Page 49 of The Inevitable Us

He puts his right hand in mine, kisses the back, and rests it against his leg. “Besides, Angelique and my Uncle Brody both told my parents they love you.” He shoots me a wry smile with a small sideways glance. “My own uncle said I didn’t deserve you.”

“It’s going to be so weird to see Brody with Mrs. Henry,” I remark, laughing at the thought. “As close as we were with Brody, I’ve never seen him date!”

“Oh, he dates,” Sawyer says sarcastically, allowing his eyes to flick back to mine. “Since his divorce, my uncle has been a bit of a ladies’ man. Mrs. Henry is the first he’s taken seriously in many years.”

“Brody’s a lady’s man?” I answer, shocked. “He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Oh, women love the shaved head. But I think he’s ready to settle down with Mrs. Henry.”

It’s tomato canning weekend, an annual tradition with his family, he’d said.

The view is beautiful driving towards the Smoky Mountains. We’d left when it was still dark since Sawyer’s family gets a very early start on the manual task of storing and canning tomatoes for the year’s cooking. The sky was pink over the mountains most of the drive. We’d packed the kittens and their things up in a carrier and put them in the back seat with Ranger.

After we turn off the interstate and drive past a fork in the road that houses an old gas station that says “Betty Jeans Gas and Go,” Sawyer turns left, and we drive past miles and miles of rail fencing. The metal gate is open when Sawyer finally turns, and we drive down a dirt road towards a wooden farmhouse.

There is only a very loved truck and a sedan parked by the barn when Sawyer drives up. “Are we here first?” I ask, opening up the back passenger door to retrieve the kittens. Ranger follows behind, jumping to the ground with one eager pounce. He follows behind us, breathing excitedly at his new surroundings, his tail erect. He almost looks like he’s smiling.

Sawyer walks over to me and slings his arm around my neck. “Yes, I wanted to give Mom and Dad some time alone with us. Are you ok with that?” He pulls me in reassuringly. “They’re excited I’m finally bringing someone home, Baby Girl. They’ll love you.”

“I was just surprised. I wish you’d have told me,” I answer nervously.

Sawyer nods ahead of us. “Well, too late now. Dad’s coming.”

An older man with balding white-gray hair walks away from a large pot lit by propane. He’s wearing a pair of jeans, work boots, and a blue button-down shirt that looks as if he wears it often to work in.

His gaze shifts to me. “You must be Rosalie. Come, meet my Sarah,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Bout time you got here. Y’all eat yet? Your mama has sausage gravy and biscuits up at the house,” he says to Sawyer. “I’m Theodore Benson, this one’s father. People call me Benny.”

“Hi,” I squeak out. “Yes, Rosalie, Rosalie Coleman. It’s nice to meet you.”

Sawyer leads me up to the house, holding my hand in his.

Right before we reach the door, Benny stops and moves to slip off his boots. “Y’all go ahead. Looks like Ranger’s not done exploring yet,” he says, motioning to the dog, who is watering a nearby rose bush.

Sawyer hears me inhale for bravery before walking inside. He reminds me, “Mom already adores you, Baby Girl.”

The house is spotless and smells like cooking. A trim older lady in a pair of well-loved blue jeans and green blouse smiles up from the cast iron skillet. “Well, look what the cat dragged in!”

She runs up to Sawyer and throws her hands around his neck. Sawyer drops my hand to return the hug, then kisses his mom on the cheek. “Hello, Mom. Are the biscuits ready yet?”

She brings her hands to his face and pats it gently. “Yes, dear love. Let me make you a plate.”

Sawyer smiles back at his mother and kisses her on the cheek again. “I’ll do it. You’re going to be standing too much today already.”

“So you’re in culinary school?” Sarah asks as she walks over to the kitchen table to sit. She still has a dish towel over her shoulder, but even at the early hour, her hair and make-up are done.

If I had to guess, I’d say she was in her early sixties. Her hair is dark but silver in spots at the roots as if it’s time to get it colored again.

A little timidly, I answer, “Yes, Ma’am. Just started.”

She raises a knowing eyebrow, “I remember when I’d just started college. Then I was in school off and on for fifteen years, getting my doctorate. Now I’m the principal at the elementary school.”

“That sounds…amazing. All of those little kids running around!”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Yes, it is nice but crazy. It was the Fall Fest last weekend, and I was on campus until seven pm for four days straight to help get ready.”

The thump of the screen door opens, followed by the loud thumps of a running toddler. “Uncle Sawyer, did you bwing da kittens?” Sofia asks as she walks up to the plastic cat crate I’ve left at my feet.

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