Perception

by A. L. Waddington

  ***

  Time was dragging on relentlessly. I stared out the window trying to block out the monotone voice of Mr. Grahame droning on about the Revolutionary War. It had finally stopped raining shortly before lunch. The sky had turned a pale gray and was threatening snow. The world outside stood still and silent. It looked cold and lonely as if it wanted to remain untouched until spring.

  Mr. Grahame finished up his lecture with a final note that there could possibly be a quiz tomorrow over the material covered in class today. Great. Exactly what I don’t need or care about right now. I gathered up my things and met Elizabeth by her seat. She smiled warmly at me with a smile that reached all the way to her eyes.

  “I cannot wait to get out of here today,” she began.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Jocelyn,” Mr. Grahame spoke up before we could make it out the door. “Could you come here for a moment?”

  Elizabeth gave me a questioning look. I shrugged. “It’s all right. I will meet you in Choir. I don’t want you to be late on account of me.”

  She nodded softly and hurried out with our peers. I took a deep breath and made my way back over to our teacher’s desk where he was sorting through a pile of papers.

  Mr. Grahame’s light brown hair with soft curls was brushed back away from his face. His bluish grey eyes were fixed on the notebook in front of him. He glanced up as I approached with a look of disapproval on his face.

  “Mr. Campbell would like to see you in his office immediately.” He handed me a slip of paper and went back to his stack of papers without another word.

  I walked slowly down the now empty hallway trying to figure out why I was being summoned by the headmaster of our school. I couldn’t think of anything that I’d done to warrant an invitation to his office. A cold chill filled the hall. My shoes echoed loudly off the walls between me and the closed administration office in front of me. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  After waiting several minutes, the secretary, Ms. Gladstone, ushered me into the inner sanctuary that in all of my years at Prep, I’d never seen.

  “Ms. Timmons, please have a seat.” Mr. Campbell stood as I entered and motioned towards one of the two chairs in front of his master desk.

  “Thank you. I received a message from Mr. Grahame that you wanted to see me.” I sat down and tried not to fidget.

  “Your teachers and I are very concerned about the number of absences you have been accumulating this term,” he said, firmly retaking his seat.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now I realize that you have kept current on all your assignments and from what I have been told, you are one of, if not the top student in your class.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I sat there uncomfortably not sure what to say to him.

  “However, I am concerned that you may not be getting the full benefit of your education because of the number of days you have missed.” He folded his hands upon his desk and looked pointedly at me.

  “Excuse me, sir. I do not wish to sound disrespectful in any way, but why does that matter?” I questioned.

  A look of surprise creased his earlier studious expression. “Why does it matter? Of course it matters. Your education is extremely important . . . for your present, your future, for shaping the type of lady you become.” I hadn’t realized a frown had appeared across my face, which he mimicked. “Why the confused look, Ms. Timmons?”

  My mind screamed at me to be polite and keep my true feelings concealed for my own sake, but the stronger more forceful voice inside me took over. “Mr. Campbell, you and I both know that my educational prospects are extremely limited. I am fortunate to have been able to continue it to this level. But there is no possibility of my being able to attend a university like my brothers regardless of my desire to do so.”

  “Ms. Timmons, you must realize that women are now attending universities all over our country and getting higher degrees of education. Why do you believe you cannot? Besides of course, your upcoming marriage to Mr. Chandler.” He paused for a moment, scratching his chin in thought. “I do not recall ever hearing of a married woman attending any university.” A slight scowl crossed his face.

  “Neither have I and even if I was not getting married later this month, my father would never allow me to continue my education,” I explained.

  “Are you sure? Have you spoken with your parents about it? Or Mr. Chandler?” His voice dropped an octave.

  “Not recently, but my father made it very clear several years ago when he caught me reading one of his medical books that it was improper for a lady to have such knowledge. He took it from me, told me that my role when I grew up was to run the house and take care of my husband and children. Then he told me I was never allowed to touch any of the books in his office and he sent me to my room for the rest of the day.” I shook my head slowly with my own disbelief.

  “And Mr. Chandler?”

  “He is very supportive of my desire to learn, but please do not tell anyone,” I asked in a soft voice.

  “You have my word. Does he aid you in your studies?”

  “Yes, as much as he can. It will be much easier once we are married and have a home of our own . . . a place where I no longer have to hide.”

  “Ms. Timmons, I feel so poorly that you believe you have to hide such an amazing gift. You are very intelligent and you could easily get into any university that you applied to,” he said with a sad look.

  “Thank you, but I believe that for the sake of my family, peace and acceptance of my place would be best for everyone.” If my other self wasn’t already heading to Boston University those words would never had slid so effortlessly off my tongue.

  “All right, Ms. Timmons. However, you do know that your final graduation exam is rapidly approaching.” He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat and straightened up in a professional manner once more. “Since you will not be returning for the spring term, I want you to understand that there will be some material that has not been covered in your classes.”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “You will be taking the same exam as your peers who will have completed the spring semester. Please prepare yourself. I will have a study guide for you on Monday that should give you a better idea of what to expect.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” He scribbled down a quick note on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Please give this to Mrs. Eads with my apology for keeping you. Have a nice weekend Ms. Timmons.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” I stood.

