Someone to Call Home (A Short Story) by Rhonda Bowen

Author:Rhonda Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: womens fiction, inspirational romance, christian romance, christian fiction, african american christian fiction, fiction about women
Publisher: Rhonda Bowen

Chapter 5

I wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans as Celia flew threw the details of the buyer’s offer. She was excited that someone had actually offered to pay our asking price for the house – especially since it was pretty old and clearly needed repairs. It didn’t help too that it was located so far out in the middle of nowhere. It was practically a miracle that anyone showed any interest at all. I tried to press her for details on the buyer but she didn’t know anything. She said the offer came anonymously through the buyer’s lawyers. She wasn’t even sure if the interested parties had bothered to view the house.

“Who knows,” Celia said cheerily. “Maybe they’re planning to tear down the whole thing and build something new.”

I felt my heart fall into my stomach. I gripped the arm of Grams’ heavy oak framed chair to steady myself. Tear down Grams’ house? I was starting to feel sick. I suddenly wished that Jackson had stayed instead of leaving the moment the Realtor arrived. I could use a friend now. That is if we were even friends anymore. I wasn’t sure we could ever be just friends again.

I sighed and shook my head. I didn’t have time to think about that. I needed to focus on what Celia was saying about the house.

“What do you mean no. You don’t want to take the offer?”

“Huh?” I looked at Celia confused.

“You just shook your head. Does that mean you don’t want to take this buyer’s offer?” she looked almost distraught at the thought. She was probably already spending her commission.

“Yes, I mean…no. I need a minute to think.”

I got up and walked to the kitchen. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to do this. Could I really sell the home that I grew up in?

I opened the fridge to get some water but hot air and a foul smell hit me instead. I gagged and slammed the door shut, even as the smell lingered in the room. I looked around the back of the fridge. Sure enough the cord was plugged into the wall unit, but for some reason there was no power coming to the fridge. I flicked the oven light on the stove and discovered a similar situation.

I suddenly realized there was power in the rest of the house, but none in the kitchen. When had that even happened?

I looked around at the ceiling. My eye caught one corner where naked wires hung down from a hole in the roof. One more thing that was wrong with the house. Add that to the leak in the basement, and the cracks in the parlor wall that the evaluator said might go as far as the foundation, and you had the real reason why I couldn’t keep the house. There was too much work to be done. And I was too broke and too unskilled to do it. I had no choice. I had to let go.

“I’m sorry, Grams,” I

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