Then Surely We

I said, "I don't think any of us want to speak, Father." I didn't say more. He looked in my eyes, and I think he saw pain.

"As you wish," he said. "I will speak of Jill as I knew her." We all nodded, and he went on. "At the gravesite, I usually let anyone speak who would like to say a few words. Any objection?"

I looked at Ayla and the Kinnisons. No objection. "No problem, Father." He felt a pregnant silence, and no explanations were forthcoming.

He looked at me and said, as I walked with him to the door, "You know, confession is a wonderful time to talk in confidence."

"Thank you, Father, I may take you up on that," I said. We shook hands and he left with a nod to the Kinnisons.

I texted Mo: "Funeral day after tomorrow in Sky Grey. Thanks for handling things with work."

"You're welcome," she responded. "Wish things were different."

Since the unit was still in Afghanistan, only a few Marine representatives were present at the visitation and funeral: some sent home for wounds or illness, one specifically for the funeral. Local Marine reservists were about, as well as an honor guard.

Sometimes a sudden death meant a funeral without complete closure. This funeral was tearful and somber; Father had good and proper things to say about Jill. He told stories of her attending Mass, remembering her athletic ability, her intelligence, her leadership roles. He mentioned her service to the country, her death fighting evil. It was a good sermon, and he must have known that he spoke in ignorance.

I appreciated his good intentions.

He led us from the church to the graveyard nearby.

We buried Jill in the Catholic cemetery in Sky Grey. It was a nice morning, there was an honor guard. I walked with Ayla and Gill and the girls. Mom and Dad Kinnison walked in front of us. I think it was out of respect for me that the whole family stood about me, included me, wanted me with them. I saw my mom and later my dad; Mom had her current husband and Dad a woman who was NOT a former model. Mom and Dad stood together and with their significant others, confirming that weird relationship they had, almost like lovers who can no longer stand the sight of one another but always still think of the other first. We were a remnant family for a lot longer than a family.

As we walked into the cemetery, I was surprised to see Sharon and Mo, standing off to the side and looking for me. Perhaps they missed me at the funeral. "Ayla, there are some people I'd like you to meet," I said.

"Oh, okay. Gil?" she said. "Gil?"

"Stay with me, girls," Gil said. They looked stunned by everything, the loss of their aunt, a funeral, the whole sad occasion.

Ayla and I stepped out of line and Sharon and Mo saw me then.

"I didn't expect you here," I said. I grasped Sharon's hand with my right, and Mo's with my left. It was the first time I ever touched Mo, I suddenly thought. "Ayla, this is Sharon Ackerman, who owns my company. And this is Maureen Murray, another editor. We work together. Ladies, my sister-in-law, Ayla, Jill's sister."

"Hello," Ayla said. "We're so glad to meet you. Kyle talks about you. You're Mo?" she asked.

"Maureen or Mo," she said, shaking Ayla's hand. They looked in each other's eyes, and I wondered if Ayla had wondered about Mo for some time.

"We hope you'll come to the house after this, both of you," Ayla said.

Sharon and Mo nodded, "Of course. We're so sorry... " Sharon said, and Mo nodded. I wondered what Ayla was thinking. I noticed her give Mo another look.

"We should get on," I said. "Please walk with us."

They nodded and we all joined the long line of mourners that packed in at the gravesite. There was to be a ceremony. They had folding chairs for the family under a canopy, so I was seated with the Kinnisons. There was a speaker system.

A few prayers were muttered. The priest asked if anyone wanted to speak, at one point. A Marine Captain who had served with Jill said some words about her; one of her friends from college reminisced. It was probably considered odd that no one of the family spoke, but so it was. There was a pause when no one else volunteered, and then movement. I was shocked to see little Mo step to the microphone. Ayla looked at me with a funny expression. Father lowered the microphone for her. She smiled her thanks, even though it was still too high.

Sharon, behind me, leaned over and said, "Be calm. This should be great."

Mo said, "I'm Maureen Murray. I only met Jill twice, but I had the good fortune to work with her husband for several years now. I can attest to his love for her." She paused and looked around at people, then me, and then continued. "Anne Bradstreet wrote a wonderful poem in the 1600s about the love of a wife and husband. It begins: 'If ever two were one, then surely we.' I think that was Kyle's sentiment." She stopped, looked right at me, and said, "This is called 'Surely We.' And written to be sung acapella."

