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I nodded, exhaling, and took a sip of my Guinness. “That I did.”

He sighed and continued to wipe down the bar. “I’m having dinner with her tomorrow night before her shift. I’ll see what she tells me. I’ll see what she says about you and how she feels. That’s all I can promise.”

“Of course,” I said. “Thank you for listening.”

I stood and looked around the bar, trying to imagine Mira here, standing where her grandfather stood, pulling glasses of Guinness for the patrons, laughing at their jokes and miserable attempts to pick her up.

I felt a stab of regret in my chest at the thought I’d lost her.

“Thank you, sir,” I said and tucked my hands into my pockets. “Really.”

“For what?” he said a bit gruffly. “I haven’t promised you anything.”

“For listening.”

He nodded. “Semper fi,” he said and waved me away.

“Semper fi,” I replied.

Then I left, feeling somewhat better that I’d spilled my guts to him, hoping beyond hope that it might help in some small way.

Realizing that it was probably a false hope, but I needed something to keep me going.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Miranda

On Tuesday, classes went quickly, and when I was finished for the afternoon, I went back to the residence to get ready for dinner with Gramps and then my shift at the bar.

All the time I was on the train, I thought about Beckett and how he’d knelt at my feet, my hand in his, his face so honest and open – in contrast to how easily he’d hidden the truth from me about his role in Dan’s death.

I arrived at the bar and hugged Gramps, glad to see him. He was my only family left in visiting distance. I needed family at that moment more than anything.

“So, sweetheart,” Gramps said when we were finally alone, seated at a table in the back of the bar after the waitress took our dinner order. “How are you doing? I got this phone call from Jeanne about you…”

I sighed and folded my arms on the table, not sure I wanted to go through everything with Gramps, but he asked.

“What did she tell you?”

He shrugged. “Only that you met someone and there was something about letters from Dan.”

I nodded, thinking of the letters that were now folded up and packed away in the bottom of my desk drawer at the residence.

“He was a soldier who was there when Dan died. He got my letters by accident and returned them.”

“That was nice of him.”

“He didn’t tell me who he was and spent a couple of weeks seducing me.”

Gramps frowned. “Did he succeed?”

I nodded again, not meeting his eyes. “Yep.”

He sat back and took a drink of his coffee. “There must have been a reason he succeeded. Tell me about him. Do you want me to do some sleuthing about him?”

I shook my head. “I already know a lot about him and his family. He told me pretty much everything except that he was there when Dan died.”

“He was in Dan’s unit? How did he get Dan’s letters?”