Sus manos temblaban.
So were mine.
“Looks like we’re capable after all,” he whispered.
I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks.
Then we went inside.
The house smelled of damp plaster and years of neglect.
Wallpaper hung loose from the walls.
The plumbing needed work.
The electrical wiring was dangerously outdated.
But it was ours.
And we intended to bring it back to life.
No se lo dijimos a la familia.
En parte porque queríamos sorprenderlos cuando la casa estaba terminada.
And partly because we didn’t want anyone assuming we were asking for financial help.
Every evening after work, Nate drove to the farmhouse.
Usando su entrenamiento eléctrico anterior y un permiso de propietario, comenzó a reemplazar el cableado.
I stripped wallpaper, removed debris, and cleaned rooms that hadn’t been used in years.
We worked until our hands ached.
One evening, I fell asleep sitting against a wall.