I knew the poem well but not the song. I wondered at her mention of it. It attested to the unity of marriage, of the great love of a wife and husband. She knew my situation. I stared at her as she sang. Was she referring to herself and me? No, that would be very presumptuous. This song was about Jill and me. And then I knew, and it was as if I understood myself better than I just had. Mo thought love in marriage was noble. She thought I should be Anne Bradstreet. She was telling me what she hoped to see in me.

She wanted me to be the author of my love for my marriage. Jill's betrayal was not mine.

It was beautiful. Mo's voice was surprisingly strong. I stood up as she sang that simple song based on that wonderful idea.

I felt Ayla's eyes, Dan's, Penny's.

Mo saw me standing and smiled as she sang. I remembered something I'd said about Bradstreet: "Her virtue is flawless. She loves, and nothing can curtail its nobility."

Mo didn't want a man who didn't love his wife. I felt a tear escape my eye. I still loved Jill, and there was no shame in that.

Mo's voice was pure and almost holy. By the time she finished the little song, everyone wanted it to continue. There was a pause, as if the crowd were awed.

"Thank you for indulging me," she said gently, and returned to stand with Sharon. Sharon smiled at her and patted her on the back.

I had no idea she was a singer, and a good one, at that. I thought she sounded professional. There was not a hint of nervousness and her voice was enchanting, very strong compared to her speaking voice. Music did not appear to be a lacuna. There was a lot I didn't know about my little friend.

Every love has a journey to travel.

Father returned to the microphone. "Wonderful," he said, nodding toward Mo.

An honor guard fired three blanks each, and I cringed.

There were hundreds at the funeral, and perhaps a hundred at the gravesite. Sky Grey turned out for its children, and Jill was one of its children. Across the way, I saw Mrs. Deveraux among some military men, who gravitated to one another. She looked at me, nodded in commiseration, and I nodded back. She was a pretty woman.

The family sat and watched as they folded the flag from Jill's coffin in that ceremonial manner Marines assume for somber or public occasions. One with many stripes on his arm came to me, holding the flag folded tightly into a triangle, genuflected in front of me, and held it out.

He said, "On behalf of the President of the United States, the Commandant of the United States Marine Corps, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's honorable and faithful service."

I took the flag with both hands and said, "Thank you." I didn't comment on the honorable or faithful statement. He stood, saluted, turned and left. Everything was slower at a funeral or burial, so it took some seconds, followed by another few seconds of quiet.

I took advantage of that moment. I stood and stepped in front of Jill's mom. I went to one knee and held out the flag.

"You must know, I always thought of you as the mother I hoped Jill to be. You were a perfect role model. You should have this. She gave her life for her country, and her love for you was never suspect." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and put the flag in her lap. She put her hand on it.

I realized I was creating a scene. I didn't care. The priest waited for me. I went back to my seat.

Dan Kinnison put his arm around me and said, "Kyle, you're the son we didn't have."

I said, "It hurts so." I looked at his eyes, saw him nod slightly, and accepted his honesty.

I left a moment later, when attention was on the final prayers. I don't think the Kinnisons realized it. A lot of people in the crowd probably did. I had to go. I had things to do. I made a decision.

*

Ayla Gilstrap narrating

The ceremony ended abruptly a few minutes later. People just stood, unsure what to do. A woman approached us and stood before Mom. Ah, probably Mrs. Deveraux, I thought. Kyle was... not near his seat. Had he left?

"I'm Marge Devereaux, Colonel Devereaux's wife," she said. "I was hoping to speak to Kyle. I saw him leave right after he gave you the flag. Is there anything I can do to help you? You must know, I'm just devastated."

Mom shook her head, not wanting to speak to Mrs. Devereaux.

Gil calmed me by squeezing my hand. I decided to speak for the family, "No, thank you, nothing to be done. We don't know where Kyle went." Did she know of the affair, I wondered? Did she ignore it or not care, if she did? We were gathering at my parents' home in a few minutes, but only extended family and a few close friends were invited. Jill's friends probably wondered at that, because we were known as friendly and welcoming in everything. Suddenly we were not inclusive.

We were polite to Mrs. Devereaux, who learned nothing, and we did not invite her to our gathering.

It was a mostly solemn gathering. Some of our cousins came as well as other extended family.

