A Gothic Lesson in Love

by Curtis Bennett

  Irene chuckled.

  “What’s so funny, lass?” he asked with an inquisitive look.

  “Hands the size of Texas,” she laughed. “Actually, you and your friends were trespassing on private property Morris and it served you all right to be scared out of your wits.”

  “Well, you may have a point there,” Morris admitted with a sheepish grin. “But I swear, I have never returned to those grounds since then. Neither of us.”

  “I have to say that my experience was quite different than yours,” she proclaimed.

  “What, you’re telling me that you’ve been on the Seabreeze property as well, lass?”

  “My scooter ran out of gas and just outside of his property some time ago. I had no choice but to leave it there just inside of the grounds of the Seabreeze property until I could come back with gas. I hitched a ride home.”

  “I would have helped you,” Morris added.

  “I did not know you at time and besides, I had no way of contacting you. It is not like everyone carries a phone around with them.”

  “So you came back later in the day?”

  “No, my aunt had her friend, old man Dempsey take me back there the following morning.”

  “You and old man Dempsey were wise not to go back there that night,” Morris said, finally growing an appetite.

  “And you never once saw the beast or the old man on the property?”

  “No, not that day, or any other day,” she replied, realizing that she had just said far too much.

  “What do you mean by, ‘no, not that day?’” he queried her.

  “It was just a figure of speech Morris, now finish your fries before they get cold,” she chuckled.

  “Yeah, the chips are getting a little cold. Anyway, just don’t ever run out of gas at or near that place again.”

  “I haven’t, so far,” she said smiling.

  Chapter 12

  Irene looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Princess Irene was still alive and well and just as fit and trim and shapely as ever. She had never been the type to stand in front of a mirror all morning checking herself out, but ever since the night of her enlightenment, she found it hard to go back to being a tomboy.

  The black skirt and the lavender blouse, which sported a ruffled V-neck, complimented her figure and sun-tanned body. Dresses seemed to do her justice in ways that slacks could never do. They highlighted her body’s form and its symmetry. She was healthy looking and well-proportioned.

  Going over to the wall mirror she sat down on the stool and took her lipstick tube in hand and retouched her lips. The eye shadow and blush had been perfectly administered by her aunt an hour earlier. Learning how to give herself a facial was something she hoped to master before returning to the states.

  “Irene, the taxi is here,” her aunt cried out from downstairs. “Hurry up, dear.”

  “I’m on my way down.”

  Irene caught up with her aunt as she was about to enter the taxi. The brilliance of the sunlight sent her hunting for her shades, which she promptly found and put over her eyes. Once they both were seated inside, the driver pulled off. Their destination – a doctor’s office in Ashbury Point, which they arrived at fifteen minutes later. Her aunt had scheduled an appointment for lab work. She always had blood draw, pap smears, mammograms, and other lab work done a week prior to her annual checkup

  As she waited in the main lobby of the doctor’s office for her aunt, Irene browsed through several magazines on a table next to her until she found one that piqued her interest. One in particular caught her eye. Inside was an article on two highly regarded Oxford professors who had mysteriously vanished from the social scene and from sight; one eight years earlier and the other six years earlier. Looking at the date on the front of the magazine she saw that it was over a year old. She decided she’d read it anyway.

  Both missing men were once prominent educators at the university. White and middle-aged, Dr. Eugene Bellamy was a retired philosophy professor who had disappeared from the public eye six years earlier. He had left for work one winter morning at the university and never arrived. His car was never found either. He was not married and had lived alone. The professor was a frequent fixture at high society events and often tutored children of nobility and the affluent in the subject of philosophy during his retirement. The case remained opened.

  The other educator was Dr. Andrew Seabrook, a man in his early thirties. He had been a professor of music at Oxford University before his sudden disappearance but also held a doctorate degree in philosophy, as well. He was single and though not a part of the society scene, he was prominently known throughout academia and society circles as one of the most gifted musicians that ever played or taught at the university. His specialty was jazz piano and classical music. He was last heard from eight years earlier when he failed to arrive at the house of a prominent member of England’s nobility for private music lessons he was providing for two teenaged family members. His case remained opened as well.

  Turning the page to complete the article she gazed at the photos of the two missing men, especially that of Dr. Andrew Seabrook. She looked at Dr. Eugene Bellamy’s photo as well but kept coming back to the Seabrook photo. One, because of the name Andrew Seabrook and the fact that he was both a musician and a philosopher and because the name was close to the professor’s name Andrew Maurice Seabreeze. Probably just a coincident, she told herself. Besides, the professor featured as missing was a Negro, and an extremely handsome one. If the professor was anyone of these two missing men it had to be Dr. Eugene Bellamy. He was middle-aged for one thing and a philosopher first and foremost. But it said nothing about him being a musician.

  In the end she concluded that it was unlikely the professor was either one of these men. He just couldn’t be. Besides, neither one of these men’s faces were hideous or scarred.

  “Whatcha reading?” Audrey asked as she ended her approach wearing a Band-Aid on the spot they had drawn blood.

