An Ever Fixéd Mark

by Jessie Olson

  “Indeed,” Oliver grinned proudly, looking briefly at Lizzie. “Actually, I’m in town to compare notes with some colleagues at UMASS.”

  Lizzie felt her shoulders relax a little and looked at another shelf to rearrange.

  “It’s an interesting idea,” Paula nodded, but Lizzie could tell she was impressed. “You know, I have a friend who works at your museum.”

  “It’s not my museum. I teach at the local college. But I might know your friend.”

  “Joanne Bates?”

  “I know Joanne,” Oliver smiled. Lizzie caught herself admiring his smile. “I can tell her you say hello.”

  “Yes, definitely. Tell her Paula says hello.”

  “Oh God, I’m sorry,” Lizzie realized her flub and left her concentration of the bookshelf. “Oliver, this is Paula. She’s the education program coordinator.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Oliver continued his sweet smile and held out his hand officially.

  “The same. So is your visit here part of your research?”

  “No, I,” he lingered in a barely noticeable pause. “I was hoping I could take a tour.”

  Lizzie darted her eyes to the clock behind the desk. It was 11:30. There was a possibility some more public would come through to join them by noon. “Lizzie could take you,” Paula offered generously. “If anyone comes at noon, I’ll take that tour.”

  “The desk?” Lizzie asked.

  “Donna will be done by then,” Paula thought she was doing Lizzie a great kindness. “When you are done, you can head out to get ready for your party.”

  Lizzie hoped the burn wasn’t evident on her cheeks. She wasn’t going to explain there was a party at her house that night. It required enough effort to not freeze in terror at the thought of walking through the house alone with Oliver. On Halloween. “Are you sure?”

  “Go on,” Paula took the book from Lizzie’s hands.

  Lizzie offered a polite expression towards Oliver. She stopped to take a drink from her water bottle and then guided him out of the shop down the corridor into the house. She took in a deep breath and used all her ability to not tremble. She was glad to see him, but couldn’t bring herself to show the affection of seeing an old high school friend. She didn’t know if it was right to be glad to see him. She didn’t know if Ben would appreciate her being glad or scared or knowing that Oliver dared to do what he would not do.

  “You can’t touch the furniture,” Lizzie explained the rules flippantly, without the charm she used with tourists. “And if there are ropes in the room, you can’t go beyond them. Turn off your cell phone.”

  She hoped she wasn’t too abrupt. She wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Not yet. Not in that house. She led him out of the stair hall into the great room. “The Fultons were…” she started and tried again. “The Fultons were a prominent Cambridge family in the early 19th century. They were loyal to the British in the Revolution and the War of 1812. John Fulton acquired his fortune…” Lizzie faded feeling ridiculous. “This is the great room,” she said quickly and stopped so he could look for a second. Then she went back through the hallway into the parlor. “This is the parlor,” she paused briefly before passing through. “And the dining room.”

  Oliver walked around the table, looking at the china laid out on the table and the paintings hung over the fireplace. He put his hands behind his back, perfectly obedient to the instruction to not touch. He lifted his chin back to her when he made a complete circle of the room. She hastened to the other side and went into the next room. “This is the kitchen,” Lizzie continued her simplicity. She shuddered and stared at the fireplace, wondering why no one had lit a fire.

  “You look great Lizzie,” Oliver took advantage of her pause. “I like the red hair.”

  Lizzie immediately regretted her choice to dye her hair again. She hadn’t thought until Oliver spoke it that she chose a resemblance to Eloise. “Thanks,” she said weakly. She knew her heartbeat accelerated. She wondered if he could sense her adrenalin rush. She let herself glimpse quickly at his dark eyes, but looked away when she was confident there was no burn hidden in them.

  Oliver circled the large wooden table with a few utensils laid out to look as though the cook might come in and start the next meal. Lizzie never realized how absurd it was to see a bowl and a couple wooden spoons. As though the cook would start with that. Besides, the table was always covered in flour and grease. She shook her head uncertain where that argument came from. She looked at her watch. It was only 11:40. She couldn’t tell him they had to get out of the way of the tour coming through. If she took him upstairs, she would likely run into Donna.

