Everybody obediently stood and followed her out to the next room, where a table was set for four. My heart warmed when I saw how much trouble she had gone to. There were flowers, candles, linen napkins folded into swans, and crystal goblets, and gleaming silverware.
“What a beautiful table setting,” I complimented.
She blushed with pleasure. “Thank you.” She gestured towards my seat and I moved towards it. I waited until her father was seated before I did.
The meatloaf was brought in and my stomach rumbled. I just about stopped myself from rubbing my hands together. The last time I had meatloaf was at Mrs. Steven’s house. She often invited me for dinner because she knew my mother’s idea of a meal was either a chicken bucket from KFC when she was feeling generous or a pot of macaroni and cheese from a box. I watched Willow surreptitiously as her mother served me a thick slice of meatloaf and piles of vegetables and potatoes. When I caught her eyes, I smiled softly at her. She smiled back.
Then it was time for grace. I closed my eyes and let her father’s words wash over me. We never said prayers at home and when I was in prison, I was downright angry with God, but hearing her father’s simple words of thanks, felt good and right. Yes, my life had been shit, but it made me the man I was today. Hard, resourceful, resilient, unbreakable. And because of it I could better protect and care for Willow, her father, mother, and our children when they came into this world.
“You’re a very handsome man. Can you believe Willow didn’t mention you at all until today?”
Willow choked and sprayed out the water she had just sipped. “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry.”
She then shot up from her chair, and the force of her movement sent it crashing down. And then she reached to grab it, but her elbow knocked over her glass of wine. Fortunately, my reflexes were fast and I managed to catch it before it spilled on her mother’s snow-white, flawlessly ironed tablecloth. I quickly rose and helped her pick up her chair.
She froze, and clenched her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
“It’s okay, honey. There’s no harm done. Sit down and eat your food.”
Both her parents watched silently as Willow sat and I followed. I picked up my knife and fork.
“This looks wonderful, Ma’am,” I said with a smile.
“Call me Sally, remember.” Her smile was warm and genuine and I knew I had passed her defenses. She approved of me. There was only her father left to conquer. I cut up a piece of meat and forked it into my mouth. It melted in my mouth. It left Mrs. Steven’s dry meatloaf in the dust.
“Mmm … this is the most delicious meatloaf I have ever tasted,” I told Sally, truthfully.
Sally beamed with pleasure. There was a twinkle in her eyes, when she said, “Good, I’m glad you like it. It’s my mother’s special recipe. I’ll pass it on to Willow so she can make it for you.”
“I really appreciate that,” I said with a chuckle.
“What are your intentions towards my daughter?” her father asked suddenly. “You never answered my question from before.”
I turned to him. “I’m not a player, Sir. Never have and never will be. I’m here to stay. My intentions are utterly and completely honorable.”
He stared at me as if trying to decide how sincere I was.
“Willow says you have a quick trip planned for the weekend?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“You’ll keep her safe for us, won’t you?”
“I’ll guard her with my life, Sally,” I promised.
It was the absolute truth to me, but I could feel the others in the room were startled by my words. I could only hope I didn’t come across as too good to be true.
I lowered my head and returned to my food.
For a while we ate and made small talk, but her father was not finished. He put his knife and fork down and looked at me seriously. “Willow said we shouldn’t ask about your parents, but she didn’t have any information on your father. I hope you’ll understand that I need to know at least that much about you before I approve of … this trip.”
“I completely understand, Sir. My father wasn’t very stable when I was growing up, sir. He was a bit abusive and quite the alcoholic. He left home when I was fifteen and I haven’t seen him since.”
The room went quiet.
There was an odd expression on her father’s face. “So … you raised yourself?”
“Pretty much, Sir.”
He frowned. “Where did you go to college?”
“I never did, Sir.”
“How did you get into investment—?”
“Dad?” Willow protested, but I placed my hand on hers to reassure her that I was fine to answer any questions her father wanted to ask.