Intrigue and Mystery

I sit at the dining table, working on my own project, while the children are out delivering My Girl's newspapers.  Half an hour of silence in the house.  A rare treat.

The thump of rapid footsteps sounds on the walkway, the gravel driveway; Little Man speeds around the corner and hurtles himself through the back door.  My heart begins to pound.

Once he is coherent, my heart slows again, as now it becomes clear that no one is hurt.  (Thank you, Jesus.)

"We saw a bike just like Daddy's on Rebecca Street!" Little Man tells the story as My Girl and Brown Eyed Boy enter the house.  "It's the same colour and even has an odometer just like Dad's.  And Dad's bike isn't in the garage!"

I slip on shoes and walk out with him.  Sure enough, the bike that Dear Man has had since we bought two identical ones on sale just after we were married isn't there.  The pounding in my heart is returning.  What now?

A few moments later I'm sitting on the front step with the little Ones I Love around me, waiting for the City Police to come and take our report of a stolen bike.  While taking our information, after having looked at my identical bike, a call comes in on his mobile phone.  He smiles and nods at us as he listens.  "We've just had a report of an abandoned bike on a residential property on Rebecca St."  Another smile.  "I'll be back shortly to see if you can identify it as yours."  

Before he leaves, I take another look behind me in the garage.  Something isn't right.  I turn to My Girl.  "Is your bike here?"  She looks at me, and her chin begins to quiver.  It's gone, too.  This one, not being nearly 20 years old, and seeing almost daily use is a bit more valued.  (Why couldn't it have been mine, Jesus?  Why hers?) 

And so we give the kind officer more information: colour, size, make, and more.  Then he leaves to see what will turn up on Rebecca.  His return a few minutes later brings a smile from us.  Definitely Daddy's bike.  What great eyes my dear ones have to have noticed it in the first place.  We wouldn't be getting it back this quickly if they hadn't seen the bike and alerted me to the vacant spot in the garage.

The officer is gone now.  I wrap my arms around My Girl, wishing I could make promises.  But I can't.  The officer has already described to us what often happens to stolen bikes, and the chances of recovering this more desirable bicycle are slim.

The rest of the day is grey, not the sky, but our hearts.  What will come of it all?  We wait to see.