  “How’s Ben?” Oliver broke the silence.

  “He’s good,” Lizzie nodded mechanically. “He’s great.”

  “Good.”

  “I know you are a vampire,” Lizzie heightened her posture, fearing that would shed his friendly demeanor.

  “I imagine you do,” he maintained his gentility, almost amused. He looked at her briefly and crossed to the fireplace. He lifted his hand to touch the mantle but remembered the rule and put his hand behind his back. He looked back at Lizzie, revealing the search for a dozen answers in his eyes.

  “I know about Lily, too,” she said softly and let herself look at his face. He was really very handsome. Lizzie was surprised that he looked the same as the last time she saw him at Springs. It wasn’t like he had grown into his looks in the 18 years since he… graduated. He didn’t have the alteration of age to better define his features. He was the same as his photographs, with thick dark hair and intensely mysterious brown eyes. He was tall, but that didn’t surprise her. She remembered that in her dream.

  He started to smile but seemed to catch the thought that prompted it. Or maybe the memory of Lily was always bittersweet. “I imagine that is why you are here,” he met her eyes.

  “I worked here for four years before I…” Lizzie realized she answered his indirect question. “Before I knew I was her.”

  “Did you remember something?” he revealed hope in his eyes, though his face remained calm.

  Lizzie felt her cheeks flush, remembering her wine soaked dream. “I honestly still don’t believe it completely,” she said hastily. She tried to force the doubt into her brain, even though it was more difficult to be a cynic now that she was dating a supernatural. “I’ve had dreams. They usually mix the present with the past. Or sometimes I would give a tour and say something that I had no way of knowing.”

  “Like what?” he revealed an impish amusement.

  “One time I said the parlor wallpaper was green,” Lizzie muttered, thinking of Paula’s reprimand after overhearing that. “Obviously, it’s not. But… we don’t know that’s not the original wallpaper.”

  “It’s not,” Oliver shook his head. “It was green. Lily… she always liked that color.”

  “Oh,” Lizzie was relieved Lily was referred to in third person. “Do you remember this house?”

  “I remember it well,” Oliver looked up as if collecting the memories in his mind. “It feels strange to be here again.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s empty. This room was always full of servants. They were all such gossips about everyone who came in here, about every house in the neighborhood. The gentry and the servants,” he stopped to recollect more detail. “The wallpaper is peeling and faded.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “A lot of the furniture is different. It smells musty… not like smoky fires and the starch from Mrs. Fulton’s linens. This room doesn’t seem right without a big cut of beef hanging over the fireplace or the herbs from the ceiling… it’s different. But the way it creaks, the way the light comes through some of the windows… it’s the same.”

  Lizzie shook her head in the silence that followed his comments. “They are so god-dammed precious about that wallpaper.”

  “That’s funny,” Oliver laughed. “There are so many things on this planet that need to be preserved. And people get obs
essed over wallpaper.”

  “It’s nice wallpaper.”

  “Yes, but it’s not as essential as the ozone layer,” Oliver remarked. “Do you remember any of those things?”

  “Nothing as specific as that. I once dreamt I was watching a string quartet play in the great room. But I was wearing jeans in the dream… so… I don’t even know what she looked like.”

  Oliver let his eyes rest on Lizzie for a few silent moments. She felt the latent fear rise up in her throat. She glanced at the fire irons and wondered if necessary, could she use them to defend herself? She looked away from the fireplace as she heard the noise of Donna’s small tour come down the main staircase. Their footsteps and voices quickly faded towards the gift shop. The silence set once more in the kitchen. Lizzie could hear the hum of the traffic outside the windows. “We should probably move our tour upstairs right now.”

