Sunday dinner at Miss Ruth Ann Locklear’s house never had a set time. It began whenever everyone arrived, so it usually started late.

The house was on a winding dirt road off U.S. Highway 74. Its white siding had faded from years of sun and rain, but inside, it was sturdy and well cared for, just like Miss Ruth Ann herself. The front porch ran the length of the house, its steps worn smooth by all the people coming and going. Nobody knocked. People just walked in, and everyone was welcome.

When Ashley pulled up, she recognized every car parked outside. They were her four siblings. Being here was a big change from her quiet, single life.

The front door kept opening and closing, from kids running in and out,  almost as if the house was breathing and welcoming her before she even got out of the car.

She sat for a moment, keys in hand, letting the familiar sounds calm her. Laughter and loud voices filled the air. She smiled, grabbed her purse, and got out of the car.

As she walked into the living room, the house smelled like fried chicken, collard greens cooked down just right, cornbread cooling in a pan, and sweet potato pie baking in the oven.

Ashley took off her shoes by the door and added them to the pile. She looked around at the large open room. The living room and kitchen were connected and full.

Nevaeh, Ashley’s younger sister, sat cross-legged on the floor by the couch, painting Talia’s tiny nails an alarming shade of pink.

Brianna, her baby sister, home on school break from college, leaned in the doorway of the hall, whispering with their older brother Jonah about camping in the fall. Both were dressed down but still church-clean.

Sarena, the oldest sibling, made sweet tea and gathered forks and knives with Mama Ruth out in the kitchen, shouting to her boys, “Stop running in and out,” and they paid her no mind.

“Hey, y’all,” Ashley said, smiling as she greeted everyone.

“I didn’t see you at church this morning,” Nevaeh said as she showed Talia how to spread her fingers and wave her hands to get the polish to dry quicker.

“I was there,” Ashley said. “In the back. She glanced at Mama Ruth, checking for any sign of disapproval.

Ashley slowed as she passed the dining room. The room seemed to hold its breath. It was a separate room off the living room, her mama had tried for years to make the heart of their home.

She decorated the dining room for holidays, birthdays, and every Sunday dinner after church, but it never worked. No one wanted to stay in that room. Everyone got up from the table as soon as they were finished eating; they seemed uncomfortable and quiet. Like the room stifled conversation.

Ashley’s eyes moved to the large picture window. The gold and burgundy drapes were drawn just enough to frame the garden beyond.

The antique mahogany table—her mother’s proud yard sale find—sat perfectly centered beneath a small, dim chandelier.

Mama Ruth chose a cream wallpaper with a pink botanical floral pattern from the early 2000’s. It was an era Mama Ruth just couldn’t seem to step out of.

A China hutch sat in the corner of the room, displaying the remaining fine pieces. Not China, but it was good enough.

Eight seats around the table, all filled in theory, twelve with the table leaf, each place marked with Miss Ruth Ann’s best place settings, cloth napkins folded just so, wine glasses with a fine sheen of dust.  Mama Ruth dusted this room twice a month.

The dark red carpet swallowed every footstep, as if even sounds were expected to behave in here. Everything matched in this room, everything waited.

Ashley stood in the doorway longer than she meant to. There was nothing wrong with the room. It was beautiful, thoughtful, and always ready to be used.

Somehow, that was what unsettled her most.

It reminded her of everything that was supposed to happen, all the moments that never turned out as planned. Like plans in life that were neatly laid out, like the place settings, left untouched.

She let out a breath and turned away, watching her siblings head to the kitchen, where everyone always gathered.

The kitchen was an extension of the living room and was always crowded with people talking about their day, sharing plans, good news, and bad. It had a large dining area and barstools at the island.

When Sarena married Travis, and they started having kids, the kids began sitting at the island, and that became their “table”.

Ashley, too, made her way to the kitchen, drawn by the delicious smell of Mama’s home cooking and the grumble in her stomach.

The low hum of voices, the clatter of pots and pans, and the familiar rhythm of life were always a comfort. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, the warmth from the oven, the smell of cornbread, and the fresh coffee grew stronger, surrounding her.

Her siblings filled the space, leaning against counters, talking over each other, and laughing easily. Here, no one was careful. No one waited for things to be perfect.

Ashley slipped into the edge of the group, close enough to feel the warmth but far enough to go unnoticed for a moment. This was where the house felt alive. Love didn’t sit still here; it moved, spilled over, and filled every corner of every space in between.

