My Father's Guide

So here I am standing in front of the mirror, water flowing into the sink, a razor to my face. It's my first-time shaving, I look down at the page to double-check the instructions on how to do this right. A book left to me by my father, filled with tasks and knowledge only a father and son would cherish, from how to shave, the best shaving cream, aftershave, cologne brands, and scents, to making sure I always wear deodorant and other useful information. I position the blade upward and begin gliding it. Only the best razor is to be used according to my Dad, which is the chrome Edwin Jagger doubled edge. This little black notebook gifted to me as a backup in case he didn't survive one of his high-risk work trips, which, as you may have guessed has happened. I don't know much about what my father did for a living just that it could result in risky situations. His life ended in an aircraft crash.

His death happened six months ago, shortly after my sixteenth birthday. My Mother, also gone taken by cancer when I was at the young age of nine. Set my Aunt up next in line to care for me, but since I am able to care for myself, due to the money inherited from my father. She allowed me to emancipate myself.  With these memories in my head, I finish guiding the razor across my face and rinse it off once more before I wipe away the excess and apply the aftershave. I wince as it stings my smooth face a short time, the aroma of bergamot and fresh mint has me smelling manly. I comb back my brown hair and with my honey-colored eyes, I wink and give myself the smooth finger guns with a click of my tongue.  

Dressed in black pants, I choose a bright blue dress shirt, button it up, and add a matching suit coat, grabbing my car keys, I head out My destination this Sunday morning is Church.  As father said going to church every Sunday and helping the community in charitable ways, whether by volunteering or giving, shows you are an upstanding citizen. Also, continuing to attend as my mother did would please her greatly. 

Arriving in the church parking lot I shift into park and open my car door. I always arrive early to mingle a bit in the front foyer before Mass starts. Walking from the asphalt to the front steps of the medium-sized church, two tall golden framed doors with colorful stained glass and a cross on each stand before me. The door is opened as I approach, Jacques, one of the greeters smiles at me " Good morning Christopher, Lovely to see you as always. How's school going, are you still getting those great marks?" " A's in all but math, that class is a bit trick, in that, I got a B-." "Well, that's not bad, not bad at all. You're in grade eleven, now right?" " Yes, Sir." "I thought so, You've got room to expand and grow. I'd say by the end of the term with your drive and ambition that mark will be even more perked up." "Thanks, Jacques". He nods and smiles and begins to greet the people behind me.

The foyer, full of friendly people smiling and greeting each other. "Oh Christopher", my previous elderly neighbor Mrs. Peters greats me, "You're looking rather sharp young man." "Why thank you," I smirk and give a little bow. "Oh, you charming fellow, you" she waves her hand. "Can you help me with something? I've brought some fresh flowers and carried them in about as far as I'm able, could you help me set them on the floor near the right side of the podium please?" "I'd be glad to help." I follow her, pick them up and we both walk to the stage. "Your mother always liked flowers, you know, she said the best place to buy bouquets is Frengullys Stow and as always, she was very much right. They are the most well put together establishment I've come across. I know your father never missed a beat buying her the most extravagant arrangements from there." "That is true,"  I say as I set them down. “Thanks for the help, let's find a nice comfortable seat before mass starts.” I agree, and we sit together. “You know Christopher, you should come over and have a cup of tea with me it’s been a while”. My family had always stopped in for tea and biscuits whenever they could. “I for sure will Mrs. Peters." "Oh, goodie”.

Mass soon starts, a beautiful sermon about how a mustard seed starts small but can grow into the tallest plant, how each step you take matters, no matter how small, it is worth it all in the end. Our pastor ends the sermon with the words “Don’t forget volunteers tonight is our Churches monthly visit at Westrest Retirement Village. We will be serving food and playing board games with our elders. Be there at 4 pm. Enjoy the rest of your day everyone."

I begin walking to my car, I hear some giggling behind me, then feel a force as one of them rams into my shoulder. My father’s notebook falls out of my suit jacket onto the pavement, opened. “Sorry,” they say, acknowledging their mistake, I nod, “it’s fine, it’s ok.” They go on their way. Reaching down, picking up the book I notice the page is almost blank, except for one sentence written on it. “Huh odd,” I say out loud, my father usually fills the page front and back. I turn the page over, seeing evidence of torn out pages. I flip it back and read;

“Within a structure warm and welcoming, North to the front, sliver and tall, shaped like a lower case "t" is where I may be found”

I know exactly what he is referring to. On the front stage of the church stands a silver decorative pole with a large cross at the top. I turn around and re-enter the church, seeing a few people in the foyer lingering in conversation. I pass them and find the nave room empty. Walking up the three steps onto the stage I curiously approach the cross. Running my fingers on the cold silver I come across a small latch, flicking it down with my finger I open it, finding a piece of paper, I unravel it. It looks to be one of the torn-out pages from the notebook. It says;

“I am always purple, but I am surrounded by others, you can smell and touch, but do not eat me.”

