Knight In Black Leather Gail Dayton (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

crying slowed down a little, he tried again. "Tell me about Kevin. Who is he?"

She shook her head, gulping air. Just when he was ready to ask again, she spoke, choking on her sobs and the words. "My son."

Her... Marilyn had a son? Eli stroked her hair as he scrambled to order his thoughts. She'd never said a word about the boy. Didn't have any pictures. Nothing. He'd never met Kevin. The boy wasn't around. Which meant...something bad.

"Tell me," he said gently. "I want to know about your son."

She shook her head, wildly this time, trying to pull away. Eli held on tight.

"I can't," she cried. "I don't--I never--"

"Talk about him? I know that. But I want to know. Tell me the good stuff. The happy stuff."

Marilyn's hand twisted in his T-shirt making a fist that she pounded feebly against him. "Even--even that..." She gasped for air. "I remember what a happy baby he was. When he was just walking, he loved hats. And visors. And those deely-bobber antenna things. Anything he could wear on his head. He'd toddle around for hours wearing a colander." Her laugh changed to a sob. "He was nine when he-- When he--" The sobs took over.

"When he what, Marilyn?" Eli's chest hurt so bad he wished he could cry with her. "When he died? What happened to him?"

"Cancer. Leukemia." She forced the words out between hiccups. "The cancer didn't-- He got pneumonia. Chemotherapy. Weak immune system. Couldn't--couldn't beat it."

"God, Marilyn, I'm so sorry." He held her tight enough he knew he had to be crushing her, but she didn't complain. He couldn't imagine losing Pete. Just the thought--didn't bear thinking. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Bill fell apart. His only son--pride and joy, all that rot. Kevin was my son, too!"

"Sure he was." Eli was rocking his body back and forth, rocking Marilyn in his arms. He kept on. It seemed to help. "Of course he was."

"And Julie--she was only thirteen, and all of a sudden it was like she didn't exist for Bill. She'd always been Daddy's girl and now she was invisible. She loved Kevin too. She needed both of us." The words poured out of her now in a raging flood. Or maybe a flood of rage. Eli couldn't tell which.

"But nobody else mattered. Nobody else loved Kevin as much as Bill did--never mind that he missed every parent-teacher meeting since Kevin started school. Never mind he couldn't be bothered to get out of bed for Saturday morning basketball games. Kevin was his boy. God, he made me so mad!" Marilyn shook in Eli's embrace.

"If I didn't cry every minute, I was cold and heartless. If I did cry, I was a hypocrite because I didn't love him like Bill did, even though I was the one who fed him and washed him and took him to school and cleaned up after him when he was sick and kissed his scrapes when he fell and--and--everything.

"And then, one month after the funeral, Bill cleaned out Kevin's bedroom. Stripped it down to the walls. Gave everything away without asking me if I wanted to keep any of it. All his clothes. All his toys. The third place trophy he got for T-ball the year they only had three teams in his league. He even threw out all our pictures of him. I had to go get them out of the trash. Nobody could talk about Kevin. We couldn't mention his name. It was as if he wanted to wipe out his memory.

"But it didn't work. We couldn't forget. None of us could. We just pretended.

"And then that son-of-a-bitch went and drove his truck into a tractor-trailer because he couldn't stand it anymore."

Marilyn froze. She pulled away to stare at Eli, her face a picture of horrified realization. "Oh, God, I didn't say that, did I?"

"It's okay, babe."

"It's not okay." She tried to move her feet, to stand up, but Eli held on. "It's not true. Bill didn't do that. It was an accident. The truck driver was short on rest. And it was better not to talk about him. It didn't hurt as much that way."

"Maybe." Eli held her hand, tracing his thumb over it. "But didn't you say something about good hurt? Feeling more alive after? Maybe not talking about him made you...numb."

She swiped at her eyes, red and swollen from crying. "Maybe. Who knows? God, I don't believe I said that about Bill."

"Just because he's dead doesn't make him a saint."

Marilyn laughed--it sounded almost like real laughter--and finally let Eli draw her back into his arms. "I feel so guilty for thinking it. I got so mad at him, back when Kevin was sick and after he died. But if I tried to--we never fought much, Bill and I. And back then, when I wanted to, when maybe I needed to, he made me feel guilty for even thinking about being angry. How could I be mad at him when our son was gone? I don't know...maybe it was easier being mad than sad."

Eli wished he knew what to say. He heard people talk about therapy, had even done it once, back the only time he went through rehab, when he was sixteen, but he didn't think talking about "why you use" would help here. Still, talking might help.

"How long was Kevin sick?"

"Not long. Six, seven months. He'd just made it through his second course of chemo when he got the pneumonia. Two weeks later, he was gone." Marilyn sniffled, but didn't fall into tears again.

"Is Pete that much like him?"

"Not that much. The freckles, of course. Kevin's hair was darker, and curly. He was taller, I think. And quieter. I mean he was noisy like all boys are noisy, but he was never as comfortable talking to adults as Pete. He wasn't a talker."

"Pete doesn't know a stranger," Eli said ruefully. He wished the kid were a touch more discriminating. Still, he'd known enough to call Eli about the "scary dudes."

Marilyn snuggled