The back porch welcomes me like an old friend. A whiskey barrel sits by the sidewalk. There are no flowers planted inside like there used to be when Mrs. Pagan was alive. There’s a green rug with WELCOME written across it and I wonder if it’s the same one that welcomed me the last time I was here.

I make my way across the concrete and to the screen door a few feet away. Sounds of a gunfight can be heard inside the little kitchen on the other side.

The steps creak with my weight, the door squeaking as I knock on the wooden frame. My eyes adjust to the light. I see Bill Pagan sitting at the round table Ellie made in shop class her junior year. It’s shoved to the wall between the refrigerator and cabinets, just like it was the last time I was here.

“Ford Landry,” he says with a nod. “Come on in.”

The kitchen looks like I’m walking back in time. Everything is exactly where it was years ago—a time capsule, almost.

If I closed my eyes, I could see Ellie’s mom, Gloria, standing at the stove. I could smell her pot roast cooking in the oven and see her homemade pie crusts rolled out on the counter to my right.

I sit at the chair next to the refrigerator. “How are you, Mr. Pagan?”

He gruffs, waving a hand through the air. “Don’t start with the ‘Mr. Pagan’ bullshit.”

“Sorry,” I grin. “How are you, Bill?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, just stares at the television in front of him. Finally, he looks at me and answers me with a question of his own. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” I reply. “Ellie says you’re doing well.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t tell her everything.”

My brows pull together as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. Do I press for more information? Is he being facetious? I don’t know. He’s a hard man to read, and I’ve been gone a long time.

“You been traveling the world?” he asks.

“I’ve seen some of it,” I admit.

“Is it as bad as they make it out to be on the news these days?”

“Parts of it. Parts of it not.” I stretch my legs out in front of me. “I’m glad to be home though.”

He nods, taking me in. “Ellie was pretty upset when you left.”

My heart sinks in my chest. I figured this conversation may happen, but I guess it’s going to happen sooner than later. “I apologize for that, sir. Trust me when I say it’s eaten at me all these years.”

“I bet it has.”

“I wish I would’ve handled things differently.”

“You were young and dumb. But I suspect you aren’t either one these days.”

“I’m sure as hell not young,” I laugh. “I hope I’m not dumb.”

He tips his head my way. “You’re sitting here. That tells me you aren’t too stupid.” He goes back to his television show for a while. “You know, when you first came around a long time ago, I wasn’t sold on you. You drove up in that fancy truck of yours, dressed up and talking all smooth. I didn’t figure your intentions were very good.”

“I remember that,” I chuckle. “You made things hard for a while before you really gave me a chance.”

“I only gave you a chance because of Gloria,” he admits. “She always was a sucker for a good-looking man. That’s how she got me, after all.”

We enjoy a good laugh. He grabs the remote and turns down the volume.

“I miss her,” he says softly. “Every morning I wake up and listen for her piddling around.”

My chest tightens as I watch the pain haunting his eyes. I can relate, in my own way, because that’s how I feel about Ellie. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I was with her for decades and then lost her.

He looks at me with a sobriety that catches me off guard. “She was a good judge of character. And she liked you, Ford.”

“I liked her too, Mr. Pagan.”

He lets my address slip, his mind focused on something else. In a movement so unlike him that it makes me flinch, he reaches across the table and lays his hand on top of mine.

“You’re going to be around awhile this time?” he asks.

“That’s the plan,” I breathe, unsure as to what he’s getting at. “Why are you asking me that?”

He pulls his hand away, a resolution in his eyes. “You leaving the first time is probably the only reason I’m still around.”

“What are you talking about?”

“In a really short time,” he says, the words clearly burning, “you left Ellie. Then her mother got sick and left us both. I’m all she has now.”

He looks away, gathering his courage and pride. I lean back, giving him space in every sense of the word. I try to put two and two together, but can’t. My head is spinning.

“The doctors say the cancer is back,” he says, clearing his throat. “I haven’t told Ellie and I’m not going to.”

“But Bill—”

He shakes his head adamantly. “She’s happy. She’s got the store now and things going her way,” he sighs. “I’m tired. I don’t want to go through all that nonsense again. And I don’t want her thinking she should’ve pushed me to do it or feeling guilty about it in any way. I don’t want her over here, wasting her time, doting on me like I know she would.”

“Isn’t that her choice?”

“No,” he barks. “It’s mine.” He gives me a look, one that makes me back down. “I asked the doctor if the medicine would work and he said probably not. It’s stage four and I’m old and that’s that.”

“I’m really sorry,” I say, feeling like a complete idiot. I should have something better to say, but I wasn’t expecting this. Not by a long shot. “Can I do anything to help you?”

“I just …” He clears his throat again. “I need to know Ellie will be okay. That’s all that matters, and it’s the one thing I can’t guarantee.”

He forces a swallow, trying to drown the emotion that’s thick in his gruff voice. We don’t look at one another because I’m not sure which of us would break first.

I know what he’s asking me and I can’t imagine the balls it takes to ask this of anyone, much less of me. The guy that walked out on her once.

“I sit here day after day with no one to talk to,” he says quietly. “I’ve let everything go. My friends stopped coming by. Hell, I don’t even go after my mail anymore. They bring it to the porch like I’m some kind of invalid.” Tears dot the old bad-ass’s eyes and it causes mine to water. “I just sit here and wonder what will happen to her when I’m gone. Because she’s …” He chokes back a sob.

It’s me now that’s reaching across the table and placing my hand over his. It shakes beneath mine, the skin loose and cool against my own.

“She’s hard-headed as hell,” he laughs nervously. “She’s stubborn just like me. When she’s difficult, I just focus on that heart of hers and the eyes that remind me so much of Gloria.”

“She’s a lot like her mama,” I say, withdrawing my hand. “But it’s the parts of you in her that make her who she is.”

He grins, wiping his hand down his face. “I know she’s irritated with you and I know I’ve just dumped a load of shit on your lap. That’s probably not right of me to jump into this with you just walking in the door.”

“I’m honored you’d think enough of me to have this conversation.”

“You’re the only one I’d have it with.”

“That means the world to me, sir,” I nearly whisper.

“I was hoping you’d come back. Even after all these years, I still had my hopes pinned on you.”

“I had mine pinned on her,” I grin.

He searches my eyes, as if he’s trying to find the thread of dishonesty. Finally, he takes a long drink from a plastic cup.

“Mr. Pagan—Bill,” I correct myself, “I know it might seem out of left field …” I look him dead in the eyes. “You have my word that Ellie will always have someone watching out for her.”

“You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t have given you my word if I didn’t.”

The relief that leaves his body is evident. His shoulders drop and I think for a moment he might slide out of his chair.

“You have no idea what that means to me, Ford.” He takes another drink, this time the cup shaking just a bit. “You love her, don’t ya?”

“With every ounce of my being. As a matter of fact,” I say, squirming a little in my chair, “I was wondering if I can manage to convince her at some point to marry me. How you feel about that?”

His eyes light up. “Are you thinking that way?”

“I’ve thought that way since the first time I saw her. I should’ve done it years ago, but ‘young and dumb,’ as you say. Would that be okay with you? I mean, I have to get a plan together or else she’ll say no for the hell of it,” I laugh.

With pride as wide as the Grand Canyon, he laughs. “That sounds about right.” He extends his hand and I take it in mine. “If it comes to that, you have my blessing. And I hope to God it does.”

We shake hands, but exchange something far deeper than a simple handshake at his kitchen table.

Bill clears his throat. “Been fishing lately?”

I settle back in my seat and find a story to distract him from his life for just a little while.