My Son-in-law Is Trying To Put Me In A Nursing Home To Sell My $750,000 Family Cabin. I Overheard Him Telling A Realtor That I’ve Lost My Mind And Can’t Care For Myself Anymore. He Doesn’t Know I’m An Architect Who Designed This House With My Own Hands. Now, I’m Planning A Surprise For Him That He Will Never Forget.
The Unexpected Arrival
I pulled into the gravel driveway of our family cabin 2 days before anyone expected me. It was July 2nd, and I’d told everyone I’d arrive on the 4th for our annual Independence Day gathering. But something had been nagging at me for weeks. Small things: odd phone calls, my wife Sarah’s nervous energy whenever I mentioned the cabin. So I came early.
The cabin sat there like it always had, nestled in the Smoky Mountains with that view of the valley that made you believe in something bigger than yourself. My grandfather built this place in 1924 with his own hands. My father proposed to my mother on that front porch. I taught both my daughters to fish in the creek that ran behind the property.
This wasn’t just a cabin. This was our family’s soul, made of timber and stone and a hundred years of memories. I expected to find Sarah maybe cleaning or preparing for the weekend. What I found instead made my blood run cold. I walked through the back door, the one that’s never locked because we’re 3 miles from the nearest neighbor, and I heard my wife crying.
Not the gentle tears of nostalgia or even the sharp crying of physical pain. This was the sound of someone whose heart was breaking. I followed the sound upstairs to the attic, and there was Sarah, surrounded by photo albums, packing them into boxes with shaking hands.
“Sarah,” I said, and she jumped like I’d fired a gun.
Her face was red and puffy. She’d been crying for a while.
“David, what are you… You’re not supposed to be here until… What’s going on?” I moved toward her, but she turned away, wiping at her eyes.
“Nothing. I’m just organizing, going through old things.” I’d been married to this woman for 38 years. I knew when she was lying, but before I could press her, I heard voices from downstairs. Familiar voices.
