by Lexi Blake
He watched as Cal and Zep walked away and then got on the phone. It was time to do some work.
* * *
***
Celeste looked up at the clock and realized it was long past her bedtime. Not that she would sleep. The house was far too quiet.
Where was her daughter? Had she called her fiancé? Had Austin come to get her?
She’d been hasty. If what she’d said was true, Angie might have truly feared that Ralph could be bad for the child.
But why hadn’t Angie told her? Did her own daughter think she was such a terrible mother that she didn’t even deserve to know her grandchild?
Luc. It was not what she would have named him. Beaumonts had a set of names that were acceptable. They didn’t have Cajun names.
It was cute. What would Wesley have wanted? Wesley probably would have given in to whatever Seraphina demanded. Foolish girl.
But not a damn gold digger. No. She couldn’t even comfort herself with that. Sera hadn’t used her leverage to try to force Wes to marry her.
What had happened between them? What had gone so wrong that Wes had needed to put half a world between him and Sera Guidry?
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except making sure that Luc Beaumont had everything he deserved, and it certainly wasn’t growing up in a family whose only asset was a bar.
She heard the security alarm go off and then someone put in the code to silence it. She stood because it was late and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Had Angie come to plead her case? Had she realized how hard the world could be?
If she had, then they would talk like adults. She’d had time to think about it and calling off the wedding would simply cause a scandal, and that wasn’t good for anyone. She would pay for the wedding and it could proceed. They had a lot to work out, but Angie was her daughter. She couldn’t simply cancel her daughter’s wedding at this point.
Perhaps Harry would still come to the wedding and she would have a chance to talk to him again.
“Hello, Mom.” Cal walked into the room, tossing his jacket over the back of the couch. “I thought you would likely be up plotting.”
Well, of course Cal was upset with her, too. He’d made it plain on the phone earlier that he’d thought she’d lost her mind.
“If you’ve come to talk sense into me, you’ve wasted your time.” She turned back to staring at the fireplace. It wasn’t lit, but there was still some comfort in it.
Every Christmas they would light a fire—even when it was warm outside—and they would open their gifts. Then after Ralph and her mother-in-law had gone to bed, she would sneak down and give her babies some candy since Beaumonts didn’t eat candy.
“I didn’t come to talk sense into you. I can’t do that. But I think he can.” He moved around until he was standing in front of her, holding out a piece of paper.
Celeste stared at it. “What is that?”
“Wes’s last letter to me. I got it about three weeks after he died.”
Emotion threatened to well and she realized there was something so much worse than rage.
Grief. Never-ending, soul-splitting grief.
“He wrote to you?” He hadn’t written to her. He’d been silent those months before his death.
Cal seemed to understand she wasn’t going to take the letter from him. He took a step back and sank into the chair opposite her. Those chairs were supposed to be for the man and lady of the house. Instead, for years her mother-in-law had been the one to sit beside Ralph.
Would she have done that to Seraphina if Wes had insisted on marrying her? She rather thought Sera would have had a problem with that.
“We got close when he went to college,” Cal admitted. “I think he liked the freedom of being outside of Papillon, though obviously there were things he missed here.”
“Sera. Do you understand their relationship? I’ve been going over and over it in my head. Why choose Harry over Wes? I know Harry’s more handsome, but Wes wasn’t bad to look at.”
“You view marriage as something entirely different than the rest of the world. Or maybe just our little part of it. You married Dad because he could give you a better life. Sera wanted to build a better life with someone she truly loves. She viewed love as the foundation of that life. Your foundation was money.”
“You have no idea what it’s like to go hungry.” She didn’t need this judgment from her son. “You were given a car on your sixteenth birthday. My mother took the bus to work every day, and my father worked on cars he could never afford. When he could work. You don’t know what it means to not be able to afford medication, to wonder if you would even have a roof over your head. That was my childhood. You think yours was rough.”
“I wasn’t making a judgment, Mom. I truly wasn’t. I haven’t walked in your shoes, but you don’t understand what it feels like to be in Sera’s.”
That was the irony. “I don’t know about that. We both got pregnant by Beaumont men, and neither of us was married at the time.”
Cal’s lips curled up in what seemed to be a truly delighted grin. “Everyone knew I wasn’t a preemie. I weighed damn near nine pounds.” His grin faded. “I know you had it hard. You had to make choices based on how you grew up, on what you valued.”
“I know you won’t believe me, but I valued you. I valued your sister and your brother.”
Cal was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I know.”
He didn’t believe her. “Cal, I love you.”
“I do know that. I know that Wes was sick, and even when he was well, you kept waiting for it to all go to hell with him. I can’t understand what it means to potentially lose a child, but I bet Seraphina is feeling that right now.”
“Don’t you compare the two. Your brother had cancer.” A horrible thought struck her. She sat straight up. “Has anyone checked Luc? It could have passed to Luc.”
