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As it turned out the inspection turned the tide Chris’ way. The house needed a lot of work, but it was structurally sound. The owner lowered the asking price considerably and Chris signed the papers two weeks later. Now, instead of driving around avoiding home every night, he went straight to his new home and spent the evening hours fixing the place.
He bought a bed for the Master bedroom. A four poster romantic affair that couldn’t have been further from his own style. But is style wasn’t important anymore. The bed was delivered and he considered the room “finished” until further notice. He then turned his attention to the kitchen, ripping out cabinets and tearing up the floor. This, in his opinion, was the most important room in the house and he wanted it perfect.
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Sarah sat on the screened in porch overlooking her parent’s backyard. Her father was upstairs, resting as he often did in the late afternoon. He was healing well from his surgery and seemed more concerned with her than himself, which she chided him for often. She’d taken over cooking for the family to give her mother a break. Twice a week she saw a therapist, who never really said much at all. She simply waited for Sarah to begin talking about whatever topic struck her fancy.
Sarah usually began with the weather, comparing the balmy afternoons of Raleigh to the gusty, blustery days of Rapid City. It took her a while, each session, to eventually work her way around to bringing up that day at the rental cabin. When she finally did, it colored the rest of her day dark. She was grateful for the peace and comfort of her mother’s kitchen, with its gleaming copper pans hanging in rows overhead and the orderly pantry with its grits and vanilla wafers. It was easy to disappear into the familiar.
She called Chris periodically. He was careful to say he missed her, but not make her feel guilty for leaving. She didn’t know how to tell him that she turned her pillow on the bed each night so it felt like he was lying next to her. Home was familiar and yet home was so far away. She knew she was confused. Chris remained supportive.
Today, though, he’d sent her a letter. But the return address was different. Curious, she opened it and had to quickly snatch the stack of pictures that slid out and threatened to litter the porch floor. She read the letter twice and thumbed through the photos. Chris had bought a cabin, high on a ridge overlooking the city. In the photos, Hawk and Tex were, apparently, arguing about a window. Chris, to their left was oblivious of the camera. He had a sketchpad laid out on a counter and had that look of intense concentration he always had when he worked on bikes and cars. She almost laughed.
The house was a wreck, the letter said. But it had the most potential of any he’d looked at. With time and effort, he said, he could turn it into paradise. It overlooked the city, yet was far enough away to be quiet. The stars, he said, were better than any late night television program. Sarah ran her thumb over the photo in her hand.
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Chris rested his elbows on the solid granite countertop that had been laid over the kitchen’s island. The walls were painted slate grey but the countertops were white, giving, in his opinion, a more modern feel to the old rustic place. The large window over the sink overlooked the back porch and let in plenty of light in during the day. It was far from done. The appliances hadn’t been delivered yet. But the cabinets were hung and the floor was laid. They were both solid maple to keep the kitchen feeling warm. Chris had called the same woman that Tex had used to design his own kitchen and though the style wasn’t the same, she’d done a good job.
The house was perfect in its imperfection. It was exactly what he needed right now. It kept his thoughts generally about her, but focused them in a more positive way than brooding would. It kept his hands busy so he didn’t have to think about how much he wanted to hold her. Now that the rest of the kitchen was out of his hands. It was time to go shopping again. He donned his boots and his leather jacket and set the state-of-the-art alarm for his canyon castle. The October wind was just as fierce on the ridge as it was down below but he ignored it. He had a plan and the means to implement it and that was all that mattered.
Caleb stopped by the garage, looking grim, which was his usual, but Chris knew something was going on or he wouldn’t be here while he was on-duty. He put down the torque wrench he had in his hand. Caleb opened a folder and handed a glossy photo to Chris. “Look familiar?”
