What did Nora get herself into? Merly thought. “Did anyone ask about her?” The suspense was too much for Merly to bear.
“Yes, someone did ask for her, but Nora had no reason to hide from that person, so I gave away the place where Nora was,” he said.
“But she asked you not to. Then why did you do it? And who was looking for her?” Merly asked with her tone a scale up as she sensed betrayal from Mr. Stevenson. But before she could get an answer, Sarah and Jesse came in, and they were looking for her.
“Here you are! We searched all over for you. Professor Jacob is here and wants everyone in the class. You were not even picking up your phone.”
The girls waited for Merly to come immediately with them, and she was torn. She was about to get her answer and now she would have to wait for the opportunity again.
“I’ll get the answer next time, Mr. Stevenson, I promise,” and without waiting for a reply, she left.
The class with Mr. Jacob seemed like a yearlong, and Merly failed to concentrate. She couldn’t wait to go back to the library and inquire who was looking for Nora the other day and what was so important. “Can I trust, Mr. Stevenson? Will he lie to me?” she said it under her breath and waited for the class to be over.
Mr. Jacob said something about an assignment, but Merly didn’t hear it. As soon as he left, she excused herself from the class and told Sarah to inform her if Mr. Paisley was back in class.
The walk to the library seemed to take an eternity, like Merly had in her dreams, and the mere thought of it made her shiver a little. She increased her steps. She pushed open the library door, but Mr. Stevenson was not there Instead, there was someone new sitting at a chair beside his chair and Mr. Stevenson’s chair was empty.
“Where is Mr. Stevenson? I was supposed to meet him.” She clearly looked distraught, and this person she was facing was also new to her.
The man in question replied, “Mr. Stevenson was called out. I am just filling in for him. I am Mr. Kippler and will assist him more regularly from now on.”
Merly stood there and didn’t say a thing. So Mr. Kippler said, “What is your name? And do you have a message for him?”
“Mr. Kippler, do you know who called him?” she asked, but didn’t give away her name.
“What is your name?” he asked again, and then said, “Is there a book you need? I can help you out.”
“No, Mr. Kippler, I need to see him. It is important,” she replied and at that moment saw Mr. Stevenson walking in through the door. He had the appearance of someone who was just interrogated and for a flip second, Merly felt pity for him.
Mr. Stevenson passed her without giving her a second look. Merly looked down; this was never how Mr. Stevenson had behaved before. He was always answering her, helping her out with finding books and giving her information, but this time, he looked ill at ease. It was clear that something was troubling him. A younger student walked past her to complete the formalities on borrowing a few books. Merly waited for the process to complete, but with every passing moment, she was getting impatient.
She went up to Mr. Stevenson when the younger student left, but she was uncomfortable to question him in front of Mr. Kippler. Therefore, when Mr. Kippler went out to take a drink, it was the perfect opportunity for Merly to get the unfinished answer in lieu of her question.
“Mr. Stevenson,” Merly called out and he looked up to her. “Oh! It’s you again.” Merly nodded.
“Mr. Stevenson, who was it that called Nora that day? You said someone called for her,” she asked.
“Of course, someone called for her and I showed him the way to where she was. It was your professor, Mr. Summers.”
“Mr. Summers?” Merly was taken aback; of all the people she had expected, she didn’t expect it to be Mr. Summers.
“Mr. Summers!” she exclaimed. “He came looking for her? But why would he do that? We just had our classes before that and he never even…” she left her thought unfinished.
“There was no reason for him to call her.” Nora was never inclined towards Mr. Summers lectures. She was fonder of Mr. Paisley; therefore, any interaction between them was unlikely and more so of Mr. Summers looking for Nora to ask her something.
“Merly!” Mr. Stevenson called out. He had pity in his eyes and Merly could see that. Perhaps he could sense her inner turmoil. It was obvious that something was bothering her and the lack of sleep for two days had left her looking almost gaunt.
“I suppose your friend was searching for a person,” he said very quietly as if he didn’t want anyone around him to hear him say that.
“She was looking for someone in the criminology section?” Merly questioned back with an exasperated expression plastered on her face.
“After that she went where the year books and old college magazines are stored. When Mr. Summers came looking for her, I directed him toward where Nora was, but soon after, I followed him to see if they needed something,” he said in one breath.
“And you heard them talking? Please tell me something, Mr. Stevenson. Nora has not been home for two days and I am rightfully worried.”
“Well, it was not right for me to pry, but as I went near, I heard Nora say that she was looking for someone. Mr. Summers said that it was not important or something in those lines.” He waited for Merly to say something, but continued on, “I think they saw me and stopped talking. I shouldn’t be saying this to you; it is not my business.”
“Mr. Stevenson, I cannot thank you enough. I won’t tell anybody that you told me,” Merly assured him and left.
Later, she debated if it was right to confront Mr. Summers directly, but what would she ask? “It could be nothing and I might just be thinking too much into this but what if is something to worry about? Should I keep quiet about it?” she said to herself aloud and paced the bathroom floor.
