Beside the vehicle stood a clean-shaven man in an expensive wool coat, watching my car arrive as tears gathered in his tired eyes.
“I thought you would not come,” he said softly as I stepped onto the curb, still holding the covered pot against my chest.
I studied his refined features until I recognized the younger version of him beneath the polished hair and tired facial lines.
“Gabriel?” I asked in complete disbelief.
His smile looked uncertain as he glanced toward the dark windows of the house.
“You brought dinner,” Gabriel noted quietly.
I nodded slowly, suddenly embarrassed by the cheap plastic container balanced between my hands.
“But what happened to you?” I asked, looking at his car.
“How is any of this possible when Mom spoke as if you were still living nearby and desperately needed help?”
Gabriel looked toward the dark house and let out a long sigh.