Mom and Dad were about and then not. Dad later said Mom had some sort of anxiety attack and just wanted to rest for a few minutes. He stayed with her for about fifteen minutes, when they returned to the gathering.

The most interesting people were Kyle's two colleagues, who were amazingly forthright, knew some of the details of the estrangement, and were worried that Kyle's absence meant more months of depression. They had a return flight and needed to leave in a short while, so they missed meeting Mom and Dad.

It was Gil who uncovered that both women had doctorates in literature. Most surprising was that Maureen was actually almost Jill's age. I heard Gil laughing across the room about that. It was good to hear some laughter on that sober day. He related the discussion later, when I asked.

"I said, 'Miss Murray, your voice was just as pure and lovely as I've ever heard, and the song was so touching.'

"She looked at me, smiling, and said, 'Thank you. You know, Dr. Gilstrap,' I didn't know she knew my title, 'you and I actually almost met once before."

"Oh?" I asked.

"I was hooded on the day you were awarded at UNC eight years ago," she said. "One of your permutations papers had just been published.You were on the stage, I was in the chairs."

"That's when I started laughing. I said, "No! I hope you don't mind my asking, but how old are you?'

"And she said, '30.'" He shook his head, smiling. "I said, 'You are a remarkable person, Dr. Murray. Kyle didn't mention you have a Phd,' I said.

"She said, 'Kyle tries not to notice me, sometimes.' Wasn't that a peculiar way of putting it?"

It was odd and beguiling. I wondered how far their relationship had progressed. "I think Dr. Maureen Murray has a subtlety in her word choices when it comes to my dear brother-in-law. Do you think she and Kyle have some sort of relationship?"

"No. I think they kept it strictly business. Her countenance was wistful. She wasn't hiding anything, and she wanted me to notice. I think she intended to disclose something. Like you said about her word choice. I'm fairly certain of one thing." Gil was smiling.

"What?" I asked. I think I felt it, too.

"Maureen loves him. Subtlety or no. And she wanted us to know."

Gil smiled and waited. "I liked her."

I thought about that.

We invited Sharon and Maureen to dinner with us, and I think Maureen wanted to stay, but they declined in order to head to the airport. I did get their email addresses.

"Mo is the one to contact," Dr. Ackerman said. "She and Kyle work together on everything. He contacts her often, more than daily." She looked at me strangely, as if there were more to say, but she remained silent.

*

Ayla Gilstrap narrating

Kyle called that evening.

"Hello, Ay."

"Gil!" I yelled, "Kyle's on the phone." Gil came into the room. "Putting you on speaker, Gil's with me," she said. "The girls are gone for the evening."

I heard Kyle inhale, breathing through his nose. Kyle was always a noisy breather; his nose had been hit several times playing baseball or football. He could breathe, but one otolaryngologist asked him, how many times have you broken this nose? Kyle just laughed. He never went to the doctor for missing a baseball; he cried and complained as a kid, but he just played on.

"Hi, Gil."

"Kyle, we're here. You're one of us, man," Gil said.

"Thanks," Kyle said. "Quite a funeral, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Ayla answered, looking at Gil. "We enjoyed meeting your two friends from work. Dr. Ackerman and Dr. Murray."

"I had no idea she could sing," Kyle said. I think he was smiling.

"It was quite a performance," Gil said, nodding. "She seemed to be singing to you, I thought."

Ayla said, "I had that impression, too."

"I just couldn't face everyone," Kyle said.

There was a pause before Kyle went on. "Uh, reason I called. Jill left me a letter and her phone is here. Her laptop. Among her effects. I charged her phone." He stopped.

My heart stopped. I wondered if Jill had foreseen or prepared for her death. Perhaps she'd written out everything, explained every detail, or saved all those dirty messages, all those sex texts I remembered, and perhaps many I'd never seen. Maybe she'd considered that Kyle would want to know every sordid thing. Or maybe she'd erased everything to spare his feelings.

Would it be good for us to know every detail? For Kyle? Would knowing the detail or dirt of the affair help him or hurt him? Would it be better he never knew the grime, or that he knew every word and act? What would help a man put his beloved, adulterous wife behind him?

"Oh," I said. Gil looked at me.

"Kyle, I think you should read the letter and maybe the phone, or any verbals there," Gil said. "Let me talk to Ayla a minute before you do anything, okay bud?"

There was a deep breath, as if Kyle wanted someone to tell him what to do. I muted the phone.