Merly tried to frame the right question in her mind and be appropriate to ask Mr. Summers. There were questions piling in her mind and she could sense a mild headache rising in the back of her head.
Mr. Summers was absent in class that day, so that implied that Merly would have to go and look for him elsewhere, but she couldn’t delay it anymore. She inquired about him to a few students and teachers, but all said that he was absent that day and probably resting in his quarters.
It was getting near 5:30 p.m. and a day wasted again, Merly thought. She couldn’t sit without doing anything, and who was Nora looking for? she thought. She went back to the library again to see if there was something she missed. She went to the section where the criminology books were placed. If there was something the books knew it, and how Merly wished that they could speak. The books were a speechless and motionless spectator. She shifted to the section where the old magazines and the year books were stored.
She started scrambling through the magazine and tried to look if there was any year book that was left out in the open. Merly saw that there was a thin layer of dust settled on the top shelf of books and from there, one of the books was missing. Could it be a coincidence that Nora had taken it? Or is it my imagination?
It was indeed a yearbook that was missing from the row of books. It was her good fortune and now she could rest all the questions that were bubbling inside her. She tried reaching for the top shelf, but fell short of it. Then climbed up the ladder and reached up to see. She looked closer and saw that there was another book that was missing from the row.
Merly dusted off a layer of grime from the top of a book. Then she took out the first book from where one of the books was missing. It showed the batch of 1972. She flipped through the pictures and didn’t see anyone that she knew of, then she flipped again. She saw nothing. Who was she looking for? She sighed and then turned towards the section where another book was missing. She took out the book on the left, and it was the class of 1966. Hence, she concluded that her friend was looking for someone from the year 1973 and 1967, if Nora did take those books out.
Who was it that Nora knew from 1967 and 19
73? Merly stood on a ladder and was puzzled beyond doubt. She saw Mr. Stevenson walking towards her and she had a feeling that he would probably know. After all, he worked in the library for so many years and must have some idea if anyone significant studied during those years.
“Mr. Stevenson, did Nora take the year books of the batch of 1967 and 1973?” she asked.
“I have to check that, but I came by to ask you if you needed something,” he replied.
“I just need to know which books she took with her.” Merly asked.
“I’ll check,” he said and went back again. Merly didn’t stop looking; she searched the entire rack to see if there was something that she missed.
Mr. Stevenson came back and informed Merly that Nora didn’t borrow any books the other day. She looked disappointed; she seemed to be moving away from the answer every time she came near, or someone changed the evidence. “Nora didn’t take them? But two of the year books are missing. Someone must have borrowed them. Can you look for the person who took it?” Merly pleaded.
He went back again and came back with a glum face, then in his usual tone said, “It was your professor, Mr. Summers. He took it, but not on that day. He took it yesterday.”
Merly came down from the ladder and stood there looking at Mr. Stevenson. Her puzzle pieces didn’t fit. Why, who, when and where didn’t make sense. She was going around in circles and coming back at the same spot; that she could understand. She felt dejected as there was no other way that she could go from there. The situation was just like her dream and she was stuck in it. Even though she knew that it was Mr. Summers who questioned Nora, and it was him who took the year book. Yet, there was no way she could question him on that. She knew she had to find a way very soon.
If she couldn’t confront her professor, the only to find out about him was through the students. Nothing could be kept hidden within the premises of the university. Even if there was a slight rumor, it would spread like wildfire. So if there was something about the aged professor, it would be known, but going about it could be difficult. Going about asking about a professor could come off as creepy, and if caught, it would guarantee punishment.
There was a lot of planning in her mind: whom to ask or what would be the right source. She could ask Kelly to help her, but then she didn’t want Zoë or Camille to know. Things were already a bit out of her hand to control, and Merly didn’t want to make things worse. The chill in the air was back and she hurriedly walked back to her dorm. Merly wasn’t feeling all that irritated anymore. She knew some way would work out if she tried. The only regret she had was that she was unable to concentrate very much in her class, and her mind drifted. She liked going to the classes, listening to her teachers speak, but the recent turn of events was providing a distraction and that displeased her and she wanted for things to go back to normal, but all that was left for her was to sigh and think back.
Kelly was standing in front of her door when Merly arrived. She was pushing a fairly large box in front of her door, but stopped when she saw Merly coming towards her. “Someone left this for you. It was in front of our door so I took it in, but it is addressed to you,” Kelly said. Merly didn’t take the box in. She took her pocket knife out and cut the tape that secured the packaging. There inside lay more books on spirits, souls and evocation. Merly harshly pushed the box away and separated herself from it.
There was no peace for Merly at that moment, but she desperately craved it. The act of anonymously sending books to her address gave her the creeps. Someone knew her address and was doing it on purpose to scare Merly out, and she was sure of that. The incident occurred twice in a row, and Merly didn’t want to take the incident very lightly.
Kelly stood there the whole time and saw the ordeal that Merly was going through. A layer of clear discomfort was on her face upon seeing the way Merly separated herself from the book, and she wanted to help. Kelly was aware and knew that Nora was not in the dorm and Merly might need someone to support her. Kelly invited Merly in, “Leave them be. You don’t need them I suppose,” she said and Merly didn’t contradict.
