reached for his hand when we both rounded the car. Walking up the brick path, we climbed up the steps and stopped at the front door. I noticed a curtain swaying in the nearby window but didn’t say anything, thinking Memaw had been right about Nosy Linda from next door.
“Ready?” I lifted my hand to the door but waited for Miller’s signal.
Nodding, he clenched my hand and held his breath as I knocked.
The door opened immediately as if his mother had been standing on the other side, waiting for us.
He looks like her, I thought as I studied her face and black, curly hair.
“Miller.” Her smile was warm and a little strained around the edges. She lifted her arms as if to embrace him and then promptly dropped them back down as if knowing Miller wouldn’t welcome her touch just yet.
“Hello,” he replied, his sweaty hand gripping mine tight.
Her smile dipped as he didn’t say anything else.
“Hi,” I said, interrupting the awkward moment and holding out my hand. “Carson Watts.”
“Ellen, Ellen Doran,” she said, taking my hand. “Please, come in, come in.” She stepped back and waved us inside.
Miller followed as I stepped across the threshold. His father stood off to the side, watching silently from where he stood in the entrance to the living room. There was a world of regret in his eyes as he stared at his only son.
“It’s good to see you,” his father said, making no motion to move forward.
Miller flashed him a brief smile, and that was it.
Wow, this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
“Well, umm Carson, this is James, Miller’s father,” she introduced us, seeing as how Miller wasn’t going to.
I nodded in greeting, which he returned.
Ellen stepped back and gestured toward the living room. “Why don’t we all have a seat?”
I practically dragged Miller into the living room and onto the couch beside me. “You have a lovely home,” I said as the silence stretched between us.
“Oh.” Ellen blushed as she looked around the room. “Thank you. I hope your trip went well.” She was looking at Miller as she talked, but again, he made no move to reply.
I squeezed his hand, a small reprimand.
“Yes,” Miller said, trying to tug his hand out of mine, but I wouldn’t let him. “It was nice. I showed Carson around Richmond, and then we stopped at Jerry’s for lunch on the way down.”
“That’s lovely.” She turned her blue eyes on me. “Have you never been here before?”
“No, ma’am, it’s my first time. I must say, from the little I’ve seen, Virginia is a very beautiful state.”
“And where do you live?” she asked.
I replied, knowing her question was really for Miller. “Texas, ma’am.”
“I thought so from your accent. I just didn’t realize how far—”
How far Miller had gone, I thought, finishing her statement for her.
“We stopped by Memaw and Pops’,” Miller said, joining the conversation once again.
“Oh?” she replied as if she had no idea.
Miller nodded, looking down as he traced patterns on the couch cushion next to him. “We had pie.”
“Peanut?” she guessed. “Your favorite.”
“Yeah,” Miller laughed, his smile slowly starting to make an appearance. “I swear she does something to it because hers always tastes so much better than mine.”
“It’s chocolate.”
“What?” Miller looked at his father as he spoke.
“She adds a hint of chocolate. She keeps it a secret cause she doesn’t want the other ladies around town knowing why hers is better.”
“I’ll have to try it.”
“Good, good.” His dad looked down at his hands. “So, how have you been, Miller?” he asked, cutting through the small talk and bullshit.
“Okay,” he replied and then looked at me. “More than okay recently.” His smile was sweet, and I knew if they’d had any questions about our relationship before, they were firmly put to rest with his smile.
“How long have you been in Texas?”
“A little over a year now.”
“And before that?”
Miller shifted in his seat and tightened his hand on mine. “Not in Texas.”
“I see.” His expression was sad, and I knew he understood just where Miller had been. “I see.”
Miller slowly began opening up as the day went on. We stayed for dinner, and the tension in the air disappeared with every smile and laugh we exchanged. It was by no means perfect, but it was something.
I checked my watch and saw how close to my boy’s bedtime it was. Miller noticed and leaned over to look at the time.
“It’s getting late,” he said, a yawn slipping past his lips.
“Where are