"Should he know exactly what she did? What if she recorded something like, 'I want to suck your big dick,'" I asked, shaking my head. "How does that help Kyle now?" I couldn't imagine Jill doing or saying such things to anyone but perhaps Kyle, about Kyle. How does a good wife, a good woman, get to that point with someone not her husband?

"Humiliation destroys men. It would me." Gil looked at me, I met his eyes. God, I love that man. He continued, "Some men, maybe you're right. But most, and I think Kyle's one, would need to know if they made love in this room or that one, how they did it, everything. Why they did everything they did. Where. What. It'll still be tough. Kyle was humiliated. Humiliated. He probably thinks everyone knew of the affair, and he was an idiot for not."

Men were different, I guessed. Then I remembered Mrs. Devereaux approaching us, and how I wondered what she knew or didn't. "I just don't think he... anyone would want to go to those depths."

Gil shook his head. "He needs to know how humiliated he was. You know he's hurting, Ay. He's your best friend, and you're his. You both lost the other most important person in your family."

Gil. I put my hand on his cheek for a moment. He turned his head and kissed my palm. I realized he knew me, knew how I felt about Kyle. He loved me as me.

I unmuted the phone.

"Kyle, whatever you decide to do, give me a call after you do it, okay?" I said.

"Okay. Would you rather..." he started.

"No, Kyle, it's between you and Jill. Whatever you choose to share is fine, but you should decide what I know," I said. Gil was nodding.

Kyle was quiet and thoughtful before responding. "Okay, I'll call back, maybe tonight," he said. "Goodbye, both of you."

"Bye, Kyle," we both said. I clicked it off. We didn't speak for a long moment. Gil put his arms about me from behind and kissed my neck by standing on tiptoes.

"You know how Kyle's going to get past this?" Gil asked.

"No," I answered. "Is it possible?"

He smiled. "Two things. He's going to finally get mad as hell, as any husband worth his salt would. He already is, it's just hidden in depression. Maybe knowing more detail will bring that out."

"Okay, I buy it. You said two things?" I asked.

He smiled. "He needs a pretty girl to love him."

I thought for a second he was referring to me.

He shook his head I think, arms under my breasts, and kissed my neck again. He loved feeling the weight of my breasts on his arms. "No, not you. I know you guys love each other, but you have me and Kyle would never break that bond. I even doubt you would," he said with humor. "No, I mean Maureen."

I felt a pang of jealousy, and then I realized she was part of the solution. Gil had seen it in her, too. She looked like a kid, but she was a woman, and she loved Kyle. For his part, there was also something different in his regard for her. It was a deference, a respect. For some years, he'd spoken of his friend Mo, and I'd assumed Mo was a man.

I doubted she competed for his affection because of the song she'd chosen at the funeral. "She seemed like she really wished Jill were still alive for Kyle." I think Kyle kept her at arm's length, avoiding adultery and affairs and falling in love with someone else. He probably avoided private lunches with her or anything but work.

Gil's cheek was on my shoulder. "I think Maureen loves him, or wants to."

I thought Kyle knew how she felt and returned it as far as a married man should. I wondered how Jill fell into the affair her husband adeptly discouraged. Somehow, Kyle had found his next love before his first one failed, and he managed to be faithful to each.

Maureen was a very special person. She loved Kyle, and that's not a bad thing at all. She wanted us to know it.

Chapter 10: Evidence

Marge Devereaux narrating

Dwight called about three in the morning that night after the Kinnison funeral. I was in Ohio yet, having missed any opportunity to speak with Kyle Franklin. I noticed that the family had not invited me to their gathering. I was now convinced they were avoiding something in me. I wondered if they blamed Ike or the Marines for Jill's loss, but that didn't square with the fact that Kyle had lost contact with us before her death. All my emails were ignored by Kyle. (Major Kinnison's sister said they were not mad at the Marines, also.) I was at a loss to understand.

Most of Dwight's calls were in the middle of the night because of the time difference. We'd talk about how things were going, his job, and in past deployments we'd even become intimate. Dwight would find some alone time and we'd describe sex and I'd send some pictures. He was regimental commander now; it weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he needed solace more than excitement on this tour.

"I went to Major Kinnison's funeral," I said when we'd finished talking about missing each other and what was going on over there. "I missed the visitation. I was at the other funeral, for Lance Corporal Thomas who was killed with her."