side of the story. Then I’ll be bold enough to ask for a few more days of your patience while I speak to my son.”
“Our son,” I correct her, unable to hold back.
Her head turns in my direction. She acknowledges, “Yes, Jennings. Our son.”
My breath hitches. Kara scuffs the grass near the recently overturned earth with the toe of her boot back and forth, over and over, while we stand in silence in the brisk morning air. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I because she said she needs to start. Well, frankly, I need her to as well.
When she does, her voice drags me away from the cars driving over the nearby Juneau-Douglas Bridge. “Meeting you when you came home with Jed that weekend? Our connection? Those months we spent together were like nothing I’d ever experienced before in my life, and not because they gave me my son.” She studies my face, and her mouth twists. “I certainly don’t expect you to reciprocate that emotion.”
I nod, unable to speak. I was twenty-one to her twenty-three the summer we were together. Over the last few days, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to remember everything about Kara’s and my time together. Little bits and pieces are starting to come back as she stands before me. Beyond that, the biggest things I remember are how incredibly smart she was and how much we burned up the sheets when we were alone. Maybe that’s because I can’t get beyond the idea we made a child long enough to remember much else.
But her next words chase all thought from my mind.
“I flew home not long after I found out I was carrying Kevin.” All of her movement stills as those words settle between us.
I swallow, remembering words to that effect from Jed’s letter. “Okay.”
Bracing her feet apart, she lifts her chin to stare directly into my eyes. “To say things went poorly is probably an understatement. I learned very quickly how to stand on my own two feet.”
“What did you do?” I ask.
“Not much at first,” she admits wryly. I feel my lips curve slightly at the self-deprecating tone. “If it weren’t for Dean…” Her words drift off into the air as pain rushes back into her voice. “God, I hate why we’re here.” Turning, she paces back and forth.
“Why did you wait to tell me?” I ask the question without preamble. I might draw her anger, but anything is better than witnessing her agony.
“I did try to tell you. I tried calling you before I left Alaska, and then I tried to email you.”
“What email did you use?” Kara rattles it off, and I wince upon hearing my old internet email address I use when I want access to an internet public login or need a food coupon.
“I take it you don’t check it often?” she concludes.
“How do you know I check it at all?” I ask perversely because I have to be angry at something, and right now, that’s Kara.
“I knew people from school. Back when Kevin was young, I asked them to see if it was a valid address. They did a bit of research on your email address—where it had been accessed from. The problem was it’s been accessed from so many places, all of whom have a John Jennings, I couldn’t just pick up the phone and dial 1-800-You-Got-Baby,” she snaps before resuming her more placid demeanor. I don’t say anything, but just wait.
“I think when I was pregnant was the most nerve-racking. I had no idea what to expect. Maris and Dean were my lifelines. Maris was also sworn to absolute secrecy. She couldn’t tell Jed because I knew that would mean you would be told.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I snap, letting the leash on my anger slip.
Kara holds my gaze evenly. “I wasn’t exactly logical then, Jennings. Back then, I wasn’t bringing a single person into my son’s life who I didn’t trust wholeheartedly, who didn’t want to be there. Right or wrong, it was the decision I made and back then, the support I—we—needed was absolute. And I did keep trying, Jennings. Even after I made that decision.” Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulls out a folded stack of papers. I’m startled by how thick it is. She pushes the papers toward me when I hesitate. “Go ahead. I tried for months to reach you before I ever gave birth.”
Taking them, I scan the first one. My heart cracks when I see the