Page 106 of Once a Hero

“You left us.”

“I put you in good hands. The Glynns needed money for their investments. I need two loving parents.”

“Why not take us with you and Philomena?”

“On the run? I didn’t think would work. Eugene was ten and you were five, and both in school.”

“You could have homeschooled us.”

“No. We were living in an RV traveling from state to state. We were off the grid and under the radar.”

“For twenty-five years.”

“Twenty. We ended up in California, loved it, and bought a cabin with cash.”

“Then you ghosted Philomena?” Beatrice asked. For once, she felt sorry for that woman—whom Dad said was her biological mother.

“After her cancer scare, she wanted to visit her nieces and nephews. We made her a fake passport, but she was antsy to say goodbye to everyone. Of course, she didn’t die. The cancer went away, and we went back to our cabin in the woods.”

“However, your travels put you on Molyneux’s radar.”

“Not to mention all the different government agencies around the word.”

“So you fled town to protect Philomena?” Beatrice didn’t feel a thing as she said her name. She did not feel anything at all about who her real mother was.

She would need proof, and now wasn’t the time.

“I gave her strict instructions to stay inside the cabin. I spent the next three years looking for Molyneux.”

“What do you think happened to Philomena while you were gone?” Beatrice asked. Perhaps he had been stuck in this cave for too long.

“She should be fine. I left her plenty of money and supplies. Told her to stay in the cabin until I get home.”

“Philomena went to Cannes six months ago to sell jewelry to the FBI.” Beatrice could see the shock registered on Dad’s face. “A couple of weeks ago, she showed up in San Francisco with two brooches to sell. Who did she sell the third brooch to?”

“Brooches? As in the key?” Dad groaned. “I hid it.”

“In the cabin you shared with her. She found them and tried to sell them.”

“That can’t be her. She would never sell my stuff.” Dad shook his head. “It had to be an impostor.”

“She died of poisoning in a café that night. There were no records of her on file anywhere. They called her an undocumented immigrant.”

Beatrice waited to see how Dad would react. His reaction was slow. There was no shock on his face. Only resignation.

Finally, he nodded. “I told her not to leave the cabin. Told her I’d be back. It just took time, that’s all.”

“Three years. How was she going to support herself, being an illegal resident of the country?”

“I left her money and supplies.”

“Sometimes we need more than money and things.”

“Don’t judge me, Amber.” His hung his head.

“Beatrice.”

“Whatever. Don’t judge your old man.” Tears fell from his eyes.

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