Page 53 of Once a Hero

Beatrice wasn’t sure how to answer that. She didn’t want to give away anything that would cause Molyneux to go after Benjamin.

“Are you trying to finish what your father and I started?” Molyneux asked.

“Well…”

“Then join me.”

Thought you’d never ask.“I’d rather be independent. Thank you, though.”

“You are your father’s daughter.”

“I was adopted.” Beatrice knew Molyneux didn’t need the reminder, but she said it for her own assurance that she hadn’t inherited any genetic traits from them.

“Yes, but sometimes children take on the characteristics of their adoptive parents.”

That did not sound good to Beatrice at all. The last thing she wanted was to take after Molyneux—even if she had been once Imogen Wright, history scholar.

“Maybe I’ll be ahead of you, retrieve those amber panels first, and then I can offer to sell them to you for a price,” Beatrice said.

At first Molyneux was silent.

Was she stunned?

Then Molyneux broke into a laughter so carefree and wild. “If Chisolm couldn’t find it after all those years, would you able to?”

“Speaking of Dad, what happened to him?”

“I killed him two years ago.”

“You…” Beatrice couldn’t speak.

Somewhere deep in her heart, she had held out hope that Dad was still alive, hiding somewhere in the world, keeping an eye on Benjamin and her.

“I don’t believe you,” Beatrice said.

“You don’t want to believe me. I’m your only parent left. But I tell you, he’s dead.”

Somehow, the way Molyneux said it seemed mendacious.

Beatrice decided to try another angle.

“All those years when he was alive, he never called.” Beatrice wanted to get Molyneux’s sympathy, but the grief in her heart reminded her that it was her own pain that was exposed right now.

What if Dad is really dead?

“What kind of father would disappear for over twenty years and start a new life with someone else?”

“Do they have children?” Beatrice asked.

“Not Chisolm’s. Don’t worry, dear. He didn’t share his fatherly love with other people.”

Beatrice remembered the photos on the mantelpiece. Perhaps those were nieces and nephews.

“Besides, I took care of him. I punished him for you. He is really dead this time. End of story.”

Tears pooled in Beatrice’s eyes. Somewhere in her heart she was hoping—praying—that she could see Dad again.

Still, her heart felt at peace. God was with her, as He had been through her fatherless days on earth. She tried to recall Psalm 68:5.

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