Divine Hope

by Jo O'Neil

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The Holy Confession

  Hope looked disconsolate.

  ‘What do you mean “they” have your parents, Hope?’ I asked in a softer, kinder, more suitable tone.

  My compassion did nothing to alter her despondent face which glistened with the moisture of the large tears that had overflowed from her terrified eyes on to her white, blood drained cheeks.

  She showed me the text on her telephone screen which read; Hope, where are you? Your mother and I have been questioned at home by the British Secret Service. They say you absconded with a known traitor. They are keeping us under house arrest. What’s going on, Hope? Love Daddy x

  Ryan peered over my shoulder to read the words which had devastated our companion.

  ‘I must go to them, Serena,’ she forced herself to say through sobs.

  ‘No, Hope. It could be a trap.’

  She looked stunned at my statement which temporarily halted her tears. With a hint of fury in her voice she replied, ‘My father wouldn’t trap me, Serena.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that? I’ve worked with your father for a number of years’ now, don’t forget. I know he’s a man of utmost integrity. I say it could be a trap, Hope, because it’s possible your father was forced to send that message or someone else used his telephone to concoct the story,’ I said somewhat exasperated.

  ‘I don’t care. I must help them, Serena. Don’t you see; they’re my parents,’ she said as she desperately tried to make me understand.

  ‘I know, Hope, but think for a moment. Clear your mind of the raging emotion that is currently controlling you and think. How can you help them if you walk into the snare the Hart brothers have set to trap you? You will be under house arrest too, and then you will be powerless to help your parents.’ When this ceased to jolt her back to her senses I added, ‘Or worse still, they may throw you in to the Tower of London for being a traitor.’

  She looked momentarily horrified. Then mildly composing herself she asked, ‘Do they still do that?’

  I comfortingly touched her arm as I said, ‘Hope, no matter how hard this is for you, you can’t go to them.’

  ‘I must, Serena. With or without your help, I must try and get my parents out of this mess.’

  She hailed the lone taxi which was pulling on to the rank and gave him the London address of her parents’ house some thirty miles away.

  I huffed and then prayed, ‘Please, Lord, help us!’ I whispered as I stepped into the taxi after Hope.

  Ryan didn’t hesitate as he followed me.

  As the taxi took us voluntary nearer to the enemy we had flown nearly three and a half thousand miles to escape, I questioned Hope in an attempt to make her see how insane her actions were; but not before I had closed the privacy glass between us and the driver, and requested that A.M. protect our conversation from prying ears.

  ‘What’s the plan, Hope?’

  ‘The plan, Serena, is to get my parents out of this jam.’

  She looked at me as if I had asked the most inane question.

  ‘Who’s to say you charging in will help your parents, Hope? MI6 may well intern you all if you don’t give them what they want?’

  ‘My father is a highly successful and influential solicitor, Serena. MI6 wouldn’t dare to cross him. And even if they did, Mr. Collins or Mr. Jones would represent us.’

  ‘MI6 will bury Collins, Harper, and Jones Solicitors in red tape, Hope. It could take months’, if not years’ to prove your innocence. And in all honesty, if MI6 want to make an accusation stick, only God has the power to stop them. Look at what they have done to Ryan.’

  ‘Of course,’ Hope said as she swung her body to face Ryan who was sitting diagonally opposite her. ‘You can help them. Hand yourself over and my father will fight your case and ensure your name is cleared.’

  ‘HOPE! Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said? Ryan can’t surrender to MI6. It’s not God’s plan,’ I nearly screamed as I struggled to control the agitation Hope was causing me.

  ‘What’s going to happen to my parents if he doesn’t?’ she asked anxiously as she fought back her tears. When neither Ryan nor I answered her, she grabbed his hand and pleaded to his better nature. ‘Help me, Ryan, please?’

  Ryan shifted awkwardly in his seat, but he didn’t make an attempt to remove his hand from Hope’s clutches.

  ‘Everything will work out, Hope. We must stick to God’s plan and then all will be well,’ I answered on Ryan’s behalf, far more calmly than my previous words to her, the harshness of which didn’t befit my honorary angelic status.

  ‘And what does the Lord want us to do next?’ she asked with a hint of disdain.

  I waited for the Divine to answer. When no answer came I responded honestly, ‘God hasn’t informed me of our next move yet.’

  ‘So how do you know God doesn’t want us to go to save my parents?’ she asked with obvious distress.

  I posed the question to the Almighty. Again I heard nothing back.

  Ryan, who had been immensely quiet from the moment he entered the taxi, suddenly broke his silence.

