Inheritance

‘Sophia, we can postulate about this all day, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is all there is!’

She looked again at the plain wooden box on the desk in front of her. Rectangular, hardly large enough to fit one of her Aunts large gemstone necklaces she always so admired.

‘The house…?’

‘Sold before she died. Very cheaply. The proceeds paid the funeral costs.’

‘She said she was leaving me a priceless inheritance.’

The solicitor sighed again. His patience was wearing thin. ‘Miss Deposini, I have another client now. Can I ask you finish the paperwork with my secretary?’ He stood and walked to the door, opening it hurriedly.

Sophia grabbed the box, thrust down the bewilderment and hurt that threatened to overcome her, and approached the patronising smile of the woman in the waiting room.

It was late when she got home. One bus was late, which meant she missed the next one. She flopped down on the sofa and fished the box from her bag. Aunt Maria had always been there for her. The many hints dropped regarding the inheritance had left Sophia thinking she would be there for her after death too. Now she held the box, trying to figure out how it opened, feeling orphaned, alone, depleted. It seemed to be sealed shut. There wasn’t even a place to shove the blade of a knife into.

‘Aunt Maria!’ The shout was a mix of frustration, grief and deep sadness. She threw the box at the wall and went to bed.

The next morning, she made her Lady Grey Tea, in her favourite blue china cup, gifted to her by Maria, many moons ago. She walked into the lounge and sank down on the cushioned sofa. Sunbeams lit the room, spreading light and warmth, and bounced off a sparkling object on the floor. Sophia leapt up, almost spilling the tea. The box had broken open and a smaller bejewelled box lay within. It was the most beautiful box she had ever seen, middle eastern perhaps. She turned it over and a small sticky note underneath read;

I open with your loving touch.

Her Aunt’s words. Hugs where heart touched heart, were ‘loving touch hugs’. Always had been. She quickly held the box to her heart and thought of Maria’s warmth and love. A click, hardly audible.

Carefully, she opened the lid. Within were two pieces of paper, both aged. One was rolled and tied with a red ribbon. The other folded. She read this one first.

This is your inheritance. It is priceless, ancient and secret.

You are of the Royal House of David, a descendant of Mary the mother, through the Jesus and Mary reunion. You are the fountain of wisdom. You are the Sophia.

Confused, she unrolled the other sheet. This was far older, a papyrus, written in many hands. At the top was a strange script, with a translation beneath.

The Royal Dragon Line.

Below was a list of names and dates. Sophia sat in bewilderment staring at her ancestors, realising her Aunt had left her a priceless gift indeed.

The knowledge of who she was.

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