Chapter 12  The Surprise

Steve brought the car to a halt just inside the large, wrought iron gates of the cemetery and looked across at Nick. He could see that his son was nervous, hell, so was he, but he did his best to quell those feelings and give Nick the strength he needed.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not really," Nick replied, "but I still want to do it."

A week earlier

Writing down an address in his notebook, Steve placed the receiver back on its cradle. For a long while he sat at his desk, staring at what he had just written. He had finally tracked down which hospital Amy had been in when she died. They, in their turn, had given him the name of the funeral home. It had taken Steve all his powers of persuasion to make them believe his request was genuine. Even then, the manager had insisted that she phone Steve with the information. Closing his notebook with a snap, Steve slipped it into his pants pocket and continued with his paperwork.

Unusually, both he and Mark were at home for dinner that evening. Steve was pre-occupied throughout the meal and conversation between them was desultory. Mark threw a number of curious glances his son's way but kept his silence knowing that, eventually, Steve would tell him what was on his mind. They moved out onto the deck to drink their post-dinner coffee and sat, in silence, looking out over the ocean. After a few minutes, Mark was about to give in and say something when Steve spoke, very quietly.

"I have found out where Amy is, Dad. The funeral home phoned me at work today."

"I'm glad," Mark said simply, for he knew how hurt and disappointed Steve had been when Amy's parents had refused to help him at all.

Once Steve had discovered the name of the hospital where Amy had been treated, Mark made some discreet enquiries about her death. He had discovered that Amy had died from unforeseen complications after a relatively minor operation.  However, he decided not to tell Steve as he felt that it wouldn't do him any good to know. Any regrets that Steve might harbour about Amy's death were being more than compensated for in his pleasure at finding and getting to know his son.

"Are you going to tell Nick?" Mark asked.

"Yes," Steve replied, "I think that he would want to be able to say goodbye to Amy. It will help to give him some sense of closure."

"I agree with you," Mark said, "Nick will always harbour some measure of regret that he never got to meet his birth mother, but I am sure that this will help."

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"Ready?" Steve asked.

"Not really," Nick replied, "but I still want to do it."

Both men got out of Steve's car, Nick taking with him the small bouquet of flowers that he had bought earlier on and walked slowly, side by side, along a pretty, tree lined avenue. Steve was surprised to note that there were a number of people around them. Some were lovingly tending the graves, others were laying flowers and yet more were simply standing by the headstones either talking to their loved ones or praying for them.

After a few minutes walking, and a bit of a search, Steve and Nick stopped in front of a grave, which was set a little back from the others, with a pink granite headstone. To their surprise there was a young woman kneeling in front of it, arranging a bunch of flowers in a small vase set into the ground. She looked up at their approach and asked, "Can I help you?"

"We were looking for Amy Devaneys grave," Steve spoke.

"This is it." the young woman replied, "Did you know my mom?"

Both Steve and Nick were taken aback and, for the first time, they took in the words carved into the headstone.

Amy Devaney

Beloved wife and mother

Taken too soon

They became aware that the young woman was looking curiously at them. Pulling himself together, Steve replied, "Yes, I knew your mother a long while ago. We last saw each other when we were seventeen."

"Were you a boyfriend?" she asked, with sudden insight.

"Yes, I was." Steve replied, "My name is Steve Sloan, your mom and I were very close for a while."

"I'm Kathryn," the young woman answered, holding out her hand to Steve.

Both she and Nick were surprised at Steve's reaction. He gave an inarticulate sound in the back in his throat turned and walked off, stopping a few metres away from them. Following him, Nick asked, "Steve, are you alright?"

"My mom's name was Kathryn," Steve whispered, "Amy must have named her daughter after her."

Unseen by both men, Kathryn had come up behind them and said, "Your mom was called Kathryn? My mom always told me that she named me after a very special lady, the mom of her first real love."

Despite himself, Steve could not help the tears brimming in his eyes and he was unable to speak. Kathryn turned to Nick and asked, "Did you know my mom?"

Nick had to work very hard at getting the words past the lump in his throat.

"No, I didn't ever meet your mom," he said, "but I have known about her since I was fifteen."

Something in Nick's tone alerted Kathryn to the fact that all was not as she thought.

"There's something going on here that I don't understand," she said, a slight edge creeping into her voice.

Nick looked at Steve, who nodded.

He spoke again, "When she was seventeen, Amy had a baby that she gave up for adoption. That was me."

Kathryn looked up at him and replied, "You know, I always felt that there was something in Mom's past that made her sad, but I could never figure out what."

"You're not shocked?" Nick asked, amazed at the calmness of Kathryn's reply.

Although Kathryn seemed exceptionally composed, Steve could tell, from years of interviewing suspects, that she was working extremely hard at keeping herself in check. A vein in her neck was pulsating, always a sure sign that someone was not as unruffled as they liked to appear.

"My mom was always very sad just after Valentines Day," Kathryn said, her voice a little husky as images of her mom appeared in her head, "and Pop never took her out to dinner on the 14th, it was always the 17th."

"My birthday is 17 February," Nick interjected.

 "I always thought that maybe there was a lost love somewhere in her past but, obviously, she was thinking about you."

It was Nick's turn to be overwhelmed. Over the years he'd wondered if his mother thought about him at all and to be presented with concrete proof was amazing.

Steve, by this time, had pulled himself together and said, "Do you think we could get together some time and talk about Amy? I didn't know that she was pregnant when she disappeared and I would love to know about her life since then."

"That would be terrific," Kathryn replied, rummaging in the tote bag that was on the ground next to Amy's headstone. She pulled out a notebook and wrote on one of the pages, before tearing it out, "Take my cell phone number and call me. I'm going to go now and leave the two of you with Mom."

So saying Kathryn walked towards the path and, on reaching it, turned to see the two men she had just left standing, shoulder to shoulder, gazing down at where Amy lay.

As she watched, the younger man knelt down and carefully laid the bouquet at the base of the headstone and, kissing his fingers, reverently laid them on the granite in a silent tribute.