Rex stared at the young man in front of us.
“Our brother?”
Nobody moved for several seconds.
Rowan lowered his eyes.
“I didn’t come here to take anything from you.”
Riley stepped closer, visibly restraining himself from immediately throwing his arms around him.
“You’re not taking anything.”
Rowan’s jaw trembled.
“I spent my whole life thinking I was the one nobody could keep.”
“No,” I said. “That was never true.”
Mom began crying.
“You were falling apart, Dawn. Two babies at home, bills, machines, no sleep. I arranged the funeral because you couldn’t look at the tiny coffin.”
My stomach turned.
“You told me not to,” I said.
“I wanted you to remember him happy. Not like that.”
“You put his framed baby picture on a sealed coffin and said Rowan was too fragile to view. But it was empty.”
“I was protecting you.”
“No. You were hiding what you’d done.”
Watson wiped his face.
“We buried an empty box because you decided grief was easier to manage than truth.”
Mom looked toward Rowan.
“I found you a good home. Parents who loved you before they met you. They had money. They could focus just on you.”
Rowan recoiled slightly.
“You told them I wasn’t wanted. You told them that my parents had given me up because they didn’t want another mouth to feed.”
“I said your mother couldn’t raise you.”
“I could have,” I said. “Tired mothers are still mothers.”
Riley stared at her.
“Grandma, did you know he was alive this whole time?”
She didn’t respond.
When she reached toward Rex, he moved away.
“Don’t.”
“Rex, honey.”
“No. You don’t get to touch us right now.”
I pointed toward the side gate.
“Leave.”
“Dawn, please.”
“All contact goes through a lawyer.”
Her eyes widened.
“You’re cutting me off from my family?”
“No,” I said. “You did that eighteen years ago.”
After she left, Rowan remained close to the porch steps.
Riley glanced toward him.
“Do you like chocolate cake?”
Rowan gave a small, unsteady laugh.
“I don’t know. I usually had vanilla.”
Rex wiped his eyes.
“That’s tragic. We’ll fix that first.”
I carried the cake outside and lit three small candles.
One for each of my sons.
Watson whispered, “Make a wish.”
I looked at Riley, Rex, and Rowan.
Nothing was repaired yet.
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