“All right,” Shiloh conceded with a small smile. “Let’s do this.”
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity, and I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. A man on a mission replaced the Shiloh who’d wandered around the house on the verge of tears. He even reached out to his family to see if they had any equipment he could borrow.
And that’s how I found myself on a weekend road trip to meet the family. I’d hitched the trailer to the truck the night before, knowing I wouldn’t be in the mood to do it at the asscrack of dawn. While I did a last-minute inspection, Shiloh prepped breakfast sandwiches and a thermos of coffee for the road.
As we drove through the countryside, the sun rose higher in the sky, painting the skies over the fields and hills in pinks and blues. The beauty of the landscape seemed to have a calming effect on Shiloh, who’d been wound to the point of breaking since the night of the fire.
The differences in the scenery were subtle as we drove south along the interstate, but they existed. The corn fields with the plants almost to waist-height turned to soybeans and alfalfa. Even my own tension began to ease as we drove.
We filled the time with conversation and laughter, the miles disappearing behind us as we grew closer to the state line.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, glancing over at him as he sipped his coffee, his eyes fixed on the passing view.
“Excited and terrified, I guess,” he admitted with a small laugh. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen my family, and I never thought I’d be introducing them to a boyfriend.”
“Is it the age difference that has you worried?” I asked, addressing the elephant in the cab of the truck. He was far touchier than I was about the gap in our life experiences, and I wouldn’t blame him if he was concerned about bringing home someone who wasn’t much younger than his own parents and introducing me as his boyfriend.
Shiloh hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, that’s part of it. You’re not exactly what they’d expect, but that doesn’t mean they won’t like you. They just... might need some time to adjust.”
“I’m not going to worry about it too much,” I assured him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. There was a time I would have obsessed about their opinion but those days had passed. “As long as you’re happy, they’ll see that. And if they have any concerns, we’ll show them they have nothing to worry about.”
Shiloh smiled at me, his eyes warm and grateful. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
The rest of the drive was filled with stories of his childhood and memories of his grandparents’ bakery. I could see the passion for baking that had been passed down to him, and I knew that helping him get back on his feet was the right thing to do.
We stopped for lunch at a small diner, the kind of place with black-and-white checkered tablecloths and guitars hanging on the walls. The kind of place that had Elvis on the jukebox. As I took a closer look, the jukebox was still the pushbutton style with vinyl records. I’d thought it was just part of the decor, and nearly tripped over my feet when one song ended and the jukebox whined as the mechanism moved to select the next record.
Shiloh wasn’t kidding when he said some of the towns close to where he grew up made Harmony Grove look like a booming metropolis. This one was little more than the diner, a church, two bars, and a gas station. Not so much as a stop sign on the way through town, much less a stoplight.
As we ate, Shiloh filled me in on the rest of his family: his parents, who ran a small grocery store in town, and his younger sister, who was studying to be a nurse. I felt honored to be a part of his life, to be the one he leaned on during this difficult time.
Shiloh pointed out old barns and family farms, sharing stories from his past and giving me a glimpse into his world. Eventually, we rolled up to the curb in front of his grandparents’ house, my mind was a swirl of anxiety and excitement. Even thought I’d told Shiloh I wasn’t worried about his family’s acceptance, I couldn’t shake the knot in my stomach. I wanted to meet them, but the fear that they’d question why I was with someone so young made me freeze in place.
Shiloh’s grandparents, Eleanor and Thomas, waited on the porch, rocking in their matching chairs. It wasn’t often someone made me feel small but Thomas Baker did exactly that.
“Shiloh, my boy!” Thomas boomed, enveloping his grandson in a bear hug. “It’s been too long.”
Eleanor was more reserved, studying me with a critical eye. “So you must be Teddy,” she said, offering a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, Mrs. Baker,” I replied, extending my hand for a shake. She hesitated for a moment before accepting it, her grip firm and steady.
Shiloh cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Grammy, Gramps, this is my boyfriend, Teddy. I’m not sure I could have gotten through this past week without him.”
There was a warning hidden in his words. His grandma must have understood because her gaze softened and she flashed a genuine smile. “Well, in that case, welcome to the family. We’re all grateful he didn’t have to go through the fire alone.”
Thomas clapped me on the back with enough force to make me lurch forward. “Come on, then. Eleanor’s got supper on the table.”
I glanced at Shiloh, confused as to why we’d stopped if his grandparents planned on feeding us. He must have understood my expression because he whispered, “She means cheese and crackers. Don’t ask.”
All righty then, I wouldn’t ask.
It turned out the quick snack was only to buy us some time until the rest of Shiloh’s family arrived. Shiloh tensed when the hinges on the front door screeched, followed by the door slapping against the frame.
“Damned kids never learned to put a hand out to keep from slamming the door,” Thomas muttered under his breath. Eleanor simply shook her head as she stood.
Shiloh turned around and his frown turned into the first genuine smile I’d seen in over a week. His chair nearly tipped over as he pushed back, anxious to hug his parents.
I did my best to keep from squirming under his dad’s judgmental stare. Every second that passed without him saying a word was one more for my anxiety to ratchet up a notch.