  ‘If my opinion counts for anything,’ he looked directly at me to check he wasn’t speaking out of turn.

  My expression neither encouraged nor discouraged him, so he tentatively continued.

  ‘I say we support Hope and go with her to her parents’ house. I can make an assessment once we’re there and form a plan on that basis. If in the meantime God orders us elsewhere, we will abort the mission.’

  ‘NO!’ Hope cried so forcefully that the taxi momentarily swerved as the driver, who had been oblivious to our plotting as he happily listened to the radio in his compartment, jumped. ‘We will see the mission through. We’re talking about my parents, Ryan. How would you feel if it were yours?’ she asked indelicately as she threw his hand away from her with the manner of someone who had been electrocuted.

  Choosing to keep his parents’ fate from Hope, Ryan merely answered, ‘That’s the best I can offer, Hope.’

  He looked at me for support.

  ‘I agree with Ryan,’ I said without hesitation.

  Hope pulled her face into a contentious look, but she didn’t protest further. In fact, she remained in silence, albeit sulkily, until we pulled up in front of two large black wrought iron gates. Each gate had a word written in a flamboyant, yet tasteful gold curve, which when the gates were closed formed the name, Little Court.

  The taxi driver stopped directly in front of the entrance, partially pulled back the glass divide and shouted, ‘You want me to drive through, Love?’

  ‘No, that’s OK, thanks. I can’t open the gates from here,’ Hope explained.

  ‘Actually, Mate, can you drive around the corner, please?’ Ryan requested as he held up a hand to Hope before she could object and override his instruction.

  As soon as we were out of the taxi, Ryan went to work. He scaled the wall surrounding Hope’s parents’ house; although not before he gave us orders in his beautifully refined voice not to leave our post.

  As Hope and I waited, I noted how much the snow had melted since we had been in New York. The roads were completely clear. In fact, the only visible clue to evidence it had recently snowed was the occasional pile on the streets where the gardeners of the wealthy neighbourhood had cleared the large driveways, and the odd patch on perfectly mowed lawns.

  As I studied the surrounding area, Hope became restless.

  Ryan had barely been gone five minutes when she announced, ‘Serena, I shouldn’t be waiting around out here when my parents are being held . . .’ she paused. Her face contorted as she swallowed. ‘Hostage in there,’ she pointed in the direction of the house which was obscured from the street.

  I sighed as I thought I wasn’t equipped to be Hope Harper’s therapist, and then I replied, ‘Hope, let Ryan handle this. After all, this is his field.’

  ‘Hostage negotiation ski
lls aren’t Ryan’s forte, Serena. He’s secret service, not part of Scotland Yard’s elite Hostage and Crisis Negotiation Unit.’

  ‘That may be so, Hope. You can’t argue though, Ryan is far more qualified to handle this situation than either you or me.’

  Suddenly the angst look Hope had been carrying around was replaced by one of optimism.

  ‘Serena, you have clear communication to God. Couldn’t you just ask Him to free my parents and put an end to this nightmare?’

  ‘Hope, God’s Timing is exact, so don’t fear, your parents will be freed at precisely the right time. In the interim, it would do you and the situation the power of good to pray to God for your parents’ safe release.’

  ‘SAFE! DO YOU THINK THEY ARE IN JEOPARDY?’ she yelled.

  I sighed yet again before planning my carefully thought-out answer. Before I had the chance to respond, a recognisable voice called my name.

  ‘Serena! Oh my goodness. Is that really you, Serena?’

  I whirled around to see my best friend practically on her knees. Her right hand was fixed to her briefcase, but she raised her free left hand to cover her mouth which was distorted through shock.

  ‘It is, isn’t it? Thank God,’ Molly screamed as she managed to stand herself up-right again.

  And then dropping her briefcase, she ran the remaining few steps which separated us with her arms out stretched to embraced me.

  ‘How can this be?’ she asked in an almost inaudible tone as her voice was muffled by my leather jacket.

  I didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t meant to happen. Only Hope and Ryan where supposed to know about my angelic existence. I turned back to ironically gain some moral support from Hope, only to find she’d vanished.

  ‘Where did Hope go?’ I asked Molly.

  She answered with a confused expression, ‘Hope, you mean Hope Harper? I don’t know, Serena,’ she said without waiting for my reply. ‘I didn’t see Hope.’

  ‘You didn’t? She was standing right behind me. We were talking as you called.’

  ‘No, Serena, I never saw Hope.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Molly?’

