He knew, after three years of denial, he wasn’t going back to Michigan or anywhere else. It was hard to put down roots in the Florida sand, and the things that survived here did so with only the greatest grit and determination.
But he had done it. This was his home now.
The lowering sun hit him full in the face and he laid his head back and closed his eyes.
He knew he was happy.
The crunch of gravel made him open his eyes. A red Bronco was pulling into his drive. He didn’t move. He just sat there and watched as Joe got out.
Everything was warm, rendered red gold by the generous sun, and the moment was still, unmoving, more real than anything had ever been in his life. And she was beautiful.