A Gothic Lesson in Love

by Curtis Bennett

  “Go ahead and get your rest professor,” she said as their promenade came to a gradual end. “I would love nothing more than to work out here in the garden. I will ensure that everything is secured and in place when I am finished.”

  “Good. I bade you good day.”

  Irene stood in place as she watched him round the bend and faded from view. She had hoped to snoop around the place for clues, anything that would help her in determining his identity. But having just given a presentation on trust she turned sour on the idea. It would have to wait for another day.

  True to her word, after she had completed her garden project, she restored the garden tools and secured the house before leaving.

  Chapter 13

  As daylight began to fade, the dark western horizon pushed its way into prominence. Inside of her bedroom, Irene sat down at the desk for the second time that evening and leafed through her notes and other material on the two missing professors. Having come across an original copy of the magazine which had printed the article on the disappearances, she turned to the photos of the two men and studied their faces up close. Slowly and repeatedly, her eyes shifted from the photo of Dr. Eugene Bellamy over to Dr. Andrew Seabreeze. Will the real Professor Seabrook please stand up, she thought to herself.

  Needing a break, she spun around in her chair, leaned forward, and looked out the window at the orange-red sunset. Rising up she pounced on the bed and stared up at the ceiling in deep thought. Because the professor had turned the table on her with her impromptu lesson on trust, she had neither the time nor the opportunity to observe him as she would like to have. What kind of sleuth was she, she ribbed herself. An amateur, no doubt.

  Though she was leaning more and more towards Dr. Bellamy as being the professor, she had not counted out Dr. Seabrook just because he was much younger and a Negro. After all, the professor always wore gloves and that hideous mesh covering over his head and face. There had to be some way she could unmask him without enraging him or better yet, destroying the trust the two had cultivated.

  Before drifting off to sleep her last thoughts were of the professor and whether or not he was feeling any better about this time, whichever of the two men he really was. He had to be one of them, she had convinced herself. God help her if it turned out that neither one of her suspects was the good professor. She had no clue what she’d do if that were the case. Right now, she was back to where she had started… was the professor Dr. Eugene Bellamy or Dr. Andrew Seabrook, Dr. Eugene Bellamy or Dr. Andrew Seabrook, Dr. Andrew Seabrook or Dr. Eugene Bellamy, Dr…zzzzzzzzzz. She was out like a lamp.

  Feverish with aching joints and accompanying chills, the professor got out of bed long enough to heat up a bowl of vegetable soup, which had been cooked with vegetables and herbs fresh from his garden, and consumed half a bowl of it before retreating back to his room and his bed. The darken chamber was the one place he felt at liberty to lift his veil. It was the one place he felt normal.

  Blowing out the candle on the small table next to his bed, he climbed on it and lay down on his back. He had been thinking about Irene and the topic she had chosen to speak on and nearly all of his waking hours that afternoon. And he wondered why that topic. Now it was all so clear to him. She was curious about who he was and wanted him to trust her enough to reveal himself to her. But to do so would put his life in jeopardy, he reminded himself. Besides, he had given his word that he would keep his identity concealed until he had fully satisfied his ungodly pact. Yet, he felt compelled to remain true to his own teachings and those of the great philosophers before him. Socrates, Plato, Descartes, Aristotle, Machiavelli, St Augustine, Hobbes, and Locke…what would they think of him, and the purity of his teachings, if he failed to promote trust between friends, even if to do so meant exposing himself to potential harm? How could a man in his position advocate virtue and justness and not trust a friend? What was the greater cause in play here, self-preservation or the preservation of a communal idea and concept? It was a question he would ponder until the next time he came face to face with his star pupil.

  Irene downed the last of her lemon-flavored iced tea across from her aunt, who was sitting at the table as well chewing on her thinly sliced, corn beef stuffed, Reuben Rye sandwich. The imported sauerkraut and melted Swiss cheese and Hollandaise sauce and toasted rye slices combined to give it that deli-made touch and five-star restaurant flavor. Both women had already consumed a small bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.

  Irene had eaten only a half of her sandwich when she decided she was full. She was anxious to meet with the professor for her next lesson. Whatever it was going to be, she felt prepared for, and was ready to hear. But her aunt, who had started up a conversation about Maurice, aka the professor, seconds earlier, appeared to have a few questions she wanted to ask.