  ‘Mr. Harper left a message to say he wouldn’t be in the office. I have some important documents for him to sign.’

  She held up her hand which had previously contained her briefcase. In recognition her briefcase was no longer in her possession she looked around for it with a trace of panic on her face. After reclaiming the discarded documents, the kind, carefree expression I was use to Molly wearing resurfaced as she completed her story.

  ‘Mr. Collins asked me to travel to Mr. Harper since it was not feasible for him to get into work.’

  ‘Do you know the reason behind his absence?’

  ‘No, no one seems to know at the office, and I haven’t been up to the house yet. I drove up to the gate in my, I mean your Merc, and was poised to buzz myself in when I heard you. What’s going on, Serena?’

  ‘Have you been authorised to go into the house, Molly?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Is Mr. Harper expecting you?’ I rephrased my question.

  ‘He told me not to come. When I said Mr. Collins had insisted, he relented.’

  ‘Good. Shall we go in then?’

  She seemed thrown by my suggestion which was acutely evident when she spoke. ‘Err . . . you’re coming too?’

  ‘Yes, I think I will. Molly, there’s just two things; firstly, I think we should leave my Mercedes outside the grounds; and secondly, if all of a sudden I disappear, please don’t be alarmed, and please don’t draw attention to the fact.’

  ‘OK, Serena, but will you please explain to me what is going on? I went to your funeral for goodness sake, and I cried a million tears over your death. So how can you be standing here before me looking amazing and so full of life?’

  ‘I promise, Molly, I will tell you as much as I can at the first available opportunity,’ I said sincerely.

  Placated for the time being, Molly and I walked to the Harper house entrance where Molly announced herself on the intercom. Mr. Harper’s shaky voice admitted us, just before the iron gates swung open.

  We walked up the long, winding, gravel drive to the house. Molly casually chatted while I scanned the grounds for potential trouble. However, I couldn’t help marvel at the creative landscaped garden which wouldn’t have looked out of place in heaven.

  It was a mix of vibrant colours, including various shades of luscious green which garlanded the many bushes and trees that had been carefully planted to create a neat effect without being militant. Several water features were advantageously positioned for maximum decorative and calming stimulation; including a fountain which though was of a lesser magnitude than its counterpart at Piccadilly Circus, London, nevertheless, the Greek God of Love stood magnificently at the top of the drive adjacent to the substantial, mossy green door with its gleaming bronze fixtures.

  I was also struck by the grandeur of the Harpers’ house, a reaction due not only to its imposing size. The clean whitewashed building had four fairytale turrets. A large central stone balustrade balcony that was interwoven with fairy-lights protruded over the wisteria adorned main entrance, and Juliet balconies, also with unlit fairy-lights, graced the remaining upstairs French doors.

  As Molly pulled the bronze doorbell, I stayed back, semi-screened by the bay tree sentinels. A petite, pretty, long haired brunette opened the door and beckoned for Molly to enter. When I stole in alongside the professionally dressed Molly, my presence, and I suspect my un-business like attire, didn’t go unnoticed by the scrutinising maid.

  ‘This is a colleague of mine,’ Molly’s demeanour and tone made it clear no more explanation was on offer.

  The maid shot an aloof look in our direction before showing us into Mr. Harper’s study.

  ‘Mr. Harper will be with you shortly,’ she announced in a sharp pitch just before she left us with the door ajar.

  I promptly closed the wooden white door before turning to Molly who had made herself comfortable on a brown leather chesterfield sofa.

  Seizing the moment of privacy, Molly demanded, ‘Now, Serena, tell me, what’s going on?’

  ‘Oh, Molly, where do I begin?’

  ‘At the beginning of course.’

  After I had swapped seats with Molly so I could keep a watchful eye on the door (I hadn’t come all this way to be uncovered by MI6 or an unsuspecting Mr. Harper), I attempted to explain; although not before I had asked Archangel Metatron to ensure I had enough time to give my best friend a full account before Mr. Harper showed up. As an afterthought I also asked A.M. to protect the door so Molly and I weren’t inadvertently disturbed.

  Sensing my inner turmoil, Molly asked, ‘Was it a life insurance scam, Serena? Had you gotten yourself into financial strife and needed the money? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you,’ she said without any hint of judgment, yet sadness at my lack of faith in her hovered over her words.

  ‘No, Molly. I didn’t fake my own death.’

  ‘Then what happened?’ She looked relieved I hadn’t committed fraud, but at the same time she sounded frustrated that she still didn’t understand.

