mine is transmitting a message, Kevin tugs me closer. With a sigh, I silently wonder when did the little boy who used to fit cradled in one of my arms shoot up to the six-foot boy-man trying to shelter me from the unknown?
Raising my hand, I give his a quick squeeze. “We don’t have to stay much longer, sweetheart.”
“Okay, Mom.” Beneath his stoic demeanor, his determination to be strong for me, there’s still the little boy who’s lost.
But Kevin’s voice snaps Brad’s attention away from whatever he was saying to my sister-in-law. “Kara, I can’t believe it’s you.” The shock in his voice confirms to me Jed kept his promise about us. Jed never told the Jacks about Dean beyond the fact he got married. I know he did that to protect Kevin and me, but now it just seems so useless, such a waste.
With his life cut far too short, I bitterly regret never allowing the Jacks to meet my brother. What would they have thought about the fun-loving man who was a perfect counterpoint to Jed’s wild craziness? Now, I’ll never know.
“Brad,” I acknowledge him with a tip of my head. There’s a reservation in my voice that’s hard to miss, and it causes him to flinch. His devastated eyes drift to Kevin, and they widen almost comically. I want to grab my son and run under the intense perusal.
“You hardly look a day older than when we were all at that last barbecue at the Smiths’ together.” He turns and looks at the urn. “It’s like no time’s passed.”
I make a noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing with him. Above all, I’m not encouraging Brad because to do that means opening the door to everything tonight. And I absolutely can’t do that without preparing my son. Remembering the warnings from Kevin’s therapist about keeping the funeral separate from the impending news of his father, I just pray to God no one makes a scene tonight. This need to prepare him is pressing urgently on me as I’m standing half a room away from the man who changed my life in so many ways.
But Brad chooses to engage Kevin. Holding out a hand, he introduces himself. “Bradley Myers. Jed was one of my best friends. More like brothers, actually.”
Kevin imperceptibly relaxes against me whereas I tense beneath his arm. Don’t, baby! I want to yell. But before I manage to open my mouth, Kevin does exactly what Dean and Jed taught him to.
He politely introduces himself.
“Kevin Malone, sir.” He holds out a hand, waiting for Brad to take it, which he does, astonished.
“Nice to meet you. I swear you remind me of someone I know.” Brad’s eyes dart over to Maris, who’s studiously avoiding his gaze. He turns blue eyes on me to skew me in place even as he shakes my son’s hand before letting it go.
I’m not ashamed by my decisions. For fifteen years, every beat of my heart was for him. And despite knowing I was going to raise Kevin on my own, I tried, for many years, to reach the father of my child before giving up. But Maris, the only living person who knows the truth about every detail, presses up against me to offer her support.
“Kara?” Brad whispers, anger replacing the pain in his voice as he stares at the boy who in a few years I imagine will be the spitting image of his father.
Jerking my hand away, I turn to Maris and answer Brad’s question indirectly. “What time did the pastor want family at the cemetery tomorrow?”
Maris catches on immediately. “The three of us have to be there at nine, so we need to be in the limousine by eight thirty.”
“The three of you,” Brad echoes. His eyes dart back to Kevin, and with that, my nurturing instincts come out in full force.
“Yes, Brad, the three of us,” I clarify brusquely. “My sister-in-law, my son, and me. Dean, Jed’s husband, was my brother.”
The look on Brad’s face would be comical under any other circumstance. But not now, not when we’re so devastated by loss and trying to maintain a composure none of us truly feel in front of people who just don’t understand.
Including a man standing half a room away and likely drawing conclusions with his friends. I clench my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms.
Brad’s mind finally clears enough to reach out and tug me forward in what looks like an embrace to an observer. Stumbling, I