How in the hell was he supposed to rid himself of this melancholy? Tears slipped down his cheeks. His biggest supporter was gone. A hole ripped through his heart. He’d never replace his grandmother.
Martha wouldn’t want him collapsing in a bottle or feeling sorry for himself. She’d want him to get on with his life and remember the good times. She would’ve also chewed him out for getting lost in his own head.
Evan forced himself from the chair and into the family room. He wouldn’t forget his grandmother, but he could throw her a great send-off and remember the woman who’d made him the man he’d become.
He knelt beside the bookshelf where she kept the photo albums and rifled through one of the picture boxes. He could get sucked down the rabbit hole of looking, but so what? He had nothing to do and nowhere to go.
He flipped through the images. He’d seen many of them, but one caught his attention. Martha and a young man Evan didn’t know stood together on the beach. He’d never seen his grandmother in a bikini, yet there she was, slender, young and happy. The man wasn’t Evan’s grandfather and looked a bit like Martha. Who was this man? Whoever he might have been, he was handsome.
He flipped the image over, but no identification remained.
Damn.
Evan continued flipping through the photos, selecting a few for the photo wall and video the funeral home created to play during the viewing.
He noticed a letter within the photographs. The name on the envelope stumped him for a moment. Martha Michaels. He shouldn’t open the letter, but his curiosity got the better of him. Who was going to stop him?
He opened the letter.
Dear Sister,
Evan snorted. Sister? He hadn’t known Martha had a brother.
I’m sorry I haven’t written before now, but I’m finally putting down roots. Would you believe I made it to California? I’m here. It’s hotter than Cedarwood. Nicer, too. Everyone treats me like I belong. No jerks or bullshit from people who aren’t like me.
Evan crinkled his nose. Jesus. What had this person done that he was ridiculed? Evan kept reading. He needed to know more.
I found Cecil. It’s good to see him. He’s rooming with Dale and they’re inseparable. It’s good. They’re like an old married couple.
Was this man a rebel who ran away to be with his friends? Evan chuckled. He had to know more about this guy.
I’ve met the most wonderful man. Neil is sweet and quiet. He’s got the deepest blue eyes and his smile warms me to my core. Sis, I think I’m in love with him. Is that crazy? I’m in love. He even has a tattoo! I’d love to bring him to Cedarwood to meet you, but I don’t want to be booted out of town. I miss you and hope one day you can come to California to meet Neil.
He dropped the letter. Evan had an uncle who was gay. Where was this guy? He wanted to meet this man and tell him Martha had passed. He rifled through the letters and photographs until he came across the one of the young man with Martha. He found another of the pair together. The man could be his uncle. He flipped through the images and spotted yet another of the young man, but this time him standing with another man. Was this Neil? He checked the back of the picture, but again, no identification had been made.
He continued to look through the photo albums and boxes. None of the people in the pictures featured the man with Martha or the guy with him.
Evan came across another envelope, wrinkled and stained. Instead of the loopy scrawl, the words had been typed across the front. Martha Conley. He frowned as he opened the letter.
Dear Mrs. Conley,
I regret to inform you of the passing of your brother, Edwin Michaels. He was found dead of an apparent gunshot wound.
God damn. Edwin. That was the man’s name. Evan would never meet him. Edwin had been run out of town for being gay, so he’d gone to California where he’d met Neil. Instead of having a story book ending or at least growing old together, Edwin had been shot to death. With Neil? Because of Neil?
Evan checked the letterhead, then sat back against the sofa. SFPD. San Francisco Police Department. Holy shit. His uncle had gone to San Francisco.
“I have an uncle,” Evan murmured.
“You what?” Mick stood in the doorway. “What happened?”
Tears pricked his eyes and he fought for his words. Mick could help him. Christ. The numbness from losing his grandmother intensified. He’d lost two people. “Do you believe it?” His voice cracked. “I have an uncle.” He tried to keep the tears at bay, but lost the fight. Fuck it. “You came back.” He hadn’t expected to see Mick until the funeral.
Mick joined him on the floor. “Martha had a brother?”
Evan wiped his cheek. “Yeah. Edwin.” Tears continued to fall. The grief over losing his grandmother was still fresh, but now he couldn’t help but weep for missed opportunities with his uncle. “I’m sorry.” He kept thinking of his grandmother at the funeral home and how she was alone. His uncle had been alone, too. Evan tried to tamp down his devastation, but failed. He didn’t like leaving his grandmother at the funeral home. His chest ached from his upset, but he couldn’t stop the emotions springing forward.
Mick slid his arms around Evan. “Don’t be sorry.” He rocked Evan and petted his hair. “You’ve been through a lot.”
Evan sobbed. Jesus. He hated crying, but the tears wouldn’t stop. His body hurt and he leaned hard into Mick. Thank God Mick had come over. He needed him. He breathed Mick in and allowed his soothing presence to work its magic.
Mick offered a hanky. “I’m excited to hear about your uncle.”
Evan cleared his throat and