“Sera knows. She always knew Wes had a childhood cancer.” Angie stood in the doorway. She’d changed into jeans and her hair was up, her face scrubbed clean like she’d gotten ready for bed before she’d decided to come over. “When she came to me, I made sure she understood that Luc’s doctor should know. He’s perfectly normal and she knows what to check for.”
Celeste could suddenly breathe again. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Mom, I think you should read this letter,” Cal said.
“What you and your brother had to say to each other is between the two of you.” She didn’t want to know what Wes had said about her.
“He didn’t leave because of Sera, you know,” Cal continued. “He left because Dad told him he was a disappointment. Dear old dad told him Sera couldn’t love him because he wasn’t a real man. Dad liked to play us off each other.”
“I told you not to let him do that.” She’d always gone in behind Ralph and tried to make things better.
“It doesn’t always work that way,” Angie said, taking a seat on the couch. “It’s hard to not let it get to you. Read the letter, Mom. I read it. I’m glad I did. Wes died and it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Sera’s. He died because sometimes the universe isn’t fair. Maybe he died because he’d learned what he needed to and it was time to move on. I don’t know, but I do know he wouldn’t want us to tear each other apart. I love you, but it’s time to let go. Not of Wes. We don’t ever have to let go of the love we felt for him. But you have to let go of your fear and your guilt. I need you to because I want to be a part of your life. One day I want my kids to know their opinionated, obnoxious, intelligent grandmother. I can’t do that if you put the mother of Wes’s child through hell because you have to punish someone.”
“She should have . . .” Should have what? Should have married a man she didn’t love the way Celeste herself had?
She took the letter from Cal. She owed it to her living children to do as they asked.
>
Dear Cal,
I’ve settled in and the surprising thing is, it’s not so bad. I like it here. Not Afghanistan, exactly. It’s hot and I’ve already had an encounter with a snake in the latrine that will stay with me the rest of my life, but there’s a peace I didn’t expect to find. Like I’m doing something good for the first time in my life. I know Mom is crazy worried, but I think I’m getting to know who I am without all the crap that comes with being a Beaumont. Like we’ve talked about. It’s good to make something from the bottom up. No one here cares what my family does. They don’t give a damn about money or how far back I can trace my ancestry. All that matters is how I do my job, how I take care of my friends. I know everyone expects me to come around and let Dad get me out of here, but I’m staying.
I met someone. She’s a translator. Her name is Mila. I’ve only been close to her a few weeks, but I already know she’s the one. I want to bring her home with me when I finally get some leave. We’ll see. It could be difficult.
But that brings me to something I need you to do for me. Check in on Sera. I did something I want so badly to take back. She came to see me and things got out of hand. I said some things I had no right to say to her, reacted in a way I definitely shouldn’t have. For so long she was an escape for me. I didn’t treat her the way she deserved to be treated and I want to make sure she’s all right. Tell her I understand. Ask her to forgive me. I scared her the last time we were together. It’s why I’m not writing her. I gave up the right, but let her know I would love to hear from her.
Let her know how much I care about her and what a good friend she’s been to me.
Tell Mom not to worry. I know she’s angry at me for leaving, but she’ll see. I’m happy.
I’m free.
Tell her it might be time for her to be free, too. I think she should divorce Ralph, and damn the consequences. We’ll all support her. Tell her I love her, too.
And send some snacks, brother. Give Mom and Ang my love.
Wes
Her hands shook as she finished the letter. He was free. Free of pain and crushing responsibility. Free of the confines of his name. Tears dripped from her eyes and the world went blurry.
“Mom, it’s all right to cry. It doesn’t mean you’re not strong,” Angie whispered. She’d gotten to her knees and her eyes sheened.
“If I start,” Celeste managed to gasp.
“Then I’ll hold you until you stop.” Angie’s arms came around her.
“What if I don’t?” But she was losing the fight. She could feel all the pain and anger, all the worry and guilt, all the sorrow welling inside her like a tidal wave.
Cal’s voice was hoarse as he came to her other side. “Then we never let go. Not ever.”
Celeste sobbed, and sometime in the hours of grief, she finally found some peace.
chapter sixteen
Seraphina listened to the message for what felt like the thousandth time.
Hey, Sera. I know you don’t want to talk to me right now, but I need you to know that I’m here. I want to help you in any way I can, and if that means leaving you alone for a while, I’ll do that, too. Just know that I promise to keep my phone charged in case you need me.
He never kept his phone charged. He forgot about it. He got lost in work and never could remember the little things like charging his phone. He’d been on his own for so long he often didn’t think about checking in, didn’t understand why people would worry about him.
But he always remembered to bring her coffee when he was making his own. He remembered to come into whatever room she was working in and he would kiss her and tell her how great she was doing.
He remembered the big things. He remembered her.
Luc giggled from where he was playing and suddenly stuffed animals were being thrown in the air.
She had to smile her son’s way. He didn’t have any idea that the world might implode, and it was her job to make sure that it didn’t, to ensure his world was as normal as possible.
He stopped and his head twisted, eyes looking around for something.