Still, a small part of her felt like that other room: untouched and waiting for something that would never happen. A part of her that made her sit on the back pew at church. The part of her that the choir didn’t reach anymore.

Ashley closed her eyes and shook her head, as if to clear her mind. She took out a scrunchie from her pocket and pulled her long hair into a messy bun. She pushed up her sleeves, tied on an apron, and started filling glasses with ice. Being helpful mattered to her. She liked to stay busy, and right now, there was no better place than the kitchen at her mama’s to keep her mind busy.

“Hey, baby,” Mama Ruth called gently without turning around. “You hungry?”

”Yes ma’am,” Ashley replied, even though she’d stopped at the store and eaten a honey bun and a Coke after church. Saying no never once changed the outcome.

Mama hummed, pleased. She lifted lids and stirred pots without rushing.  Moving in the kitchen naturally, humming Amazing Grace all the while. The kitchen was her domain, where she showed love for her family and where her light could truly shine. It was her command center, where the magic happened, and everyone felt welcome to gather to share what mattered most in their lives; their time.

It was the opposite of the dining room. It was a place where everyone lingered. After dinner, folks thought of reasons to sit a little longer, to have one more cup of coffee, or one more slice of pie.

Mama Ruth, the queen of her castle, welcomed everyone into her kitchen, the heart of the house. Every Sunday after church, like today, she was ready to hold court.

Mama Ruth started turning off the burners, removing lids, and placing spoons in pots, and everyone moved a little closer to the table, sensing it was time. Mama stood back and removed her apron to confirm it, “Sit, food’s ready.”

Everyone took their seats. The busy noise faded into quiet anticipation, a sign that dinner had finally started.

No one had to ask who would pray. Everyone just bowed their heads, and Mama Ruth began.

“Lord, thank you for bringing us back together, thank you for keeping us through the week, through work we wanted and work we didn’t. Thank you for our food; may it nourish our bodies, and thank you for family and grace we don’t deserve. Help us be patient with one another. Help us listen. And help some folks make the right choices—even when they act like they don’t know what that is. Guide us as we enter another week. Be with us, keep your hand at our backs.”

Ashley listened closely to the prayer. It was always different, but today it felt familiar enough to make her think about her mama’s words: “Guide us.” When was the last time she even asked God for guidance? It had been a long time since she truly prayed or asked God’s help for anything.

Ashley wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Was God tired of her asking for help? Was He proud of her for doing things on her own and not needing His help? Why does her mama ask for guidance and mean it so sincerely?

She remembered when she used to ask God for guidance. When she was younger.

She meant it, and needed it then, back when she prayed more.

Back when God meant more to her than just a cross around her neck.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. Ashley wasn’t sure whether she had missed the end of the prayer or whether someone had asked her a question and was waiting for her to answer.

She opened one eye and looked around. Everyone’s heads were still bowed, thank goodness. She closed her eyes and waited.

“In Jesus’ name, Amen,” Mama Ruth ended the prayer.

“Amen,” the room echoed.

Ashley looked around to make sure no one saw her.

As everyone started eating and the conversation picked up, Ashley relaxed.

They talked about their week, who saw whom at the Pinecone Market, whose kids were acting grown, who needed prayers, and who in town should mind their own business. Dinner settled into its usual rhythm.

“Nevaeh, are you still hosting that Bible group at your salon?” Ashley asked.

“Yes, you should join us; we meet on Saturdays,” Nevaeh said.

Ashley shrugged and continued to eat.

“Did y’all hear about Pastor’s nephew coming back home?” Jonah interrupted, grabbing more cornbread.

“He single?” Nevaeh asked, pouring more sweet tea.

“No idea,” Jonah said. “But he’s working with the Tribe now.”

Ashley looked up and nodded, then looked back down at her greens.

“He had a girlfriend in Ohio, but things didn’t work out. He came home, and yes, he is working at the Tribe.”

“Everybody’s working with the Tribe these days,” Nevaeh said. “Except Ashley. The Tribe’s her home, she practically lives there.”

Ashley shrugged. “We coordinate events with the Lumbee Regional Development Association. When our tribe was denied federal funding, we had to create an organization to help with resources. That’s how the LRDA started.”

“All my kids went to Head Start,” Sarena added, placing another piece of cornbread on Caleb's plate. “It’s like Pre-K, through LRDA. My kids learned their colors, numbers, and alphabet before kindergarten. It made reading easier for them.”

