Page 8 of Once a Hero

She sat down across from him at the small table.

Philomena Wright, also known as Philomena Caddock, was in her sixties with short black hair combed neatly and tucked behind her ears. Simple earrings made of gold—or something golden—caught Jake’s eyes because they were like two dangling keys.

She did not glance to the left or right.

Customers started to leave around them. The woman at the next table kept eating her chocolate cake. When she asked for a glass of milk from the server, Jake almost leaned toward her and say, “I would too.”

But he stopped his wandering mind. Why would a stranger draw his focus away from the matter at hand?

Thank God that Earl was somewhere in the room. Jake slowly looked over Philomena’s shoulder and spotted him at a far table, earbuds at the ready to listen to their conversation.

“Take two, huh?” Philomena said.

Jake supposed she was referring to Cannes. He nodded.

“This is all I have for you.” She opened her palm, showing him an amber brooch. “From my late husband.”

“And?” Jake suddenly felt it was a mistake to meet this crazy woman.

“There’s a story behind this brooch,” the woman said. “Find the story, find the room.”

Suddenly Philomena’s eyes turned toward the woman at the next table, her eyes widening.

Jake glanced at the woman, now staring at her phone, seemingly oblivious to Philomena’s stares.

What is going on?

A new server came to refill their water. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes. Two creams,” Philomena said.

“Black for me,” Jake added.

The stranger at the next table put away her phone and got up. She walked toward her server and pressed a couple of bills in his palm. The server was thanking her profusely when another server bumped into them, spilling liquid all over her blouse. Soda, it looked like.

Jake shook his head. He turned toward Philomena. “I need more than this brooch.”

He opened a clean paper napkin and wrapped the brooch in it without touching it with his hand.

“I have nothing more to tell you, except that I regret everything I ever did in my life.” Her arms were crossed, as if belying her own words. “If Chisolm were here today, he’ll vouch for me. Unfortunately, he’s gone and I have nothing left of him but that brooch.”

“What you wanted to talk about was so far in the past that I’m not sure it’s relevant for today,” Jake said quietly.

Philomena waited for the server to pour her a hot cup of coffee. After the server left, she still didn’t speak. Slowly, she sipped the cup of coffee.

Jake wanted to drink his own coffee black, but decided to ask for cream. He stirred in a small drop into his coffee the color of night and dark days ahead,

At this point, Jake’s eyes were on the stranger again, coming out of the ladies’ restroom, half her blouse and part of her jeans wet. It was then that Jake realized who she reminded him of—

Across his table, Philomena gagged and choked. Her hands were on her chest. She was gasping for air and trying to say something.

“Whoa!” Jake rushed to her, knocking over his own glass of water on the table. “Someone call 911!”

Across the room, Earl came flying. So did the stranger.

“What’s going on?” Earl asked, tapping his phone.

Was it the coffee?

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