Abraham's Treasure

by Joanne Skerrett

  The house was now full of people yet the boys felt they had their father to themselves. Uncle Peter was there. Aunt Jorinda and her children, their bratty cousins Samson, Marisa and Curtley. Uncle Sam and his giggly fat wife. More cousins from the country. Granny’s friend, Mr Arrow. The neighbours had even stopped in to say hello to John-Boy, that’s what they called him, and to ask him what life was like in America. Edwina waved to Jerome from the porch. He waved back, cringing as he saw Charlie joking with her.

  John-Boy had a wonderful story to tell of his life in America and it sounded good. He’d driven a taxi for the first year; he met his wife while driving her to the airport. She was so pretty he refused to take her money and persuaded her to go out on a date with him. They were married three months later. He worked as a maths teacher for a while then went to graduate school and became an accountant for a big company in downtown Boston. Mr Arrow wanted to know how high his employer’s building stood. ‘Fifty or sixty storeys,’ was the answer. The men whistled and the women gaped. They had seen such things on cable TV but they could not imagine a building, built by a man, reaching so high into the sky. ‘On windy days you can feel it swaying.’ This caused Granny to clutch her chest and close her eyes.

  The storytelling and laughter went on for hours. Granny brought out all of the sorrel juice and rum punch she had stored up for just such an occasion. She’d roasted two chickens, Edwina’s mother brought rice and beans, another neighbour made pineapple upside down cake and brought coconut ice cream. It was better than Christmas. Jerome could not recall a time when the house was so full of happy, smiling people.

  At three a. m. the party began to break up and people left to go back to their homes. John-Boy hugged his sons before they were sent off to bed. ‘Tomorrow, I want to hear all about your life,’ he told them. ‘About school and everything. I missed so much already I want to be a part of your lives. OK?’

  They nodded and scurried off to their room. Standing at the door of their bedroom was Petra.

  James glanced at Jerome and giggled knowingly. ‘How’s your summer holidays so far?’ James asked. Jerome shifted uneasily.

  ‘Very well,’ Petra said, nodding in the direction of her mother who was hanging on to John-Boy’s every word. ‘Did you read my diary?’

  James shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’

  ‘You need to give it back to me,’ She said calmly.

  ‘I’ll give it to you when I ready. You understand?’ James said laughing. ‘Maybe, if you give Diane Jefferson a message for me,’ he added.

  Petra clenched her teeth. ‘You’ll be sorry one day, James.’

  ‘I’m not sorry about nothing,’ James said.

  Suddenly Granny materialised. ‘Didn’t your father tell you boys to go to sleep?!’

  ‘Granny…’ Jerome began to apologise. Petra snickered as she walked toward the gate.

  ‘Go to sleep! Both of you!’

  The boys reluctantly went to their room, shutting the door soundly behind them. ‘I can’t believe that!’ James said. ‘I can’t believe she come in here like that telling me what to do.’

  Jerome was still breathing heavily. Petra scared him. A lot. ‘What she say about me in that diary? Anything?’ Jerome asked, still fearful of finding out.

  James shrugged. ‘She said you’re her husband on one page. Then on another page she said your legs too skinny. Then on another page she said you really smart and cute. The last thing she wrote was you really, really stupid.’

  ‘Oh,’ was all Jerome could say.

  They let the Petra confrontation sink in, listening to the adults laugh and talk in the living room. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ James said. ‘I know everything I need to know.’ He let the silence linger and Jerome knew he was talking about Diane Jefferson. The thought made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. What could a girl like Diane see in a goof like James? He pushed the idea out of his mind.

  ‘He look just like me,’ James said triumphantly.

  ‘I know. He does.’ Jerome agreed. John-Boy and James were the carbon copy of each other.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ James asked.

  ‘Me? Nothing.’ Jerome couldn’t spell it out but something didn’t feel right.

  ‘You worried about going to America?’

