He swallowed. “I came to see you. And the girls. If you would let me.”
Two young voices interrupted.
“Mom, who is that?” A girl with freckles and a high ponytail tugged at Juniper’s skirt. The other, smaller and rounder in the cheeks, peeked from behind her sister.
Juniper hesitated. “Girls, this is Wesley. We… we used to know each other.”
“I am Wren,” the older one announced with confidence. “She is Poppy. Our grandma calls her ‘Trouble,’ but only on weekdays.”
Poppy grinned, missing one front tooth. “Is it true you came from the big city?”
Wesley nodded. “Chicago.”
“That is not very big,” Wren replied seriously. “New York is bigger.”
Juniper cleared her throat, trying to regain control. “Girls, could you go help Grandma Opal? The cornbread will burn if no one watches the timer.”
Wren’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Cornbread does not watch itself, Mom. The timer just beeps.”
“Exactly,” Juniper replied. “It needs supervision.”
The girls retreated, whispering in full, theatrical curiosity. Wesley watched them go, heart tugging with a mix of hope and regret.
Juniper folded her arms. “Why are you here, Wes?”