Part 49
House and Rachel were both asleep when Cuddy parked on the street in front of her 1880s brownstone in Bolton Hill.
Cuddy wasn't surprised. Kids of a certain age always fell asleep in cars and House…
He was known to fall asleep just about anywhere. She'd never known where she'd find him at Princeton-Plainsboro. The clinic. The chair in his office. The morgue. Coma guy's room. She'd always given him crap about it but truth was she understood. He was an insomniac so he napped whenever and wherever he could find a few moments quiet.
Not surprisingly, he woke when she put the car in park. She watched him blink hard several times, squinting against the brightness then tilting his head to look out the window and up at the towering, red-brick building.
"Wow, Cuddy. Movin' on up."
"I apologize in advance for the stairs."
"I'll manage," he said, still looking as he reached for the door handle.
Cuddy exited the car on her side and walked around. House had pivoted in the seat and was preparing to get out. She offered him a hand and helped him heave himself up to his feet. She released him then and he leaned on the cane, making his way onto the sidewalk. He was a little slow and still slightly off balance, which she attributed to his still-ailing thigh and stiffness from the nearly three-hour car ride.
In the back seat, Rachel was still out like a light. Cuddy knew that wouldn't last long. Opening the back door, she reached in and unbuckled Rachel from the child seat. The little girl stirred and wiped at her eyes.
"We're home," Cuddy told her then stepped back and let Rachel get out of the car on her own.
Once on the sidewalk, Rachel immediately looked for House and walked over to him. "Wanna come see my room?" she asked.
Cuddy watched him look down at her and then up at the building again. "Is it all the way up there?" He pointed with his cane.
Rachel didn't answer, but pointed to her bedroom window on the second floor. It was framed with purple and white drapes. House looked a bit daunted even though it was only one flight up.
"Rachel, honey, House will see it later," Cuddy said, sparing him from answering right away as she moved around and opened the trunk. "Now come get your bag."
House started heading her direction but she stopped him by quickly locking the car doors and tossing him the keys. "Let yourself in. Kitchen's in the back."
He paused as if going to ask if he could help, but they both knew he wasn't up to it. She shook her head at him and he ducked his head, turned and headed toward the short flight of steps that led to the front door.
Cuddy pulled hers and Rachel's bags from the trunk and set them on the sidewalk. Rachel immediately grabbed hers and headed toward the steps, hot on House's heels.
Cuddy smiled and reached back into the trunk for House's bag. She slung it over her shoulder with her purse, closed the trunk, and snagged her own suitcase by the handle and followed them.
House'd managed to open the outer doors by the time she caught up, and she and Rachel followed him. Cuddy ditched their bags just inside the entry. She'd take them up to her room later.
Shrugging off her coat and hanging it behind the door, Cuddy watched House look around and take in the place.
It was radically different than her house had been in Princeton. Where that one had been purely suburban in design, this was a throwback to a more opulent era of architecture and unique living space. The rooms were narrow, the ceilings high. The small entry faced the stairs, while to the left, it opened into to a living area. Beyond that, was the dining area and kitchen.
The floors throughout the house were a dark walnut, the moulding white. In the living area, the walls were painted a light beige color that extended back through the rest of the floor. The narrow but spacious room was furnished with a leather couch and loveseat, dark-chocolate in color. There was a fireplace on the outer wall.
What caught House's eye, though, was the guitar case leaned against the hearth. Cuddy smiled when he saw it. Without a word, he moved over and touched it. It was his, from his old place in Princeton. He looked over at her in question.
"Wilson," she said. "He kept your things for your mother, in case she ever wanted them."
He looked confused.
"He didn't tell you?"
House shook his head. "I didn't know. You have all of it?"
"He asked me to hold onto it for a while," Cuddy said. "I had Janice get that out for you," she said, nodding toward the guitar. "She also brought some more of your clothes. They'll be upstairs."
House looked back to the guitar and stared at it, ran his hand through his hair. Seeing him struggling with his emotions, Cuddy quietly directed Rachel upstairs with her suitcase, telling her she could play until lunch.
Once Rachel reached the first landing, Cuddy went to House. He looked at her as soon as she was an arm-length away. She saw his grief.
"When?" he asked
"He did it before the funeral … but I only received the letter last week."
He was quiet a moment. "My mother thought it was all gone. She was upset…"
Cuddy laid a hand on his arm, gently. "You can let her know then."
He nodded then glanced around the room again, before fixing his gaze on the bay window that looked out on the street and at the buildings across the way.
"It's a nice place."
"Yes."
Feeling his arm tremble beneath her hand, Cuddy gave it a squeeze. "Why don't you put your leg up and I'll fix us some lunch?"
"Okay."
"Okay," Cuddy echoed then eased away from him.
Almost to the kitchen, Cuddy heard him let out a soft grunt, prompting her to pause and look back over her shoulder at him. She smiled wistfully at seeing he'd moved the guitar case to the coffee table and was lowering himself down to the sofa in front of it.
It'd been a good choice to send Janice to the storage unit, Cuddy thought then continued on to the kitchen, leaving House to his thoughts and music.
