"I will." He leans forward, elbows on the table as he braces his forearms in front of him. "He needs this right? To feel like you're taken care of even if he's not there every day. I can promise to be that person who will show up, for you and for him."
"I thought you didn't want to lie to him. Won't that be exactly what we're doing?"
He narrows his eyes, examining me, before giving a decisive nod. "If I tell your uncle that I'll be there whenever needed, I'll do exactly that. So, I don't consider that a lie."
His voice is rough, but there's an unwavering strength beneath it that makes me sure he means what he says. His wordmeans something to him, and that makes me believe he can be trusted.
"So if I said that I needed you to come to dinner tonight?" It's a challenge and a bit of hopefulness that makes me ask.
He grins, almost. It's a slight quirk of his lips, a hint of them tipping up on the sides, before they flatten back down. It's the closest I've seen him to an actual smile so far and I'll count it as a positive sign. "What time? And do you need me to bring anything?"
"Seven works. And if you can pick up a cherry cobbler from the bakery on Main Street, that would be great. It's Uncle Cliff's favorite."
"Perfect. Will do." He begins eating again and the tension that's been running through me since Dr. Nance suggested this plan eases away a fraction. He listens as I share details about life with my uncle, grimacing when I mention that he's been slipping out of the house to go for runs in the morning before sunrise, and that he keeps getting lost despite the fact that he's been following the same routes for years.
"If I wake up in time to stop him, he gets upset, and it really starts the day off badly. But if I oversleep, and he goes out, it's terrifying because I know the chances are good he won't be able to find his way home. You know how the mountain is. It's too easy to take a wrong turn, or slip and fall, and it can be so hard to find people out there when they go missing."
Porter doesn't say anything, just looks at me like he's taking mental notes about everything I say, and keeps eating. By the time we're done, and our plates are cleared away, I'm hopeful that this plan of ours could possibly work. As we stand to leave, he steps beside me, like he would carve a path through any crowd if I needed him to. His large hand rests gently against the small of my back, guiding me forward, and I feel safe with him there.
He walks me out of the building and waits as I unlock my car. He scans the area like he's looking for danger lurking in the shadows, then focuses his attention fully on me. "Give me your phone." It's an order, one that sends a thrill shooting through me. I unlock the screen and pass the device over to him, watching as he types quickly. I can hear his phone vibrate from inside his jacket pocket.
"Now you've got my information. And I've got yours." He opens my car door and gestures inside, waiting as I slip into the seat and fasten the safety belt. "I'll be there at seven. I promise."
I believe him. He sounds sure, steady. It's like now that he's made this decision, there's no changing it. His eyes darken as he leans down, filling up the opening as he watches me, waiting for an answer.
My throat feels tight, and I have to swallow to get the words out.
"I'll see you then." He steps back but stops when I reach out and touch his hand before he can shut the door. When his eyes meet mine, I don't look away. I want him to know how much this means to me. I want to say more, to communicate how it feels to know that even for this short period of time, I'm not alone in the battle my uncle's illness has become. But the words don't come and all I manage to add is, "Thank you."
He nods, shutting my door tight, and then watching me as I pull out of the parking space. When I glance at the rear-view mirror, he's still standing there, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his eyes are on me, like he doesn't want to look away.
5
PORTER
I knock at the door, shifting my grip carefully as I balance everything I'm carrying. It would be a rough start to the evening if my contributions to tonight's dinner were to end up a giant mess on the front porch. As the door swings open, I'm greeted by Reena's relieved smile.
"You came." Her voice is pitched low, not quite a whisper, but I have to lean down closer to hear her. When I raise a brow, she hurries to add, "I was worried this might have been too much to ask of you."
"I told you I'd be here." When she flushes, looking away, I bring her attention back to me by lifting up the bag in one of my hands. "And, as promised, there's cherry cobbler, too."
The smile that spreads across her pretty face at that reminder makes my chest go tight. In the past few hours, I've thought of this woman too many times. Wondering what her favorite things are. Because just showing up wouldn't be enough to convince her uncle that I cared about his niece. I'd need to be able to prove it to him.
"Is that him?" The gruff voice is familiar, and Reena glances over her shoulder.
"Yes, Uncle Cliff. He's here."
"Well, no sense keeping him out on the porch. Let him in so I can get a look at the man."
I don't fight the grin at the blunt honesty of the man. Every single one of the few interactions I've had with him have been like this. Not unkind. Just a man calling things as he sees them. Appreciating integrity, work ethic, and community.
Reena turns back to me, mouthing a silent apology as she pushes the door wider and steps to the side. I squeeze by her, my bulk taking up most of the space. It's impossible to avoid our bodies touching in the small area, and I don't miss her quick inhale at the contact. I pause, looking down at her, then lean in a little closer, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.
"It's nice to see you," I say. It's not a lie. It's really good to see her. More than it should be. She's dominated my thoughts since lunch, and even though I know this isn't real, it feels nice to have had someone waiting for me to arrive. Hoping that I'd be here.
Her cheeks turn a pretty pink, and her lips part, drawing my gaze to her mouth. There's no doubt in my mind that kissing her, really kissing her, would be heaven, but that's not why I'm here. We've got a job to do.
"Where would you like me to put these?" I ask.