  Jerome sighed. ‘Is not that.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘OK. I worried about going to America.’

  ‘What you have to worry about? Dad have a nice house ready for us; his wife pretty and she will treat us like we her own sons. America is full of adventure for me and library books for you.’

  Jerome ignored the joke. ‘We don’t need another mother.’

  James lay back on his pillow and looked up. ‘I was thinking about her too. Remember when she take us fishing and we hit the sandbar? And when she make us read the Bible to her every morning? Oh, and when we went to the market on Saturdays to help Granny sell fruit and she used to make jokes with all the old men in the market?’The words spilled out of James’s mouth as if from a spring deep inside him.

  Jerome nodded. ‘I remember. I thought I forgot but I remember.’

  They exchanged looks and then smiles. They remembered! And somehow that sealed something for them. It was OK; she wasn’t just some figment of their past without a shape. She was a real person who’d taught them things, made them laugh, ironed their clothes. They didn’t need or want another mother.

  ‘So, what about the treasure?’ James tried to break the spell of past memories over their bedroom.

  Jerome sighed. ‘We really close.’

  James yawned. ‘Think we’ll find it soon?’

  ‘We only two letters away.’

  ‘How we know what H stands for?’ James asked. ‘I mean, every other letter had a place attached to it. Hagar doesn’t.’

  ‘No. Adam was not a place.’

  ‘But Hagar is just some old man’s name…or his crazy grandmother.’

  ‘In the Bible Hagar was the mother of Ishmael, Abraham’s first son.’

  ‘Ohhhhh, right,’ James said. ‘But what about…’

  ‘Remember when we learned in social studies about all the different groups of people who come to Dominica to seek their fortune after slavery was abolished?’

  ‘Yeah. The Arabs came just when slavery was about to end.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jerome said. He’d thought about this on the bus ride home and amid all the festivities of the night. ‘That Syrian lady – Mr Hagar’s mother – was probably from Arab people named Hagar.’

  James nodded. ‘So what the poem really mean?’

  Jerome filed through his notebook and read the words out loud, the same words Mr Hagar said were inscribed on the trees he’d burned down, the same words that he’d told to Mackey and his henchmen for a box of cigars.

  ‘Hagar was a slave

  but the gift she gave

  spawned a mighty generation

  built many a nation

  don’t forget how she suffered

  the sacrifice she offered

  the cries of a baby boy in the desert

  and the God-made well that quenched his thirst.’

  ‘And he said the trees had voices,’ James snickered. ‘I think he crazy.’

  ‘Who knows?’ Jerome shrugged. ‘Strange things been happening. I can imagine some trees whispering, ‘Find Hagar’s home then find the well and you’ll see where treasure dwells.’’’

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  ‘OK. Maybe he crazy.’

  ‘So we gotta find Hagar’s home and a well. We already found his home.’

  Jerome shook his head. ‘Can’t be. If this poem came down from since slavery times then Hagar’s home must mean the place where the Arabs first settled when they came to Dominica.
Not some house built after.’

  James yawned. ‘So how we gonna find that out?’

  ‘At the library. Duh. We’ll go on Monday morning.’

  James yawned again. ‘You go to the library. I don’t like that place. Maybe I’ll ask Charlie to use his computer tomorrow.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Jerome said yawning too. ‘I just hope Granny won’t force us to go to Mass.’

  Chapter 19

  Fortunately, Granny was in a good mood and she let them spend most of the day in bed on Sunday. On Monday morning, James was still snoring heavily when Jerome crept out of bed. There would be no school today; John-Boy said that now that he was home summer school would have to be on hold. Granny agreed reluctantly.

  Jerome was almost out of the gate when he heard his name. He turned around and his father was standing in the middle of Granny’s rose bushes.

  ‘Um…hello… Good morning, sir.’

  His father laughed. ‘Relax, Jerome. Where you going so early? Your granny said she was letting you boys sleep as late as you wanted today.’