“Momma, where Shep?” he asked, leaning against her legs.
Tears sparked but she tried to hold them back. Over the time she’d been with Harry, Luc had gotten so close to the big, loving German shepherd. “He’s with Harry, sweetie. You know he’s not ours. He’s got to be with Harry.”
“Harry come here,” Luc replied simply.
She shook her head. Maybe it was time to look for a dog of their own. “He’s working.”
It might be the first time she’d lied to her child.
“Hey, hon. How are you doing?” Her momma walked in, carrying her purse. She’d gotten up early, put on her nicest caftan, tucked her hair in a vibrant scarf, and left. She’d been out most of the morning. Probably plotting with Marcelle on how to fix the situation by calling the spirits of her ancestors or something.
She wasn’t sure how the ghost of Pop-Pop Guidry could help unless he’d studied law in the great beyond. Though Aunt Irene as a ghost would probably be a pretty effective scare tactic since she’d been so good at it in life.
“I’m cursing myself for every single choice I’ve ever made,” she admitted.
Her mom put her purse on the table. “Call him.”
“I can’t do that and you know why.” If she called him, she would give in. She would break down, and she couldn’t afford a breakdown right now. She had to be strong.
But did Harry make her weak? Or merely lend her another kind of strength, the strength that came from truly loving another person.
“I don’t understand it,” her mother admitted. “I know I agreed with you last night, but you’d had a day, and sometimes a mother simply must agree with everything her baby says until such time as she can be a bit more reasonable. He made a mistake. He’s a man. He’s going to make a ton of them. Your father made them, and he was practically a saint.”
She glanced up at her mom. It was easy to write off Delphine Dellacourt Guidry as a “character,” as they would say in these parts. As she’d gotten older, she’d embraced her kooky side with gleeful abandon, but there had been a time when she was a widow with three children to take care of. There had been a time when her mother had cried herself to sleep every night because she missed the man she’d loved. “Do you wish you hadn’t met him?”
Her mom sat down next to her, a sympathetic look on her face. Her mother might not be the psychic she often claimed to be, but she was good at knowing how her daughter felt. “Honey, it’s never wrong to love someone. Never.”
“I’ve done exactly what I said I wouldn’t. I confused my son.” She should have followed her own rules. Never introduce a boyfriend to her son until she was serious about him.
Except she’d been very serious about Harry. Yes, it had happened fast, but she’d been in love with him and worried she wouldn’t ever feel that way again. All of her other relationships had been nothing compared to Harry. No one had ever made her feel more herself, stronger, more confident than she did when she was with him.
“It wasn’t wrong to bring him in. You had to figure out if he could love your son, and he did,” her mother said quietly. “And honestly, at some point you were going to have to tell Celeste. I might not like the woman, but Luc has the right to know where his father came from, who that side of his family is. I know you made the decision for good reasons, but at some point Luc’s will has to come into play. I assure you he will want to know. And to answer your question, no. I’m not going to say that in my grief at your father’s passing I didn’t have moments where I wished I hadn’t hurt the way I did, but I never would have taken it back. I got three amazing kids out of that relationship. I got a home I love. And I got him. I got to know him, to adore him, to know what it means to be genuinely loved. That’s what the pain means. I loved and that’s what we’re put on th
is earth to do, baby girl. We’re here to love, and that’s why you need to think about forgiving Harry.”
Would the need to cry ever abate? She felt like she’d been close to tears every second since that moment she’d known she would have to leave him. “It’s not that simple. I think Celeste will use any relationship I have to further her claims. I don’t even know what her claims are, but I know she’ll twist what Harry and I have. She’ll say we moved too fast, that I brought him into Luc’s life too quickly.”
Her mom nodded. “I know that’s what she’ll do, but don’t you worry about it. Marcelle and I are going to put the whammy on that woman.”
Sera groaned. “Don’t even start on that.”
“It’ll work, but if you insist on using the legal process, you should know that Remy’s talking to that lawyer in Dallas today,” her mom said. “I ran by the restaurant to check in, and your brother’s going to set up a phone call with him.”
“Good.” Talking to Lisa’s brother-in-law would settle some of her nerves. At least she would know what kind of position she was in.
There was a knock on the door.
Luc had gone back to rolling around with his stuffed animals. Soon she would have to make his lunch and put him down for a nap. Despite the fact that she should go out to Guidry Place and work on the flooring downstairs, she might lie down with him. She wouldn’t sleep, but at least she could hold her baby and remind herself what mattered.
Hadn’t Harry mattered?
Her mother stood. “I’ll get it. It’s probably Sylvie. Marcelle will have talked to her by now and she’ll be worried.”
So everyone would know soon. She loved Marcelle, but the woman ran the salon, which was a hub for gossip. The only place worse was Guidry’s, where the whole town met to eat, drink, and talk about everyone else. Once Sylvie knew, Hallie would know, and they would be over here trying to help. They would be good friends to her like they’d always been, but all she wanted was Harry.