The Forging by Jeffrey Hancock

Author:Jeffrey Hancock
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2017-07-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Our morning was uneventful. Breakfast was eaten. All the chores were completed. Moiraine is spending some quality time with her mother. I set my mind in motion regarding plans for the timely demise of Mark Galos. “It is by will alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the juice of Sapho that thoughts acquire speed, the lips acquire stains, the stains become a warning. It is by will alone I set my mind in motion.” Well I don’t have any Sapho juice, but we have pomegranate juice in the fridge; maybe that will work?

I began the work on the beans. I rinsed and drained them. I placed them in the large pot and put them on the stove. I added the stock, ham hock, and all the right herbage. I set the stove to put the beans on a slow simmer. Oh, boy, I am going to enjoy this batch. A pang of despair washed over me. How can I enjoy anything while my wife lies upon her deathbed? At the thought, I almost threw the beans out.

The doorbell rang. Oh, what fresh slice of anguish is this about? If it’s the damn cat again, I’ll use his guts to string a guitar. I opened the door to find a man of his mid-thirties standing at my door. He is of Asian descent. Based on the fact a limousine flying the Japanese flag on both front corners of the car is parked in front of my home, I assumed he is Japanese. He is wearing a smart navy-blue suit and tie. He is also sporting a briefcase in his left hand. Oh God, is the Japanese Government suing me? He bowed from the waist a respectful amount, but not too far. When he straightened up, I returned the bow no further than he bent.

“Please to pardon this interruption. Does a Nathan Embers live at this address?”

“Yes. I am Nathan Embers. What is this all about?”

“Very good. My name is Masafumi Asahara. I would like to ask you if this is your work.” He pulled out of his briefcase a framed piece of paper and showed it to me. It is the maker’s mark I had given to the calligrapher at the Japanese Tea Garden.

“Why, yes, it is. You know it had slipped my mind. Can you tell me what kind of maker’s mark it is?”

“May my great-granduncle come in and sit down? He has traveled very far to talk with you. He has, I think the word is, fragile health and this trip has taxed him greatly.”

“I’m not prepared for guests, but sure.” The gentleman walked to the limousine and opened the passenger door and helped an elderly gentleman out. Masafumi Asahara attended to this older man and guided him to my door. The older gentleman bowed when he reached the door, and I returned the gesture. I showed them to my couch. Once everyone was settled, I offered them some ice water or Diet Pepsi. Needless to say, I don’t entertain much.

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