“Do you want to go pay your respects?” Melanie asked softly.
“I should,” he replied.
“I’ll go take a seat, and you can meet me there when you’re ready,” she suggested.
“Sure.”
Logan went slowly up to the front. He waited while an older woman looked sadly into the casket, then stepped aside for him. As he looked down at his father’s placid face, he thought he looked almost too peaceful. Harry had never been a tranquil man—he’d been active, annoyed, determined. Whatever had made his father who he was had flown. He didn’t want to wait for a wave of emotion, so he turned and headed to where Melanie had taken a seat behind Junior’s family.
As Logan slid into the pew next to Mel, Junior turned to give him a nod of greeting. His wife turned, too. She was a pleasant enough looking woman—a little reminiscent of Dot, actually.
“Nice to meet you,” Logan murmured, shaking her hand, then nodded to the kids who turned to regard him. The youngest son, Taylor, sat next to Junior, and Logan could see just how much he looked like his dad. Harry had been right—those Wilde genes seemed to have skipped him and Graham.
The minister stood up to speak, saving Logan from finding something to say to his nephew. There was a scattering of other people he didn’t recognize, and it was just as well. He really wasn’t interested in making acquaintance with other relatives.
“We’re here to celebrate the life of our friend and loved one, Harry Wilde,” the minister began. “Life is so much shorter than any of us are ready for. Harry was a family man, and he spoke often about his children and grandchildren, boasting about their achievements as only a loving father could.” There was a ripple of soft laughter. “I think you all know what I’m talking about! He would have wanted to live longer—I know that. Even though his health was failing, he wasn’t finished...”
The minister continued speaking, moving into more spiritual grounds for a short sermon, and Logan leaned forward, letting out a slow breath. He wasn’t a part of this. Maybe he should have been, and maybe he even had a genetic right to it, but reality was starkly different.
He felt Melanie’s touch on his arm and he slid his hand over hers, centering himself with the feeling of her cool, soft fingers.
“And now, we’re going to hear from Harry’s son—” The minister cleared his throat, looked toward Junior questioningly, then when he received a nod, he continued, “Logan McTavish.”
Logan could hear the murmurs behind him. Logan stood up and headed for the podium, and his hands started to sweat. He gave the minister a nod of thanks, and then turned to face the crowd. Most were staring at him wide-eyed, but there was one face that was fixed on him with sympathy. Melanie.
“Hello, everyone,” Logan said, his voice sounded strange to him through the microphone. “You were expecting to hear from Junior, no doubt. Sorry—he’s a grown man now, and people call him Eugene, or better yet, Dr. Wilde.”
There was a trickle of light laughter.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Logan McTavish, and I’m Harry’s son from a previous relationship, before he met Dot. But I was never really part of the family. I’m just going to say that, because it’s easier than dancing around it. Junior has been trying to fix that lately, and I’m grateful, but the way the rest of you remember my dad—I never saw that side of him.”
The room fell silent, and Logan looked over at Junior, his son sitting next to him with wide shocked eyes.
“The thing is, none of us are perfect, and neither was my dad,” Logan said. “But I can tell by the way you all remember him that he meant a lot to all of you. You saw the kindness in him, and the nobleness. He did right by you. And I’m glad you have that.” He nodded at Junior’s son. “But for whatever reason, my dad had a harder time connecting with me. Maybe I wasn’t like him. I certainly don’t have the Wilde looks, do I? I’ve been thinking about what I could say about Harry, and here is what I’m left with—my father tried hard to live a good life, and I can see the evidence of that around this room. I think that’s important—that we all try. Sometimes, we’re going to fall short, and for that, we have to hope that people will forgive us.”
Logan looked toward the casket, and for a moment, emotion choked off his voice.
“But I forgive him,” he said, tears misting his eyes. “I forgive him for messing it up with me, because that’s all I can offer him. But he was proud of you, Junior.” He turned to see his brother’s ashen face. “Really proud. I got to talk to him a couple of days before he passed, and he talked about Eugene most of all. So I’m grateful that you included me today, and but I’m going to let Eugene take over now and talk about the memories he has about our father. And I’ll let you all grieve for the man who loved you.”
A lump closed off Logan’s throat, and he couldn’t have said another word if he’d wanted to. He looked toward Melanie pleadingly, and she stood up, and made her way to the aisle. He joined her, and she slipped her hand into his as they made their escape.
“Uh—thank you to my brother for being willing to speak...” Junior’s voice carried behind him, but Logan wasn’t staying
