“For now, Maris,” he tells her gently. “There will be papers…”
“But not today?” Her voice breaks on the last word. Nick tenses next to me.
“No, not today,” the lawyer concurs.
Maris barely acknowledges the lawyer with a nod before dashing from the room.
“I apologize…” Mr. Isler starts.
“Save it,” Nick snaps. Shoving to his feet, he quickly makes his way toward the door, shoving the box in his suit pocket.
“It’s not that we don’t appreciate everything your firm has done.” Ever the negotiator among us, Brad stands and holds out his hand. “It’s just been a trying day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Isler shakes Brad’s hand before moving down around the table. Reaching me, he gives a quick shake of his head. “I hope you find what’s in those envelopes valuable, Mr. Jennings. When I sat down with Mr. Smith—sorry. Mr. Malone. Since Jed never changed his name legally, it’s difficult to think of him that way.”
I grunt, not caring how he refers to my lost friend. Isler continues. “When Mr. Malone sat down to develop his will, he and Ms. Malone had a disagreement over the phone whether you would find it so.”
“Did they?” That tidbit of information is like losing Jed all over again.
The lawyer emits a low noise. “It was intriguing to listen to them debate the issue. Ms. Malone was skeptical you’d appreciate the gift.”
My brows raise, but I don’t reply.
After offering his final condolences and leaving us alone in the room, Brad, Kody, and I are left standing there. Kody asks, “What did the letter say?”
I let out a slow burst of air. “That if I wasn’t so stubborn, I’d have known about my son a long time ago. But that Kara’s committed to staying with Kevin for the summer for him to get to know me.”
“Holy shit; he is yours?” Kody breathes. I nod.
“I don’t know what to say,” Brad admits.
“I…I need some time alone to read this.” I hold the other envelope aloft. “Then…”
“Then?” Kody asks.
“Then I think it’s long past time to contact Kara.” My head twisting to the window, I see an SUV roar out of the parking lot. Nick’s standing outside, hands on his hips. “And I have a fairly good idea where to start.”
Jennings
The ability to fly has long provided me with an unparalleled sense of freedom I’ve extended into all areas of my life. Beyond the brotherhood with the men I worked with summer after summer, I never gave a damn about anyone or anything other than growing my wings.
But at what cost?
The fondest memories I have about growing up on the farm were riding a tractor and hearing the whoosh of a jet fly overhead. I dreamed of a day where nothing would hold me hostage to a place where I didn’t want to be, so when I inherited that farm, I used it to fund my purchase of Northern Star Flights about eight years ago.
I first came to Alaska because I heard it was possible to make more money than I’d ever dreamed of in comparison to working on the damn farm. I fell into my job working at the Lumberjack Show for a great wage and tips making close to four times what I would have back home. When I found out it was possible to work on my dreams simultaneously with the limitless sky, nothing held me back from returning summer after summer. Then, that final summer, I met Kara. I fell into a lazy kind of infatuation with her. It was impossible not to after I got to know the real heart that beat beneath the brilliant mind. Days off became about touching her smooth skin, watching her eyes glow as I made her body burn under the cool air.
And then, she began to mean more. And that terrified me.
The future wasn’t thoughts of blue skies, but amber crystals. So, I ended us because nothing was going to hold me back. I couldn’t be tied down, physically or emotionally, to feeling trapped again. The idea of flight was the only thing that ever gave me hope freedom existed.
Kara being out of my life would ease the ache of not having her, I told myself back then. After all, flying was supposed to be my everything. It wasn’t supposed to be a woman, unless that woman vibrated beneath me with at least 160 horsepower. Flying was supposed to fill all the holes left inside of me. It was supposed to take me beyond feelings and pain and doubt.
Clutching Jed’s letter, I admit to myself it failed.
“Did he know?” I whisper aloud.
“Know what, buddy?” Brad asks. We’re all back at the B&B huddled around the fireplace.
“That if I knew about my son, I’d have given it all up? I never would have left him the way—”
“The way your parents left you?” Kody finishes grimly.
“Yeah.” I tip my head back against the chair. My mother got tired of being, well, a mother. And my father got tired of trying to raise a son alone, so he dumped me at his sister’s—whose best was slightly above marginal when it came to feelings. “And yet, I ended up doing exactly that to Kara.” Guilt overwhelms me, and I still haven’t opened the other envelope.
