In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 20: Lily's Flight

An extra week of restrictions. Joy. Just when Frank had been looking forward to going back to work. Never in his life did he think he could tire of watching his movies. He was wrong. Lounging on the sofa staring at John Wayne his brain refused to follow the storyline. Not much of a storyline, granted, an ex-boxer finds romance.

Frank sat up straighter. An ex-boxer finds romance. Chuckling to himself he stopped it with the intent to start it over. When the DVD menu appeared his eyes were drawn to his ugly wall. For the hundredth time he wondered about the family pictures which used to hang there.

John would know. Dialing John's work extension from memory, it amazed him how much stuff in his head had been locked away, he stared at the wall.

"Hey buddy, what's up?" John answered.

"I'm bored," Frank admitted, "are we still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Wish I could go today," John replied. "Client meeting."

"I know," Frank huffed, wishing he could be stuck in it too. "Listen, I wanted to ask you about my ugly wall."

There was a pause before John asked in a neutral tone, "What about it?"

"It seems like I used to have some nice pictures of Mom and Dad up there. Any idea where I put those?" he asked.

"I think they're in your hall closet, top shelf, behind some blankets. With the photo albums," John replied.

"With my photo albums?" Frank demanded, leaping to his feet. Rushing to the closet he asked, "Why would I put them there?"

"Beats sitting around looking at them all day," John said mysteriously. "Rats, the client just walked by. Frank, can I call you later?"

He stood at the door to his front closet. "Yeah. Sure. Later."

Stuffing the cordless house phone into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants, Frank reached for the door knob. His hand shook as he grasped the cool metal. Swallowing against a rising lump in his throat, Frank threw open the door. Stillness dominated the interior. Darkness. Hollow shadows. With a trembling hand he reached for the pull cord to turn on the light. Stark white flooded the closet temporarily blinding him. Small spots floated in his vision as he stared up at the top shelf.

Folded blankets were wedged between the shelf and ceiling. Palms leaking, a cold sweat breaking out over his body, Frank reached up to tug at one. All the blankets tumbled from their precarious perch to land in a heap at his feet.

His photo albums filled the width of the shelf and were stacked up to the ceiling, beside them stood several large picture frames turned towards the wall. Frank froze in place staring at them. Something was horribly wrong. Missing. Something...no, someone was missing.

Lily.

Heart pounding erratically in his chest, Frank spun from the closet to charge for the front door. When he yanked it open he collided with a black chauffeur's uniform.

"Mister Frank," George greeted amicably. "Where are you off to in such a-"

"You have a car," Frank realized, grabbing George's arm. "Come on, you're driving."

"Don't you want to lock up first?" George demanded, pulling Frank back towards his front door which stood wide open.

"No time," Frank insisted, yanking on the chauffeur's arm.

"Lock your door, Mister Frank, and I'll drive," George promised. "Wherever you need to go."

Pain in the ass. Why did everyone around him insist on acting like a pain in the ass? Stumbling through his own doorway, Frank scooped his keys off the entry table. After slamming his door he locked it then shot George a grave glare.