“Oh, man,” Clay murmured as he turned onto the driveway and parked in front of the garage. They both sat staring.
“It’s much smaller than I remembered.”
Her father had told her that the house had seen a succession of renters over the last three decades. A local Realtor had oversight of the property until the last time it was occupied, which was several years before. It had sat vacant since then. She removed the key from her handbag and looked over at Clay. “This does not look like a do-it-yourself project, does it?”
Clay smiled and said, “Doesn’t matter what we find, Lily. You have a safe place to live. Whatever shape it’s in, we’ll see it through. Sit tight for a second.”
He climbed from the truck, and this time she let him help her out without comment. The driveway was cracked and in desperate need of resurfacing. The front deck on the ranch-style house had an odd tilt to it. Every surface was cloaked with turning leaves from the pecan trees and cedar elms surrounding the house. The sun sparkled down through the remaining leaves on the trees. Several of the windows were missing their screens, which wasn’t encouraging. The only other houses were several lots down on either side on this sparsely populated street on the edge of town. Teenagers or vagrants might have made use of the house in the past.
Clay tested the deck and declared it safe to step on. She inserted the key in the lock, which seemed solid enough, and pushed the door open. She pressed her lips together, braced for disaster. A gust of stale air carried the odor of disuse.
Clay poked his head in the door and echoed her earlier sentiment. “Oh, boy.”
They stepped inside and spent the next few minutes inspecting the house, room by room. There were roof leaks in the living room and bathroom. It seemed vagrants had used the house at some point as a refuge from the elements but hadn’t done any irreparable damage. There was evidence that squirrels and other critters had somehow found an entrance into the house. All of the carpeting and vinyl were many years past their useful lives, and the rooms were all painted an odd conglomeration of outdated colors. The house had a strong musty odor from being closed up and not lived in for so many years. She could only imagine what shape the air-conditioning and heating system was in.
Clay gave her a sympathetic look and wrapped his arm around her, tucking her against his side. “Look on the bright side, Lil. There aren’t any gaping holes in the roof, there aren’t any squatters to contend with, and we haven’t heard any banjoes play yet.”
Lily smiled at his lame humor and poked him in the ribs. The vibration of his deep voice in his chest did funny things to her insides. She couldn’t have put it into words right then, but she liked being held that way. It was comforting and safe. She could come to crave it if she wasn’t careful.
Stepping in the tiny bedroom that had been hers, she said, “I remember this room being huge.” She opened the closet and stroked the inside of the door where she had scratched her initials one day when she’d been bored. She remembered the hanger bar being completely out of her reach, but it was now at chest level.
She took another walk through the house, noticing several soft spots in the floor. She suspected the water damage from the leaks had caused the wood floor beneath the carpeting to rot.
“I’m in over my head. It’s not as bad as it could’ve been. But…I can’t live here. I’ll need a contractor to fix everything to make it livable. I don’t have the money for this…I’m basically homeless.”
“Wrong. My house is home for now.”
Disbelieving, Lily turned to him. “This is so far out of my ability to finance. You’d have a roommate for years, not weeks.”
Clay stood in front of her, big and solid, and placed his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed before stroking her long hair back from her neck. “Don’t give up yet, Lily. You’ve got a job and you might be able to secure financing. You never know when your luck might turn. I’m going to take a look in the attic. I’ll be right back.” Watching him walk away, she really wanted believe him. The hope growing inside her felt altogether foreign.
She was grateful he was with her. She would’ve had no idea what to look for in the attic. She supposed the first step was having someone check the wiring and the heating and cooling system. The ancient appliances looked ready for the junkyard.
Looking out of a filmy bedroom window, she remembered standing in that spot, watching for Clay and Del to show up on their bicycles to go play in the neighborhood. The years slipped away and memories assailed her. Gathering pecans in the yard with her mom, helping weed flowerbeds, looking forward to a bigger-girl bike. As a seventh grader she’d had every belief and intention of growing up in this house, but it hadn’t worked out that way.