Nick speaks up. “Did you, Jennings? You didn’t know.”
We’re sitting around the fire after having changed into warm sweaters and jeans. I’m trying to work up enough courage to go find a private space to read Jed’s final words to me because I’m afraid of what they’re going to say. The envelope on my lap has some weight to it.
“No,” I agree. “But would that ease your feelings of guilt if you were the ones holding these?” I hold up the letters.
Brad looks away, unable to agree. Kody shakes his head. Nick just remains silent and stoic as always. I go on. “If what Jed said in his first letter is right, Kara has irrefutable proof she tried to reach out to me. I have nothing to be angry about, and yet a part of me…”
It’s Brad who finishes my thought. “Is.”
I nod. “I am. I missed out on everything.”
“That sounds like you’re hurt,” Kody pipes in.
“I’m that too,” I acknowledge.
“Then maybe it’s time for you to go read what’s in there,” he suggests.
Sighing, I drag my legs from the ottoman they’d been resting on. “I guess it is.” I head toward the door, stopping only when Kody calls out, “Where are you going?”
“Outside. I need to be as close to the sky as I can be right now.” Without another word, I head toward the back door where I can read Jed’s last words to me.
The spring air whips through my hair and sends a chill through me. “Should have grabbed my coat,” I mutter to myself. Dropping down onto a bench, heart pounding, I slip my finger beneath the envelope’s seal and pull out a folder. Flipping it open, there’s a letter on top. It’s dated a little less than two years earlier.
Jennings,
It’s late as I write this. Dean went to bed long ago. We’re all exhausted. He and I are in Alaska. Since the bar is here, I wanted an Alaskan firm to represent my estate in the event something ever happens. So, he’s already irritated we’re discussing these sort of things so early into our marriage. But I have to take care of Maris, and now Dean.
All day, Dean and I have been at the lawyer’s office. And we had to call Kara over the one thing I wanted to add to my will. The battle she and I had while I was standing in front of Isler was explosive.
Heads up in case you forgot — that woman has a temper. Don’t take it lightly.
But I won for you. At least I hope you look at it that way. I received Kara’s agreement to tell you about Kevin under certain circumstances: if he was terminally ill and needed medical assistance, if Kara decided to re-marry and that individual wanted to adopt Kevin, if I died (so I could tell you my part of the story), or Kevin asked for the name of his birth father, specifically, so he could find him.
If you’re reading this letter, well, you know what happened. My attorney has had strict instructions on what to do in the event I passed — who to contact and all that bullshit. But if you found out before I passed, I think I was going to give you an antique ai
rplane propeller that’s in Dean’s and my home in Florida. If you’re not a dick to Kara, maybe she’ll be nice and still give it to you.
I chuckle a little even as I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “It’s like I can hear you right next to me, Jed,” I whisper into the cold air. I keep reading.
Maris knew from the moment Kara found out she was pregnant, though she didn’t tell me. I met Dean through Kara on my vacation to Florida. Falling for him wasn’t in my plans. But while meeting Kevin was a joy, it was the biggest shock of my life. Remember, all of this was just a few years ago. I’m still not entirely clear on what happened to Kara specifically, but I know their parents are no longer in their lives. It’s a very sore subject for both of them. And when Kara left Alaska, she and Dean moved in together.
I breezed into town to look at some real estate for a winter bar and met up with Kara. I ended up buying the place and met her brother. Honestly, it was love at first sight. I’m in awe when I think about how a vacation, falling in love with a place, and deciding to stay can change your life. But I won’t say it wasn’t a shock for us all.
Family hasn’t been good for her, Jennings. Think about that when you talk with Kara. She came to Alaska and the world changed for her, not all of it in a good way.
I refuse to tell you anything about what I know versus what I lived. That’s Kara’s story to share when she’s ready. I’ll just say she’s a strong woman, Jennings. Decisions were made, right or wrong. I understand her reasoning, I feel your pain.
So many times over the years I’ve been torn between the brotherhood I had with all of you and the love I fell into with Dean.
I apologize, Jennings. Kara was never one to trust easily, but now? There’s few people she has absolute faith in.
