For a second, I thought the crowd had overwhelmed him.
Then he whispered:
“Dad would like your dress.”
My vision blurred.
I squeezed his arm.
“He’d like your suit too.”
“He picked good cufflinks.”
“He did.”
Ethan nodded.
Then started counting again.
At the front, he stopped exactly where he had practiced.
I let go.
Ethan extended his right hand.
Adrian shook it.
Then ignored their entire carefully planned handshake sequence and pulled Ethan into a hug.
Ethan laughed.
“Wait.”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
Adrian whispered something.
I learned later he had said:
“Your dad would be proud of you.”
Ethan’s face changed.
Then he hugged Adrian back.
I was already crying when Ethan turned toward me.
According to the plan, he was supposed to hug me and sit down.
Instead, he reached inside his suit jacket.
My stomach dropped.
“What are you doing?”
Ethan pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
I looked at Adrian.
Adrian looked just as confused.
Then I looked toward the minister.
He was smiling.
Traitor.
Apparently Ethan had arranged something privately.
“I wrote something,” he announced.
The chapel became completely silent.
Ethan unfolded the page.
His hands shook.
He stared down.
Then began:
“Claire is my little sister.”
A few people smiled.
He continued.
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