Come Back to Me by Jody Hedlund
~ 3 ~
THESAFETYDEPOSITBOX sat on the tall table in front of Marian. Even though the bank attendant had closed the door and left her alone, she glanced around the tiny viewing room anyway—which was more of an empty closet, paneled in dark wood with a single light overhead.
A couple of years ago during a visit, Dad had gone through the process of having her and Ellen sign as joint renters on the box. When she’d arrived a short while ago, the bank hadn’t given her any hassle as she’d signed the admission form.
Thankfully, she’d had no trouble finding the key to the box. The hospital staff had placed Dad’s personal belongings into safekeeping. After she’d arrived, they’d given her the plastic bag containing his keys, wallet, several wadded tissues, a scattering of change—including old coins like those on his dining room floor—and the Rolex watch she and Ellen had given him last Christmas, the one with an engraving of their love on the back.
Marian hadn’t found anything unusual in the assortment, nothing to give her any clues regarding what had happened to him in his last hours before he’d fallen into his coma.
She brushed a hand across the five-by-twenty-two-inch cold metal container. Now she could only pray she’d find some hint. She wouldn’t be able to rest until she unraveled the mystery of what her dad had been doing in his final days to attract so much danger.
Tree of Life. Seeds.Harrison’s whisper came back to taunt her.
“No,” she said. “That’s nothing. Nothing but a stupid theory of a desperate man.”
A man frantic to find a cure. A man who’d go to any lengths. A man who’d accept any hope no matter how ridiculous. All so he could save his wife from her rare genetic disease.
Marian had been a young girl when her mom had been diagnosed and when her dad had first started searching for the Tree of Life from the book of Genesis. At the time, Marian had loved her dad’s story about how God had planted the original Tree of Life in the middle of the Garden of Eden—a tree God said would allow men to live forever.
Once the first humans sinned, God banned them from the Garden of Eden and placed an angel with a flaming sword in front of the garden to keep people out. Ever since then, the Garden of Eden had been lost to history. Or at least that’s what most normal, sane people believed.
But not her dad. He wasn’t normal or sane. He’d developed his own theories about what had happened to the mysterious Tree of Life, the tree that was supposed to help humans live forever.
According to Genesis, a river flowed through the Garden of Eden and separated into four headwaters, carrying water away from the garden. Dad speculated that the life-giving qualities of the Tree of Life from its roots, leaves, and seeds had been in that river and its headwaters. As a result, the waters bearing the life-giving residue contributed to the early humans living extraordinarily long lives. The Bible recorded people reaching the ages of seven or eight hundred years. One man, Methuselah, lived to be 969 years old.
Marian couldn’t find fault with her dad’s conjectures about the Tree of Life lengthening life spans. It made about as much sense as other speculations, like the climate theory, which purported that the healthy, wholesome climate of those early centuries extended life expectancies.
Whatever the case, Dad had followed every possible lead to discover what had become of the Tree of Life, had even traveled to remote parts of the world that were rumored to be the original Garden of Eden. He’d eventually concluded the garden had been destroyed by a catastrophic flood and buried under layers of sediment. As a result of the flood, remnants of the life-giving water sources had become so diluted that the average life span had drastically diminished.
If only Dad had stopped at that dead end. Instead, he’d researched every fable and lore regarding the Tree of Life, miraculous healings, and unusual longevity of lives. Some legends claimed that seeds from the Tree of Life had been brought onto Noah’s ark, preserved during the flood, and passed down through generations of protectors. Other legends supported the dispersal theory, which said remnants of the Tree of Life were carried by the floodwaters to various parts of the world.
Her dad had meticulously studied every report including the tales by Herodotus, the mythical exploits of Alexander the Great, the stories of Prester John from the early Crusades, and the claims of Ponce de León during his explorations of Florida. All the accounts had one thing in common—fountains of youth that supposedly restored the life and vitality of anyone who bathed in or drank the water.
Her dad’s library—now in shambles—contained every tale, every mention, every hint of miraculous water and anything else her dad thought pointed back to the Tree of Life.
After Marian started college, she hadn’t kept up with Dad’s research into the tree, hadn’t wanted to anymore. He’d made no secret that he transferred to Mercer’s Research and Development Centre in Canterbury in order to pursue additional leads regarding the Tree of Life in England. By that point, she’d realized his obsession not only had taken him away from her and Ellen but bordered on lunacy.
“At least two seeds from the tree ended up in England, Marian,” he’d told her during one of her early visits after he’d moved to Canterbury. “An account written in Latin by some of the very first priests to arrive in England contains a detailed list of relics brought for safekeeping from barbarians attacking the Roman Empire. Two seeds are a part of that list.”
Britannia—as it was then called—had been on the fringes of the ancient world, a faraway Roman outpost. Even today, Roman ruins were strewn about the country. The seeds on the list archived in the British Museum could have been any type of seed. The idea that they’d been preserved from the fruit that had once hung on the Tree of Life was preposterous and made Marian cringe every time her dad mentioned it.
Now with the safety deposit box in front of her—its steely gray interior containing only heaven knew what—she swallowed the apprehension plaguing her since her talk with Harrison in the hospital.
Marian shook her head. The box wouldn’t contain seeds. It couldn’t.
She lifted her hands to the lid only to realize her fingers were trembling. “Stop it, Marian. Do what you came for.”
Slowly she lifted the top of the box. The chiming trill of her cell phone in her purse startled her. She dropped the lid into place, snatched up her phone, and saw Jasper’s name and number on the screen.
