I stood with this smile, this silly, openhearted smile, while wearing no makeup, ratty shorts, and a tired linen shirt. They didn’t see me until they turned to the door, motioning for who I assumed was Drew’s daughter—the jubilant Ashley.

Hutch’s smile was genuine and free; it always had been. He stopped short, laughing. “Well, hey, Ellie. I was just about to call you.”

His voice made my heart skip that little extra beat it once had when he’d said my name. Sometimes a voice can change a heartbeat.

“Hey, Hutch.” I pulled at my shirt as if this could change the fact that it had a large tomato stain from Pappy’s stand on the middle of my abdomen. “Seems like I keep seeing you at my absolute best.”

“Of course you look your absolute best. You couldn’t look otherwise.”

Ashley walked up now, a bag with DOLPHINS etched in the nylon flung over her shoulder. “You know each other?” She looked between her dad, Hutch, and me.

“Yep, old friends,” Hutch said.

“Very old,” Drew said.

“Cool,” she said, turning into a teenager. “I’m late, Dad.”

Hutch pointed at the books I held. “Research?”

I nodded.

“Anything from Birdie?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Hey,” Drew said. “We got to go, buddy.”

Hutch turned to me. “See you later, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

Hutch walked off with his large steps and his languid movements, and then he was gone. I wanted to remember, really remember, why we’d said good-bye. Of course, as with anything, there was a culmination, an event plus another event, moments adding up, but when had the end begun?

It was after my three-week standoff when I did what I was trained to do every week: I called Mother on Sunday afternoon. She’d been brusque and short with me. “What is it, Mother? Are you okay?”

“I am just so worried about you and Hutch.”

“We’re fine. Why would you be worried?”

“I mean, seriously, Ellie dear, do you realize you’re dating a boy from a trailer park who has been in jail? Have you really given this any thought?” Anger was on the ragged edges of her words.

“Yes, I realize that. I love him. And it was juvenile detention, not jail. And it wasn’t his fault. Really, Mother, do you think he chose where to grow up and who to grow up with?”

“Do you actually think he could be part of this family?”

“Stop it,” I’d said. “Stop.”

“I’ve lived longer, Ellie. I know the consequences of loving someone inappropriate. You make a decision and then you have to live with it. That’s how it works. Don’t you see how awful this could be? Can’t you see?”