V in his brow. “You know. You can take the time to think about all your questions if you want,” I offer.
“I want to know as much as you’re willing to tell me,” his says gruffly.
I release his body but not his hand. “I met John Jennings when he and Uncle Jed were visiting Uncle Jed’s family. They were Lumberjacks down in Ketchikan—”
“They worked for a lumbering company?” he interrupts.
“No, Kevin.” A small smile breaks out across my face because although Kevin understands I knew Maris and Jed from working in Alaska once upon a time, this part was never made quite clear. Suddenly, I’m oh so glad I’m the one who gets to be the one who explains it. Uncapping the bottle of water, I take a drink before handing it over. Kevin had just taken a large guzzle when I deadpan, “They were star athletes in the world champion Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show.”
Kevin’s water flies out of his mouth. “Jesus, Mom. You timed that.”
I smirk. “Of course I did, honey. Payback’s tough to swallow. Literally.”
“What does a ‘Lumberjack’ actually do?” he demands.
“Oh, honey.” I smooth a lock of overlong hair away from his face. “I feel like that’s a question you should ask your father. But for the love of all things, please ask it while I’m sitting there. And if you have a care for Maris, do it while she’s around as well.”
Our eyes collide and we both laugh before Kevin says, “You got it. By the way, you know who would have appreciated your little revenge?”
And together we say, “Uncle Dean.”
Kevin’s burst of happiness crumbles like the therapist warned me it would. “I miss him so much, Mom.”
My hand smooths up and down over my son’s back. “Of course you do. But you know what your therapist said?”
“Not talking about them isn’t honoring them,” he quotes. “I know. I just get this funny feeling when I do.”
“Grief?”
“No, it’s like I expect them to come drop down on either side of me. Then the pain comes back so fast, it’s like I can’t breathe.” He shakes his head. “Honesty, Mom?”
“Always.”
“I’d begun to think about asking you about my father before this happened,” he admits. I wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. He’s growing up to be a man; of course he’d want to know about the one who helped make him. “One of the guys at Scouts was asking why Uncle Dean always came with me. Now, it feels like I’m betraying him—Uncle Dean, that is—to be talking about this John Jennings guy when in so many ways, Uncle Dean was my dad. Does that make sense?”
“More than you can possibly know,” I assure him. “But you know what Dean would have said?”
Kevin shakes his head.
“It’s the same thing he said to me.” Closing my eyes, I can picture my brother holding Kevin on his lap. “Know I’ll always be behind you, but take a chance on what could be in front of you.”
Kevin nods. “Were you scared?”
Realizing Kevin’s switched topics as he’s wont to do, I follow along easily. “About having you?
“Yes.”
“Oh, yeah.” Drawing my knees up, I rest my arms on them as I recount a truthful, but edited, version of my summer in Alaska. How I met Jennings, how I fell in love, and how I left to go home. “I flew home, scared. I had to go. And, Kevin? I needed to tell your grandparents…”
“For all that helped,” Kevin mutters.
I cede his bitterness without comment. Ignoring the slight, I continue. “Uncle Dean and I had you, sweetheart. We didn’t need that toxicity in our lives.”
“That’s the truth.”
This is where it gets sticky. “But it left scars on me, sweetie.”
“What do you mean?” His hand reaches for mine.
“For years, I contacted Jennings to tell him about you through an old email account. Eventually, I stopped trying.”
“Why?”
“Because I had to move on, Kevin. I needed to focus on you in our then.” I take a huge breath. “And then Uncle Jed came to visit one day. Dean came to pick me up, and I swear to God, it was love at first sight.” I remember the chill that chased through me when they met.
Kevin picks up a rock and throws it. “When you saw Uncle Jed again, why didn’t you ask him to call him?”
A good question and one I was expecting. I try to explain it as best as I can. “Imagine if Brooks,” I say, naming Kevin’s best friend, “did