  “Just an article on two missing professors from a couple of years back.”

  “Yeah, I think I read about that a while back,” Audrey said. “How tragic and mysterious.”

  “Well, are you done with your lab work?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. Let’s go and get some lunch.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Irene said, setting the magazine down but not before she had memorized the names of the two missing men. She had plans of doing some investigative work at the library on their two cases in the upcoming days.

  Later that afternoon, Irene rode her scooter over to the local library. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to find out, if anything, on the two men but she thought she’d give it a go. The bespectacled librarian was very helpful in finding her the microfiche that contained the original newspaper articles on the two missing professors and setting it up on the view projector. From that point on it was gum shoe detective work.

  She wrapped up her investigation two hours later when the librarian informed her that it was closing time. Collecting her notebook and pens, she headed back home under a red glowing sun. She would go over the information she had compiled on both men after dinner. She wanted to be up to speed on both of them before she went for her next lesson in the morning. Any idiosyncrasies that could be deemed habitual or unique could help her determine which missing professor he was, based on the information she had mined from the library. Or it could eliminate them altogether.

  After eating two eggs, sunny side up, two slices of bacon and a sausage patty, and a toasted bagel, Irene downed a glass of chilled unsweetened grape juice. Next, she grabbed a Kiwi fruit from the refrigerator, sat down, and sliced it. Piercing the first slice with the tip of her fork, she guided the fruit to her mouth and sighed, “Man, this is so incredibly delicious.” The flavor seemed to burst in her mouth. After finishing that one, she chewed on another slice, this time with closed eyes in order to savor the flavor more. She did this until all of the slices where gone. A week earlier
she had started a jogging regiment in the early morning hours with her aunt before breakfast and seemed to have acquired a healthy appetite afterwards. But she was careful to watch her diet at lunch time and dinner.

  After showering, she read the daily paper then hopped on her scooter and headed over to the professor’s residence. She was eager to put Phase Two of her plan into action. She would observe and take mental note of what he did and how he did it, what he said and how he said it, then match his routine and peculiarities to what she had discovered through her own efforts.

  Upon her arrival she found a note in the chair she usually sat in while waiting for the professor to make his appearance. Opening the folded piece of paper she brought it up close, in the dimly lit room, and read it. It instructed her to meet the professor out in the garden area via the side patio door.

  She spotted him not far from the Avenue of Dogwoods. Pausing, she drew in a deep breath. She could smell the fresh and sweet fragrance of the wildflowers and especially those coming from the orchid patch. Resuming her approach, she marveled at the abundant amount of animal life on the property. Whether it was fish or lizards or birds or turtles, the place was a budding wildlife preserve.

  Once at his side, two Hummingbirds paused in midair to greet her before flying off.

  “Good morning professor,” she said in greeting.

  “Star pupil, how are you today?” he said in a pleasant tone.

  “I’m fine, and how are you, may I ask?” she replied lifting her eyes to meet his.

  “Not feeling too well, but I decided to come out and do some work in the garden while I waited for you. Besides, I had to go over today’s lesson in my head and I think with greater clarity when I am one with nature.”

  “I am sorry to hear that you are feeling less than well today, professor,” she said as she watched him toss a generous amount of seeds on an area of the ground he had aerated before her arrival.

  “What are you planting?” she inquired, taking note of the sounds of crickets, frogs, and chirping birds, and the running brook in the distance. The sounds were soothing and relaxing.

  “This section of the garden is where I grow my herbs,” he began. “The seeds I am planting are an herb called Blox. When it matures, it has tall stalks with spreading clusters of flowers. Its genus is American.”

  “And what’s that just over there? The yellow flowers,” she asked pointing her finger.

  “That is called St John’s-wort,” he answered. “They are good in herbal remedies.”

  “An herbal garden, that’s unique. I like the idea,” she quipped.

  “Yes, and might I add that I make use of them in other ways, as well.”

  “Can you elaborate, professor?” she asked, taking a few seeds from his gloved hand and examining them.

  “I use them for seasoning my food, as natural pesticides, as aromatics, and for medicinal purposes when warranted.”

  “I am intrigued and impressed with your expansive knowledge, professor. You seem to know more than any encyclopedia book I’ve ever picked up to read.”

  “Thank you. But in all honesty, I know a little of everything and a lot about nothing,” he said, tossing her a philosophical curve ball.

  “That’s a little too deep for me this early in the day,” she came back.

  The two laughed.

  “And what is my lesson today, if I might ask?”

  “Since I am not feeling as well as I need to feel for the lesson I had planned for you today, Irene, I’ll let you pick a subject this one time.”

  After taking a few seconds to fish for a topic, she steadied her eyes on his.

  “How about discussing the subject of trust between friends?”

  The professor seemed surprised by her choice for his response was delayed. Whether he was pleasantly surprised or not, she’d have to wait until he voiced his opinion. Fortunately, his response came the moment her last thought ended.

