Page 65 of Once a Hero

“Your brother sounds like a nice guy. I’d like to meet him.”

“He doesn’t like to meet people.”

“A recluse?”

“You know, sometimes parents don’t realize the repercussions they leave in their children’s lives.” Beatrice sighed. “Ten, twenty years later, we still feel it.”

“God can help us to rise above the chaos.” Jake smiled. His dimples showed again. “We look to Christ, the author and perfecter of our faith.”

“Hebrews 12:2. You know your scripture.” Beatrice was impressed. He wasn’t the only one who knew the scripture passage that make up the complete thought in Hebrews 12:1-2.

Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God.

“Are you a praying person?” Beatrice asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Without God, I wouldn’t have survived all those years of being undercover.”

Beatrice studied him. He seemed to have said that with confidence—or he had been compartmentalizing his undercover work.

“How do you live like this?” she asked. “You’re one person in real life, and another undercover as part of your job.”

“If I look at myself as an actor on stage, I can see that my undercover job is a role I play. When the curtain falls, the job is done. I go to another play.”

“Interesting. Are you in theater right now? Are you playing a role with us? Infiltrating my team?”

Jake looked surprised. “No. I’m all me here. Jacob Gavin Kessler. Look it up. Take my fingerprint. DNA.”

“Why do you keep wanting to go after Molyneux—spare me the save-the-world talking points—when you’ve lost your badge, your job, your salary due to her?”

“Are you saying I’m an underdog and I have no chance against Molyneux?”

“At this point, none of us seems to be making progress.”

“So we pray for success.” Jake offered his hand again.

She did not take it.

“Prayers against my wicked adoptive mother.” Beatrice finished her bottled water. “Enough about my broken family. Tell me about yours.”

“I come from a big family of five boys and one girl. My parents have been married for almost fifty years. They still live in Florida where they grew up. They farm the land their grandparents left them.”

“Really? What do they farm?”

“Strawberries.”

That surprised Beatrice. “How did a farm boy end up as an FBI agent?”

“Florida is a tourist place, as you know. Being exposed to the world at large opened our eyes to all kinds of job options. My siblings are in many professions. One missionary, one soldier, one tour guide, one teacher, one farmer—and then there’s me.”

“The runt?” Beatrice laughed.

“No, no. I meant that not only are my siblings happily working in the jobs they like, they are also married, and some with kids. I’m thirty-eight and single and—why am I telling you this?”

“Let me take a stab at it.”

“Ouch.” He winced.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t mean...”

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