  “So, what time are you supposed to meet with this Maurice fellow?”

  “Right after I’m through eating my lunch,” Irene answered as she collected her empty soup bowl, flat wear, and small saucer and placed them in the sink after a quick rinsing. Normally, she had an early morning arrival time at the professor’s residence but he told her that she could come in much later today.

  “So, what are you two doing today?”

  “We’ll probably work outside in his garden.”

  “That sounds exciting.”

  “It’s a beautiful and quite unique garden, auntie,” Irene beamed, leveling her eyes on her aunt. “It has a variety of plants and animals and colorful birds, Hummingbirds, as well. And his garden is literally crawling with several large Chinese dragons. There is even a running brook.”

  “Sounds like paradise on earth,” Audrey replied, taking a sip of iced tea.

  “It is to a degree,” Irene quipped.

  There was a pause.

  “Irene, just how old is this Maurice?”

  “Not sure of his exact age auntie, but I can ask him the next time I see him.”

  “Honey, I must say that I am beyond curious about this man, a man whom out of nowhere seems to be able to command your time, devotion, and interest, yet, I have not met his acquaintance.”

  “You will, and soon, I promise. I have to go now. Will be back before dinner. Love you,” Irene said, as she kissed her aunt on the cheek and hurried off.

  Irene entered the cottage and walked towards her usual waiting chair when she heard the professor call out to her from within his library. The room was a short distance from where she stood and was a room she had not visited before. Just like the professor, the interior of his cottage was just as intriguing and full of surprises.

  Walking towards the library she paused momentarily at the entrance. The room, like all of the rooms there was dimly lit. It was a spacious but comfortable looking room.

  The professor sat at a large walnut-grain desk facing her across the room. On either side of him stood wall-built bookshelves, each shelf crammed with hardbacks. The professor sat there in his usual dark and drab attire.

  “Come in and have a seat, star pupil,” he said in an inviting tone.

  Irene walked over to the empty chair positioned in front of his desk and eased down onto it.

  On the desk were several large books, one opened; a desktop calendar, a note pad, and a fruit bowl loaded with fresh fruit; green and dark purple grapes, lemons, limes, apples, pears, oranges, and several bananas. He offered her the bowl. She took it and siphoned off a handful of grapes.

  “Don’t tell me,” she began, “You grew these in your garden, right?”

  “That is correct,” he said, setting the bowl back in place. “I picked and thoroughly rinsed them less than an hour ago. So enjoy.”

  “Umm, these are so delicious,” she said savoring the flavor of the two grapes she had tossed into her mouth.

  “I have to agree with you,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. They were eyes he found more and more irresistible each time he saw her. “Anyway, I imagine you are quite curious about today’s lesson.”

  “I
am,” she admitted. “Of course, I am anxious to hear it.”

  “Your lesson today will be on the topic of religion, star pupil,” he said as he clasped his hands on the surface of the desk.

  Good choice, she told herself, leaning back into her chair.

  “So, tell me, what are your thoughts on the merits and concept of a Supreme Being?”

  Without hesitation, she replied, “I believe in God’s existence because I believe in the Bible. And if you believe in the Bible, which is said to be God’s word, then one has to believe in God. To believe in God is to accept Him as the one and only Supreme Being. As for the merits of believing in a divine Supreme Being…we are all blessed with His guidance, forgiveness, redemption, salvation, and love.”

  “Well said. But how might you prove God’s existence to those who call themselves non-believers? After all, you know there are doubters.”

  “Knowing that God exist is a matter of faith,” Irene answered. “However, God’s existence is manifested in all that is good and all that magnifies his great works. Say for instance, your lovely garden. It is beautiful to look at, but it provides you a peaceful place to go to and reflect, and it also provides you with herbs and food and ingredients for home grown remedies. It also serves as a habitat for birds, fish, reptiles, and other animals out there. In addition, it is a food source for them, as well, as for you. Something that wonderful and that purposeful must be of God.”

  “Well put,” the professor said as he tapped the surface of the desk with his gloved hand just before going into a drawer and taking out a small box. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a gold pocket watch. He could see that he had her full attention as she sat watching him with great interest.

  “Nice watch,” she said taking it in hand from his. “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Is this real gold?”

  “It is indeed, real gold,” he answered, reclaiming the timepiece.