  I hurried out of his room wondering if I had said more than I should have.

  ***

  Elizabeth and I pulled our caplets tightly around us, trying to keep the wind from breaking us. I wanted to confide in her about what had happened with Olivia but I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything. Instead I made small talk about my meeting with Mr. Campbell and the upcoming final exam. I chattered on like a parrot and she listened attentively, making small comments and assurances where appropriate.

  Elizabeth and I said our goodbyes and parted at the gate. I hurried inside and placed my books on the table in the foyer. Eddie came down the hall from the kitchen upon hearing the front door open. “Good afternoon, Ms. Jocelyn.” He nodded his head slightly.

  “Good day, Eddie.” I nodded in return before handing him my hat and caplet. I laid my books on the small table in the foyer and headed into the kitchen.

  Cora, Mimi, and Sara were seated around the small table by the back window talking quietly over tea and angel food cake. I paused in the doorway beside the cabinet just out of their line of sight not wanting to disturb them.

  “You too young to remember that ugly time an’ I glad you is. The war was awful an’ tis a bad time in this here city,” Mimi said to her daughter.

  “I’s remember some of it, but not much. I remember the camp. It smelled awful an’ was full a filthy rebels,” Cora replied.

  I listened to them unnoticed for several minutes before I ex
ited the room and walked to the parlor. I sat down at the piano and Beethoven flowed from my fingers. The words from the kitchen lingered in the back of my head. I had no idea what they meant.

  ***

  Jonathon and his family arrived for dinner around five o’clock. I heard their voices from the foyer as Mother greeted them. They all gathered in the parlor with my mother and Lizette fussing over the children. I remained at the piano, standing only briefly when they initially entered the room. The ladies took a seat on the lounge. I could hear them discussing Lizette’s methods of teaching her little ones the alphabet when my fingers began moving once more across the keys.

  “Is Father home yet?” Jonathon sat down on the seat beside me.

  “I do not believe so. I have not seen him this afternoon,” I answered without pausing the song I was playing.

  “Are you excited about almost being done with school?”

  “No, not really. I wish I could go to college like you did,” I whispered, leaning closer to him.

  “That, my dear little sister, would never happen,” he chuckled. “We do as we are told and study what we are told. You know that.” He looked down at his hands briefly. I knew Jonathon, out of all my brothers, understood that more than anyone.

  “Can I talk to you privately for a moment?” I glanced over at the two women still talking happily on the lounge.

  “Yes, of course. We can use Father’s study.”

  We stood up and walked out of the room. Neither of the ladies even looked up or seemed to notice our departure.

  With office door closed securely behind us, Jonathon and I took a seat in the chairs next to the hearth where Eddie had already built a roaring fire in anticipation of Father’s return home. I smiled across at my most quiet and sensitive brother, hoping to make him more comfortable.

  Jonathon was stuck in between James and William. A position that would have been difficult for any child considering that James was the athletic and handsome one and William was the charming and carefree brother who never took life seriously. Or at least William was before life finally caught up with him and took a serious bite out of his hindquarters.

  “How was work today?” I began slowly.

  “It was fine, Jocelyn, but I am sure you did not want to speak with me alone to discuss my patients.” He was completing his last year of residency and worked directly under our brother Patrick. He crossed his legs, looking very studious. He reminded me of one of my teachers.

  “No, but I did get called to Mr. Campbell’s office today.” I gave him a brief rendition of my earlier conversation leaving out several key elements like my forwardness and Jackson’s feelings regarding my studies.

  “I knew you were intelligent, but I had no idea you were first in your class. That is wonderful, Jocelyn. Congratulations!” He leaned forward and patted me on the knee with a broad smile.

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. However, it is not the reason I asked to speak with you. You did take American History when you were an undergrad, right?”

  “Yes, it was required. Why?”

  “When I came home from class today I overhead Sarah, Mimi, and Cora speaking in the kitchen and Mimi said something I did not understand. I was hoping perhaps you would know. She said something in regards to a Camp Douglass or Eighty Acres of Hell. I have heard references to that before between Robert and Father and I have never known what it was.”

  Jonathon sighed audibly. “Father would give me a licking if I spoke to you about Camp Douglass.”

  “Please, Jonathon? I am not a child anymore. I am tired of being treated like one,” I pleaded with him.

  “It has nothing to do with treating you like a child. He would be upset with me for speaking to you about it because you are a lady and men do not discuss such topics with ladies,” he stated bluntly.

  “Do you have any idea how sexist you sound?” My voice raised an octave.

  Jonathon’s jaw dropped to his lap and his eyes grew huge. “I cannot believe you just said that to me.”

  “Why? It is true,” I glared.

