Free Uncharted by Angela Hunt Page B

entreaties—somehow she’d imagined she’d always have another chance to take him up on his offer. Even in death, he was teaching her.
    She would never take another invitation for granted.

15
    Boston
     
    Kevin Carter was taken aback when the taxi halted before an unadorned building of brick and glass. The one-story structure faced the highway on a wide, grassy lot surrounded by windswept trees. Rain pelted the high windows and darkened the parking lot.
    “Hang on, driver.” He pulled a note from his pocket. “This can’t be the address. I’m looking for a church, Boston Community Fellowship.”
    The cabby pointed to a small wooden sign near the street. “Boston Community Fellowship,” he read in a strong accent. “322 Fellowship Drive, just what you say. This is place you want.”
    Kevin read the sign for himself. Considering David’s background and position, he had expected the funeral to be held at a downtown cathedral. This square, squat building looked more like a school than a church.
    “Thanks.” He dropped fifty bucks over the seat, then fastened the top button of his trench coat and stepped out of the vehicle. Despite the rain, several people lingered on the wet sidewalk; beneath the umbrellas he saw men in dark suits and women in attire ranging from casual to subdued. Oddly enough, he noticed very little black clothing. Could he be in the wrong place after all?
    He turned back toward the taxi, but it had traveled down the curved driveway and was about to pull onto the highway. This had to be the wrong place; maybe there were two Fellowship Drives.
    A red umbrella approached, then tilted back to reveal a short, bald man with dark eyes. The fellow extended his hand, then lifted his umbrella to shelter Kevin from the rain. “Frank Quick,” he said, smiling as Kevin shook his hand. He looked at the briefcase by Kevin’s side. “You must be from out of town.”
    “I’m not sure I’m in the right place. I’m looking for a funeral—”
    “David Payne, right? Julia asked me to watch for out-of-towners. Did she ask you to be one of the pallbearers?”
    Kevin nodded.
    “Then you must be one of David’s college pals. Come with me, and let’s get you out of the wet. I’ll show you where you can leave your bag.”
    Kevin fell into step beside the man, bending to fit beneath the umbrella. “Have any of the others arrived?”
    “I’m not sure; you’re the first stranger I’ve seen. The pallbearers will be gathering in the cloakroom. The funeral director will be in to give you instructions.”
    Kevin followed the man into the building, then shouldered his way through the crowd jammed into the small lobby. A register stood on a lectern by a pair of open doors; he paused to sign it, then looked over a list of unfamiliar names.
    Would he be the only one of the FSU group to show up?
    A few feet away, Frank Quick gestured to him, so Kevin slid through the crowd and followed the man into a smaller room. Inside, beside an empty coatrack, stood a woman whose hands rested on the shoulders of a dark-haired boy. The woman’s hands were steady, but her eyes were swollen, her cheeks pale.
    “You must be Kevin.” She gave him a shaky but genuine smile. “I’m Julia Lawson Payne, and this is Nicholas, my son.” She offered her hand.
    Kevin shook it, then bent to meet the boy on his level. The child, who was small and thin, had David’s eyes.
    Kevin smiled. “Nice to meet you, Nicholas. Many years ago, I knew your father well. We were great friends.”
    Nicholas nodded, his chin quivering. Kevin straightened, not wanting to prolong the moment or say anything that might elicit tears.
    “For years”—Julia’s gaze moved into Kevin’s—“I have looked forward to meeting you. David talked about you all so often.”
    Kevin barely managed to conceal his surprise. When had this woman thought they would meet? David must have placed an unrealistic faith in his annual invitations. “I’m sorry we had to meet