  “Let’s go,” Oliver took himself up the servant steps into the master bedroom. Lizzie slowly followed him into the room. She saw him stand against the sun of the west facing window. She saw the outline of his strong build as he stared down to the parking lot. “Has Ben told you anything about Lily?” he asked the window.

  “I know you killed her. And Eloise Hutchins. And Melissa Benson,” Lizzie spat out, wishing she had taken that fire iron from the kitchen. She scanned the bedroom, but doubted the hairbrush on the vanity would be an effective tool of protection. She could break the washbasin on the nightstand.

  “That’s what he told you?” Oliver continued to ask the window.

  “Some of it,” Lizzie said weakly. “I figured some of it out on my own.”

  Oliver shifted his gaze to another direction of Brattle Street. “I loved Lily,” he swallowed a memory Lizzie could tell was still painful.

  “Ben said that.”

  “Lizzie, I’m not going to hurt you,” Oliver turned to face her.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To see you.”

  “Are you going to see Ben?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “You came to Boston just to see me?”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I really do have some professional work in the city. But while I was here… I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “I found out about you and Ben.”

  “How?”

  “There are pictures of you two all over the internet. At your friend’s wedding. At parties and outings…”

  “Right,” Lizzie looked down. “What do you feel you need to tell me about Ben?”

  “I…” Oliver looked back to the window. “Just be careful, Lizzie.”

  “What?”

  “I can see that you are in love with him,” Oliver clenched his jaw. “It’s obvious in those pictures. It’s obvious right now.”

  “You don’t think I should love him?”

  “I think you should be careful. You need to ask yourself how honest he has been with you.”

  “He has told me…” Lizzie wanted him to look at her. He kept staring out that stupid window. Brattle Street couldn’t be that fascinating on the last day of October. All the foliage was gone. There was hardly any foot traffic this far down the street. “He hasn’t told me everything. I haven’t told him everything about my life – and I’ve only been on this planet for 34 years.”

  “He tells you that he is protecting you from me?” Oliver looked at her directly.

  “Yes,” Lizzie couldn’t meet the eyes she wanted to turn.

  “Do you think he should?”

  “You killed those girls…”

  “He killed, too, Lizzie. Do you judge him?”

  “He admits that. He feels badly.”

  “You don’t think I feel badly? I loved Lily.”

  “I’m not Lily.”

  “No, you are not. But what does Ben think?”

  “I…” Lizzie lost her words in the look of his eyes. There was something familiar and warm about his stare, something she wanted to trust even as all the information of the past several months echoed in her brain.

  Oliver approached her and touched her cheek softly. “Lizzie, I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you. There is bad blood, if you’ll pardon the expression, between Ben and me. You needn’t get caught in the middle of it,” he focused his eyes on her, as if searching for a trace of Lily. Lizzie didn’t feel as though he saw what he was looking for. He dropped his hand and breathed out. “I think I’ve said enough for now. I’m a little overwhelmed being in this house again. I will be in town for a while. Please… let’s talk some more.”

  “You don’t want to see Ben?”

  “I think it would be best if I didn’t. But if you think I should, then by all means, let’s all have a chat,” Oliver walked towards the door and smiled at her.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lizzie suddenly looked towards the guest room, as if fearing someone might come in to John and Margaret’s bedroom to disturb their conversation.

  “It isn’t fair to you, Lizzie. He should have let you be,” Oliver sighed.

  “No,” she let anger overcome her. “I can take care of myself. I made a choice to be with him. He makes me happy.”

  “He thinks you’re…” Oliver closed his mouth over his words. “Don’t you have to go home and get ready for a party?”

  “Did you want to see the rest of the house?’

  Oliver gazed towards the door and the direction of the other bedrooms. “Some other time.”

  “Let me walk you out,” Lizzie led him back towards the hallway and the main staircase. She heard Paula start her tour in the great room.

  Oliver laughed and whispered to her as they went down the stairs. “I used to sneak in and out of this house… and now you have to walk me out.”

