A bright fire on a cold winter’s day.
― Imran Shaikh
I was in the land of Nod with Astrid Simpson, the most gorgeous creature to ever wear khaki jodhpurs.
We were on an expedition to find the lost Garden of Eden but frankly, just lying beside her in the desert at night was paradise enough for me.
But Astrid was all business and determined to press on with the dig, so the following morning after a breakfast of coffee and crusty bread, she took me to the site.
“What’s this?”
I was staring at a dusty concave depression in the sand.
“Wait—you’ll see.”
She began digging spadefuls of sand and I pitched in and helped. Soon, my spade struck something hard.
“What is it?”
“This,” she smiled, “is a 5,000 year-old olive tree—it’s already been radio-carbon dated. It’s petrified, of course.”
“I’m impressed,” I said, while inwardly feeling deflated—one ancient olive tree does not an Eden make.
She looked at me impishly. “Are you disappointed?”
“A little,” I said truthfully.
“There’s more.”
I looked at her dancing eyes. “Really?”
“Over there—” She pointed to an opening between two stony ridges.
I looked at her perplexed.
Again, she took her spade and began digging, so I grabbed mine and lent a hand. Within minutes her shovel made a metallic sound.
“Come here and look.” Her face was alight like a child’s.
I scrabbled across the sand to squat beside her and peered into the hole. My jaw dropped. I caught a glimpse of gold.
“Oh my god, what is it?”
“As near as I can make it out, it’s an arch or a gate.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “This can’t be the gates of Eden—I mean, it wasn’t exactly the celestial city. It was probably just a hedged enclosure—if it existed at all.”
Her eyebrows arched. I let her down again.
“How much of this have you excavated?”
“Not much—I was by myself and too afraid to share my discovery with the locals.”
“Probably a good idea,” I said soberly.
The prospect of fortune hunters didn’t thrill me.
“Let’s see how much of this we can uncover,” I said.
I suddenly felt very vulnerable. Marauders and tomb raiders could be dangerous.
She stared at me as if reading my thoughts. “We can work all day and through the night—it’d be best anyway to work under the cover of darkness.”
I agreed and we got right to work. By sunset, we had dug down more than six feet. I was exhausted and in need of a break. I wearily dropped my shovel and sat back in the sand. Astrid sat down beside me and we shared lukewarm water from a canteen.
“This is amazing. Any idea of how far down the gate extends?” I asked.
“Probably twenty feet,” she replied. “I probed it using a long pole.”
“Twenty feet! It’s impossible! Do you have any idea the impact this discovery will make?”
“I think so,” she frowned. “It’ll shake up a lot of people who think Genesis is a myth.”
Touché, I thought sheepish at my own doubts.
“You know this is dangerous uncovering this find by ourselves. We’re prey to any robbers who’d gladly murder us to get their hands on this gold.”
“What do you suggest?”
I took another sip of water, before answering—I wasn’t sure how receptive she’d be.
“I think I need to enlist the help of a friend—Jerrod Mason—he’s curator of Antiquities for the Smithsonian. This is huge, Astrid—we’re in way over our heads.”
“I agree. So, what should we do—fill in the hole again and wait till we can mount a full-scale expedition?”
“It seems the best solution at the moment.”
She nodded and lay back looking up at the first few stars twinkling above us. “Star light, star bright,” she whispered.
“Better make that wish a good one,” I said drily.
Lying beside her at night under her starry constellation was always an adventure. I never knew if I’d be staring up at Virgo or Libra