“He's your father too, Kerry. You can't blame him forever.”

“I don't blame him. I just don't want to see him. Tell Laura not to touch that paintbrush. Together we'll get that gazebo in shape.” She hung up and drew a deep breath. Jason never let an opportunity go by to attempt to bring her father and her together. He didn't understand. She had told him the truth: She didn't blame her father, but contact brought back the pain and disturbed the balance that she'd fought so hard to establish. She couldn't permit that to happen.

“Can we take Sam, Kerry?”

She turned to see Gary, Charlie's ten-year-old son, coming down the stairs. He was dressed in a blue suit and tie and his face looked pinched and pale. Poor kid. He had held on tight to his composure after the first night of tears, but this was going to be a rough day for him.

A rough day for all of them.

“I don't think they like dogs to go to funerals, Gary,” she said gently. “And Sam isn't always well behaved.”

“Dad wouldn't care.” Gary swallowed hard. “He liked Sam. He used to complain, but Sam made him laugh. I think Kim would like to have him there. She's only six and she's kind of—Sam sort of makes it easier for her.”

And it made things easier for Gary too. Touching a warm and loving animal was always a comfort to children. “I'll ask your mother if I can drive back here and pick him up when we leave the chapel for the cemetery. But you and Kim will have to make sure he doesn't cause a disturbance. Do you promise?”

Gary nodded. “He'll be good. He's smart. He'll know that Dad is—” His eyes filled with tears and he hurried past her out the front door. “Kim will be glad that Sam is coming. She's only a kid. . . .”

Kerry's eyes were also stinging as she followed him out onto the porch. Gary was only a kid too. Two great kids who had lost their father and would have to grow up without the warm, tough man who had been Charlie—

Forget the future. Right now it was her job to help get Edna and the kids through this nightmare of a day.

Good-bye, Charlie.

Kerry tossed the rose she'd been given on top of the casket and stepped back.

Little Kim and Gary were clutching their mother's hands, tears running down their faces as they placed their roses on the coffin. Kim reached down and clutched the fur on Sam's neck. Thank God, the dog was behaving himself, Kerry thought. She was glad the burial was almost over. She couldn't have taken much more without breaking down. She tore her gaze from the coffin. Don't look at it. Think of Charlie the way she had known him. It was better to—

She stiffened.

There was someone standing in the shadow of the giant oak a good distance from the grave site. He was half behind the tree and his attitude was . . . surreptitious.

Imagination. Everyone had loved Charlie and he had no secrets. Why would someone think it necessary to hide behind a tree to keep anyone from knowing he was watching Charlie's interment? Yet she was sure that—

He was gone. First he was there and then he had slipped away into the shrubbery.

“Can I ride back to the house with you and Sam?” Gary was standing beside her.

She nodded. “If your mother doesn't mind.”

“I already asked her.” Gary slipped his hand into hers. “She and Aunt Donna have enough to do taking care of Kim. She won't miss me.”

“She will miss you. She needs both you and Kim. You have to take care of one another now.”

He nodded. “I'll take care of her.” His hand tightened on Kerry's. “I'll do everything my daddy would want me to do. But not today. Okay?”

She nodded slowly. She had been as guilty as Edna for not being aware of Gary's needs. He had to come to terms with his own grief, and the overpowering sympathy with which he'd been surrounded was keeping him from doing it. “Plenty of time. No one's hurrying you. Go get Sam and we'll get out of here.”

She watched him hurry back to his mother before shifting her gaze back to the oak tree.

No one.

Why was it bothering her? There didn't have to be a reasonable explanation. It could be someone who worked for the cemetery, who didn't wish to intrude. Or it could be some sicko who hung out at graveyards to get some kind of macabre thrill.

Silver.

It was possible. She hadn't gotten a clear look at the man. She'd only had an impression of height and tension and a glimpse of a navy windbreaker and baseball cap.

But she couldn't imagine Silver skulking behind a tree. He was too impatient, too bold. But what the hell? Everything connected to Silver was guesswork, and she'd deliberately blocked all thought of him since he'd left her house three days ago.

But that hadn't stopped him from being the first man who sprang to mind when she had that moment of uneasiness.

Because there was no one who made her more uneasy than Brad Silver.

“Let's go, Kerry.” Gary was back, leading Sam. “Everybody's leaving.” He glanced at the grave and whispered, “But we're not really leaving him, are we? Mom says he'll always be with us.”

“Mom's right.” She took his hand and started down the path. “As long as we keep the memory alive. Did I ever tell you about the first day I met your dad? He was mad as the devil because I'd been sent to replace one of his buddies, who'd been transferred to—”

3

Stay away from here.” Kerry frowned sternly over her shoulder at Laura. “You brought me here to paint this blasted gazebo because the fumes made you sick. Now I can't keep you away from it.”

Laura handed her a glass of lemonade. “I just thought you might be thirsty.” She stared critically at the wood banister Kerry was painting. “And to tell you I think you should—”

“Laura.”

“Okay. Sorry,” Laura said guiltily. “Jason told me not to harass you. But I didn't think a few words of advice were harassing. After all, you're a sensible woman who—”

“Likes to do things my own way.” Kerry smiled. “Get back to the house before you throw up. Now, that I'd consider true harassment.”

“I'm fine.” Laura wrinkled her nose. “I had crackers before I came out to give you the benefit of my advice. They always help settle my stomach. Besides, I was lonesome. You insisted on coming out here and working right away. You could have been sociable and let me tell you how Pete is mistreating me.” She patted her round stomach. “Kicks me all night long.”

“You asked for it.”

“You bet I did.” Laura's radiant smile lit her round, freckled face. “For three years. Asked. Prayed. Took every hormone pill under the sun.”

“I know you did.” Kerry's eyes twinkled. “Gee, and all just to make me an aunt. I really appreciate it.”

“There's Jason's car in the driveway.” Laura sprinted toward the house, then yelled over her shoulder, “He's back early. I called him and told him you'd driven down this morning.”

Kerry smiled affectionately as she heard the screen door slam and Laura calling to Jason as she ran through the house. Even eight months pregnant, Laura was like a whirlwind. A warm, sunny whirlwind . . .

If such a phenomenon existed. But then, Laura was a law unto herself. She'd always been—

“I hear you're ruining my wife's gazebo.” Jason was coming out on the back porch. “She wants me to take you in hand.”

“For God's sake, you know nothing about painting, Jason.” She dipped her brush back in the can. “And Laura knows it.”

He came toward her. “Where's Sam?”

“I left him with Edna's kids. They needed him. Now, get out of that fancy business suit and help me with this painting. I'm having a devil of a time with your wife. She keeps coming out and critiquing.”

“It annoys her that she can't do it all herself. Sorry I wasn't home when you got here. I had business in Valdosta.”