Page 50 of Once a Hero

“Whose house is this?” Beatrice asked.

“Why don’t you ask Molly?” Big Man said. “This way.”

He yanked her back in line, and they marched down the hallway. Outside the bank of French doors, a wraparound deck spread out with Adirondack chairs facing the sunset.

Beatrice wondered how many times Dad had sat there in the evenings with Philomena, looking at that lovely view of tall trees and California skies.

And without his children.

Beatrice felt abandoned.

So abandoned.

Quietly, she felt a warmth in her heart. A light feathery touch and a reminder that she wasn’t truly alone. Her heavenly Father God was still with her, even if her earthly father had forsaken her.

Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as ye have: for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.

That Hebrews 13:15 should pop into her mind at such a time as this!

Beatrice blinked as she stared at the distant sky where the sun was about to set.

And God was still there.

She hung her head.

“Move, woman!” Big Man jerked her forward.

Beatrice’s shoulders slouched, as tears pooled in her eyes.

Why am I like this?

How many times must I grieve my dad?

She thought he had died twenty-five years prior. Come to find out, he had lived on for another twenty-three years or so—according to his long-time girlfriend. And now was he truly dead?

A heavy wooden door opened into what looked like a home office. More earth tones. Right in the middle of the octagonal room was a heavy desk.

Big Man jerked her forward. He motioned for someone to untie her.

Beatrice ran her finger on the smooth wood on the surface of the heavy desk. It was redwood, probably hewn from the forest nearby.

Beatrice felt sorry for the tree that fell to make this desk and the entire house.

“Sit down.” Big Man pointed to an old chair on the other side of the desk.

“Why?”

“Molly wants you to sit down at the desk when you talk to her.”

Over the years that she had hunted down treasures to return to their rightful owners, Beatrice had met numerous eccentric people. Thus, she wasn’t surprised by this request.

From her knowledge of Molyneux, she had her own tics and quirks.

As long as none of them caused her death and that of her team, she would put up with her eccentricities.

Beatrice sat down at the chair.

Was this Dad’s desk?

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