  “Wise choice, if I must say,” he finally said, turning to face her for the first time since her arrival. “Since it’s your idea, you give the lesson.”

  Irene stood motionless and speechless. Not only had he given her latitude in selecting the topic but also the lectern from which to pontificate. Biting down on her lower lip nervously, she wondered if she had gotten in way over her head. This man was a mental giant and she an amateur. Perhaps she should reconsider this whole thing, she thought. But before she could say anything else, he preempted her.

  “Don’t give me that nervous look,” he said, walking around her to place the bag of seeds on a small wooden table. “You haven’t a need of a philosophy degree to speak about trust, just your own experience and your own words. So let’s get on with it, star pupil.”

  “As you wish, I will delay no longer, professor,” she said softly, glancing at his side profile just before he returned her gaze with one of his own. She had learned to interpret his veiled face and emotions through his eyes, which were truly the only windows she had to his soul. And right now his eyes told her that he had full confidence in her abilities. And that was enough for her. “Our topic, as stated, is trust. Please take my hand professor, close your eyes, and follow me.”

  The professor offered his gloved hand, then closed his eyes.

  As the two walked along the graveled garden path, the running brook on their right side, she guided him with her hand and with her carefully chosen words.

  “Yes, don’t say a word. Just keep your eyes closed and let your mind drift and be swept away by the melodic sounds of the wildlife in your garden. I will take care of everything else.”

  The professor complied.

  Taking him to a point downstream where the brook spilled into a larger body of water, she paused.

  “Now, keeping your eyes closed, we are at the point where the brook spills into the pond. As you already know, there are six large stepping stones that run across the length of the brook to the other side. I am going to test your trust and confidence in my ability to guide you safely across. When you get to the other side, you can open your eyes and return to this side. After that I will comment on this lesson. Nod if you understand what I am asking of you.”

  The professor promptly nodded.

  With that understanding, she proceeded, but not before adding, “Be careful, there are some mallards and green-winged teals swimming nearby.

  The professor nodded again in acknowledgement.

  “Now, take two steps forward and stop.”

  The professor followed her instructions and to the tee.

  “Now, lift your left foot and swing it forward one and a half the length of your right foot.”

  The professor complied.

  “Now, set your left foot down slowly. Good. It is planted solidly on the first stepping stone. You may advance your right foot at will.”

  The professor complied, experiencing little problem maintaining his balance.

  “Now, leading with your left foot again, lift it upward, then swing it forward two full lengths of your right foot. That’s it, but a little more to the left. Yes, that’s it. Easy now. Okay…that’s it. You may plant it firmly on the second stepping stone and advance your right foot at will.”

  With the exception of one small stepping stone, on which he nearly lost his balance, he made it all of the way to the other side of the brook. Opening his eyes, he walked back across it.

  “Okay, star pupil,” he began, “you may now enlighten me. I am quite anxious to hear your commentary.”

  “Good. Come with me, please.”

  Enjoying her new role, she led him to the paved circular area he referred to as Serenity Circle.

  The two sat down.

  Turning her gaze to him, she said, “Trust in my estimate, professor, is having a friend, or a close relative, I can always rely on, share a confidence with, and someone who has shown they will be there for me, especially when I feel abandoned by others. It also means believing in me when no one else will, or the circumstances appear to g
o against me. Trust is also about going the extra mile for someone who is counting on you to come through for them. That means putting into place measures that will safeguard that sacred bond and mutual reliance and ensure its survival. Trust is having faith in another and above all others, especially in areas rarely ventured or considered. Trust is the ability to confidently place one’s life and fate in the hands of another. That is what my Trust Walk was all about.

  “You see, even though you could not see where you were going when I was holding your hand, you seemed secured knowing that I was there to guide you. But once we got to the brook, and I asked you to continue your walk, but without me actually holding your hand, you could have said no because there was a certain level of peril that existed if either one of us failed to do our part. Besides, it is much harder to trust what we cannot see or touch. But you trusted me enough to go forward, without me being there physically, although I was able to guide you with my words. To sum it up, trust is to share with another, secrets you know you should not share with others but do so because this other has earned your trust.”

  After a pregnant pause, the professor stood up and animatedly said, slowly and deliberately, almost staccato-like, “Man, this-is-the-most-comprehensive-dissertation-on-trust-that-I-have-ever-heard! Star pupil, you have impressed me beyond words. You did great, lass.”

  Irene thanked him for the compliment with an endearing smile and a light pat on his broad shoulder.

  “You know, I am so awestruck that I forgot I was feeling a tab under the weather,” he said rejoicing.

  “I’m glad to hear that professor,” Irene said with a dazzling smile.

  Closing the gap between them, he placed his arm around her shoulder and they walked a few paces together, side by side.

  “Listen, Irene,” he began in a low and conspiratorial voice, “You know the grounds pretty well and you know what needs to be done. Though I am feeling much better, I think it prudent of me to retire to my room for a well-deserved nap. Go ahead and complete your work in the garden and when you are through, just make sure you secure everything, especially the front door, okay?”