointing along the ridge where you could barely make out the building.

“Nothing’s been here for a long time,” Corey said, wandering to the overgrown area that butted up against the derelict railroad.

“It’d be a nice museum too,” I said. “Most little towns have some sort of historical society thing. I’m surprised Crawford City doesn’t.”

Both men nodded and then continued looking at the lot. “It’s what we said we wanted to do,” Corey said. “Making a difference, not just throwing up buildings.”

“The structure itself wouldn’t cost much, not if we built it like it originally was.”

“We could build a separate building for the archives,” Corey suggested. “Something that matched the style of the meeting house. I’m sure your family’s original home wasn’t the mansion.”

Ruther cringed. “Yeah,” he quickly said, and I could see the tortured look setting in, which caused me to step closer and take his hand.

“I’m sure Chris would research that for you,” I said. “He seems to be on top of all that anyway.”

Ruther smiled down at me and leaned in. For a moment I thought he might kiss me, but Corey kept on talking about the site, drawing Ruther’s attention. “This could be a great way to start the project if the cost isn’t prohibitive.”

“Could you possibly put a park here too? Would there be enough room?” I asked. “Seems to me that’s something missing in Crawford City as well.”

Both men smiled. “Sounds like we need to talk to Lance.” Ruther looked at me then and squeezed my hand. “Wanna walk over to the pizza place with me? We’ll let Corey entice Jake and Lance with pizza, and if history is any indication, it’ll take at least an hour to get our dinner.”

I chuckled because the one time I’d ordered from there, the pizza was delicious, but it had taken a very long time for them to cook it.

Ruther and I sat in the old pizza place, and I listened as he told me what he knew about his family’s Quaker past. I didn’t know much about the Quakers. I knew they’d settled in Pennsylvania, but I would’ve never guessed Quakers had come to Tennessee. I guess that’s the point of replicating the meeting house and adding a public monument.

Ruther was buzzing with excitement by the time the pizza arrived at our table. “So, what do you think?” I asked, already knowing they wanted to do it.

He shrugged. “There are lots of components, like the architect, the town council, the mayor, whether the city or library or whatever can maintain it. But, if we can work it out, it’d be a nice legacy to leave the town.”

I leaned into him, enjoying how excited he was getting. I’d never spent time with anyone who cared that much about their town or history. My life had just been about surviving another day. It felt good to be on this side of things, thinking about possibilities outside of where my next meal would come from or how to avoid someone who’d lose their temper.

Six months ago, I would’ve never predicted being in this place. It’s crazy how fast someone’s life can change.

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