  James shrugged. ‘Going to the library.’

  His father raised an eyebrow. ‘For summer school?’

  Jerome shuffled his feet. Should he tell his father? Should he wait and consult James first?

  ‘Let me guess.’ His father stepped out of the flowerbed, holding a watering can. Jerome focussed on the watering can; this was the chore he’d held since he was a tiny boy. Water the plants in Granny’s garden. And here was his big, strong father doing just that – doing a chore that James had mocked him for ceaselessly. It almost made him see his father in a new way. Maybe they did have something in common.

  ‘This is about some treasure hunt?’ His father smiled and Jerome almost jumped out of his skin.

  ‘Granny told you?’

  His father shrugged his big shoulders. ‘No. Your brother told me. He told me all about it in a letter a couple weeks ago. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to get here quick. If you boys are going to become multi-millionaires I want to work for you. Maybe you’ll pay me a good salary.’ John-Boy winked and smiled his big, white, wide smile.

  Jerome was too shocked to share in the joke. He hadn’t written his father in over a month and yet James was writing him all along and hadn’t even told him about it.

  ‘It’s not a problem,’ his father said as if reading his mind. ‘I understand you. You’re a thinker, just like me.’

  ‘Just like you?’ Jerome didn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  ‘Yes. That was one thing your mother and I had in common. The way we loved to read and think about things long and hard. You remind me of her so much.’

  Jerome saw sadness in his father’s eyes and he dropped his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Sorry? Oh, don’t be sorry. When I look at you I’m so happy that I have something of her that I can touch and hear and feel.’ He put his hand on Jerome’s shoulder. Jerome didn’t know how to respond. Instead he asked a question he’d been puzzled about ever since he could remember.

  ‘What really happened, Daddy?’ It struck him then that this was the first time he’d used that word out loud to his father in maybe seven years. It felt good to say it and he let the idea of it linger in his heart for a few seconds.

  His father sighed and they sat on the front steps. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We were happy… We were going to have another baby.’

  Jerome looked up at his father. ‘I didn’t know that.’ John-Boy nodded.

  ‘But she lost it. Two weeks later…she told me she wanted to go fishing and I was worried. She’d been really sad, really down since the doctor told her the news. But she said it would make her feel better to be out on the sea. She said the water comforted her spirit. So I let her go and that was it.’

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Jerome bit his lip. He missed his mother – the little that he knew of her. He remembered their small house in Newtown; it was bigger than Granny’s but still small. She had a flower garden too; she let the glory cedar grow wild in the yard even though the other neighbours pulled them up like they were common weeds. She used cocoa butter on her skin. Sitting on the steps with his father brought her back to him and it hurt. He felt his father’s arms around his shoulders and he didn’t feel ashamed to cry.

  When he lifted his head, he looked into his father’s eyes and he saw that John-Boy looked like him. They shared something; they were both crying. He was his father’s son.

  ‘I’ll go to the library with you,’ John-Boy said.

  Jerome’s face lit up. ‘You will? Daddy, I know you don’t believe there’s really a treasure but I promise you it’s real!’

  ‘OK. We’ll see what happens.’

  ‘It is real. Else why would Julius Mackey be chasing after it too?’

  ‘Son, there are a lot of rich, bored men in this world who waste their time chasing after dreams.’

  Jerome had nothing to say to that. He just relished the idea of walking to the library with his father.

  ***

  ‘Hello, Jerome!’ It was Mr Curtis, the librarian. ‘It’s so good to see you today. And this must be your long-lost older brother.’ Mr Curtis held out his hand to John-Boy, who shook it enthusiastically.

  ‘You don’t remember me?’ John-Boy said laughing.

  Mr Curtis eyed him closely. ‘John? John Victory? Oh, my goodness! How long has it been?’

