Wyatt knew. Addie was taking it with her. He’d helped her find it and wrap it up just this morning.
“They had the formal wedding the next summer, once Gramps cooled off.”
“Wow.” DJ got up to refill his cup. Shaking his head, he turned his back on them, looking out the kitchen window over the yard. “There’s so much we’ll never know about her.” His sadness filled the room.
“Maybe.” Addie turned in her chair and met Wyatt’s gaze. He nodded and moved closer to their youngest brother. The man was a soldier to the rest of the world, but here, he was the little boy they’d all patched up a million times.
“We all have our secrets, Deej. It’s not a bad thing,” Addie said.
DJ met Wyatt’s gaze. The soldier was back and Wyatt immediately missed the boy. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Addie stood, too, dumping her cold coffee down the drain. “Mom had a wonderful life, and she gave us all an amazing home.”
Addie took her gaze from him and looked over her shoulder at the others. Finally, Addie’s composure fled. Her shoulders drooped and Wyatt did as he always did; he tried to fix things by pulling her into a reassuring hug.
“I only hope I can be as good of a mom if I have kids someday,” she said.
Silence, punctuated by only a few soft sniffles, filled the room. Finally, Addie moved away and Wyatt felt cast adrift. He vaguely wondered who’d been comforting whom. As he settled back in his seat, Addie reached into her purse and took out several folded sheets of paper. She slowly handed them out.
“Mom divided everything. Here are your lists. All we have to decide on is this.” She ran a loving hand along the edge of the huge, old table.
They each looked down at the chair they were sitting in. Not a single eye was dry. Wyatt found himself caressing the chair’s arms, just as their father used to do so long ago. Mandy turned and ran a finger over the curved wooden back.
“Can... Do we have to... I mean...” Tara hiccuped and her words faded. Silence reigned for an entire moment. Then pandemonium broke loose.
“I want it.”
“Me, too. But I don’t have room right now.”
“I can’t imagine being without it.”
Wyatt listened as their voices mingled and no one seemed to fully hear what the others said. Finally, he stood, an idea forming. He whistled to get their attention. “I know what we can do.”
“What?” Addie looked at him, hope and a bit of panic in her eyes.
“None of us needs this whole set or this huge table. Let’s each take our chair. I know it sounds silly, but it’s the one thing that will always remind us of Mom and Dad.”
Again, silence. Then they looked around and everyone nodded. “What about the table?” Addie asked.
“Let’s leave it with the house. It’s too monstrous to move, anyway.” The real estate agent was scheduled to come tomorrow and put it on the market. Maybe a new family would love it, as well.
Again, they all agreed—an unusual occurrence. After they’d taken their lists and made plans to move their things out of the house, the chairs were lined up in the front hall. No one wanted to leave them behind today.
Wyatt and Jason helped DJ find bungee cords in the garage to strap his chair on the big bike. Then they worked to fit Jason’s in the backseat of the Lexus.
Mandy looked odd driving away in the red convertible with the four legs of her chair sticking up in the air, but no less strange than Tara’s Jeep with her chair strapped in the back with the remaining bungee cords.
Addie had walked over, her house being only a few blocks away. Wyatt put her chair in the truck’s bed with his and gave her a ride home.
She climbed into the big truck, not bothering to look back. Wyatt glanced in the rearview mirror and then quickly away. “Goodbyes suck.” He reached out and squeezed her hand.
“The decision about the chairs was good. Thank you,” she whispered.
“Yeah.”
They drove in silence until they reached her equally small drive. She didn’t open the door right away, then just as she curled her fingers around the handle, she looked over at him. The sorrow in her eyes nearly broke his heart.
But for the first time since he’d learned he had a baby sister and took on the unspoken responsibility for her, there was nothing he could do to fix her hurt.
* * *
THREE MONTHS LATER, to the day, Wyatt sat in his truck again and stared at another empty house. This one was clapboard with narrow windows. On the front porch that ran downhill, a small boy sat on the uneven steps.
The boy looked as if he’d lost his best friend. Which—if he was who Wyatt thought he was—he probably had. The world the boy had always known was about to change, irreversibly. Forever. Wyatt swallowed the lump in his throat, dreading the role he had to play in this mess.
The boy rested his chin in the palm of his hand and smacked a stick against the sidewalk in an uneven beat. Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter he’d received nearly a week ago. The paper looked small and white against his suntanned hand, but what snagged his attention was the picture. Damn, the kid looked so much like DJ had at that age. It was spooky. He refolded the letter and slipped it back into his pocket.
He stared at the boy as his thoughts spun. How had this happened? How could DJ have had a child he’d never known about? And why the hell had the woman decided now to contact him? No answers came to Wyatt, which frustrated him even further.
It wasn’t the boy’s fault who his parents were, or how they’d behaved. But Wyatt knew he’d probably be the one to pay the heaviest price.
The hot Texas sun beat down on Wyatt’s shoulders as he climbed out of the truck. A warm wind slipped past, seemingly unnoticed by the glum boy.
The kid did, however, look up as Wyatt crossed the broken walk. The old metal gate creaked when he pushed it open. The boy’s eyes narrowed with distrust. “Who are you?” His words sounded more like an accusation than a question.
Wyatt stopped. “I’m your uncle, Wyatt Hawkins. You’re Tyler?” Silence. For a second Wyatt wasn’t sure if he’d get an answer.
“Tyler Easton, yes, sir,” the boy whispered, and continued smacking his stick on the sidewalk.
“Is your mother around?” The woman he’d talked to on the phone yesterday had assured him she’d be here. She had a lot to answer for.
The boy looked up again, and Wyatt swallowed the sucker punch that hit him. No child’s eyes should hold that much hurt.
“She left.”
“Left? When?”
“S’morning. Said someone from my dad’s family was comin’ and I was s’posed to go with ’em. Is that you?”
Wyatt didn’t know how to answer. He pulled the paper out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it. “I suppose I am.”
“I was ’fraid so.” The boy looked back at the ground, slowly drawing circles with the stick.
Wyatt read the letter again. How did you tell a child that his mother didn’t want him anymore? That she’d waited until his dad, a man he’d never met, shipped overseas? A man who couldn’t speak for himself from a thousand miles away.
Men didn’t deny their flesh and blood. Wyatt and DJ might have their differences, but at the core, he knew DJ took his responsibilities seriously. His brother would claim the boy, but until he could, Wyatt was all he had.
“You ready to go?” He didn’t think twice about his role in this boy’s life. Responsibility