  ‘Everything I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential, and you’re not to repeat a word to another living soul. Is that clear, Molly?’

  ‘You know I won’t, Serena. When have I ever passed on top secret stuff?’

  ‘Never,’ I smiled before launching into my epic tale, which I was in no doubt Molly would believe.

  ‘The beginning it would seem stems back many millennia and involves karmic ties between Hope Harper and me that are so complicated, it appears more sensible for me to start in this millennium.’

  ‘OK, you can tell me about the historic complicated karmic ties later,’ she said without any suggestion that she was at all surprised at my revelation.

  ‘Sure, but it will need to be much later when there is more time, Molly.’ />
  Disappointment darkened her face; although she remained unusually quiet, waiting patiently for my explanation.

  ‘You dropped me off at Make Me Perfect.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘It was supposed to be a routine operation, but apparently I inherited a heart defect from a cousin of mine which was overlooked by the nurse who was responsible for my welfare, all because the angel who is responsible for her fell asleep.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Molly said in excitement, with total confidence that no matter how farfetched my story was, I was telling the truth.

  ‘I’m glad you brought up God, Molly. He was most apologetic for the Divine blunder, but before He could, or would more like, rectify the mistake, He wanted me to do a job for Him. He told me mankind was relying on me, so it was kind of hard to say no. Besides, He promised me several bonuses for my aid which made it an attractive offer.’

  ‘What bonuses?’ Molly demanded to know.

  ‘Let me see; a symmetrical cleavage, which means I won’t have the loan I took out to pay for my boob job; and did I mention I can have my pick of eligible young men. All of this is on offer to me once I’ve completed my task and God has returned me to life,’ I smiled.

  ‘Wow!’ Her eyes widened as she expressed her wonderment.

  ‘My sentiments exactly.’

  ‘What’s the job?’

  ‘That was a sticking point to begin with. Do you remember when that large, extremely wealthy woman with the curly, red flaming hair that clashed horribly with the orange designer coat she insisted on wearing, point blankly refused to negotiate any kind of settlement with her husband, even though she was the one that cheated?’

  ‘Yes, I do. She’d foolishly overlooked prenuptials despite only inheriting her father’s money on her wedding day.’

  ‘Exactly. Her downfall was that she hadn’t viewed all possible circumstances before she agreed to be tied in holy matrimony, all because her eyes were on the main prize.

  ‘My problem was much the same. I agreed to help God in my excitement of even boobs and winning Rupert back from Hope, because I didn’t ever think my mission would involve Hope Harper.’

  ‘Hope’s involved?’ Molly shrilled.

  ‘Worse than that; I was assigned to protect her.’

  ‘OH MY GOD! Protect her from what?’

  As I poised myself to disclose all to Molly, two white turtledoves landed on the window ledge of the large, double glazed, sash window that enjoyed a spectacular view of the vast grounds Little Court occupied. I dismissed the occurrence as a coincidence, not believing they could be the same birds that landed in my square as a forewarning and a buffeter of evil.

  ‘It transpires Hope speaks to spirits, quite successfully it seems. The Metropolitan Police and the British Secret Service have used her talent on more than one occasion, and hired her again to find an agent a senior MI6 operative is claiming has committed treason. However, that is not the truth. Lucifer is the cause of the evil here, so God has waged a war on him for attacking God’s innocence with me as some sort of Angelic Spy.

  ‘In God’s plan to keep the agent safe, He blocked Hope’s communication with spirit. Because Hope was no help to MI6, and I must say she did make a few unnecessary waves even though I did warn her not to, she became expendable. I was assigned to keep her safe, which hasn’t been an easy feat as she is far more difficult then I could ever have imagined. Even now we are only here, risking life and limb, well OK I’m not exactly although I’m sure you follow my meaning, at Hope’s insistence.’

  ‘How exciting,’ Molly said with a look of awe.

  ‘I’m glad you think so. I on the other hand have had enough. I’ve absolutely no idea where Hope is and nor do I know if the secret agent is safe, who ironically happens to be the earthly protector God assigned to me in my capacity as the Daughter of Eve.’

  As I finished my sentence, several things happened simultaneously; I started to feel seriously unwell; I heard Molly’s muffled voice comment I had turned a worryingly shade of green; the room span and I knew I had to lie down before I passed out; there were shouts outside the window and angry male voices. I thought I heard Ryan’s distinctive accent among them; Mr. Harper opened the door to his study and said in a tone he was trying to keep even, but had an undercurrent of fear, ‘Good afternoon, Molly. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I was unavoidable detained.’