Once inside, she saw that Zoë was not there and Kelly informed her that she was out with her friend. There were numerous things that Merly wanted to tell her, but she started with the basic. She told her about the anonymous delivery of the books, the missing criminology books, Nora leaving and about Zoë and Camille. As a part of the promise, Merly omitted the part in the library or what Mr. Stevenson told her.
Kelly listened to her very patiently. Merly could see there was a change in expression when she mentioned the growing closeness between Zoë and Camille, but she didn’t add anything.
“Yes, Camille is my friend and she takes interest in this stuff, but that is all I know,” is the only thing she said, but after a few moments of pause, she asked Merly again, “Did Zoë return those books to you?”
Merly kept silent and Kelly knew what the answer was.
All the while, Merly played in her head about how she could inquire about Mr. Summers in a discreet manner without arousing Kelly’s suspicion. Kelly on the other hand seemed more concerned about the anonymous delivery of the packages. She said, “Times were not right. It was never too late to be safe.” She questioned Merly more about the details of the arrived packages.
All of a sudden, Merly asked, “Is there any teacher that you believe has a secret?” The moment she asked the question, she knew it didn’t sound right, and it wouldn’t take Kelly much time to realize that there was a connection between both the said incidents. Kelly was about to say something, when there was a loud knock on the door. They both looked at each other understandably and knew who it was, so they stopped, but no one mentioned why. Kelly went to open the door.
Predictably, it was Zoë at the door. She didn’t look surprised upon seeing Merly sitting inside and greeted both of them and went inside her room without saying anything. Merly wondered if Kelly will ask Zoë about her new found friendship with Camille or her interest in evoking spirits and souls, but Kelly didn’t say a thing. Perhaps she stored it away for some other time.
Kelly turned back to Merly and asked, “You were saying something?”
“Never mind,” Merly said and attempted to leave the room. Kelly tried to stop her, but eventually let her go. The night was young when Merly entered her room dragging the set of freshly arrived books with her. They were stacked along with the other books in the corner, the sight of which added to her misery. She cringed at the sight and turned her face away. Merly debated whether to look into the box that was set aside, but she couldn’t reason why the books were meant for her.
There was nothing she could do, Merly checked her phone to see if Nora had called her, but the screen showed blank. Nora’s reluctance to call her even after two days has passed saddened her, but she gulped it down and called her. The response she got was similar to that of the other day. The line was not reachable and the connection was cut off soon after. She couldn’t contact Nora, and there was no other way she could. Merly contemplated if calling up her family was a good idea, but then Nora would get into trouble if her family was unaware of her absence. Waiting for Nora to call her back was the only option left for her.
What do I do with these books? The anxiety within Merly was genuine. Sitting alone in the glum environment of the room gave her some ideas, and a thousand things ran through her mind. She decided to ignore them and rummaged through the new books that were dropped at her door steps. There was nothing extraordinary about them. Except for one book addressed to R. Keaton. These books must belong to her, but why are they delivered at my doorstop? Something was not right and the nagging feeling kept lingering in her head, but there was no way to get rid of them other than to find out the truth that lay behind the anonymous sender of the books.
Merly listed a few people she wanted to question about Mr. Summers, and with that thought, went to bed. Is there a big revelation coming or was it just her over-cautious self-troubling her mind.
&nb
sp; The next day, she met Mrs. Lois, who was the assistant dean. She was a middle-aged teacher, strict and disciplined and mostly kept track of anything that went on within the university campus. She replaced Mr. Kirk when she took over the position of the dean in 1981; therefore, she had a fair amount of knowledge of things. Merly was confident that Mrs. Lois could provide her with some answers.
Approaching Mrs. Lois was not easy. She had an aura about her which made her unapproachable, and then asking about a teacher seemed like a mammoth task. But it was to be done and delaying it would only make things worse. Mrs. Lois was not in her office when Merly appeared. She was disappointed and decided to wait outside her office. She sat down on the brown sofa and her eyes fell on the cream wall all around. There were pictures lined up neatly of several faces: some known, others unknown to her. Some were grainy and hard for her to see, which she didn’t pay any attention to, but when her eyes fell on a batch of students, Merly was sure that she had seen the face.
She got up and walked up to the wall, then strained her eyes to confirm what she believed she saw. Among a group of young men and women, in the last row in the furthest corner stood a lanky man with round-rimmed glasses with side swept hair and a faint smile plastered on his face. The smile Merly was sure she saw before, a smile like that belonged to only one person. It was similar because the man on the portrait was Mr. Summers in his early 20’s. The batch was mentioned on the bottom left corner of the picture. The picture had already turned a faint shade of yellow reminiscent of the age.
Merly was both amazed and surprised that Mr. Summers was one of the students in the university. It was indeed strange that he never talked about it or ever mentioned it. There was no reason for him to hide the fact. Mr. Summers was known to share his stories, his experiences and other aspects of his life with students. But it came to Merly that though there were numerous things he said, Mr. Summers never bothered to mention from where he graduated.
Books of the Dead Page 5