Christmas Home (The Coming Home #6)

51. Ruther

fifty-one

Ruther

I don’t think I’d ever done anything as terrifying as going to my childhood home and facing the fire again.

It was hard to force myself up the driveway and through the front door, but I knew the moment I did, things would be different. Somewhere over the ages, probably before the Civil War, my family had converted the old Federal style home into more of an antebellum design.

I hated it, mostly because it didn’t seem to fit. Even as a gay kid, I’d been surrounded by design enough to know it wasn’t right for this home. Chris and Roth had returned it to how it always should’ve been. It was nothing like the spooky house I’d lived in, which made it absolutely perfect.

I almost backed out of going into the new addition when Roth gave me an out. I’d come this far, though, so after letting them know I might fall apart, I followed the guys down a back corridor connecting the old home to the new.

It was all different. Of course, the section I’d been in that night was gone, and everything was new. I assumed that wouldn’t be enough, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. The addition looked as old or older than the original house. Beautiful cottage windows skirted around the walls, with a pretty little winter garden outside, where birds and squirrels flocked to a bird feeder.

The entire place screamed home and Christmas. So much Christmas. Where Roth and Chris’s decorations were tasteful, this was full-out gaudy. It filled me with joy.

I knew I needed to face the bedrooms, though. That’s where I’d been when my world had been destroyed. Mr. Asbell didn’t hesitate to take me up the stairs. Nothing was the same, of course. It had all been replaced, but as we walked through the hallway to the back bedroom where mine would’ve been, I felt almost like I could smell the smoke.

I shivered but focused on Mr. Asbell’s voice as he told me what they’d done up here. When I walked into the bedroom, all my worries subsided. “We wanted a place for grandkids, and the missus keeps it as a nursery just to keep our boy focused.”

I saw sprinkler heads adorning the ceiling, but they were inconspicuous, and I sighed. What happened to me wouldn’t be happening again, not if this family had thought ahead enough to install sprinklers. I wondered if maybe they’d done that because of the home’s past.

There was no conclusive evidence of what caused the fire when I’d been burned, but faulty wiring was suspected. Sprinklers would ensure even that wouldn’t put anyone through the torment I’d endured that night, and that knowledge filled me with a sense of calm that I hadn’t expected.

“Is there any hope that grandbabies are on the way?” I asked.

Mr. Asbell winked at me. “Well, there’s always hope.”

I nodded, and when I did, I felt the nightmares that’d plagued me over the years fall away, the burden of fear no longer controlling me and holding me hostage. I realized if I ever got the chance, I’d spend the night here again. Not that I would invite myself to Chris and Roth’s home, but I wouldn’t be afraid to sleep in this room again. That’s when I realized I was finally free.

When we walked down the stairs, I saw Corey first and the relief on his face that I was laughing with Mr. Asbell. Then I saw Clyde, who looked hopeful but unsure if I was really okay.

Our chat earlier had been a confession of love, so I took his hand when we got to the ground floor and thanked Roth, Chris, and their family for letting us tour the home. “It’s been healing,” I said as the two men led us to their front door.

“Maybe, if it’s not too much, you’d like to come to our Christmas party? It’s not a huge thing, just friends and family, but we’d like you to be here…if you’re comfortable,” Chris said.

I smiled and thanked him. “We’d love to come,” I said and glanced over at Clyde.

I’d managed to face the biggest demon in my life, and I was able to do it here because of the support around me. Not the least of which was my best friend and business partner, but also my connection to Clyde and the rest of the town.

It was a small miracle.