LECHAIM WAS DRESSED in a pair of black slacks, a grey tweed jacket, a red polo-necked jumper, and black shoes. His aunt had brought the clothes in for him earlier that morning just before her visit to Doctor Lynch's office. Now, she had rejoined Lechaim in the hospital cafeteria.
“Well, what did the doctor say? Am I going to live?” he joked.
“He says you need care and attention! You should be taking it easy!” She was still annoyed that Doctor Lynch could not see Lechaim and her together. Then Lechaim could have seen her off at the airport. His words broke in.
“I've been doing that for six weeks now! I need some exercise!”
“So you're still determined to visit the Cronins then?” Despite her misgivings regarding the visit, Lechaim had not been deterred.
“Yes, I must!”
“You don't know these people. They could be in league with the IRA or something.”
He laughed and exclaimed, “I hardly think so. If they had wanted to do me harm, they had plenty of opportunity that night. Besides, I owe them my life. I must go back and thank them.”
“Yes, you're right, of course! But please be careful!”
Taking her hand in his he gave it a little squeeze as he replied, “Don't worry! Six weeks in this place is a lifetime. I don't intend to be coming back. At the first sign of trouble, I'll run like hell.”
She had never known Lechaim to run from anything in his life and that was her real worry. These last few weeks had been a real strain for her. Now that her husband had passed away, Lechaim was the center of her world. To lose him would give her nothing to live for. Not that she ever saw much of him anyway for he was always off somewhere. The Army was a demanding mistress and Lechaim was very much her servant. Still, just knowing that he was alive and well somewhere and would return to her from time to time was enough. Introverted by nature, she was not one given to displays of affection, and nor, for that matter, was he. Yet, there had always been a close bond between them. Because his natural mother had been killed when he was very young, he had no memory of her, so she had no rival for Lechaim’s affection. Until now, that is, for she was about to let her dead sister back into his life. She knew that it was the right thing to do. In fact, the only thing to do!
The face of her sister swam before her as she took the envelope from her bag and placed it on the table between them.
“Lechaim, I have something to tell you. It concerns your mother, your real mother, that is!”
He eyed the envelope with some curiosity as he enquired, “My mother?”
“Yes, your mother, Elizabeth!”
She hesitated as she tried to decide how to tell him. “My sister use to have premonitions or so she claimed. She became convinced that she would die before you grew up so she asked me to give you this if she did!”
She pushed the envelope towards him. “It's a letter from your mother! She asked me to give it to you only if and when a certain thing happened!”
He took the envelope from her and examined it.
“And what thing is that?” he asked.
Again she hesitated unsure of herself. She gave a low laugh to hide her embarrassment. “Well, it's somewhat peculiar but you have told me about the dreams you've been having and it relates to them.”
Now his curiosity was really aroused and he questioned her further, “How so?”
“You mentioned that in your dreams there are two horsemen. Both are dressed as ancient warriors! Your mother, Elizabeth, use to have the same dreams!”
“But that's impossible!” he uttered disbelievingly and picked up the envelope, but when he started to open it she stopped him by placing her hand on his.
“No! Open it when I'm gone! Do you mind?”
“Of course not” he reassured her and replaced the half-opened envelope on the table. For the next few minutes he tried to solicit further information from her but she would only repeat that he needed to read his mother’s letter first. Finally, she exclaimed, as she glanced at the clock on the cafeteria wall, “Is that the time? I'll have to go!”
He gave her a hug and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I'll see you soon, Mah!” She liked him calling her “Mah”. It was an Americanism but it had a soft warm sound to it. She looked into those eyes that had disturbed her so and it seemed for just a moment that someone else was looking back. They were such beautiful eyes though. Whatever the reason for the change in their colour, her boy had come back to her - that was all that mattered now.
Then she was gone and he gulped down the remainder of his coffee. Glancing at his watch he saw that he still had twenty minutes before his appointment with Doctor Lynch, time enough to read the letter from his long- dead mother. The envelope seemed to beckon him and he plucked it from the table and turned it over in his hands, noting how clean it looked despite its age. The white envelope was simply addressed, 'For My Son, Lechaim.' With mounting curiosity, he opened the envelope and drew out its contents; five sheets of blue folded notepaper and a photograph. The man and woman in the photograph he recognized at once. He had seen them often enough in photo albums at home. His parents were standing before a thatched cottage somewhere in the Welsh countryside. He knew this because his mother had written on the back of the photograph, 'Bob and me, Wales, 1963.' His parents looked so happy together and, just for a fleeting moment, he felt the pangs of loss that had been his all those years ago.
"What had they been like?" he wondered. Lechaim knew that his father had been a lecturer in English at Cardiff University whilst his mother had been content just to be a housewife. Looking at the black-and-white image, he suspected that they had shared a good life together. His mother's neat hand, he found, was easy to read.
"14th January, 1966
My Dearest Son,
If you are reading this, it will mean two things. (1) that I am dead and (2) that you have had the same dream.
Your father and I always wanted a child but a number of doctors told me that it was not possible. Despite this, we had you! What I am going to tell you now will seem very strange - bizarre in fact. I can only tell you the way it happened and let you be the judge. What you make of it is for you to decide.
Your birth was foretold to me in a dream. In the dream, an ancient warrior riding a white horse told me that I would have a son. My son would be branded with the word of Yahweh. When he joins with Michael, the guardian of Israel, together they will judge and smite the wicked in the name of righteousness.
Crazy as it seems, I believe that this dream has some significance, and meaning that I cannot fully comprehend. I believe you have a destiny and that destiny is somehow linked to this dream and the man in it. Therefore, you need to be told that the life you have been given may have a higher purpose.
The fact that you are reading this letter means that I never lived to see you become a man, never had the opportunity to know you - thoughts I find hard to bear. It will also mean that the warrior in my dream is already known to you. Your time has therefore come.
On the other hand, if the dream is just that, a dream, and I live to see you grow, then you will never see this letter or know of my fears for you. Yet, the dream has reoccurred many times, and I have the strangest feeling that I will not live much longer. Therefore, I am leaving you this letter just in case! Know one thing, my son. Your father and I love you very much ..."
She then went on to write about herself and his father but her words were barely registering. His mind was in turmoil. His mother all those years ago had been dreaming about the warrior - the rider he saw in his own dreams. How could this be? What did it mean? It didn't make sense! Yet, it could not be denied. And what did the warrior's words mean? Who was Michael? What did the guardian of Israel mean? Your son would be branded with the word of Yahweh? Wasn’t Yahweh an archaic term for God? He would judge and smite the wicked in righteousness?
To say the least, the whole thing was fanciful. Perhaps, the term 'fantastic' would be more apt, he thought. Yet, there was no denying that his mother and he had shared the same dreams to some degree, at least. Coincidence perhaps or was it something else again
He placed the letter and photograph back inside the envelope and then stuffed it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Fear pressed in on him, not fear of the physical world of which he was a part, but fear rather of a world he was not familiar with - the world of the unknown. The hands of the wall clock reminded him that it was time to keep his appointment with Doctor Lynch. Troubled, he made his way slowly to the doctor's office.