Taking a few moments to think, "purple hmm" I look at the large bouquet to the right. Mrs. Peters was just telling me about Ferngullys Stow. My mother's favorite flower was purple clematis. That must definitely be my next stop. I excitedly head to my car, get behind the wheel and drive to the next location, "why has my father laid out these particular tasks," I wonder. It reminds me of a quest, similar to video games. Arriving I enter the store, right away I begin looking for the clematis. Long wooden stands holding buckets of flowers stretch in lines. I find them, a gold name tag looks slightly crooked. I push it from the top, sliding down, a gap is revealed with a paper that says;

“To donate time, to give some cheer, helping by hand, is joy.” 

I wonder if it refers to our monthly volunteering at Westrest Retirement Village? I was planning to go anyway. I head home quickly, have a late lunch, change my clothes, and make it to help serve food for 4 pm. From kitchen to dining I serve plates of food and drinks to the residents. My eyes searching for that next note. Nothing in the kitchen grabs my attention. "Your dessert Mr. Hamiltion, pineapple pudding, and coffee," I place it in front of him, "Two creams and one sugar as always." "You're a greats lad, such a caring boy". He pats my hand, and there on the wall in front of me, an embroidered picture, two hands holding each other, the single word Joy. I run my fingers over the front and the sides, tilting it away from the wall, I find a metal tab holding a rolled-up paper, I slide it out;

"Teatime is usually enjoyed with company, history something most cherished too. If you search you should find me.’"

Teatime, history, search. Mrs.Peters also asked me over for tea, she always uses the same tea set, it is her favorite, it was her grandmothers, mothers and now hers. I wonder if it's hiding somewhere in that set. I have school tomorrow morning, but I am sure I can leave at noon. I shall give her a call. Completing my service, I call Mrs. Peters, she is available and joyful for our get together for the afternoon. Saying good night to everyone. I drive home, shower, relax a short while with some tv, then bed.

Monday morning equals school. I get ready and go. Class is moderate, breaks give a chance to mingle with friends. Then lunch comes, I jump in my car and head over, excitement burning for that next clue. “Hello Christopher, come in, have a seat in the living room, I’ll get the tea”. Bringing out the tea, she sets it down. "Oh, shoot I forgot the biscuits, go ahead and start.” As she walks away, I lift up the teacup and feel the surface, nothing. I try the second, nope. Lifting the lid off the teapot I check the handle, bottom, nothing, I open the sugar bowl, finding the top knob to be loose. I delicately unscrew it, Ah-Ha, in a small hollowed opening is a piece of paper. I grab it, then screw on the lid just as she walks back in. We enjoy some chit-chat, time runs out. Before I start my car, I read the note;

“The man with the J knows the knowledge. Tell him "Com-Put-Chaa" 

The only man I can think of with a J is Jacques. I will see him after school. Standing in front of Jacque's door I knock. He opens. “Com-Put-Chaa,” I say. “One minute”, he walks away and comes back, handing me a large rusty key. “Follow,” he says, we hop into a truck and drive to an unknown property. “All I can tell you is walk to the willow tree, count seven steps forward and eleven west.” I step my foot onto the property, go to the tree, then count. Coming to a door carved in a hill, I step down, finding a keyhole, I open it. I cannot believe my eyes, chests full of lots and lots of cash. I see a note sealed with wax; I open it.

To My Son, 

If you are reading this, you have come upon the $20,000 of treasure obtained through my journeys. My career, as you know involved risky situations. I am telling you now that I was a well know Treasure Hunter. I have traveled on ships through stormy waters. Helicopters and airplanes at tricky altitudes. I’ve climbed mountain tops, been in dark wet caves, forests, and jungles. I'd find hidden valuables for my clients. With, information passed down from their ancestors, maps uncovered from buying property or digging it up. Whatever the case I would find it, in return I would gain much profit, which you now have in your hands. You will also find a guide full of information, learn of my journeys, all I have overcome, and have a solid foundation to become a great treasure hunter just as I. Even part-time if you wish as you finish school or have a career of your own. Remember, I will always be proud of you no matter what. I love you, Christopher.

Dad