The Last Option

The next day Bernard arrived at John F. Kennedy International Airport twenty minutes before the arrival of British Airways Flight 943 from London. It was almost noon. It had taken him some time to track down Margaret's father to notify him of her death, and he did not want to have her funeral without his presence, as he was the only remaining relative of her. When Margaret was twelve years old, her mother died of cancer, and her brother, Andrew, two years her senior, also died fighting in the war in Afghanistan, leaving her alone with their father. Bernard had met Andrew in his military service and through him Margaret when the latter was twenty-five, falling in love instantly as soon as they met. They had been dating for two years when Andrew's sudden death in combat caused Margaret, in grief and fear of losing him too, to ask Bernard not to continue his military service. He agreed to her plea and left the navy, later marrying her. Margaret's father, also a retired military and veteran of the Vietnam War, seeing himself alone, since his wife and son had died and his daughter was getting married to go make her own life, decided to live the rest of his life joining and working for charitable, ecological and environmental organizations dedicated to improving living conditions in African and Asian countries, finding a new meaning in his life and feeling useful by helping those most in need.

He was with one of those organizations inaugurating a newly built water well in a remote town in Kenya when he received a letter with the news of the death of his daughter, and where Bernard begged him to travel as soon as possible to the United States, since he did not want to do the funeral without his presence.

And now he was there, standing before his son-in-law, three years later, with a suitcase in his hand.

"Mr. Foxworth," Bernard couldn't help but feel sad again in the presence of that man who was already in his late sixties and still looked energetic and vital, "I'm sorry to see you again in these circumstances-"

He couldn't finish his sentence because suddenly the man hugged him tightly. Bernard couldn't stop a tear from escaping and rolling down his cheek.

They stayed like that for at least a minute, after which the man stood in front of him again.

"You know I don't like being called by my last name. I'm your father-in-law, for God's sake." "Excuse me, Anthony. How was the flight?"

They began to walk towards the exit of the airport to search later for the parking lot.

"Exhausting. It takes a long time to get back to civilization when you're in the farthest reaches of Africa."

"I was a little worried when I couldn't reach you in London. Thank God you got the message where you were."

They walked on for a few seconds in silence, until Anthony asked the question he had not wanted to ask since he had stopped in front of Bernard, and inevitably had to, since he had not given him the details in his notice. "How did she die?"

Bernard thought for a few seconds searching his mind for the right words to explain to that man how he had lost his daughter.

"She died giving birth."

Hearing this, Anthony stopped suddenly, looking at Bernard with a surprised face.

"I have to explain some things to you," Bernard told him, turning towards him when he realized he had stopped and seeing his expression. "Technically you weren't going to be a grandfather."

"I don't understand."

"Come on, we're getting to the car. There I'll explain everything to you."

An hour later, Anthony Foxworth learned of the circumstances under which his daughter died. His face was sad and somber at the same time, and Bernard wondered if this hurt man was blaming him for what had happened. Before reaching the apartment he asked him to stop by the morgue to see Margaret's body one last time.

"I don't think it's convenient for you, Anthony," he told him, thinking to protect him from feeling worse if he saw the body. "Several days have passed-"

"Are you going to deny me the right to see my daughter one last time?" he told him, looking straight into the car seat without focusing on a specific point of the city before them. "So why did you make me come?

Anthony was right. Bernard immediately headed for the Mercy Hospital morgue.

"Excuse me, Anthony. I didn't want you to have that image in your head."

"I've already seen the bodies of my wife and son. One more won't make a difference, although this one hurts my soul more than the previous ones."

Moments later they were in front of Margaret's body. The doctor in charge told them that he had waited too long and could not have her there any longer, to which Bernard assured him that they would start immediately with the funeral, that the delay was due to the fact he was waiting for her father.

He wanted to stay a little further back to give Anthony the space and privacy he needed. From where he was, he could barely see the grayish face of who was the great love of his life, and he struggled again to contain himself but he could not, crying silently a few meters behind next to that man who now had no one else in the world.

When they arrived at the apartment a few hours later, they found Thomas and Laura sitting in the living room with little Nathan, who was being fed from a bottle. Bernard introduced them, and immediately Anthony asked to be shown what was going to be his room, taking him there. In it, the man sat on the bed without saying anything else. Bernard thought he wanted to be alone and when he was about to leave, Anthony turned to him, asking:

"Have you thought about what you are going to do?"

Bernard thought the question was in reference to the funeral arrangements.

"I've already contacted a funeral home, and later-"

"Not about that," Anthony interrupted him, "about my daughter's killers." Bernard was somewhat confused.

"She died during childbirth, Anthony."

"That it got complicated when knowing what had happened to you and those millionaires; that was the main cause. You said the police didn't have a suspect yet, but believe me son, I was also a highly-trained soldier like you, and I know we never forget a face when we see one, we were taught that, and I'm sure maybe you saw the face of the killer in the photographs of suspects the police showed you. You didn't tell them who the killer was, did you?"

Bernard thought for a few seconds about what Anthony had told him, it would be very difficult to hide something from that old veteran, and he decided to open up to him and tell him what he was going to do.

"Yes, I know who the killer is, but I didn't tell the police. If I had told them maybe at some point they would catch him, but I'm sure he would never say who or who hired him to kill the Hicks, the code of professional killers is very strict, and they prefer to die in prison to rat out all their clients. I'm thinking of looking for it myself once I'm fit; it may take me a while but somehow I will find out where he is, even if I have to crawl to hell to find him, and he will tell me who ordered him to pull the trigger."

"And what will you do when you find out who gave the order?"

"I don't know yet. It will be a matter of knowing who he is to proceed. Maybe I'll hand him over to justice; maybe I'll kill him with my own hands. I don't know."

Anthony got up from the bed and went to him, facing him.

"I'll help you find him."

Anthony thought he saw some disbelief in Bernard's eyes.

"When my wife died, leaving me alone with a twelve-year-old girl and a fourteen-year-old boy, I had to do many things to support them, son, but I'm not going to tell you what. I can only tell you that during those years I made some contacts and friends that I'm sure will be happy to see me, if they aren't already dead. They'll help us track down that killer."

"But we're from Arkansas. You are from Arkansas. How can your friends help us here in New York?"

"Don't worry about that, you won't believe the connections that some people can have, even outside the country."

Saying that, he turned his back on him and looked for his suitcase, starting to take out his clothes on the bed and then place them in the closet. Bernard did not want to ask him questions at that moment and left the room, thinking he already had someone to help him fulfill his objective.

The next day the funeral was quick and without many attendees. Bernard and Anthony said goodbye to Margaret, feeling that a very important part of their lives was leaving with her.