A Father's Legacy

Two - Secrets

"Of course, Mom," Myranda says gently, taking Mom's hand. "I leave for home tomorrow morning, but if you're not sure, you can always fly out later."

Fighting a wave of emotion, I cleat my throat. "We should clean out Dad's office," I say. "If Marcus is going to take over Dad's classes, he'll need somewhere to keep his stuff. I'll go down to the campus later this afternoon, if that's okay with everyone."

Marcus sat up. "I can go down and do it," he says. "It'll save you the trouble, Aeryn."

I smile sadly. "Thanks, Marcus, but it's something I want to do myself. I just feel like collecting his things from work will help bring closure."

"That's how I feel, too," Mom says. "I'll go with you."

Mom and I don't leave for the office until after supper, so dusk is fast approaching as I back my car out of the driveway. Mom is silent in the passenger's seat, anxiously clutching a box in her lap. "For collecting his knick knacks," she'd said.

I wonder if there would even be enough left in the office to fill the box. I don't doubt that if Dad's home office had been cleaned out, so would his work office.

But lo and behold, the items that decorated Dad's office are present, including a picture hanging behind his desk of the two of us proudly dangling a huge fish we'd caught out on the lake.

Smiling with the memory, I delicately unhook the frame from the wall and set it in the box. It's not until Mom picks a family photo up off the desk that I realize how abnormally bare the desktop is. Where once piles of paperwork was clumsily stacked on the desk surface, not a single sheet is visible.

I don't doubt now that someone has been through Dad's stuff here, too, and I find myself wondering what exactly Dad was working on, what kind of discovery people would want to keep a secret badly enough to kill him.

Mom is opening a desk drawer when I snap back to reality. Determined now to get to the bottom of Dad's mystery, I follow Mom's lead and open another drawer, sifting through the contents for any hints. All the drawers have been cleared of papers, and I become more discouraged the harder I look for clues among the trinkets passed over by others.

Mom and I work in silence until we get to the last drawer, a small, locked drawer at the bottom of the desk. Mom jiggles the lock, trying to force it open.

Remembering a day spent here with Dad, I get up and walk to where several keychains hang from the wall. It's rather easy to pick out which set of keys opens the lock, because the fine film of dust coating most keys after a week of unuse is absent from one set, suggesting Mom and I aren't the first to meet the obstacle of the locked drawer.

Returning to Mom, I fumble with the keys, trying each one until a small, rusting key fits the lock. With an angry click, the lock gives up, and we pull open the drawer.

Mom and I both sigh- hers comes with emotion as she picks up an old locket. I sigh with disappointment- even knowing someone had beaten me to the drawer hasn't prepared me to deal with another empty drawer. I had so badly wanted even just a single clue.

My fist connects with the bottom of the empty drawer in frustration. Mom looks up from her find in surprise at my outburst, but I ignore the hand she places on my shoulder- suddenly, my hope returns.

Rapping my knuckles again on the drawer, I confirm my suspicions- the drawer, like the clock in Dad's study, is fitted with a fake bottom. I ignore Mom's questioning murmur and pull at the corner of the board covering the hidden space.

When it doesn't give way, I hastily reach for the stapler placed innocently on the desktop and bring it down again and again on the drawer bottom. Mom tries to pry the stapler out of my clenched hand, but I brush her off as another blow finally splits the board.