1. A Treasure Story

"Patrick, are you sure you're up to having visitors?" Dr. Emily Gates asked as she hovered over her husband. "I'm sure Ben and Abigail would understand if we asked them not to come."

He caught his wife's hand as she smoothed invisible wrinkles out of the afghan draped over his lap. "They would, yes, but Charlie, Will, and Abe would be very disappointed if they didn't get to see us."

"That's because they love your stories." Emily sat down beside her husband with an indulgent smile, resting her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh.

Patrick leaned his cheek against her hair with a sigh of his own. In the ten years of their second marriage, the pale gold tresses had gradually changed to pale silver, adding a certain regality to the natural beauty that had drawn him to her almost fifty years ago. "I learned it from my father. You remember how much he used to captivate Ben."

"I certainly do." She laughed softly, gently squeezing his hand. "If I remember correctly, I once told him I didn't want him filling my son's head with fantastic stories of lost treasure."

He chuckled, returning the gentle squeeze. "And Dad said he was sharing the family legacy with his grandson."

Emily sighed softly, turning sad for a moment. She'd genuinely liked John Adams Gates, but she'd hated the way his stories about the Templar Treasure had led Ben to search for it as well. That is, until he'd actually found it. Then she'd regretted her harsh words on the subject. "I wish I could have apologized to him before he died."

"I'm sure he understood," Patrick murmured, kissing the top of her head. "You were hardly the only person who didn't believe us."

The doorbell rang at that moment, preventing Emily from thinking about her regrets any longer. She rose gracefully--if a trifle stiffly--to her feet, and pointed a finger at Patrick, who showed signs of attempting the same feat. "You stay put, Patrick Henry Gates. I'll bring them in here."

Turning to go to the door to answer it, she wryly mused, "If they don't get ahead of me first."

"Hello, Mom." Benjamin Franklin Gates greeted her with a crooked grin very like his father's. Gray had begun to thread through his dark brown hair, lending him a distinguished air, especially when he wore his glasses, which he did almost constantly now.

Next to him, Abigail had her hand on their daughter's shoulder, keeping her from darting into the house before she'd been invited in. The only sign that ten years had passed for her, too, were the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. Her hair was still the same bright gold Emily remembered from their first meeting almost twenty years ago. "Hello, Emily."

"Hi, Grandma!" The two boys chorused, the older of the two holding on to his sister's hand.

Looking sulky, the girl added, "Hi, Grandma."

"Hello, Ben, Abigail, Charlie, Will, Abe." She opened her arms and the three children surged inside, almost overwhelming her with their hugs. "Grandpa is in the living room. Go say 'hi' to him."

Cheering, the three charged into the living room, where they clearly heard Patrick greet each of them. "Hello, Charlie. How's my girl?"

"I'm fine, Grandpa." Charlotte replied, sounding more cheerful now that she wasn't being held back.

Abigail shook her head fondly as she kissed Emily's cheek. "I have no idea what we're going to do when she reaches her teens."

"I've told you what we're going to do," Ben retorted, kissing Emily's other cheek. "We're going to lock her up in her room on her thirteenth birthday and not let her out until she's twenty-three."

His wife shook her head as they followed Emily to the living room. "Please. Even if I agreed--which I don't, by the way--you'd never follow through with it. A cute pout and a bat of her eyelashes and you'd be done for."

"Hey!" Ben tried to look offended, but the truth of the statement was undeniable. Abigail had to discipline Charlotte if she ever misbehaved because Ben was too lenient and they knew it.

When they entered the living room, they found ten-year-old Charlotte snuggled against her grandfather's side with ten-year-old William seated on the ottoman at Patrick's feet, six-year-old Abraham ensconced on his lap. Charlotte waved to them. "Hurry up, Mom, Dad! Grandpa's gonna tell us a treasure story!"

"I've heard this already, so I'll go get the cookies and milk," Emily told them as Ben and Abigail settled down on a nearby sofa.

With that, Emily left the others to enjoy the story. Patrick watched his wife go with fondness. She hadn't really slowed down at all and he had a feeling she never really would slow down, unlike him. Banishing that thought, he returned his attention to his audience. "You all know about the War of 1812, right?"

"Yeah!" Charlotte blurted. "England didn't really think America was inda--" she paused, frowning fiercely as she struggled to pronounce the word correctly, "in-de-pen-dent, so America fought to show she really, really was independent."

Patrick exchanged a glance with his son and daughter-in-law, very amused by the succinct but fairly accurate version. "Yes, that's the War of 1812 in a nutshell."

"Grandpa?" Abraham tilted his sandy blond head curiously. "I don' see a nutshell anywhere."

