The Trouble With Goodbye

Chapter Seventeen

Knox drives and I lean my head against the door and let the wind whip my hair across my face.

He drives through downtown and keeps going. We end up on Harrison's road, passing the scene of my accident. I don't ask where he is taking me. For me, it's an exercise in conquering fear. Learning to trust my instincts again.

After another minute, he stops in front of an aluminum gate and hops out of the truck. He quickly unlocks the chain and drags the gate open, then gets back in.

We're surrounded by endless woods and the night is dark except for his headlights and a distant moon that lights the treetops.

The truck bumps along the rugged dirt road that winds through the pine trees. I'm not exactly sure where we are, but I know we're near the lake. A few of my friends have houses near here.

We turn a corner and a house comes into view. I don't get a good look at it, but I do notice a blue tarp covers one side of the roof. There are black marks like scars against the white paint near the roof and windows. Signs of a fire. In the darkness, it's hard to tell the extent of the damage.

"What is this place?" I ask.

"This is my dream house," he says.

I'm not sure if he's joking until I look at him and see the excitement in his eyes. He's completely serious.

I look at it again with fresh eyes. I can see the potential here, maybe. I want to get a closer look.

"Show me," I say.

He opens the door for me and I take his hand as he helps me down. The simple contact sends shivers up my arm.

I leave my heels in the car. He leads me to the small screened-in porch at the back of the house. It's very dark now, without the truck's lights, but he bends down and turns on a camping lamp. He lifts it up like we're explorers in some kind of cave and we enter the old house together.

"Watch your step," he says, pointing out a burned piece of wood on my left. "Stay on this side."

"What happened here?" I look around and see the beauty of this place. It's older than I realized at first. There's a lingering scent of smoke, but I can also smell the heart-pine of the floors. An archway still stands between this back room and the kitchen, but the rest of the house on that side is ruined. The detail of the woodwork that survived, though, is breathtaking.

"Kitchen fire," he says. He shakes his head and stares at where the kitchen once stood. "About ten years ago."

"It's just been sitting here empty this whole time?"

He leads me down the central hallway where a large staircase leads up to the second floor. "Yeah. My uncle didn't really have the money to put into fixing it," he says. "I hate to see it like this, though. My grandfather built it when he first got married. My uncle and my mom both grew up here. That's part of the reason I decided to move down here. I thought I'd try my hand at fixing it up myself."

He runs his hand along the railing.

"My mom really loved this place," he says.

"Does she know you're fixing it up?" I ask.

He shakes his head and there's a sadness in his eyes. "My mom died from cancer when I was fourteen."

A heavy feeling settles in my stomach. "I'm so sorry."

"The house has some really beautiful bones to it," he continues, but I can tell he's a bit shaken up from talking about her. "Just look at these banisters. All of this was hand-carved by my grandfather. I think it's worth saving."