Page 211 of When Love Takes Root

She stepped inside slowly, taking everything in. “What is this?”

I stood behind her, watching her reaction. “Just something for you.”

Her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed it in.

A small table sat between two tall bookcases, dressed in cream linen with gold-rimmed plates, candles, and a vase of lilies, rosemary, and red celosia. A tray of mini desserts waited beside two coffee cups, and a handwritten menu rested on her plate. On the loveseat near the window sat three wrapped books tied with silk ribbon, a leather journal, and a purple bookmark covered in glitter, crooked hearts, and a tiny crown drawn in gold marker.

I pointed things out one by one. “Flowers from my mom. Desserts from Aunt Hilary. Coffee from Dr. Malcolm. Books Melody helped pick.”

Then I handed her the journal.

Her name was engraved on it.

Celeste Alexandra Coleman.

Beneath it were the words:

For the woman still writing.

She touched it, and the tears came. “Josiah.”

“I know life hasn’t been easy.” My voice softened. “But your story’s not over.”

Her breath caught.

I handed her the bookmark from Lyric.

The front said:

Miss Celeste’s Book Saver

On the back, in wobbly handwriting, it read:

Uncle Siah said you love books, and he loves you. Don’t tell him I told you.

Celeste laughed through tears, shaking her head.

“Lyric told on me,” I said.

Celeste smiled, wiping her cheeks. “She’s perfect.”

“She’s dangerous.”

Celeste held the bookmark close. “This is beautiful.”

She looked at me, and everything shifted.

I stepped closer. “I just wanted you to feel seen.”

“I don’t know what to do with this.” She let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t have to do anything. Just take it in.”

“That’s hard.” She laughed weakly, overwhelmed.

“I know.”

“I’m used to being the one doing everything.” Her voice dropped, almost apologetic.