into my cup. “What the hell is the Crack?”
Kevin grins and wham! His—my—dimple pops out on the side. His voice is teasing when he says, “You can’t tell me you’ve never eaten at a Cracker Barrel. That’s just wrong. They’re like everywhere,” he emphasizes dramatically, before he yoinks another bite of my food.
I burst out laughing. “The Crack,” I murmur appreciatively. “Where did you get your sense of humor from, Kevin?”
He chews, takes a drink of soda, and then says, “I don’t know. Uncle Dean and Jed for sure. They were both funny. My friends are great too—Brooks especially.”
“What about your mom?”
“Yeah, but not as much as the others. Mom’s a mom, Jennings. I mean, she’s the one who tells me to do homework, cooks, does laundry, cleans—”
“And you don’t help with any of that?” God, by the time I was his age, I was out in the fields every morning helping feed the stock by 5:00 a.m. before I headed to class.
“Well, sure. But she wants me to focus on school, sports, and friends. She used to say I had plenty of time to grow up. Now, she doesn’t say it as much anymore.”
He puts his sandwich down and leans his forearms on the table. It’s a Jed posture to the extreme, and I’m so glad Kara hasn’t corrected it out of him when he asks, “There’s actually a reason I wanted to talk to you alone today.”
I feel the chicken-fried steak churn in my stomach. But calmly, I place the fork and knife to the side of my plate. “Okay. What’s up?”
He swallows hard before opening his mouth. His hand tentatively reaches for mine. I reach across the table and grab his. “Jennings, do you know…”
We’re interrupted by Meadow, who happens to be our waitress. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys? Kevin, I know there’s some freshly baked…”
“Not right now,” I bite out. Kevin’s arm slides away from mine. I can literally feel the loss as if the weight of his arm were physically being ripped from my skin. “That all. Thanks, Meadow,” I curtly dismiss our friend.
She nods and moves away. Turning my attention back to Kevin, his face is stark white. I reach back across the table, unashamed. “Kevin? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“This is impossible to talk about. It was a stupid idea.” He tries to brush it off.
“Nothing this important is stupid,” I say quietly, not letting go.
Kevin struggles in front of me before finally blurting out, “Winnie the Pooh.” Then he bites his lip so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to break the skin.
“What about Winnie the Pooh, son?” I prod him.
“There’s a quote from Winnie the Pooh that someone gave to me after Uncle Dean died. It’s ‘If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart. I’ll stay there forever.’” He struggles with his words, and I just wait patiently while he sorts them out in his head. “Uncle Dean was my dad,” he declares stoutly.
And as much as that statement causes a hurt deep inside that will never close up, I nod because I know it’s the truth.
“Am I letting him go, because I want to call you ‘Dad’ now?” And right in front of my eyes, the man slips away and I see the little boy who Dean Malone got to raise. I’m being given this terrible burden of childhood vulnerability because another man my son loved with his whole heart died in order to receive it.
What the hell do I say?
“Kevin,” I start out slowly, carefully choosing each word. “You’re not letting Dean go.” I can’t call him “Uncle” in this situation. To do so is a disservice to the role Dean played in my son’s life. “No matter where you go, he will be right there with you. Always,” I emphasize.
“Then how do I make room to love you too?”
“I…don’t know, son. I don’t know the answer to that.” I decide to take a page out of Kara’s book and not lie to him.
“I didn’t realize how much it was going to hurt, Dad—letting Uncle Dean go and letting you in.” My teeth clench with the need to cry over hearing my son say those words to me.
“Why?” I rasp. “Can you tell me that?”
He nods. When he lets go of my hand to reach for a napkin, I feel the loss like someone actually cut off a limb. Then my heart beats faster after he blows