I studied his face in the afternoon light and noticed how much taller he looked in his winter coat than he had two months earlier.

“So what did you tell her?” I asked.

“I told her I wasn’t ready,” Ethan said softly.

“Maybe next year.

Just not today.”

“That’s your call to make, Ethan,” I told him.

“Nobody is ever going to force you to sign a paper or send a letter again.”

Ethan turned the silver crest ring once around his finger, then laid his palm flat on the wooden armrest.

“We’ve got everything we need right here, Madison,” Ethan said.

“Yes,” I said.

“We sure do.”

A light breeze stirred the dry leaves along the gravel drive, but out on the porch the air was still and warm in the sun.

Ethan laid his hand on the wooden porch swing as the quiet autumn sun warmed the yard.