“Mom? Mom? Oh, god, mom?”
Judy lay back, resting against someone. A hand was stroking her face. She snuggled into the body. It was Celia. It could only be Celia.
A hint of a smile and the satisfaction of relaxing into her, the knowledge that she was loved and safe.
“Mom?” The hand on her face turned into an arm around her waist, holding her close.
“Celia?” Judy whispered.
Judy groaned and put an arm around her daughter. She finally opened her eyes, looking over the morning in the meadow. The truck was right there. Roscoe must be just down the street.
She looked over to see Steve next to her with Boomer’s head on his thigh.
She kissed Celia’s cheek once, then said, “Steve?” She shook his shoulder. Boomer roused first, raising his head and stretching like he’d been asleep for a long time. She put a hand on Steve’s face, then shook his shoulder again. “Wake up.”
“Mom, who is this?” Celia asked.
“His name is Steve.”
“Who is he?”
Judy looked as face as his eyelids fluttered open. When he saw her, when his eyes focused on her, her heart smiled. “He’s mine.”