The Inheritance

February 24, 2021

The Inheritance

By: Richard Santilli

Christopher Latimer Banks sat on an old wooden milk crate. He had been watching the last rays of the sun. Which had been shining through the small attic window. There ever-lengthening beam, growing longer, pointing into the corner.

With a heavy heart, Chris knew the situation. The bills were piling up, and the hundred-year-old family home, had seen its better days. In a couple of weeks, his family home would be gone. Many generations and countless memories will be gone with a swing of a hammer. He thought to himself, what would his grandparents say, they had built this house, back in the turn-of-the-century. Chris sighed, “Granny” as she like to be called whom had passed at the beginning of the year, and soon after his mother. The old house now felt lifeless.

Last rays of the sun now touched the old trunk, that sat in the corner. As he removed the dust covered sheet, memories of his great grandmother came flooding into his head. He remembered the times she spoke about her older brother Robert. Great uncle Bob had served in the first world War. When he returned, he did not seem right. Some of the family members would call him “Crazy uncle Bob”. Which was one of the reasons he never stuck around much, and he was always on the move.

Chris had been fascinated by the old trunk when he first saw it as a boy. That was over 45 years ago, he remembers stories about crazy Uncle Bob and his wild adventures. Whenever Chris, would ask to see what was inside the old trunk, his great grandma, would quickly turn away, saying that she does not remember where the key is or tell him “another time dear”. Great grandma passed away when Chris was about nine years old and his Granny did not want to talk about the old trunk. She would say that it was a painful reminder of her childhood. Since her Uncle Bob passed away when she was just three years old.

Well, if there was one thing Chris Latimer Banks knew, it was trunks. Working as a maritime shipper certainly helped. Studying the trunk, he began to say, “this might fetch a pretty penny”, though not really wanting to sell it. Looking over the antique trunk with an appraising eye. He admired the workmanship and noticed that it seemed to be brand-new! Hardly any signs of age, it was unbelievable for a trunk made in the 1920s.

The term “steamer” trunk Chris knew was a misnomer, however the name stuck, and soon all trunks were “steamer” trunks. Their real name according to some old catalogs, was what they referred to as a packer trunk. He gently ran his hand over its flat top, which was covered in a canvas. The lock and latch seemed to be almost new. Though the brass could use a good polish.

Chris tried the lock/latch mechanism,” Darn its locked “he said. He needed a key, but that would be impossible to find now. So slowly, he took in his surroundings. The light was fading, now reaching up, he pulled the cord. The solitary bulb above his head now had become his only source of illumination. His eyes then fell upon an antique dressmaker’s dummy, with some pins sticking out of it. Retrieving a couple of pins, he now focused, his attention on the lock of the trunk.

Ever so gently, not wanting to damage the lock, he carefully picked it and voila it opened. Carefully lifting the antique lid, he held his breath and peered inside. A small tray rested on what appeared to be some old clothes and mining equipment. On top of the tray, a curious book shaped object. The object was wrapped in several layers of leather. Using great care, he unwrapped it.

Inside the layers a small black book. Gently, he opened the little black book. Chris began to thumb through it. He could see that it was in fact a journal. That book belonged to his late great uncle Bob. The last entry date was on August 17, 1933.

“Opening a new vein, near Emery Gulch…”. The rest of the pages were blank. Now, Chris wondered out loud, when did granny say uncle, died? He thought for a moment longer. Then it came to him, he believed it was in September 1933.

Wrapping the book back up and placing it on the tray. Curious to see what else might be inside. Lifting, the tray he noticed a letter addressed to his great grandmother Margaret.

August 27, 1933

Dear Margaret,

Hope, all is well with you and the little one. Julie appears to be a bright and playful girl. I really enjoyed the time we spent together.

I know mom and dad do not understand me. But I know you do sis. You have always been there by my side. Your kindness and understanding, meant a lot to me. That terrible war, it changed me.

I find it so peaceful up here. There are some good people in Barkerville. So, every day, I pray to the good Lord to take care of you sister and my beautiful little niece. Some would say, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Well, I believe my prayers were answered. Inside this envelope you will find a key. It is for a small metal box, that I set aside for you. It is with love that I give it to you and Julie.

All my love, your big brother Bob.

Removing the key. Now, putting a letter aside. Chris began to rummage around the trunk. Tucked in the corner of the trunk, under some of his miner’s equipment. There Christopher, found that small metal box. Picking it up, he shook it. There was something inside, shifting around. Taking the key, he opened the box. Inside was four golf ball shaped pieces of gold. Chris closed the box and looked up and said “thank you Uncle Bob” as the tears began to flow.

The End.