My own temper’s flaring a bit because I wish you had just come visit. I wish you had checked your junk mail once over the last thirteen years, but there are too many maybes. Maybe I could have broken a promise to the man I love…no, I couldn’t do that.
This is one secret I had to keep, as much as it burned my soul day after day.
I wish there was something else I could have done to have cleared the way for you. I know you, brother. I knew how you would feel if you truly knew.
Hence our agreement.
You have a single chance at the greatest gift a man could ever have — fatherhood.
Fuck, it kills me that you’re reading this and I can’t tell you this to your face. I can’t wait for you to find out how much your son is like you without having ever met you. Kevin’s been a comfort to me living so far away because I feel like I have a piece of you with me every day.
Then again, I do: your son.
I hope in time you can forgive me, my friend. As the Alaskan rain and the Florida sun lifts me to my reward, I would like to think you already have. But I suspect it will take getting to know the best part of you that will ease the resentment inside you for that to occur. That’s okay. I understand.
I love you, brother. Always.
Jed.
PS Here are some of my favorite pictures of Kevin since I’ve known him. I’m in some, you’ll see Kara and Dean in some others. Meet my family, brother. And do me a favor? Take care of them for me. I know you can do it.
I have to set the folder aside. “Jesus, Jed,” I croak out. Pressing the heels of my hands against my burning, wet cheeks, I breathe in the evening air. Inhale, exhale, over and over until I can get myself under control.
Regaining my composure, I scrub my hands against my jeans before I pick the folder up again to flip through the small stack of 5x7s Jed included. A picture of Kevin kicking around a soccer ball with a man who looks so much like Kara, he must be Dean. Another one of Jed and my son fishing out on Jed’s boat in the middle of the ocean. One of the small family out to dinner on Kevin’s—I count the candles—thirteenth birthday. There’s one of Kevin in the swimming pool with Dean during what must be another birthday party. In this one, Kara’s off to the side laughing as they’re both splashing water at her.
And finally, there’s a copy of all of them two years ago when Jed and Dean got married. Jed and Dean are dressed in matching blue shirts and rolled-up khakis. They look calm and happy. Jed’s arm is wrapped around Maris, Dean’s around Kara. And the women each have their hands on Kevin’s shoulder, who’s wearing a miniature version of his uncle’s attire.
Without thinking, I pull out my phone and find Jed’s contact. It hurts when I press Jed Home Alaska knowing he won’t answer. One ring. Two, before Maris picks up. “Hello?”
“Hi. It’s Jennings. Is Kara there?”
Silence before Maris hisses, “Do you think today’s the right time for this?”
Wearily, I scrub my hand over my face. “I just want to talk with her, Maris. That’s all.”
“Hold on.” I can’t hear anything, so I assume Maris put me on mute. A few moments pass before I hear a shaken “Hello?”
A tingle of awareness travels up my spine hearing her voice for the first time in over fifteen years. “Hello, Kara. It’s Jennings. Do you think maybe we should talk?”
I hear her breath catch. After she releases it, she cautiously says, “Not tonight. I need to keep an eye on my son.”
As much as I want to burst out with “our son,” I rein that in. “All right. Do you need a few days?”
“Can you meet me at Jed’s gravesite Wednesday at ten?” That’s three days away but not unreasonable.
“Of course.” I’m stunned and thrilled simultaneously at her capitulation.
“I’ll see you then.” I’m still holding my phone to my ear as she disconnects.
Jennings
At Jed’s gravesite Wednesday, I’m unable to comprehend the magnitude of the way my life has changed. I’ve lost a friend who I thought I knew better than just about anyone, but I gained a son I knew not at all.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Jed?” I whisper achingly.
“Because I refused to let him.” I whirl around when I hear Kara’s voice behind me. Dressed in jeans, boots, and a shirt, she barely looks older than the girl I knew all those years ago. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” she says quietly. “It may seem unconventional, but I didn’t want Kevin to overhear everything I need to say.”
“Or anything I might want to,” I reply.
She acknowledges my words with a slight tip of her head. “In a thousand years, I never would have predicted things to have occurred this way. I hope you appreciate that.” Her chest heaves up and down. “The last few weeks have been incredibly difficult. I’ll ask for your patience while I explain my 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 r
emember 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.”
Return by Air (Glacier Adventure Series Book 1) Page 6