“Hey, bro,” Bill said as he met us at the baggage claim area at Memphis International Airport. He took the handle of my suitcase. “How was the trip, y’all?”
“Good,” I said.
“Mama’s mad at you.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t come home for Christmas.”
“I’m sure y’all survived.”
“You know how she is. Said you were thinking about adopting, getting pretty serious about that little boy.”
“Yeah,” I said. Then I fell silent and said nothing further, glancing at Jackson to make sure he noticed. He lifted one eyebrow ever so slightly.
“Jack, how’s your mom and them?” Bill asked.
“They’re doing fine,” Jackson said.
“Well, there you go. I’m parked just outside in the lot.”
Jackson sat scrunched up in the back of the cab on the two-hour drive home from Memphis to Tupelo. He made a gentle point of putti
