T.N - Chapter 25

After some sneaking behind cars to hide from passing terrorists, we somehow managed to find Heathcliff’s phone. It was inside of the Dragon’s specially made and furnished truck, quite in plain view. The door handle was unlocked, making it easy to just snatch the phone and run out of there. I had to be careful that the phone didn’t fall out, as the pocket of my jeans wasn’t the most secure. I ran into my room, which was easy to find, and of course, Heathcliff followed me (much to my barely veiled dismay).

Once I closed the door, I took the phone out of my pocket. I turned it on, and saw it was locked. “Heathcliff, what’s your password?” I asked. Heathcliff opened his mouth to reply, and then I cut him off. I knew what it was going to be. I typed in “Theodora” and the phone unlocked. “Seriously, you need a new password.”

“But it shows my devotion and love to you, my—“ I cut him off with a wave of my hand. I turned my attention back to the phone.

I checked to see if the GPS tracking ability was still on, which it was. I then navigated the complicated workings and managed to compose a message to Grandfather. It was brief, but enough to give him an idea of where we might be (I thought we were underground) and our statuses. Plus I had to tell him that it wasn’t just me in trouble; he had to save Heathcliff and a complete stranger (Charlie).

When I was finished, I decided a safe place to put it would be in the desk. I opened a drawer, and found the diary again. I placed the phone inside, and then took out the diary. I didn’t know if I should tell Wolfgang about her and this journal. From the entries, it appeared that she had fled shortly after he was born, and therefore Wolfgang never knew her.

“What is that?” asked Heathcliff, peering over my shoulder. “Have you been keeping a diary?”

“Do you think I somehow managed to bring a diary here? And I haven’t even written a diary in my life, ever.” I opened up the diary to the first page. On it, written in simple, elegant cursive was the name Laura Gable (née Jeshua).

“Who is that?” asked Heathcliff. “Am I supposed to get it?”

“If you had a higher IQ, yes. But my standards are rather low, so I didn’t expect you to get it,” I said rather sincerely. I guessed it sounded more biting than I meant since Heathcliff gave me a childish pout. I ignored him (although I felt a little stab of conscience digging in). “Do you see the last name of this woman? It’s Gable, the same as the Dragon’s and Wolfgang’s. This woman is Wolfgang’s missing mother!” His pout was completed wiped off by his look of surprise.

“I always assumed she was dead, you know. That’s what my parents told me when I asked.”

“Huh? So you knew that Wolfgang didn’t have a mother?”

“Yeah, I asked my parents because I thought it was odd for a kid to be missing one of his parents. I never brought it up again.”

“Oh,” I said simply. So there was something that Heathcliff knew that I didn’t.

A knock sounded at the door, and I placed the diary back on the desk. I walked over to it and opened it slightly. I was taken aback when I saw Wolfgang standing there. “Can I come in?” he asked awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, or talking to your dad? I mean you weren’t feeling well this morning, so you should be resting,” I said.

“Thanks for your consideration, but I just need some time away from him. I know that sounds silly since I’ve just been reunited with him, but I’ve forgotten how utterly overbearing and annoying he is. And I’ve been resting in bed for the entire morning.” He looked at me. “So are you going to leave me out here, or let me in?”

“Sorry,” I said, and I opened the door for him. He seemed stunned seeing Heathcliff sitting on my bed, and didn’t respond when Heathcliff gave him an awkward wave. “Before you get any funny ideas, Heathcliff followed me here. I don’t have the energy or the will to kick him out.” Wolfgang looked relieved. He looked over at the desk, and saw the book there.

“What’s that, your diary?” he asked, and before I could stop him, he picked it up and started reading it. I tried grabbing it out of his hand, but he kept on moving it out of my grasp. I could see that he’s read past some incriminating evidence, as his expression darkened.

“Where did you find this?” he asked quietly.

“In the drawers, in the desk,” I told him carefully.

He shut the diary loudly, and then started to head out of the room.

“Where are you going?” I asked rather alarmed. This wasn’t an explosive anger of the moment, but one that seemed to have been simmering for a long time.

“I think I’m going to have a little talk with my dad after all,” he said coldly, and he slammed the door shut behind him.