  Lizzie looked at him curiously at the bottom of the staircase. She wanted to know what he meant by that, but wouldn’t let herself ask. “It’s the museum policy,” she uttered plainly and led him back into the gift shop.

  *****

  Lizzie saw Ben’s car in front of the house and panicked. Had she really taken that long with Oliver? No, it was hardly ten minutes past noon when she said goodbye to Donna. She stopped at the grocery store on the way home. She glanced at the clock before turning off her engine. It was only 1:30.

  She pulled the bags from the back of her car, debating what to tell Ben about her morning. She didn’t have to say anything. She knew… she knew almost completely that it was the better option. He was just another visitor. Except that she agreed to see him again.

  She hadn’t processed all of their conversation. What did Oliver mean by suggesting Ben hadn’t told her everything? Lizzie meant what she said. She didn’t expect that she would have known everything about Ben by that point. Really, it had only been six months. In those six months she learned a great deal of truth about Ben… and about herself. Was his version of the story about Oliver the truth? Or was it as jaded as her opinion of Sara?

  “Hi,” Ben grinned down from a ladder at the top of the staircase. Lizzie smiled back and went into the kitchen.

  “Lizzie! You are off cobweb duty. Ben got here early and has been stringing them,” Meg explained as she emptied a dust pan into the trash. “Did you have any ghostly encounters at the museum?”

  Lizzie set the bags on the counter and started pulling out the things for the fridge. “Not really,” she felt Ben enter the room.

  “The hallway is all set, Meg. What’s next?” Ben asked, though Lizzie knew he was watching her.

  “Ask Lizzie if she needs help setting up the dining room. I’m going to leave that to her. She has a better eye for food arrangement,” Meg took the dust pan out of the room.

  “You got here early,” Lizzie shut the refrigerator door.

  “My appointment was canceled,” he let her see the hungry look in his eyes. “There wasn’t a backup available… so I just came here earlier.”

  “It… it’s only been six weeks,” she said in a low voice, not knowing if Meg w
as still in the dining room.

  “I just wanted to see you,” he pulled her close to him. “I forgot you were working.”

  She let him kiss her. She could tell he was hungry. Fortunately there would be a lot of alcohol at the party. Fortunately, he was too driven by instinct to be sensitive to the fact she was somewhere else. She wanted to give in to his desire, to lead him upstairs and push out everything troubling her brain since she saw Oliver exit the gift shop. But the reality of the dwindling afternoon overpowered her weakness. “I have to make artichoke dip,” she loosed from his embrace. She got the pan from the cupboard and stopped suddenly. “Is Jackie home?”

  “I haven’t seen her,” Ben shrugged. “Why?”

  “So you were alone with Meg?”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “You didn’t eat.”

  “I helped your friend move furniture in the living room. Then I got up on a ladder and hung cotton that’s supposed to look like a spider wove it. I wasn’t… I didn’t come here to feed.”

  “Yes, but, Meg,” Lizzie opened another cupboard.

  “What do you think of me?” he was irritated. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Never mind Meghan.”

  Lizzie didn’t like the fact he used her full name. She went back to the refrigerator and pulled out some more ingredients. Ben stopped her and forced her to look at him. “There’s something else,” he tightened his grip on her wrist. She didn’t know what, if any, part of her could show she was with Oliver. Could Ben smell him?

  “Nothing,” she shook her head quickly. Lizzie knew he wouldn’t believe her denial, but she released his grip and went back to the counter.

  “Did you remember something at the house today?” he asked, almost hopefully.

  Lizzie swallowed. “I… was giving a tour and thought it was strange the kitchen table was so clean.”

  Ben laughed. “Did that bother you?”

  “Kind of,” Lizzie sighed as she opened the can of artichokes. “I don’t like to think about things that make no sense to me… but are coming from some place else. Especially today.”

  “Halloween?”

  “Well, it is strange,” Lizzie lifted the lid of the can, thinking again how it was odd that Oliver showed up.