He died before reaching the field hospital.
The rain seemed suddenly colder.
I had hated Garrett.
Then, eventually, I had worked hard not to hate him because hatred took energy my children needed.
But death had not transformed him into the man I wished he had been.
He was still the husband who had left.
Still the father who had disappeared.
And apparently, in the last year of his life, he had done one courageous thing.
People are inconvenient that way.
They refuse to remain entirely villains or entirely heroes.
“What does any of that have to do with me?” I asked.
Bradley removed a sealed envelope from the folder.
“Before the operation, Garrett was required to identify who should receive his personal statement if he did not return.”
Scarlett stepped forward.
“That should be me.”
Bradley looked at her.
“It was not.”
Her lips parted.
Beatrice spoke immediately.
“He wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Bradley continued as though she had not spoken.
“He listed Captain Mercer as the recipient of his operational statement, and his three children as the recipients of any personal effects cleared for release.”
Scarlett’s face went still.
“His three children?”
“Yes.”
“What about my baby?”
For the first time, Bradley’s tone softened.
“Any legal rights of your child will be determined properly after birth and parentage is established.
Nothing said here removes those rights.”
That mattered to me.
Whatever Scarlett had done with Garrett, her unborn child had done nothing.
Beatrice, however, seemed to hear only the part that threatened the story she had built for the funeral.
“This ceremony is for Scarlett,” she snapped.
“Garrett loved her.
Everyone knows that.”
I finally looked at her.
“Then why did you tell me not to bring his children?”
Her eyes flashed.
“This isn’t the time.”
“You decided that seven years ago.”
Scarlett stared at me.
“He said you kept them from him.”
I almost laughed, but there was nothing funny in it.
“I never changed my number.”
“He said you refused visits.”
“He never requested one.”
“That isn’t true.”
I reached slowly into my coat pocket and removed my phone.
Not to prove anything to Scarlett.
I had stopped organizing my life around Garrett’s version of events years ago.
But I still had every legal document from the divorce stored securely.
I opened a scanned copy of the final custody order and held the screen toward Bradley rather than toward the cameras.
“Unrestricted supervised visitation for the first six months, then standard visitation after review,” I said.
“He never exercised it.”
Scarlett looked at Beatrice.
Beatrice looked away.