  Jerome watched as his father reacquainted himself with his school friend. Roseau was such a small place that most everyone knew each other. During their walk to the library his father had stopped many times on the street to say hello to old friends who wanted to know about his life in America and whether he was back to stay. They told Jerome he was lucky to be going to live in America. ‘There’s nothing here for a smart, young boy like you,’ everyone said.

  Jerome let his father catch up with Mr Curtis and ploughed through the stacks on island history. After paging through three or four books on Caribbean history he found one that was written about Dominica. He sat down and began his search as he heard laughter at the reference desk. Dad was having a good time here. Why would he want to go back to America?

  ‘So what did you find?’

  Jerome looked up. ‘It’s just like I thought. The Arabs when they first came here were run out of the capital by the British. So they settled far north, where a lot of free slaves lived. They bought some land from the British and put a lot of the former slaves back to work but they paid them. Not a lot, but they paid them.’

  John-Boy nodded, listening intently to his son.

  ‘Anyway, they didn’t hold on to the land for ever. Speculators came in from other rich countries and bought the cocoa and lime plantations.’

  ‘Where exactly is this place?’ John-Boy asked. Jerome held up the book and pointed to a large centrefold map. ‘This is the land the Arabs owned in the mid to late 1800s.’

  ‘Hmm…’ John-Boy said. ‘Well, that’s your next clue.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Jerome sounded doubtful. ‘But it’s a big area.’

  ‘You’re looking for something that starts with an A, right?’

  ‘Yeah, but there’s a lot of little villages around there.’

  ‘No, son. It’s looking you right in the face.’

  ‘What?’ Jerome looked at the map again. His eyes traced the peaks and valleys, the streams and rivers.

  ‘I think I just solved your puzzle,’ John-Boy said laughing.

  Jerome looked at his father incredulously. ‘How?’

  ‘Look at the map again. What’s the thing that catches your attention first?’

  Jerome peered at the page. ‘That big mountain.’

  ‘Yes. And what’s the name of it?’

  Jerome put on his glasses and read the tiny print.
‘Mt Ararat!’

  ‘Dad! Thanks! Wait. So we have to go to the top of the mountain?’

  John-Boy shrugged, amusement on his face. ‘Looks that way. Might be the only way you’re going to find your treasure.’

  James was angry when Jerome and John-Boy walked through the gate, laughing and talking. ‘Where’d you all go?’ he demanded.

  ‘To the library,’ Jerome beamed. ‘I found the next clue. It’s at the top of Mt Ararat.’

  James’s eyes narrowed. ‘How you figure that out?’

  ‘Hagar’s poem said: find Hagar’s home and you’ll find the treasure or something like that, right?’ James nodded. ‘Well, I found this book that said when the Arabs first came to seek their fortune here they were banished to the villages at the top of Mt Ararat.’

  ‘So how we know which village…’

  ‘We’ll start at the top of the mountain and work our way down.’

  James looked at his father, waiting for words of disapproval. ‘Dad, you gonna come with us?’

  John-Boy laughed. ‘You want me to?’

  Jerome thought of it and said quickly. ‘No. We can do it on our own. But you could drive us up there. We’re tired of taking the bus.’

  ‘No problem, boys. I’ll find a way to keep myself busy while you boys are treasure hunting. Maybe I’ll keep an eye out for old Julius Mackey and his henchmen.’

  Jerome knew his father was teasing but he didn’t complain. He would, no they would, show everybody in the end.

  Chapter 20

  It was the night before the journey to the mountain the boys could not relax. John-Boy was off with Uncle Peter catching up with old friends. Granny was sleeping, content to have her son home with her.

  ‘We could go to Summer Splash,’ James said.

  ‘Granny said we cannot go,’ Jerome said. Summer Splash was the biggest party in Dominica every late August. It was almost as big as carnival. It was twenty-four hours of music, food and revelry.

  ‘Charlie going. Edwina too,’ James said. ‘And I know that she’s going behind her mother’s back because I hear her mother telling Granny that she wouldn’t allow Edwina to go.’