Page 130 of Grim Tidings

I squeeze his hand again and make sure he’s looking at me. “Frank,” I say quietly. “Where else would you go?”

His shoulders drop, and a soft smile lightens the lines of his face. He passes his hand over his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just—it’s been a long time. I’ve been waiting for this.”

“I know you have,” I assure him. “It won’t be much longer now.”

“Yes, we’ve dallied quite enough,” Gideon agrees. He reaches for the knob I’ve only ever seen Maverick touch and pulls.

The door sticks—like it’s weighing the measure of the man attempting to open it—then gives with a light squeak of its hinges. The sound of the surf immediately fills the antechamber. Seagulls and rolling waves.

Next to me, Frank sucks in a sharp breath.

I smile.

“Go on,” I whisper. “Go be with your girls.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand. “I know I was angry with you, and I won’t apologize for that, but I will thank you for this.” He squeezes my fingers so tight, they ache. I don’t let go. “Thank you for bringing me back to them.”

I laugh. It’s a wet, garbled sound. “I’m pretty sure I’m responsible for your death, Frank.”

On the other side of the door, a little girl’s giggle rises above the sound of the surf. Frank closes his eyes with a ragged exhale, a single tear glancing down his cheek. When his eyes open again, they’re luminous.

He lifts my hand and presses a kiss against the back of it. “Try to keep your promises from now on, okay? And take care of my flowers.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Okay, Frank.”

He steps toward the door. He hesitates at the threshold, wiping roughly at his cheeks, firming his shoulders. The effects of the door’s magic are already tugging at his features. They smooth the lines of his face. His posture slowly straightens. The white cloud of hair on the top of his head darkens. Time turns back until Frank looks like the man he was on the day he lost everything.

He steps through the doorway, his boot-clad feet sinking into the sand. Gideon curls his hand around the door, and begins to close it behind him.

“Wait,” I beg. “Please. I need to make sure he’s okay.”

A white-blond eyebrow arches. “You’re not exactly in a position to ask for things, Darcy.”

But he doesn’t shut the door.

Frank shades his eyes against the sun as he stares down the length of the beach. Looking, looking, looking. In the distance, a massive stone formation rises from the surf. An arch that makes a perfect circle with its reflection.

“Daddy!”

A small blue blur darts across the sand, dark hair streaming behind her as she climbs the dunes. Frank immediately falls to his knees and the little girl collides with his chest. His arms snap around her.

Another figure appears over the dunes. Strawberry-blond hair and a flower dress.

Gideon closes the door before we can see anything else.

“The rest belongs to them,” he says solemnly as the door quietly clicks shut.

I sniff and nod, unfolding Frank’s handkerchief and trying to use it to mop up the mess on my face. I bet I look like a drowned raccoon. A woodland creature that’s been tortured and waterboarded for information.

Gideon crosses to the other side of the desk, frowning up at the massive file cabinets. His mouth moves wordlessly, almost as if he’s reciting something from memory. I catch the edge of a whisper, his voice a broken plea around a name.

Bella—

Isabella.

“Who are you looking for?” I ask.

He glances at me, startled. “No one,” he answers quickly. “I was, ah—it’s been some time since I’ve been in this room.”