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Jethro jerked to his feet when someone touched his shoulder. This was supposed to be the family’s time alone at the funeral parlor right before the funeral. Dick and Elaine Landon, Shannon’s parents, were across the room, her sister Beth outside composing herself. There shouldn’t have been anyone else here.
He looked up, and froze. The man touching his wife’s face didn’t have any right, but he wouldn’t startle him, wouldn’t run the risk of him hurting Shannon. Or Kelly. “Jack,” he said in a low voice and the man turned, tears running down his face.
He took a step toward Jethro and Jethro shook his head, motioning to his foot and the crutches he balanced on. Instead the man came close more slowly. “Leroy,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I never wanted for us to share this.”
He shook his head. He wasn’t able to retort, he didn’t even want Jack here but he didn’t have the heart to kick him out. Instead, he jerked his head toward the back. “Shannon’s folks. If you want to pay your respects.”
“Leroy, I…”
“Yeah, I know, Jack. But let me say goodbye to them alone.”
He looked away as Jack kissed Kelly’s cheek, wondering again if it was too cruel to everyone to have open caskets. But he’d needed proof. And if he did, he knew Shannon’s family would as well.
He slipped into the first pew at the church, Pat Kiley’s new wife, Lynn, squeezing his shoulder. He flicked a gaze over his shoulder. She and Jane Cameron, Dave’s widow, had flown out from California, had cooked and looked after him. He leaned slightly into her touch.
The funeral was just beginning when there was a commotion, and Shannon’s parents gasped. Gibbs turned, watching Jack striding up the aisle. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he could see…
He blinked. Swallowed hard. Blinked again. Just watched in shock as Jack settled beside Dick and his…date tottered closer.
“Date” was probably an overstatement. His father had been a ladies’ man since his mother had died, but this was too much. Way too much. Sure, she had on a black suit but the skirt was skintight and fell only to mid-thigh and the top was bright pink, and sequined, stretched to bursting over her chest. It drew the eye almost as much as her teased blonde hair and overdone makeup did. She looked like she was going to a fancy dinner or a party in trailer trash and, but not a funeral. Never a funeral. Not this one.
He rammed down his anger and fury and motioned Jack over. When the older man knelt at his feet Gibbs leaned in, growling the words. “Get your tart out of here and don’t come back. You may have disrespected my mother but you will not disrespect my wife and child.”
Jack looked stunned. “What do you want me to do, Son?”
“Get her out of here. Have her go sit in the car or something. Soon as the graveside service is over, you leave. Don’t come back. You’re no longer welcome here.”
Jethro felt validated by the tears in the blue eyes he saw staring back at him. He would not allow himself to become his father. He wouldn’t date indiscriminately; fall in love at the drop of the hat. Even if his mother didn’t mean enough to his father, Jethro wouldn’t disrespect his dead wife that way.
Jack nodded, patting him on the knee and for a moment the older man’s eyes looked understanding. Jethro had to close his eyes against the wash of pain.
“Goodbye, Jack.”
“Goodbye, Son.”