Chapter 48 Noah
NOAH
While Maya caught up with Sheryn, finally spilling every last detail she’d sworn to share, I boarded a flight to Seattle.
I told her I’d be in Billings for the cattle auction.
But in reality, I was on a mission to talk to her mother.
I’d discovered that she had moved out of Bozeman as soon as her husband was buried.
I found Leah Belrose in her garden, kneeling in the dirt with her hands buried deep in the soil.
Apparently, whatever she was planting mattered more than the conversation I was about to start.
Maybe to her, it did. Maybe she thought this chapter of her life had long since closed, and she wasn’t interested in reopening it.
“I’m Noah Lucas,” I said. “I called earlier.”
She didn’t look up when I approached, didn’t acknowledge my presence.
“I’m Maya’s husband,” I said.
Right there, I caught the faintest twitch in her jaw.
“Your daughter took the necklace,” I said, getting straight to it. “But she never assaulted Annamaria.”
Her hands kept moving, pulling weeds, clearing space for something new. “That was years ago. Why bring it up now?”
“Because she shouldn’t have been punished like that.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
There was no maybe about it. Maya had been punished for a crime she didn’t commit, locked away and abandoned by her own mother. And somehow, against all odds, she still had love left in her heart.
And I wanted to spend my life making sure she never doubted that she was worth it.
“Admit it, Mrs. Belrose. You were disappointed when I said I was her husband. That you’d missed the wedding.”
She shifted even further, doing everything she could to avoid me.
“But here’s the truth.” I followed her. “It wasn’t some grand affair. It was quick and rushed, something to help her case.”
I paused, letting that sink in.
Unreal! The woman was cold.
I carried on, “You still have a chance to be there when it really matters. Because I’m going to propose to her properly and give her the kind of wedding she deserves. And when that day comes, we’re doing it right. Ceremony, vows, everything. So ask yourself, do you really want to miss that too?”
For the first time since I’d arrived, she looked at me, her gaze assessing as if she was trying to figure out if I was serious.
Then, just as quickly, she turned back to the planter, her fingers stirring the soil like it needed more tending.
“The love of my life died because of her,” she said, brushing dirt from her hands. “William died right in front of me, in front of our house where we were supposed to be safe.”
Her voice was raw, but not with fresh grief. This pain had hardened into something that no longer bled, just blocked.
Something that had kept her from loving her daughter for far too long.
When she stood up, I stepped forward, closing some of the distance between us. “Maybe it’s time she became the love of your life.”
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression clouded. Then, without a word, she turned and walked inside, shutting the door behind her.