Page 51 of Christmas Home

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.

forty-one

Ruther

Ihonestly thought I’dbe building some midcentury modern structure as my home, imagining something reminiscent of Frank Lloyd Wright, but as we looked over the spot where my family would’ve once come to worship, I knew that wouldn’t be the case. I didn’t want a massive home, nothing bigger than the apartment I’d owned in New York.

If I accurately remembered my Crawford City home, the one I was slowly able to think about without panicking, I recalled the central structure as being a very traditional Federal style building. It would have been very plain, no adornments or porches even, although I’d be changing that. I wanted to build it on the other side of where I imagined a plain Quaker meeting house would stand.

The bank building across the railroad tracks was empty, but renovations cost more and were more hassle than new construction, so I didn’t even consider it. Instead, we could buildmatching buildings, one like an old barn. Plenty of old meeting houses in the Northeast had barns close by.

The museum and records could be kept in the old meeting house, where people could come in and learn about the town’s history. Both the good and the not so good parts. I’d sent pictures of my ancestor, who’d been hung in the town square, to the library and knew I’d like to honor him somehow too. He’d sacrificed everything for his convictions.

I’d also donated the original document showing my ancestors had purchased the land from the Cherokee who’d occupied it when we’d moved here. Quakers refused to occupy land that oppressed people, another strange custom of the time, especially with Manifest Destiny just getting going.

I could envision that document protected behind glass, where people could see it, read it, and know at least this tiny piece of Tennessee had stood on the right side of justice and equality. History hadn’t worked out to benefit that side, making it much more important to show.

I found myself holding onto Clyde as the evening progressed. Corey was so right, Clyde kept me calm and helped me process things that might have led to an attack. However, as wonderful as having him cuddled against me was, it didn’t take long for him to start yawning.

Lance and Corey were hashing out the details, including my vision of the barn and my own residence tucked into the woods, away from the public structures but built to exemplify the historical elements of the park.

And a park. That’d been Clyde’s idea, and it was a fantastic one. Kids running around the historical buildings just felt right. “I’m going to walk Clyde home,” I said, “before he turns into a pumpkin.”

“Hey,” Clyde protested but laughed. “I’m up early, and you all can lay around with your feet up all day.”

“Is that what we do?” I asked, goading him.

“How should I know? I’m at work. Who knows what y’all do all day? Sittin’ around eatin’ grapes like in those old-timey Roman movies, I suspect.” Everyone laughed at Clyde’s obvious teasing, and we bid them good night.

I walked him down the sidewalk toward his apartment above the café, his arm securely tucked into mine.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” Clyde said as we neared his building.

“As did I. Your presence makes me calmer, Clyde,” I said. I cringed inwardly, not meaning to put that into words just yet.

“Glad to help,” he said, and, stopping in front of the closed café, he kissed me. “Good night, my handsome prince.”

I almost made some retort about that, but, for some reason, being Clyde’s handsome prince felt like an honor too good to refuse.

“Good night, my handsome Clyde.”

He waved at me and disappeared around the side of the building. Yeah, I was smitten. I looked around the Southern town that was closed and deserted for the night. I wasn’t sure if the calm and contentment I felt had to do with Clyde or being in this special place or both, but I was thankful.

forty-two

Clyde

“Honey, you have tohurry up!” I said to Ruther, who’d volunteered to help put up holiday decorations around the town square.

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