lips shut, splitting Kendall’s heart in two. “But we can still take a walk with Nana,” she tried. “Or maybe we can go to Nana and Papa’s and see Zoe.” Kendall looked to her mom for help.
“You know how much Zoe loves it when you come over to play. What do you say? Let’s go, huh?” She held out her hand, but Simon didn’t take it. Instead, he pulled out of his mother’s grasp and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him.
Kendall was grateful she was on her knees because her legs most certainly would have given out if she’d been standing. Her mother wrapped her arms around her.
“Why does this have to be so hard? When is it going to get easier? Isn’t it supposed to get easier?” Kendall cried on her mother’s shoulder.
“The Lord never gives us more than we can handle. You have to believe you’re strong enough to get through this.”
“I don’t feel very strong. I feel tired, Mom. I’m so tired.”
The two women clung to one another. Kendall’s mom stroked her daughter’s long chestnut hair. “Lean on me, honey. Lean on your father, your sisters. That’s why you moved back, so we could be here for you.”
Kendall and Trevor had met in Chicago, but his military career took them away soon after they married. After he died, Kendall returned, needing to come home so Simon would be surrounded by family. Her parents and both of her sisters were in the city, and Trevor’s parents were less than an hour away in the northern suburbs.
She loved her two sisters and they had been nothing but helpful, picking up Simon from school when their mother couldn’t, stocking her pantry with food when she didn’t have time to run to the grocery store, offering to listen when she needed to talk. Kendall didn’t take advantage. She had always been the quiet one and hated to burden people with her problems. She tended to bury them instead.
“I’m sorry for falling apart. I hate whining.” Kendall let go and ran her hands over her face until the only sign she’d been crying was her red eyes. No one’s life was easy, and people like her mother knew the true meaning of being tired. In remission for five years this winter, her mom had endured a double mastectomy and a year of chemotherapy. She still wore her gray hair short and spiky, never letting it get as long as it had been before she was sick.
Maureen held her daughter’s chin gently but firmly enough that she had to maintain eye contact. “You have a right to your feelings, Kendall Marie. Never apologize to me for crying. Or whining, which, by the way, wasn’t what you were doing.” Kendall nodded, and her mother continued. “We’re going to get through this together. Stop thinking you’re alone.”
She did feel alone. She’d felt alone for much longer than anyone knew, really.
“You want me to bring Zoe over here after I take her to the groomer? Maybe Simon will perk back up if he can play with the dog.”
If only it was that easy. Kendall feared just how far today was going to set him back. “He needs time to process what he thought he saw. I’m just going to leave him alone for a little bit.” She wrapped her mom up in another hug, this one full of appreciation. “Thank you, though.”
“Call me tomorrow,” her mom said as she squeezed Kendall a little tighter.
As soon as the door closed behind her mother, the phone rang. Kendall was relieved that she didn’t have to experience the silence she knew was waiting to greet her until she looked at the caller ID. Trevor’s father never called when he was anything other than miserable. Kendall almost wished for the quiet.
With a deep breath, she pushed the talk button on the phone. “Hi, Paul.”
“Oh good! You’re home. I planned to leave a message since Simon is usually being shuffled all over the city because of your schedule.”
In the year since Trevor died, his father had gone from the man who believed his son could do no wrong to the depressed and delusional man who believed that his daughter-in-law could do no right now that his son was dead. Paul once had the audacity to suggest Simon’s selective mutism was related to Kendall’s “selfish need to work.” His wife, Nancy, had been a stay-at-home mother and, according to Paul, that was the reason Trevor turned out the way he did.
However, unlike Paul, Trevor hadn’t made millions of dollars for Kendall and Simon to live off for the rest of their lives. Military pensions and dependent compensation weren’t nearly enough to pay off the debts Trevor had left behind or provide the life Kendall wanted for Simon. Taking the leap and partnering up with Owen had definitely provided her with a much-needed artistic outlet, but it was far from a selfish decision.
“I’m working from home this afternoon.” It was a small lie. Kendall planned on doing some work. Plus, telling Paul that Simon had to leave school would only lead to some condescending comments for which Kendall had no patience today. “What’s up?” she asked, keeping her voice light and upbeat.
Paul was the complete opposite of light and upbeat. She could hear the clinking of ice in an empty glass. “Can I talk to Simon? I really need to talk to my boy.”
“Oh...I’m sorry. He crashed after school. Fell asleep watching some TV. Long day and all.” This was a bigger lie than the last. And part of her felt terrible about it. The man had lost his wife and his son within a year of each other. He was lonely. On the other hand, Kendall felt justified. Without Trevor to dote on, Paul had become bitter and fixated on Simon. The little boy represented everything he’d lost when Trevor died, and Paul was bound and determined to hold on to him with both hands.
Simon, however, found his grandfather a little overwhelming. So much so that he never spoke around him and begged his mother not to leave them alone. He told Kendall that Grandpa Montgomery only wanted to talk about his dad and it made him too sad.
“Well, go wake him up,” Paul said. “It’s not good for him to sleep in the afternoon at his age. You won’t be able to get him to bed tonight, and then you’ll wonder why you have trouble getting him up in the morning. This is half your problem, Kendall. Trevor would have made sure Simon kept a consistent routine. Children need a consistent routine.”
Apparently a lecture was unavoidable. Kendall plucked a pencil from the holder by the phone and began doodling on a notepad while her father-in-law enlightened her for the hundredth time about the way to perfectly parent a boy. This was something Paul didn’t feel Kendall’s parents could properly teach her because they only had daughters. Raising sons was not the same as raising daughters, said the man who had one son and no daughters.
“Trevor was such a good boy when he was Simon’s age. That’s what proper parenting accomplishes. When you’re in charge—more importantly, when you’re present—boys respond. Of course, a boy needs a father. I always said that.” Paul’s voice began to crack. Whatever he was drinking was only making him weepy. “It’s so unfair. Poor Simon had the best role model a child could ask for. And now...now he has no one.”
Kendall shaded in the fire she had drawn coming from a dragon’s mouth. Talking to Paul used to make her cry. Now she only felt exhausted. She knew what her father-in-law wanted to hear.
“Trevor was an amazing father and husband,” Kendall said. It was the truth.
Mostly.
“He was, wasn’t he? He really was.” He said before blowing his nose loudly. “And a hero, too.”
Kendall crumpled up the sheet of paper into a ball and tossed it into the garbage. “Maybe Simon and I can drive out to Lake Forest this weekend. Are you going to be home Sunday night?” She was going to regret this later.
Trevor’s father was a partner at one of the bigger investment banking firms in the city. When she first met them, Kendall thought the Montgomerys had more money than anyone she’d ever known. Trevor’s mother had had a closet full of designer clothes and another one just for her shoes and purses. Besides the mansion in Lake Forest, they had a summer house in Michigan and a winter home in Naples. There