I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lived Again: A Ratched Fairytale
A Place To Hang Your Hat
And so they're house-hunting.
Huck Finnigan and his fiancee, Grace Miller.
House-hunting.
Together.
And Huck . . .
"What do you want?"
"To be with you."
. . . smiles as she blushes so pretty and so sweet.
"I, uh, I mean in a house."
"I know what you meant."
And then they . . .
"A house we can make a home. It doesn't have to be big. It doesn't have to be impressive. It just has to be ours."
Ours.
Us.
Together.
Me and Grace.
And Huck . . .
"Well, I guess we'll see what we can find."
"I guess so."
They look at small bungalows.
And sprawling turn of the century farmhouses.
Brand new tract homes all laid out in nice, neat rows.
And they're all very nice.
Some are more affordable than others.
And then . . .
"Huck."
"I see."
. . . they see it.
Almost together.
Well, Grace first, really.
But when Huck sees it, he knows too.
Built in 1923, a simple two story on a quiet neighborhood street, easy drive to her parents' house, easy drive to St Lucia.
And another world away from his room over Mrs. Graham's garage.
All white stucco, smooth and well-kept.
Single dormer inlay in the roof above the front porch.
Large rectangular front room window to the right of the porch, etched moldings inlay around the perimeter.
For some reason, though it shows no spires or towers, it reminds him of a storybook house.
They follow the smooth concrete path up to the porch steps under a gently curved archway.
Porch, wide and deep enough for a rocking swing, a potted plant.
Inside, as they walk into the small reception hall, just a foyer, really, their shoes click on the hardwood floor.
Not the sound of bullets, but the sound of coming home.
There's a staircase that hugs the left wall and a coat closet tucked underneath.
Just a place to hang your hat at the end of a long day, your coat.
Shake off the heaviness and feel yourself lighter and freer for where you are.
The right opens up into the sitting room, a beautiful big room with a fireplace and the aforementioned picture window.
An open doorway leads into the dining room.
Big enough for a table for six or eight, though not quite as big as the Miller dining room.
A closed swinging door leads into the breakfast nook.
Bay window under which a small breakfast table may be tucked.
Opposite, a pantry, just big enough to hold whatever the missus of the house deems necessary to be out of sight.
Then onto into the kitchen.
Large and airy, countertops, sink, and a stove.
Clothes wash basin and even a Frigidaire.
Big window above the sink to let in warm sunshine.
A door set at the end leads to the back porch at a glance.
Small backyard, clothesline ready to catch the afternoon breeze.
Another swinging door completes the first floor tour, taking them back into the front foyer.
And it's up the stairs to find a hall, a bathroom, a linen closet, and three spacious bedrooms with closets big enough for all the clothes Huck Finnigan doesn't own.
Double windows gaze out onto the street, the neatly manicured lawn in the front master, as well as the other two, slightly smaller bedrooms.
And of course, the happy couple's car parked at the curb.
It won't have to be so if this house becomes their home because up the driveway to the right of the house, is a neat little detached garage.
Just big enough for two vehicles.
Backed by a small enclosed shed with just enough room for a pushmower and some gardening supplies.
By the time they step out onto the front porch again, Huck is not only in love with his sweetheart but is also feeling a little more than the beginnings of affection . . .
"Well, what do you think?"
. . . for this modestly humble abode.
Grace responds to the real estate agent's query before Huck can.
"I think we'd like to speak together in private, if you don't mind."
Just under seven thousand dollars in cost.
Huck has nearly five hundred dollars in down payment available.
Leaving six thousand to pay on the house.
And he figures if he can manage fifty dollars a month, he can have it paid off in ten years.
Ten years.
And he'll be forty, almost forty, Grace thirty-four.
And he and his girl will have a house they can call all theirs.
And that's not too bad.
In his way of thinking.
"I, uh, I like it. What do you think?"
Grace puts a hand on the smooth stucco porch column.
"I love it. I think it's perfect."
He can see it his mind, almost see out there before him.
Right there, on the green grass that's just big enough to trim once a week.
On the sidewalk that harbors almost no unsightly cracks and weather damage.
Beyond the nearly manicured shrubs that line the base of the structure, stopping just below the first floor windows.
He can see her.
The woman.
The beautiful, kind, intelligent woman who doesn't mind that the man who absolutely adores and appreciates her has only half a face with which to see her beatific form, hear her musical laughter.
He can see them.
The children.
The laughing, bickering, on-the-go-from-morning-until-night children.
A boy and a girl, perhaps.
The boy little older and bigger, so he can protect the little girl always keep her safe from any harm or teasings or than his.
The girl the older maybe, so that it is she who makes the boy attend to all her tea parties, sing to be-bop along with her, teach him to read as they peer at Dick and Jane and Spot the Dog.
And he can see the man.
Himself.
The one who could not have predicted, could not even had wished or dreamed for it in the darkest moments of the life after He Came Back From The War.
The man so blessed and grateful and full of joy and hope that he lives everyday on air.
Bills and house repairs and job stresses and aging vehicles and thinning hair and restless nights but a small price to pay for the blessing, the gift, of a family and home to call his own.
To raise, to guide, to lift up and raise up in hopefulness and light everyday that he may be allowed to be with them.
This is what Huck Finnigan sees in his mind's eyes so fleetingly that it nearly drives him to his knees.
Whilst at the same stretching up toward Heaven, wondering how it could be so that any place could exist better than this.
This.
His future wife, of course, fiancee now.
And the children they have not even begun to attempt to create and bring the forth.
And the he decides . . .
"Me too. What do you think?"
"I think I'm ready to sign some papers."
. . .to jump to it.
"Let's go."
I've replaced the the picture of Huck with a picture of their house.
More details later as they get into it.
Let me know what you think, okay?
Anyway, thanks to DinahRay and Conbird for so graciously reviewing before.
See you again soon!