“LRDA also offers workforce training; that’s how Mr. Levi Lowry started his landscaping side business,” Mama Ruth said.

“Isn’t he a history teacher?” asked Jonah.

Ashley nodded.

“Mr. Dwayne got help from LRDA when Converse closed down. Many of our people lost their jobs. Converse sustained our whole community at one time,” Brianna added.

"What happened?” Jaylen asked from the kids’ table.

"It was a plant that made shoes. It shut down and moved to another country. It took decades to build our community back from that shutdown; everyone was on welfare for the longest time." Mama Ruth said, remembering it herself as she put more chicken on Jonah's plate.

“Yeah, LRDA helped people get educated and learn new skills to get qualified for different jobs. LRDA also hosts homecoming every year. This year will be bigger than ever because of federal recognition.  We’ve brought in outside help to work with my department,” Ashley said, sipping her sweet tea. “I’m not sure who they’re bringing in, though.”

Nevaeh caught Mama Ruth’s eye over her glass of tea and raised her eyebrows.

At the kids’ table, Caleb leaned forward. “Grandma says if people come back, it’s ’cause God ain’t done with them yet.”

Mama Ruth didn’t deny it.

“And speaking of coming back,” Nevaeh said, setting her fork down, “did y’all hear Micah Lowry’s back in town?”

Ashley stared at the food on her fork, frozen in mid-air.

“He is?” Jonah asked, though his eyes flicked to Ashley.

“Came back a few days ago. He’s teaching at the Boys and Girls Club and consulting with the Tribe, too. With all his education, I think they have bigger plans for him, though. I’d say for now, that’s your outside help.” Nevaeh winked at Ashley.

Ashley was speechless.

“You know all that, and he just came back a few days ago?” Sarena asked.

“There are many benefits to owning my own business,” Nevaeh said as she poured more sweet tea. “And the Lumbee grapevine goes right through my salon,” she added. She turned to Ashley and said, “And before you ask, yes, he is still single.”

Ashley looked at her sister and paused before speaking. “I’m still trying to catch up, and by the way, I never asked,” she said, pushing her fork aside in mock protest.

“You didn’t have to.” Nevaeh winked again. “I can read your mind.”

“But he’s just here for a few weeks, right?” Sarena asked.

“I don’t care how long he’s here for, and stop winking at me,” Ashley said quickly.

“Temporary,” Brianna said.

“Homecoming,” Jonah said, pointing with his fork. And to protect his sister, Ashley, “I like Micah, but he wouldn’t be coming here to stay, I don’t think. With all his education, he can make plenty of money anywhere else.”

Ashley grew quiet. This was fine with her. She focused on her plate, moving food around with her fork. Temporary made sense. Short visits were always his way. The only time he came home was for a little while. When he visited, she always made herself scarce anyway.

Then the screen door opened, just enough to be noticed.

Ashley didn’t look up at first. She felt it: the shift in the room, a pause that didn’t belong in the conversation.

“Hey, y’all,” came a man’s voice.

Mama Ruth stood and smiled wide.

Ashley’s head snapped up. There was Micah standing in her mama’s kitchen.

“Well, looka here,” Mama Ruth beamed. “I was wondering if you were gonna make it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, sounding genuinely surprised. “Hope it’s okay.”

“You eating, ain’t you?” she said. “I saw you this morning. Figured you’d be hungry.” She moved to the stove and got a plate from the cabinet overhead.

Ashley looked at him and felt it. Everything she had shared with him—from being best friends in middle school to graduating college—came rushing back. She remembered how he always picked her first for dodgeball, so no one would hurt her.

How he gave her his science project when she was sick with the flu. She thought of the way he sat next to her on her mama’s couch, reaching for her but never quite touching. How he held her hand for the first time in high school.

She remembered him turning cartwheels in the street to celebrate their acceptance to the University of North Carolina at Pembroke, their hometown college. They went through college together, helping each other study for tests, writing papers, and attending clubs.

He was there when her father died of a heart attack while she was at choir practice.

Then one day, he was gone. He just left, and she felt lost, like nothing in life made sense. It was as if she were walking a tightrope and the net had been taken away. She was afraid to move, afraid to live. She felt herself falling apart, like every piece of her was slipping away, and she didn’t know how to stop it.

