He quickly shut the door and closed the short distance between them, planting a quick kiss on her soft, brown cheek.
“The food smells amazing. You need any help?”
She leaned into his kiss, patting him on his arm as she continued to stir the pot in front of her.
“No, baby,” her smooth, soothing voice warmed him as well as the hot food she was preparing would. “You g’on and wash your hands while I plate up this food.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He made a quick dash to the mudroom sink then returned to a steaming bowl of grits and a small dish of sausages waiting for him.
He bowed his head, quickly saying grace as his mother expected him to do. He wasn’t terribly religious, but his mother was, and showing her deference in her kitchen was a small price to pay for the savory dish she’d placed in front of him.
Never one to lack appreciation for a good meal, Adam tucked into the food, his leg bouncing underneath the table as he softly hummed while he ate.
“Mama,” he called after he swallowed a few bites. “Food’s great as always.”
“I know, baby.” She walked over to him, with another bowl of grits in one hand while patting him on the shoulder with the other. “I made it.”
He chuckled at her reply. It was the same answer she’d given him every time he’d complimented her cooking. Some might see it as hubris, but anyone who’d sat at Dorothy-Mae Henderson’s table knew she was only telling the truth.
He half chewed, half smiled while he watched her place the bowl at the head of the table, and instantly his back stiffened. He had hoped it would just be the two of them as it had been so many of his school-day mornings during his childhood. If she was creating a place setting in that particular spot, no one, absolutely no one sat there but his father, Grady Henderson.
“Look what the cat dragged in to eat up all my food.”
His father’s raspy voice drew Adam’s attention to the doorway connecting the kitchen and living room. As if the thought of his name had conjured him up, Adam’s father opened the swing door, using his walker to maneuver himself into the kitchen and to his favorite seat.
Tall, muscular, and broad, the mold from which Adam received his own build, Grady Henderson made a striking picture with his salt-and-pepper cropped curls and neatly trimmed mustache beforehis accident at work that had nearly taken his ability to walk unassisted.
He was a freight truck driver until four months ago when he’d had a bad wreck that had left him with a comminuted fracture of his right tibia, requiring internal screws to put his leg back together.
That accident had taken away Grady’s independence, which meant anyone who’d tried to help him, including Adam’s mother, had been pushed away.
That was how Adam had landed back in Monroe Hills. His father’s accident made him realize that his parents needed him and no matter how uncomfortable returning home was, Adam had to do what was right.
His parents had sacrificed so much for him. What good son wouldn’t quit his job and come home to take care of the people he loved?
Once he made it to the table, Grady leaned down to give his wife a sweet peck on her cheek, much the same way Adam had when he arrived.
“Morning, darling.”
Adam might find the man lacking in warmth toward everyone else, including Adam, but Grady loved himself some Dorothy-Mae Henderson and treated her like the treasure she was.
“Morning, Grady. Your food’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks, baby.” Grady gave his mother another peck on the cheek before turning toward Adam.
“Is that my number one son sitting here eating up all our food?”
His father gave Adam’s shoulder a loving squeeze before taking his place at the head of the table, waiting for Adam to acknowledge his presence.
And he would. Adam’s communication style with his father might be… tense, for lack of a better description. But his father was an admirable man who always loved and provided for hisfamily, who always stood in front of them, ready to protect them from the world if necessary.
With that kind of love in his heart and track record, Adam could forgive some of the man’s less favorable qualities.
“Morning, Dad.” Adam’s greeting was slightly garbled by the jaw full of food he was currently chewing. “As far as I know, I’m your only son. Or do you have something you need to tell me and Mama?”
Grady sipped from the cup of coffee Adam’s mother handed him before taking her seat at the right side of his father.
