Flash Fiction Friday prompt 234: How It Ends. 1000 words.

Scott always felt that endings should come with more…what should he call it…well, fireworks and noise. Pomp and Circumstance his English Lady would say. Thinking about Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward had the young man's ears heat up and he hoped that his brothers hadn't noticed.

He had had some endings in his young life. Equally good and bad they had been. Two planned, two unplanned.

This one was both, and as yet Scott wasn't sure how he felt about it.

The Farmhouse had been his home his entire life until he had left for college and the USAF. But even then he'd always called the place Home.

At the moment Scott was alone. His Dad was at work. John at NASA. Alan and Tanusha at school. Virgil was currently flying Tracy Two bringing Grandma and Gordon home.

Home.

That word today had a different meaning.

As he descended Scott felt a peculiar nostalgia for the squeaky floorboard that had given him away when he was six and tried to sneak downstairs at past midnight to have a small bite of the fresh apple pie his Mama had cooked ready for visitors tomorrow. His Dad had caught him, but instead of sending him back to bed in disgrace his dad had grinned and winked, picked him up and they had shared a very, very small piece in the kitchen.

His Mamma had been furious when she'd come down the next morning to find half the pie had been eaten. Scott knew he'd looked guilty, but his Dad had bluffed and said he didn't know what she was talking about and had whisked her around the kitchen in what Scott now knew to be a tango until Mama was laughing and apple pie had all but been forgotten.

The hallway still bore the handprints of all three of his youngest brothers as Virgil had begun experimenting with paints.

Scott wandered into what had become the playroom-come-music room. Mama's piano had stood to one side, a white baby grand with matching footstool. The room was empty now. It echoed with his footsteps in a way it never had done before.

He could still see Virgil on Mama's knee learning to play, with himself and John listening on the small couch. And later Gordon and Alan playing in the corner play area. He ran his free hand along the wall as memories assailed him before moving to the kitchen.

The kitchen had been the hub of his life. It was always warm and full of the most delightful smells. Cinnamon, chocolate and coffee mostly. Apples stewing, cheese grilling, pies being made…until Mama had died the kitchen had been his all.

Afterwards, he had tried his best, but his cooking hadn't been up to scratch with four younger brothers to keep his attention always half on them, resulting in burnt offerings more reminiscent of their Grandmother than their Mother. John had been a godsend when he had recovered sufficiently to take over the cooking, allowing Scott to concentrate fully on making sure everything else was done.

Of course, once Grandma had moved in that all changed – well, except for the burning food bit – and once more the kitchen became the hub of life once more. Not for long though, as Scott and John moved on to college.

It was still home, though. Even through USAF training and deployment.

Even now, through recouperation.

Scott's crutch tapped noisily on the flagstones. He'd tuned it out as the memories came, but he couldn't ignore it forever. The sturdy personalised crutch, blue sky covered in bluebirds and clouds, caught on the broken tile that his Dad had never got around to replacing and Scott found himself unable to keep upright as his still-healing wounds protested the sudden movement vigorously. He closed his eyes, knowing that hitting this floor was going to hurt…

Strong arms stopped his momentum and pulled him back against a warm chest.

'Dad,' Scott breathed.

'Steady, Son. I got you.'

There wasn't a chair left in the room. Jeff had just packed the last box and returned in time to see Scott trip. He held his son gently but firmly, feeling his racing heartbeat begin to settle back down.

'Sorry Dad. I was just remembering.'

'I understand, Scott. It's a big move, for you more than your brothers.'

'I keep seeing Mom everywhere.'

'Me too, Scott. Me too.'

'But she'd love the island, Dad. You know that, right?'

'She would. And of our other endeavour.'

'Yes. Yes she'd love that too. And be as greasy as Virgil is usually.'

'That's the truth, Son. Your Mom would be even dirtier.'

They laughed together and the sound lifted Jeff's heart. It had been too long since he'd heard Scott laugh. Even through his clothing he could feel how skinny his son still was, and the crutch was a stark reminder of what he had been through and why Jeff and his Ma had decided to move to the island now rather than waiting for all the work to be finished.

'Do you remember what your Mother's favourite saying about home was?'

'Home is where the heart is. She used to say that when we were on holiday and homesick.'

'She was right, you know. The Farmhouse and Kansas will always be home, but so will the island. We will all be together. Do you feel that?'

'I do, Dad. I do. This isn't how it ends.'

'No son. This is how it begins again, how we begin again.'

'How I begin again.'

They stood there a moment longer, Scott still held against his father's chest, before the moment past and there was the sound of the door opening and closing and the sound of Gordon running though the hall.

The Fish barrelled into them and then the strong arms of Virgil joined in and they shifted so that they were all being held by their Father, their Grandmother watching approvingly from the door.

'Let's go home boys,' Jeff said.