The three adults were forced to stifle their laughter at the six-year-old's honest confusion. "It's a turn of phrase, Abe. I'll explain later."

"Otay." With that, Abraham snuggled against his brother and waited patiently for the rest of his grandpa's story.

Musing that Charlotte would have demanded the explanation then and there, Patrick continued, "Anyway, one of the last battles of the war was fought in New Orleans, led by General Andrew Jackson."

"He's on the twenty-dollar-bill, right?" William asked the question, blue eyes intent.

Patrick nodded, strongly reminded of Ben at that age. "Yes, he is. Anyway, the only reason he won the battle was because he had the help of a pirate named Jean Lafitte. And legends say that General Jackson and Captain Lafitte scuttled a ship carrying seven million dollars in gold. People searched for it everywhere, but couldn't find it."

"You did, though," Charlotte pointed out with admiration in her face. "Just like Dad found the Templar Treasure."

"With help from Uncle Riley," William reminded his twin.

She nodded, accepting the correction. "With Uncle Riley's help."

Their grandfather waited patiently as they reminded each other about their family history. When they were quiet, he continued, "Yes, I found the ship and it's currently being salvaged."

"Salvaged?" Abraham looked puzzled. "What's dat?"

Ben explained for his father. "When a ship is found underwater, divers go down there to retrieve the stuff that was on it."

"Like gold?" the little boy asked.

Ben ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "Yes, among other things."

Abraham, unmindful of the fact that his hair was now sticking up all over the place, turned to his grandfather. "Did you salvage any gold, Grandpa?"

"Not yet, but we haven't been salvaging the ship for that long, all things considered." Patrick reached out to smooth down Abraham's hair. "It could take many more years before any is found." Silently, he added, If it's even there at all...

"We'll help!" Charlotte offered with a determined look on her face.

Abigail spoke up firmly at that point. "Not until you're much older, Charlie."

"Why can't I help now?" Charlotte asked, her lower lip beginning to tremble, a sure sign that she was going to pout.

Emily entered the room at that point with the cookies and milk. "For one thing, you won't get to eat any of these cookies that I baked especially for your visit today."

"Oh." The tremble stopped as suddenly as it began. She'd always loved Emily's cookies.

Patrick tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "For another, you need to know a lot more before you can go salvaging."

"Like what?" she demanded.

As he helped his mother place cookies on dessert plates and pass them around to everyone present, Ben explained, "Like how to dive and look for things that could be artifacts."

"Artifacts?" Charlotte asked, her mouth full of cookie. At a look from her mother, she swallowed and repeated herself. "Artifacts?"

Her father nodded, hiding a smile at the face Patrick made when his plate had only four cookies on it. "Yes, items that came from the ship rather than the ocean floor."

"I don't understand." She looked very confused now.

As he and Emily passed around glasses of milk, Ben told his daughter, "I tell you what. How about you come with me the next time I go to the site and you'll see what we do, exactly?"

"Yeah!" Charlotte positively lit up at that offer.

Abigail rested her hand on her husband's shoulder. "Before she does that, however, she's going to come with me to look at the artifacts that have already been recovered."

"May I come, too?" William asked, looking hopeful.

His parents exchanged a look and nodded. Ben answered for both of them. "Yes, you may come, too. And Abe if he wants."

"Yeah!"

***

A couple hours later, Emily closed the door behind their departing guests. She sighed and slumped against the door. She loved her family dearly, but all three of her grandchildren seemed to be nothing but bundles of rambunctious energy. If they managed to exhaust her, it was no wonder her husband ended up falling asleep on the sofa before their visit was even over. Pushing herself off the door, she walked into the living room. Patrick was still asleep on the sofa, the afghan pulled up over him. With his face relaxed in sleep and his gray hair falling across his face, there was no indication that he'd only recently recovered from a serious bout of bronchitis.

Crossing to the sofa, she lifted the afghan to pull it more snugly over his shoulder. As she withdrew her hand, his suddenly moved, catching hers, surprising her. "Pat! I thought you were asleep."

"I was at first," he admitted, smiling up at her lazily. "I woke up while you were saying good-bye to the others."

"You were playing possum," she accused him playfully, sitting on the ottoman William and Abraham had so recently vacated.

He nodded, bringing her hand up to kiss the back. "Yes, I confess I was. I didn't have the energy to say good-bye."

"Yes, dear." She leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

He turned his head at the last moment so the kiss landed on his lips, soft and sweet. "I love you, Emily Jane Gates."

"I love you, too, Patrick Henry Gates."

End Chapter