It suddenly struck Ben his old man had made the place beautiful for when she came back. He’d painted the trim of the house red every spring and made sure the flowers got plenty of water. Beside the picnic table he’d set out benches, and a swing made for two that faced the sunset.

He nodded once at his father. Twenty years separated them, but they were the same build. Tall, just over six feet, slender, but both were hard-work strong. His father’s hair was white, no longer peppered like Ben’s. His hands wrinkled and scarred.

“You sure you want me here, Dad?”

“I do. She’ll want to see you.”

For a time, they didn’t say any more; they simply waited. The air was still, as if waiting along with them. His father had never said a mean word about his wife, just that she’d left to paint. After a few years, Ben gave up on the idea that she would ever return, but now he wasn’t sure his dad ever had.

Eventually, his dad noticed Jenny by the barn. “You brought your girl. You still like her?”

“I do. I think I’m growing on her. I’m hoping she’ll stay around.”

“If she ever runs, son . . . follow her, and keep following her until she threatens to shoot you. Even then, don’t leave until she buys the gun.”

Ben fought down a laugh. “That’s your advice on women, Dad?”

“That’s about it. Monroe men aren’t that easy to look at, and that little redhead is looking right at you and smiling. I think you got a good chance with that one.”

He was glad he was past the age of having children. Thanks to his dad, he had no wise advice to pass down to the next generation.

A red spot of a car turned off the county road and headed toward their place. Dust began to fly behind her, but she didn’t slow down.

Ben and his father straightened slightly as they watched.

The sports car still didn’t look big enough to be a real car when it turned off at the gate.

Neither of them moved as the woman drove straight toward them. When she got to the edge of the yard, she came to a stop and cut the engine.

For a few minutes all she did was stare at them. Dad could have skipped painting the trim. All she saw was the two of them.

Finally, she stepped out of the car and pulled off her sunglasses.

He saw a woman with a long braid of hair so light it looked silver. His mother was still tall and slender. Willowy, his dad used to say. She wasn’t pretty so much as striking. The faded memory Ben had of her blended with her today as she slowly moved toward them.