Gilbert’s mouth contorted, pressing against emotions more than words, Claire suspected. He put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Claire didn’t care what she’d promised Gilbert—she owed David’s son the truth. If she lied, it would only be worse for Luca later. A pressure built in her. She raised an eyebrow to Gilbert, and he nodded.
Putting her arm around Luca, she inhaled his little boy scent of brioche and Nutella. No matter how this beautiful boy came into her life, he was a part of David, and she cherished them both.
Gilbert stood above them, his face awash in sorrow, his fist pressing against his mouth.
She pulled Luca up onto her lap and swallowed against the hard thing in her throat. “David hasn’t visited in a long time, has he?”
Luca shook his head. “I hope he is not buying our competitors’ wines.”
Gilbert let go of a sob-laugh.
David would have found Luca’s comment sad-funny as well.
“He would have visited you if he could…” Claire hugged Luca to her; stroked his unruly curls from his eyes; cupped his cheek. “But he couldn’t…because he passed away.” She held him gently, like he might break, giving him the freedom to flee if he wished.
“Oh… Like Maman.” He leaned his head against her shoulder and let out a long, shuddering sigh. “When did he die?”
Claire exchanged a worried glance with Gilbert. She didn’t know why David had told Luca about her but not her about Luca. A sense of betrayal slid through her. She pushed her own feelings aside. She had to support this boy in his grief, and she would not lie. She would be strong for Luca.
She held him close and spoke softly. “Last year in September—right before he was going to visit you. I didn’t know about you then, otherwise I would have come to tell you much sooner.”
Luca searched her eyes, making Claire glad she’d been honest with him, even if Gilbert was angry with her. “How did he die?”
“His heart stopped working. It was very sudden.”
“Oh.” He gently kicked his legs, like he was ridding himself of stress. “I am glad he was not sick for a long time, like Maman. Do you think he is in heaven with her?”
“Yes, I believe they are both in heaven.”
He wrapped his arms around her neck. “Don’t cry, Madame Claire.” He patted her back.
She held him, felt the weight of him, felt him sigh and inhale a shaky breath. A warmth she’d never known bloomed in her, enabling her to comfort Luca, and at the same time realizing he comforted her—like giant arms cradled and warmed and protected them both. The feeling was holy, like an aura surrounding them. She understood now, the paintings of the Virgin Mary and her child. Motherhood was holy. She basked in the sacredness of holding and comforting David’s son, never wanting the moment to end, knowing she would love and protect this child for the rest of her life.
She felt sorry for her mother, then, never knowing the comfort Claire could have given her. Sister Georgette was right. Her mother had missed out on loving her beautiful daughter. And Claire was grateful beyond imagination that she had this opportunity to love David’s beautiful son.
Luca straightened. “You must miss him beaucoup…much. And you must be very sad.” He looked up at Gilbert. “Are you sad, too, Onc?”
Gilbert nodded. “David was my very good friend.” He dragged his fist across his mouth.
She imagined he was suppressing his pain. Claire had been so concerned about Luca she hadn’t grasped Gilbert’s loss, and she longed to help him recover from his grief. David had given Gilbert’s sister what she desired most in life. Gilbert must have loved David very much for not only his generosity, but also for giving them both a son.
Luca hugged Claire. “I am sad not to see Papa David anymore, but I am glad he sent you to us. He told us many stories about your…maillots?”
“Swimsuits.” Claire squeezed Luca and held on for dear life, trying not to cry. She breathed slowly until she calmed. “I am very glad to be with you. Your Papa David loved you so, so very much.”
Luca let out a long sigh and stood, looking up at Gilbert and then Claire. “Do you want to go with us to Strasbourg? Papa David loved the city. It is very pretty, and the trip will help us feel less sad.”
The heaviness in Claire drained. “How doyoufeel, Luca?”
He rubbed his hand in circles on his chest. “It hurts here, but I know it is because I am sad and missing my mamanandpapa.” He examined his fingers like a toy he’d never seen. “But Papa David told me that he would always be in my heart.” He pressed his fingers on his chest. “And I feel him right here, right now.” He tilted his head; his face was serious. “Do you feel him in your heart?”
Claire nodded. “Always.”
“Then let us take Papa David with us to Strasbourg.”
His simple logic tugged a smile from her. “He would like that very much.”
