I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
Sacramento And Back Again
They have stayed the night, awaiting Miriam Inger's response to their request.
It had been planned already, their stayover.
The five hour one-way trip into a ten hour round trip with time for visiting, seemed a bit too much.
Grace reassuring him . . .
"They trust me. And they trust you. And we'll be staying with your mother."
. . . that all . . .
"If you're sure."
"I am, Huckleberry. Don't worry."
. . . is well with her family.
Huckleberry.
She seems to call him that when she's teasing him.
And he doesn't mind it, he doesn't mind the tease.
She does not seem to be cruel.
And . . .
She loves me.
. . . she loves him.
So the the stayover, planned.
The uncertainty, not.
But they pass the time.
They dine with his mother . . .
". . . tomatoes, Grace?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Finnigan."
. . . in the tiny little kitchen Huck grew up in.
"I just love Mel Torme's voice, don't you, Grace?"
"He's very nice."
Listen to the radio.
"You know, I used to have Huck read to me in the evenings while I sewed."
"He told me. It sounds lovely."
"If you're of a mind, I thought we'd pass the mantle on to you for the night, Grace."
"It would be an honor. May I look in the library? Unless you have a preference."
"Go right ahead."
"I think I've found one."
"Read away, my dear."
"Alright. Ahem."
Huck had never heard Grace read aloud before.
"In my younger and more vulnerable years, my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since."
He knew she could read of course.
"'Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone', he told me,. . ."
Medical documents, road signs.
". . . 'remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had.'"
But this is the first time he has been on her presence . . .
"He didn't say anymore . . ."
. . . as she has opened, thumbed through, . . .
". . . but we'd always been unusually communicative in a reserved way . . ."
. . . and melodiously read . . .
". . . and I understood he meant a great deal more than that."
. . . anything for the pure enjoyment of it.
"I'm inclined to reserve all judgements . . ."
And he completely, absolutely, . . .
". . . a habit that has opened up all manner of curious natures to me . . ."
. . . loves it.
". . . and has also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores."
Huck takes a pallet on the floor.
Grace . . .
"-don't mind, my sister and I used to have sleepovers on the floor with our cousins-"
"No, dear, I won't hear of it. The sheets are freshly aired and turned. It'll be fine, won't it, son?"
"Yes, ma'am."
. . . in his boyhood room.
Single bed. Chest of drawers.
Nightstand. Closet.
And, now, Grace.
It is odd for him to think that the woman he loves is sleeping in the same room he slept in as a child.
Ruth never slept there, Ruth never needed to.
Ruth lived in the same town and would have returned to her home.
After telling him she loved him and that he was the handsomest boy she had ever known.
Grace has traveled with him over a distance, has left her family.
And has now retired to his boyhood room . . .
"-, night, Huck. Sleep well."
"Sleep well, Grace."
. . . after telling him she loves him and that he is the handsomest man . . .
She loves me.
. . . she has ever known.
And Huck Finnigan . . .
Grace loves me.
. . . sleeps well that night.
"More toast, Grace?"
"No thank you, Mrs. Finnigan."
"I have blackberry jam."
"Oh . . . well . . . in that case . . ."
Miriam Inger has agreed to their proposal.
She has spoken with her husband, Eben.
And though he, tall and broad and stern-faced . . .
"My wife has suffered enough, Mrs. Finnigan. I would have her left in peace."
. . . clearly disapproves . . .
"But she insists upon this."
. . . he is, in the end, . . .
"And I would have her satisfied in her mind."
. . . supportive.
"Thank you, Mr. Inger. I am grateful she has such a protective husband as you."
Huck hands over the paper.
Address of the hospital.
Phone number.
Directions.
They will come as they can arrange.
Within weeks, hopefully.
Preferably . . .
". . . longer he has if we cannot reach him. Please, if you will, Mrs. Inger."
"Yes, Miss Miller. I understand."
"Grace. And thank you."
. . . days.
And then . . .
". . . you, son. I'm so glad you came down and brought your ladyfriend to see me."
"I love you too, Ma. Thanks for you help with Mr. Harrison."
"I only hope it will work. Now let me say goodbye to Grace. Come here, dear."
Huck Finnigan watches as Beluah Olive Thatcher Finnigan embraces Grace Miller with all the strength and care of a loving mother.
Watches as Grace embraces her back, face alit with joy and happiness.
Watches his mother whisper something into Grace's ear.
Watches Grace blush and murmur her reply.
Watches as the ladies kiss one another's cheeks.
Release.
And then . . .
"Drive safe, you two."
"We will, Ma."
. . . it is time . . .
"What did she say to you?"
"That is between us, Mr. Finnigan."
"Yes, Ma'am."
. . . to go.
"Do you think they will come? The Ingers."
"I don't know. We can hope."
"I do."
"I know we did everything we could."
"Yes, I believe we did."
"I'm glad your mother liked me."
"I knew she would."
"You did?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Why?"
"Because you're a good person. And you treat everyone like they're good people. Even me."
"You are a good person, Huck."
"I know. But you treat me like one. That's why my mother likes you."
"Well, anyone who doesn't shows they are not a good person, not you."
"What about Ruth?"
"Well . . . she's just lucky I didn't slap her for the way she had treated you in the past. I wanted to."
"I know. Your sister Susannah told me."
"Yes . . . wait, when did she tell you that??"
"Oh, um, . . ."
"Welllll, welcome back. How was your trip?"
"Hi, Daddy! It was wonderful. And we may have had a breakthrough in Mr. Harrison's case."
"Oh, Grace, have you really? Sit down and tell us all about it. Huck, would you like some coffee?"
"Yes, Mrs. Miller. Thank you."
It is perhaps a little unorthodox for Grace to have stayed overnight at her boyfriend's mom's house.
But this is a fairy tale, as titled.
And I do what I want, within reason.
And Grace's parents trust her.
And it's a 5-hour trip down there.
So, yeah, I may have taken a little leeway. I hope that's okay.
Frankly, I just didn't want to leave.
Speaking of an overnight sleepover, that book Grace reads is the opening to The Great Gatsby.
Thanks to Conbird and Dinah for reviewing the previous chapter. It would seem Grace was a hit with y'all. ;)