As Kieran Fortune Robinson stood with the other mourners at the Oakdale Cemetery, the Texas sky was a stunning shade of blue, the sun was bright and a cluster of birds sang from their perch in the nearby magnolia tree. But the spring day was dismal, the mood somber.
Three weeks ago, Zach Lawson had been thrown from a horse and suffered a skull fracture. As soon as Kieran had gotten word of the tragic accident, he’d rushed to the hospital to visit his best friend and to offer his support to Zach’s parents.
“Only family is allowed to visit patients in the ICU,” a nurse had said.
Zach’s father had slipped an arm around Kieran and clutched him with a firm grip. “This is my second son.”
In a way, that claim had been true. Sam and Sandra Lawson had treated Kieran as a family member ever since Zach had brought him home to visit during their first winter break at college. A born and bred city boy, Kieran had actually enjoyed the time he’d spent at the Leaning L, even though his busy schedule hadn’t allowed for as many visits as he might have liked.
Oddly enough, he and Zach hadn’t had much in common, other than a quick wit, a love of sports and a competitive spirit. They’d met on the football field their first semester at Texas A&M and had become fast friends. Other than that, they were as different as a cowboy and a techie could be.
Zach had been an only child, while Kieran had seven brothers and sisters, although that number seemed to be constantly growing, thanks to his dad’s years of philandering and the illegitimate half siblings who’d increased their ranks.
And there lay their biggest difference of all—the men who’d fathered them. Sam Lawson was a rancher of modest means who owned a small spread outside Austin. On the other hand, Gerald Robinson, a quirky tech mogul who’d once been known as Jerome Fortune, had built a computer company into a billion-dollar corporation.
After graduation, Kieran had become a computer analyst and eventually the vice president of Robinson Tech. On the outside, it might appear that he’d done his family proud, and in a sense he probably had. But to this day, he felt a lot closer to Zach’s parents than he did his own. And that was why Sam’s announcement to the hospital staff that Kieran was his second son had touched his heart in a warm and unexpected way.
But nothing had prepared him for what he saw when he approached Zach’s bedside, where his once vibrant buddy lay unconscious and hooked up to a beeping ventilator.
If there’d been a chance that Zach might pull through, that he’d be able to go home to Rosabelle, his three-year-old daughter, they all would have found their hospital vigil easier to handle. Still, Sam and Sandra clung to each other and held on to their faith, praying for a miracle that never came.
Zach had remained on life support for two long weeks before his parents finally accepted the fact that their only child, a son born to them late in life, was virtually dead. And now here they were, at the cemetery, saying their final goodbyes.
Kieran stood beside Zach’s parents, trying to be the second son Sam had claimed he was and to offer his support. But he wasn’t sure how much help he could be. Sandra and Sam, both in their seventies and not in the best of health, were overcome by grief.
What really tugged at Kieran’s heart, though, was three-year-old Rosabelle, who held her grandma’s hand, her little brow creased as if she was trying to understand all that was happening around her. But how could she, when even Kieran found it so unsettling, so unfair?
A monarch butterfly fluttered by, weaving through the mourners as if trying to lift the spirits of those who’d come to pay their last respects.
After the pastor of the community church finished the eulogy, little Rosie pulled her hand away from her grandma’s and reached for Kieran, silently requesting that he pick her up.
He did so, holding her close, wishing what little comfort he had to give would help.
“My daddy went to heaven,” Rosie whispered.
“I know, honey.” Kieran rested his head against hers, catching the light fragrance of her baby shampoo.
“I’m gonna miss him,” Rosie added.
“Me, too.” Zach’s death was a huge loss that would affect them all.
“Look!” Rosie pointed to the orange-and-black butterfly that now landed on a spray of yellow roses. “It’s a flutterby.”
“I see it,” he whispered, not bothering to correct her pronunciation. What did it matter anyway? He was just glad that she had something to hold her interest, to keep her from thinking about her loss, about not ever seeing her daddy again.
Kieran glanced through the crowd and spotted Dana Trevino, the woman Zach had been dating at the time of the accident. Her long, red hair was swept up into a tidy topknot, reminding him of a librarian. In that plain black dress, she looked like one, too.
A grad student and a research librarian at the Austin History Center, Dana wasn’t anything like the women Kieran dated. Not that she wasn’t attractive. She had a pretty face and a warm smile. At five-foot-five, she also had a willowy build, although she tended to hide it behind loose-fitting skirts and conservative blouses.
Still, Kieran had thought the cowboy and the librarian an odd match, although he suspected that Dana had been drawn to Zach’s country charm and his Will Rogers style, which had given him a combination of wisdom, common sense and humor.
To be honest, Kieran wasn’t sure what it was about Dana that had appealed to Zach. They’d never talked about it, but there must have been something special about her.
Still, for some reason he’d never thought their relationship would last. But who was he to judge? He never dated anyone longer than a couple of months, so he had no idea how to even define words like special or long-term.
As the stoic rep from the mortuary thanked everyone for coming, Sandra Lawson turned to Kieran. “Will you come back to the house with us? Sam and I want to talk to you.” Her eyes filled with tears, and her bottom lip wobbled.
“Of course,” Kieran said, although he suddenly felt compelled to pass little Rosie to the couple, hurry to his Mercedes and get the hell out of Dodge. But like Sam had told the hospital staff, Kieran was their second son.
Thankfully, he seemed to have already shed most of his tears in the hospital. By the time Zach’s organs had been donated to give others a chance at a new and better life, Kieran’s grief had seemed to subside.
He stole a peek at Dana, who appeared as prim and proper as ever. She clutched a wadded up tissue in her hands, but no tears filled her eyes.
Had she, like Kieran, done most of her crying in the weeks and days before the funeral? Had she also begun to let go of Zach and move on?
“This concludes the service,” the mortuary guy said. “The family would like to invite you all back to their house for refreshments.”
Kieran wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he could sure use a drink—a stiff one.
Sam slipped his arm around his wife. “You about ready to go, honey?”
