He’d gained some confidence from his first time doing this, but now the nerves were back. He took a deep breath and willed himself out of the car. He walked up the driveway and before letting himself get sidetracked with reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this, he rang the doorbell. A man who appeared to be in his seventies opened the door. He saw no resemblance to himself, but that didn’t mean a thing because everyone had always told Brody he looked like his mom. “Hi, are you Johnny Marshall?” asked Brody. “That’s me, but I’m not buying anything.” “I’m not here to sell you anything. My name’s Brody Williams, and my mother was Kathleen Paul.” The man looked him in the eye. “Katy. You’re Katy’s boy?” “I am.” “I’ve missed her smile and laughter all these years. How’s she doing? “She died two years ago.” “I’m so sorry to hear that. Do want to come in? It’s a cold one today.” “Thank you.” He stood to one side to let Brody in. It wasn’t as fancy as Mike’s place but nevertheless, it was clean and cozy.