She’d already ignored three of his calls, had let them go to voicemail. But somehow, at this moment, she needed to hear his voice—the voice of reason to ground her in reality, science, and empirical evidence. Jasper was every bit as logical as she was, and talking with him would calm her nerves.
She picked up his call. “Jasper?”
“Hi.” His voice on the other end echoed with relief. “I was beginning to worry something happened to you.”
“No, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” Except that, really, nothing was fine. A deep part of her suspected nothing would be fine ever again.
“How’s your dad?”
“The same.”
“Have you found out what happened?”
“Not a thing.”
He was silent a moment, and she almost thought she heard an exasperated sigh. “Let me fly over and help you.”
“I can’t let you do that . . .” Giving him permission to come would take their relationship to the next level. And she couldn’t lead him on.
“I know how hard it is to be alone while you watch someone you love suffer.” From everything he’d told her, his mom had run off shortly after his dad had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s. Since then, Jasper had been alone, watching his dad slowly deteriorate, unable to do anything to stop the disease.
“Thank you, Jasper. But you know I’m not alone. I have Harrison.” She fingered the safety deposit box in front of her. She could picture Jasper at his desk, the one across from hers. He’d be leaning back in his chair, his lab coat unbuttoned, his protective eyewear pushed up to the top of his head making his hair stick up.
“You sure?”
About Harrison? She bit back her doubts, knowing they were unfounded. “I’ll be fine.”
Silence spread between them. She hoped she hadn’t hurt Jasper’s feelings. But she’d always been upfront with him that she wasn’t ready for a relationship.
“So . . .” he said. “You don’t sound like you’re at the hospital. Where are you?”
She ought to tell him about the break-ins and the possibility someone was after another one of her dad’s cures. But this was neither the time nor place. “I stopped by Dad’s bank for a minute. Why?”
“No reason.”
“You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Promise you’ll let me know if anything changes?”
“Promise.”
After ending the call, she turned her attention back to the box. She couldn’t stall any longer. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she lifted the cover.
She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—perhaps wads of rolled money or rare family heirlooms or even glittering jewels. Not that her dad had need of a secret stash of money or jewels. His fortune was established, and he had no need to be secretive about it.
Perhaps she really wanted to see the seeds after all. Or dried leaves. Or roots. Or something having to do with the Tree of Life. If Dad had left her tangible evidence, something to prove his life’s work had been worthwhile, maybe she could forgive him for abandoning her and Ellen.
Instead, she found herself looking at a small flask and an assortment of papers.
What if he’d written down the formula for a breakthrough drug? Perhaps it was on one of the sheets.
She unfolded first one paper and then another only to find them to be pages torn from his books. One contained a picture of a strange Gothic-like sculpture at the top of a pillar and the other the floor plan of an ancient church.
She continued unfolding the rest of the sheets, discovering an odd assortment of articles and a typed-out list of Bible references. A final paper revealed her dad’s short, messy handwriting with these words underlined at the top: “Speculations of Breaching the Time-Space Continuum.”
A scan of the six points on the sheet only made her want to toss up her hands in exasperation. She let the paper fall on top of the others.
“Oh Dad.” Did he seriously believe in time travel—like going to the past or to the future? He was more deranged than she realized.
For a full minute, she stared at the papers scattered over the table, a keen sense of disappointment warring within her—not disappointment in Dad, but for her and Ellen and all they’d lost because he’d been lost in his own world. Marian had the overwhelming urge to crumple the sheets and toss them into the wastebasket by the door. The time he’d spent on his stupid research had been nothing but a waste. A complete waste.
After years, this was all he had to show? These were his most prized possessions? The things he had to lock away in a bank for safekeeping?
She fought back a sudden swell of bitter tears. He could have used his skills much more productively—like in being a father. Instead, he’d been pursuing mythical trees—and time-crossing possibilities.
She reached for the last item in the box—the flask. The dull metallic-looking artifact was very old. Not more than three inches tall, it was rectangular in shape and rose to a spout flanked on each side by arm-like handles. She fingered the intricate details carved into the flat surface of both sides.
It was too small to serve as a drinking vessel. Perhaps it had once been a relic worn as a pendant. She shook it gently and then tipped it over, praying it would contain something—anything. But it was empty. She raised it to her nose and sniffed but couldn’t detect an odor or any other clue to help her understand why Dad had put it in his box.
Over the years of living in Kent, Dad had collected unique historical artifacts. That was no secret. As home of the famous Canterbury Cathedral, the area was steeped in history and folklore. Even though Marian hadn’t studied history as much as her dad, she still loved the aura and rich cultural heritage of Canterbury.
She stuffed the items into her purse. Perhaps if she returned to Dad’s house and sorted through the mess, she’d find evidence to help her understand why he’d put the flask and papers into the safety deposit box.
After she returned the box and stepped out of the bank, she scrolled through the contacts on her phone to find Harrison’s number. She’d call him and let him know she wouldn’t be returning to the hospital right away after all.
A man wearing a navy suit and mirror-like sunglasses collided with her.
“Pardon me.” She took a step back. Was she becoming one of those people glued to her device, not paying attention to the world around her?
The man bumped her again, and this time, he grabbed her purse strap. “Give me your bag.”
For a moment, she could only stare at his fingers gripping her purse. Was she being robbed? The idea was absurd, surreal.
“Now.” The man’s tone was steely. He flashed open his suit coat, revealing the handle of a gun sticking out of an inner pocket.