Nightchild--The SeriesBook 1--Falling

Chapter 20

The long road twisted its way upward through trees for almost a quarter of a mile before suddenly becoming straight as it opened into the clearing at the top of the rolling hill. There it widened with live oaks lining either side and what Nate lovingly referred to as the main house at its end. Blythe had not known what to expect but it certainly had not been this and catching her first clear view of the house, she grew breathless.

"My God, Nate, it's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Really! Painted white with columns instead of posts, it could pass for a plantation."

"I've thought the same thing myself. Lord knows, it's probably old enough."

Now Blythe could understand his pride, even his obsession with this place as she found herself falling under the spell of the rambling stone ranch house with old-fashioned veranda wrapping gracefully around the front and sides, stopping just beyond the corners of the back where a garage had been added. A short row of wide steps led to the porch and she noted the ramp along the side of the left handrail which had been built to accommodate Claire Stevens' wheelchair.

A balcony protruded from the second level with the roof of the house sloping gently over providing partial shade as French doors, above and below, opened onto both the balcony and the veranda. Blythe was especially delighted to see smoke curling from several of the chimneys that graced the rooftop.

Pulling up and parking in the circular drive, Nate commented about this or that, explaining some historical aspect of the house he thought of interest or telling about additions he'd made. No one greeted them as they stepped from the car, climbed the steps and entered the house. Blythe was so intrigued by her surroundings, she dispelled her earlier fears and set out to enjoy this introduction into her husband's world.

Inside, the foyer floor was of the same indigenous stone as the outside walls and a wide curved staircase rose slightly off center in the generous corridor that led to a series of rooms on either side. Eager, Nate grabbed Blythe's hand and pulled her through the narrower hall on the right and into an airy formal living area decorated in creams and soft hues of green.

A high ceilinged formal dining room was directly behind with an antique chandelier suspended in its original grandeur of yesteryear over a long table and chairs which had been refurbished to their initial splendor, the wood polished to a high gloss that cast back the gleaming light of the grand open fireplace at the end of the room.

Blythe went directly to the table and delicately ran fingertips over its shiny smoothness.

"It was here when I bought the house," Nate explained. "It was all closed in. There was a wall separating the two rooms with only a pair of narrow doors joining them. I took the wall out making it almost one room. But after it was done and there was enough space to get the table out, I didn't have the heart to get rid of it. It was a mess, hadn't been taken care of in years. But I kept wondering how it, the chairs and chandelier would look if they could be redone. So I found this little old antique expert and he agreed to come out here and do the job. Now I believe it was a good decision. They belong here. I can't imagine anything else in their place."

"Nor can I," Blythe said turning loving eyes on her husband's earnest face. "Nor can I."

They passed a small richly paneled library that served as a study and merely glanced in before going on, Nate eager to drag his new wife to the kitchen where he was sure Ma Manford would be at that particular time of the afternoon busily preparing dinner for his arrival, since he had phoned before leaving Houston warning the household he would be in by evening but careful to say nothing of Blythe.

When the garage was added, the kitchen had been extended across the entire back of the house and made several feet deeper. Copper utensils hung in traditional French country fashion above a center island that held a combination stove and grill set in an oak butcher block. The aroma of freshly baked breads filled the long room and at the far end, setting a massive table used for casual dining, was the wiry older woman who ran Nate's household.