Sarah hugged Mark longer than anyone else. Mark held her carefully. It was a gentle, protective embrace.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I heard her whisper to him.
David and Sarah’s eight-year-old son, Leo, stared up at Mark, clinging to his mother’s black dress.
Mark reached out and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. For a second, I saw a flicker of something intense in his eyes.
Sarah hugged Mark longer than anyone else.
After the service, Mark went up to the casket and just stood there.
Five minutes passed. Then ten. Mark stayed rooted to the spot. Leo eventually wandered over and stood solemnly behind Mark.
When I finally walked up, I saw Mark’s hand resting on the edge of the coffin. His lips were moving. He was whispering to a dead man.
“Mark?”
He startled slightly. “I was just saying goodbye.”
We turned around to leave and almost walked right into Leo, who was still hovering.
He was whispering to a dead man.
Mark crouched down in front of Leo.
He didn’t say anything, just looked deep into his eyes and patted his shoulder.
***
That night, after we got home, Mark sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor for an hour.
“Leo doesn’t have a dad now,” he whispered. “I need to step up and be there for him. Sarah, too. Make sure they’re okay.”
I nodded. “Sarah is going to need a lot of help.”
“Leo doesn’t have a dad now.”
A week later, he told me Sarah had agreed to let him spend time with Leo.
“I’m going to take him to baseball practice every Saturday, starting this week,” he announced.
And so, the routine began. Every Saturday after that, Mark was out the door by 7 a.m.
“Practice,” he’d say, grabbing his keys with a strange kind of urgency. “Then I’ll grab him a burger. Maybe we’ll do some other guy stuff.”
All our friends and family started calling Mark a saint. Even I believed it. Not one of us suspected what was really going on.
Sarah had agreed to let him spend time with Leo.
A month into this new life, I decided we could do more.
“Why don’t you bring Leo here after practice?” I suggested. “I’ll cook. Sarah must be exhausted. We can help take the load off her.”
Mark paused in the kitchen doorway.
“That might confuse things.”
“Confuse what?” I asked, genuinely baffled. “It’s just a meal.”
Mark looked at the wall, thinking. Then, finally, he gave a curt nod.
“Okay. We can try it.”
“Why don’t you bring Leo here after practice?”
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