“Sera? Did you read the part in Wes’s letter about the young woman? Mila?”
She nodded. “I’m glad he was happy. Do you want to look for her? My brother knows people who could help.”
“I know what happened. Cal looked for her after he got that letter,” Celeste explained. “She was in the vehicle with Wes. They were heading into a town where there had been some trouble, and she was going to translate for them. She died with the rest of them. I’m going to reach out to her family.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Sorrow welled inside her again, fresh and purer than the day Wes had died. There was a sweetness to it now, a knowledge that she didn’t have to hide anything, that one day if they met again, there would be no anger between them.
Celeste’s face was red with emotion, and it made her beautifully human. “Sera, is it wrong for me to hope that maybe she’s with him? That she’s looking after my boy?”
“I hope she is. I hope he’s happy.” Sera let her tears flow for the young man she’d cared about, for the father Luc would only know from stories. And she held Luc’s grandmother’s hand, their fingers intertwined, lending each other strength.
This was how it always should have been. Two women who loved a man, each in her unique way, sharing their grief, making it easier for the other. If Celeste wanted to, they could make an incredible team in loving that man’s son, in helping Luc have the future she was sure Wes would have wanted him to have.
“Everything okay?” her mother asked quietly. She stood at the doorway, Luc in her arms.
She’d definitely been listening. Sera stood, wiping her eyes and smiling at Luc. “It’s all good. Luc, baby, come here. I want you to meet someone. This is your other grandmother.”
Luc’s smile went wide and he held his arms out because that kid had never met a stranger, never held back on offering his boundless affection.
Celeste stopped, looking at him, her gaze soft. “He has Wesley’s eyes. Oh, he’s so beautiful.”
Her mother handed him over and Luc studied his new grandma, his hands coming up to brush away her tears. He leaned forward and kissed her like he was kissing away a boo-boo.
Celeste held him close and looked Sera’s way. “Thank you.”
“I’m already Mom-Mom,” Delphine declared. “You have to be Mimaw. You look like a Mimaw. Or Granny.”
“Grandma will work fine,” Celeste said, shaking her head. “Or Luc can call me anything he wants to. Hi, baby. You’re so precious.”
“He is.” Sera relaxed for the first time in what felt like days.
“Well, come on in,” her mother said. “I’ll make us some sandwiches and I’ve got sweet tea.”
“Thank you, Delphine,” Celeste said with a tentative smile. “You know, I was thinking we could have your book club out at Beaumont House.”
“Now why would I do that?” Her mother’s hands had gone to her hips.
“Because while Ralph wouldn’t get the stick out of his backside long enough to enjoy anything, he did put together an amazing collection of wine,” Celeste pointed out. “There’s over three hundred bottles. They’re expensive, and I was never allowed to drink one unless Ralph was trying to impress some politician or businessman. I think the Papillon Literary Society should tear through it.”
Delphine had perked up considerably. “Yes, I think you would fit in quite nicely.”
Celeste kissed the top of Luc’s head. “Here, I’ll follow you in a moment, but there’s one more thing I need to talk to Sera about.”
Delphine took Luc back. “It better be to talk some sense into her about that nephew of yours.”
She walked into the house, and Celeste turned Sera’s way.
“You have to give Harry another chance,” Celeste said. “He loves you. He didn’t betray you. Won’t you please call him?”
Harry. Sera could now go to Harry with no fear. “I will. In fact, I’ll go talk to him now if you don’t mind. I know where he’s staying.”
Celeste agreed, and within moments Sera was on her way to the motel, her car shaking with every mile.
It died as she made it to the parking lot of the hideously titled No Tell Motel. She tried to turn the engine over but got nothing. Frustration welled as she put it in park and set the brake. At least she’d made it there.
But she didn’t see his truck. It wasn’t sitting outside the room he’d told her he was in.
Had he gone out to grab some food? Or maybe gone to her house? She wouldn’t put it past him to sneak in and do some work even though she wasn’t talking to him. She knocked on the door in case he’d parked somewhere else, but no one answered.
“You looking for the big guy?” The man who owned the motel had a bag of trash in his hand as he walked out of the room next door. “He checked out. Said he was leaving town. Sad because that dog of his might be my best guest.”