  “Jocelyn, how can you be so . . . What kind of people are you exposed to at school? They certainly have been a very bad influence on you,” he chastised me like a small child.

  “Oh, Jonathon, you sound a lot like Father. Are you going to hold your daughters back the way Father has with my education?” I immediately regretted the words as soon as they slipped through my lips.

  “Well then, I can see this conversation is over. Have a good evening, little sister.” He emphasized the word ‘little’ before he stood up and walked out of the room.

  “Great,” I muttered before leaving the room myself and heading upstairs. I no longer had any appetite for dinner.

  CHAPTER 7

  Wednesday, December 02, 2009

  IN-SCHOOL SUSPENSION was not exactly fun. However, it was well worth it for the opportunity to flatten out Taylor once and for all for her comments and constant pursuit of Jackson. It was not something I was particularity proud of, but that little devil that occasionally sits on my shoulder was grinning from ear to ear.

  I’d spent the last couple days in a small room off the side of the main office area alone, doing nothing but schoolwork. On the bright side, I had managed to catch up on the reading I’d been neglecting since the discovery of my uncle’s journals. However, being alone for eight hours a day was driving me batty and I hated it. I wasn’t even allowed to have lunch with my friends. Still, I was thankful that at least my schoolwork was counted for and I wasn’t receiving zeros on a week’s worth of assignments and exams like Taylor was.

  Basketball practice was grueling. Our first game was the following evening and Coach Smith wanted to make sure we were in top form. I was thrilled when the final whistle blew and we headed into the locker room.

  “I don’t know how she expects us to do our best tomorrow, my legs feel like rubber,” Hilary complained, leaning against her locker still trying to catch her breath.

  “I know, all I want to do is take a hot shower and go to bed,” Caitlyn added.

  “Wish I could,” Jenna, who was changing her clothes, joined in the conversation. “I’ve got so much freakin’ homework I’ll be up half the night getting it done.”

  “Not me. Solitude allows a lot of time to get homework done.” I rolled my eyes. “I am all caught up.”

  “So all I have to do to get my homework done is punch Taylor? Huh? I can do that!” Caitlyn laughed.

  “Must be nice,” Jenna grumbled and slammed her locker shut.

  “Not really, I am bored to tears sitting in that room alone for hours on end,” I complained.

  The guys were all waiting for us in the parking lot. It was cold and dreary out with the air full of a misting rain. Jackson and Zak looked as worn out as we did and made very little small talk before climbing into their respective cars and heading home.

  ***

  I went over to Jackson’s for dinner after a quick shower. Emily had made homemade chicken noodle soup with fresh baked bread that simply melted in my mouth. I stuffed myself while they discussed Olivia’s miscarriage and how she and William were coping. I added what I could to the conversation, but the topic was so depressing.

  “May I ask you an odd question, Jocelyn?” Robert inquired from out of the blue.

  “Of course.”

  “Emily and I were trying to figure something out and we were hoping that perhaps you could clarify it for us,” he started. “On Thanksgiving you mentioned something regarding your father, Shane, having another brother.”

  “Yes, his younger brother, Nicholas.”

  “Do you know him well?” Emily asked after exchanging a look with Robert.

  “No. He and my dad don’t speak anymore. I barely remember him at all. I believe my dad has not spoken to him since Uncle Monte’s funeral.”

  “Do you know why they are estranged?” Robert asked.

  “Not really. Only that my dad said he’s not right in the head. I think
he’s a professor at Indiana University,” I snorted.

  “Professor of what?” Jackson joined in the conversation while Robert and Emily’s eyes held onto each other, speaking volumes that I did not understand.

  “I have no idea. I only know he’s there because my mom mentioned it when we visited the IU campus last summer. She asked him if he was going to stop by and see him, but my dad refused and quickly hushed my mother.” I looked between Jackson’s parents for a second to see if I could pick up on what wasn’t being said. “Why are you asking about my uncle Nicholas?”

  “Well . . .” Robert hesitantly began. “It seems that maybe he has also inherited EVE.”

  “What?” I almost chocked on a mouthful of bread.

  “Monte mentioned something about Nicholas and Shane being estranged, but he told us that we should speak with Nicholas about some work he has been doing regarding EVE,” Emily said gently.

  The realization of what they were thinking fully sunk in. I had not thought about my dad’s younger brother in years. It had never occurred to me that my uncle Nicholas there was the same one I vaguely remembered here. Somehow it just didn’t seem possible. “If he has this thing also . . . why hasn’t he approached me and said anything to me there?”

  “We are not sure how much Monte had shared with him and we have never spoken with Nicholas about it,” Robert replied.

  “So he knows I have it . . . or that maybe Sidney does also?” I shook my head slowly. “I cannot believe my uncle Nicholas there is the one and the same here,” I said barely loud enough for them to hear me.

  “We do not believe he knows you are remembering,” Emily added.

  I sat in silence trying to let the words sink in fully. A million questions were running through my mind that I wanted to ask my uncle, but I wasn’t even positive how to get in touch with him.