“It’s work,” I said.
“Your grandfather loaded trucks.”
“Your father’s father fixed them.”
“Nobody in this family started at the top, Kyle. Your dad just made it look that way.”
He goes to a meeting on Wednesdays now.
Church basement.
Different church.
Same bad coffee.
Megan drives him.
She waits in the car.
She told Rachel that’s the only hour all week she’s sure where he is, and she wouldn’t trade it.
In March, he walked up the ramp for the first time.
Carrying Jack.
He stopped at the top, and ran his hand along the rail, and said, “This is good work.”
Gene said, “Thank you.”
That was all either of them said.
It was enough.
Now the slow part.
Gene and I did not get married at Christmas.
He asked.
I said, “Ask me again at Easter.”
He asked at Easter.
I said, “Ask me again when the pecans come in.”