He wouldn’t consider staying in Robeson County after earning his bachelor’s degree. He wanted a master’s in business and non-profit management, along with a minor in education, because he loved working with kids. He always said he wanted more education. He wanted to build a life one day.

But Ashley couldn’t leave home or her family. She wanted her bachelor’s degree so she could stay and help her people.

She couldn’t follow him across the country; she chose to stay.

Now, as she looked at him, a wave of warmth came over her.

The admiration she once felt returned stronger, as if no time had passed.

It was like there had been no goodbyes, no hurt, just a longing that never really ended. She caught her breath.

Micah stood in the kitchen entranceway, like he hadn’t left and like he had never belonged anywhere else.

He looked taller than Ashley remembered, a little broader in the shoulders and chest. Softer around the eyes, like he had been through something he didn’t talk about.

His hair was shorter than before, clean-cut on the sides, a little curly, and a bit coarse on top. His caramel skin looked bright and healthy, his muscles toned, like he took care of himself and maybe worked out. He dressed well, like he had a little change in his pocket.

“Hey, Ash,” he said, looking into her eyes. He nodded at her, smiling like no one else was in the room, as if time hadn’t passed and it was the day before he left five years ago.

“Hey, Micah,” she said, feeling embarrassed as she remembered her messy bun, stray hairs, and the makeup she hadn’t fixed since church. She looked down and moved her food around her plate, wishing he had shown up on any other day but today. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes tight. She knew she looked horrendous.

And this is the first time he’s seen me in five years, she thought, rolling her eyes as hard as she could.

Her siblings stood smiling, embracing Micah one by one, remembering him with fondness.

“Wash your hands,” Mama said. “Food’s hot.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Micah said as he shared a look with everyone that meant Mama had spoken. Micah touched Ashley’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you again,” he said, as he squeezed her shoulder, letting his hand linger a little longer than necessary before he walked out to wash up.

As he passed by, Sarena leaned toward Ashley, eyes wide, “You remember him?”

Ashley nodded with her eyes closed. Remember? How could she forget? Five years hadn’t dulled memory the way she’d hoped.

At the kids’ table, Caleb squinted. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Micah,” Jaylen said with confidence. “He used to come around.”

“He family?” Caleb said, packing his mouth with cornbread.

“Everybody’s family,” Jaylen smiled.

Micah returned, hesitating between tables.

“Where do you want me?” he asked.

Mama didn’t look up. “Where do you fit?”

The kids scooted their chairs out without discussion, welcoming.

“This is the kids’ table, twelve and under,” Caleb informed him.

“I figured.” Micah nodded.

“How old are you?” Talia asked, food abandoned.

“Old enough to know better.” Micah smiled.

“That’s real old,” Jaylen said, impressed.

Ashley pressed her lips together, hoping Micah wouldn’t look at her again until she fixed her hair and put on some makeup. Even if he wasn’t staying, she still wanted him to wish he was.

Micah ate like someone who hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in a while. Mama noticed.

“Get you some more, baby.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, with his plate still half full. No arguing, just doing as he was told.

Zaria folded her hands.

“Dear God,” she prayed loudly, “thank you for bringing Micah back. Please help him stay.”

Ashley nearly choked on her tea.

Micah froze, the fork still in his mouth, his eyes scanning the room. Everyone stopped. They looked at him and turned to Zaria; maybe she had something else to say or predict.

Mama Ruth smiled at her plate. “Eat,” she said, and everyone laughed and kept eating.

The Sunday dinner ritual ended with family members going in different directions. Jonah, Brianna, Mama Ruth, and Micah went to the front porch; a few sat on the steps while others stood leaning on the banister.

Nevaeh, Sarena, and Ashley instinctively returned to the kitchen and began the customary clean-up and small talk before finally joining everyone outside.

When everything was finished, Ashley stayed in the kitchen, to rinse a few more dishes that didn’t really need it and wiping down the counters for the third time.

She could hear Micah’s laughter drifting in from the porch as he got to know the kids, with Jaylen already claiming him.

She wished she could sit with him on the front porch like they used to, holding hands and listening to her brother talk about fishing with her dad, while her sisters chatted about nail polish and boys.

But those days were long gone, and Micah wasn’t staying. He was only here for a little while.

She stayed inside and decided that whenever she saw him during this visit, she would protect her heart and not let herself fall for him again.

But between her mama’s cooking and Micah’s laughing, Ashley could feel a small crack settle in the wall around her heart and she tried her best to fight it.