Background
If John Morgan were a tree, he'd be an oak; others find shelter from his strength. A character firmly rooted, drawing others to his circle of family and friends: under the shadow of the Eden Tree.
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Despite my mind being in turmoil, we needed a miracle and maybe, just possibly, this box could give us one.
On the driveway, James' bike was leaning against the wall alongside Sean's Range Rover. I was tense.
"Sean," I said aloud. "Bloody Irishman; bloody tattoo." Then I felt guilty. "Supposing it's true?"
I paused at James' bike and remembered our last acrimonious words. I had accused him of being immature and needing a job.
I pushed the front door open carefully. It creaked. 'Crap,' I thought, 'the dogs...no time to think strategy...ah, to hell with it.' I walked boldly in. Sure enough, Bourne came barking with tail and backside wagging. He jumped up and I patted his head. He licked my hand with a warm tongue -- my right hand.
Walking along the tiled hallway towards the kitchen, I swallowed and pushed the white swing door. As I entered with a confident stride, the kitchen warmed me. I gave Liz the bunch of red roses, received a loving hug, a peck on the cheek, and a plate of sandwiches.
"You're late. But you're forgiven." Liz lifted the roses, inhaled their scent and clutched them to her chest.
Rebecca -- Becky -- came around the kitchen counter and embraced me. A smooth-skinned raven-haired young woman with sparking green eyes, a younger model of her mother. But tiredness and worry clouded her face. Sean Casey popped his head through the doorway and gave his customary thumbs up. TV sounds came from the lounge.
"Everything OK, Boss?" he asked. "And where's my flowers?" His military-style buzz cut and jovial style reassured me. I knew -- at least I hoped -- that he and my family would stand by me.
"Yes, thanks, I'm fine," I said. "Sorry I'm late, everybody. I met somebody and got talking."
I looked at the faces surrounding the maroon kitchen units and there seemed nobody taken aback at the news that I'd been distracted. I saw myself similar to Joseph in the Bible: a dreamer and a planner. 'OK, here goes,' I thought. 'The dream and the plan.'
Taking a bite at my sandwich, I took a deep breath and announced, "But I've important news, and I'd like to talk with you all."
Like a traffic cop, I beckoned everyone towards the lounge doorway. Raising her dark eyebrows, Liz looked fractionally cross with the interruption to her planned respite day with her daughter. Becky shrugged her shoulders and walked into the lounge. Sean saluted and followed militarily.
The morning room or main lounge at Kirmingsham Hall was comfortably spacious. The northern and southern walls were papered with an "ahoy" design of white yachts on a sea-blue background. East from wall to wall and ceiling to floor several double-glazed aluminium windows and sliding doors opened onto the patio and overlooked the lawns. Our western wall consisted of polished oak panelling with a Tudor stone fireplace.
I stood at the fireplace while my audience took their seats on dark blue leather couches and two matching recliner chairs. I continued to eat my sandwich, some crumbs floating to the hearth. Everyone seemed mystified and nonplussed. Sean switched off the TV.
"Please hear me out first before I answer any questions or we discuss what I have to say." I placed my sandwich plate on the mantelpiece. 'So far so good,' I thought. Sean edged forwards on the recliner, hands squarely on his knees. Liz and Becky looked questioningly at each other, seated together on one of the leather sofas. Liz still held the flowers, a few red petals coming loose and floating down.
It took an agonising 30 minutes to explain every detail of the meeting in the market. I recounted the story of the brothers, the box, the Saviour's words, and the healing leaves. The heat rose in my face and my palms went sweaty. I held up my right hand. Sean lifted his own hand, studied it, and scratched his head.
A hushed silence followed what I'd said. Bourne came and sat by me, his paws on the stone hearth. I patted his head. He nudged my hand and licked it. The tattoo glistened with his saliva. Across the room, Sean's husky, Aunty, turned her eyes towards me as if to say, 'What have you done now, human?'
Sean finally broke the ice. "Well I've heard few weirder stories than that, Boss. But if it was me I'd go to see this guy's brother. You've nothing to lose. Whatever you decide, Boss, you have my vote. Sorry, I gotta leave in ten. My plane to Nairobi is at 19.00 from Heathrow." I shook hands with Sean and he winked and left to pack his holdall. It would only take him ten minutes. His packing was simple and efficient.
Liz spoke up next. She could cut through falsity with precision. Her words were often gentle but her perception razor sharp. "It sounds like a very clever con. I think we should tread very carefully. Maybe this stall-holder saw your hand before he spoke to you and worked his tale around it."
My mind said: 'I'd never thought of that; maybe I am naive. But how would Joseph benefit?'
"I agree with Mum, Dad," Becky said. "Maybe they design the box lids once they spot a victim, like all those Ark of the Covenant boxes in Raiders of the Lost Ark." Becky had done a few months of a psychology degree some years before when her studies were put on hold. But clearly, she still read the books.
I had faced the Morgan family interrogation several times in my life so I knew how things went.
My wife's eyes were fixed on me. Still holding the roses I had bought her, she said, "Are you sure it's wise to set off on your own? Couldn't this meeting wait?" Her brow furrowed as she wagged the flowers at me. "It could be a wild-goose chase." Rose petals dropped to the carpet contrasting with the blue Axminster and the scent of roses filled the air.
"I agree it's a shot in the dark," I took a deep breath, "but it seems to me we've no choice. This seems a risk worth taking. I've promised, so once I've phoned Tel Aviv, I'll make a decision: to go or not." I exhaled.
A tennis match of words then occupied the rest of the afternoon.
Finally, they relented. Even Bourne sensed it, wagging his tail. "OK, Daddy, we trust you." Becky crossed the lounge to touch my shoulder gently. "We know you want the best for Wesley; we're just afraid you'll get drawn into something. You know what you're like," she winked, and patted my back.
"So if we go with it, what next?" Liz asked.
The story of the box sounded far-fetched, I knew that. But a supernatural cord had already wrapped around my heart and was pulling me towards Jaffa.