  “Beautiful but what is its relevance to our discussion?”

  “I am going to share with you a valuable lesson I learned from my mentor on the subject of religion, a lesson I immediately took to heart once it was presented to me,” the professor said, his voice and words resonating with her on many different levels. “You see, you are right and in many ways, star pupil. Believing that God exist is one thing, proving that he exists is another. And yes, believing in God is a matter of faith, as you so rightly stated.”

  Irene nodded her head slightly in agreement.

  “Irene, I am going to end this lesson with a small demonstration, one I hope you will never forget. It is a lesson you will be able to return to when the subject of God’s existence comes into question on your part or any non-believer’s part.”

  Holding the gold pocket watch in one gloved hand, he raised it up for her to inspect again, this time much closer.

  “Would you say that this watch is a complex device made of complex components?”

  “I have no doubt that it is a complex device, professor.”

  “Do you believe that this watch serves a purpose?”

  “Yes and its purpose is to mark time as it passes through our day.”

  “Good, so it is complex and it serves a purpose,” the professor said setting the watch down. Picking up the small box, he opened it and tossed the content of it across the top of his desk.

  Irene looked on with great curiosity.

  “What I have just spread across the surface of my desk are the various parts of a pocket watch similar to the one I just showed you, only cheaper. Do you follow me?”

  Irene nodded.

  “Now, if we sat here all day long and watched, do you think it possible for this watch to reassemble itself on its own and become the complex working device it was before it was taken apart?”

  “I don’t think so, even if we waited a thousand years.”

  “What if I picked up all of the pieces and tossed them together on top of the desk every five seconds for the next one hundred years, do you think that the parts would reassemble themselves and become a functioning watch again?”

  “Not in a million years,” Irene quipped, leaning forward in the chair, her interest piqued.

  “So, we are in agreement that this watch, a very complex device, but far less complex than a human being, needs an intelligent entity to put it together. Now, what the non-believer would have me believe, in essence, is that human beings, a far more complex body of components than a watch, do not need what something far less in complexity needs and that is a superior intelligence to create it. What I believe is this; if it takes an intelligence entity to create a watch, then it stands that it takes a superior entity or intelligence to create a human-being.”

  “I never thought of it in those terms before,” she said as though a light bulb had just come on inside of her head.

  “Good, star pupil,” the professor replied, collecting the parts in one hand and sweeping them into the small box with his other gloved hand.

  Irene watched in silence.

  “End of lesson,” he declared.

  “I must say that this lesson was definitely short and sweet and to the point,” she uttered.

  Standing up he grabbed his cane and walked around the desk.

  “Come on, star pupil, we have much work to do in that wonderful habitat of ours outside,” he snapped. “Now let’s make haste, I say.”

  Chapter 14

  An hour and half later, after planting a variety of new seeds in the southern area of the garden and using natural fertilizer in other areas, they decided to take a well-deserved break at Serenity Circle. Though it was hot, the tall oaks and cypress trees provided ample shading. But in the distant northeast skies, it was evident a storm was brewing and heading their way.

  The two strode in silence for a good distance. As they walked, he’d cast her a glance, then looked at the graveled path in front of them again. Finally, the professor said, “Is everything all right, star pupil? You haven’t said more than five words since we came out into the garden.”

  “I’ve been thinking about something, that’s all. I’m fine, though,” she assured him as they arrived at the stone-paved circle and sat down, Irene claiming the rocker as usual.

  “Care to share them with your mentor?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs at the knee.

  She appeared uncertain at first but decided to get it off of her chest.

  “My aunt is asking a lot of questions about my daily activities and about you, the man I spend so much time with, questions I do not always have the answers to,” she told him. “And frankly, I don’t know what to do. You instructed me to never mention my visits here with you and to anyone.”

  The professor could see that his pupil was in turmoil. There was a look of confusion and uncertainly in her expression and it touched him. But even while she suffered in silence, she remained as lovely and beautiful a woman he’d ever shared company with. That she had suffered on account of him weighed heavy on his heart.

  “I am sorry you have gone through so much on my behalf,” he began, his eyes studying hers. “If there is anything I can do to shed light to your situation, or at least, closure to your dilemma, let me know and in what way. But I truly did not see this conflict coming.”

  “I am not sure if there is anything you can do, professor. My aunt wants to meet you.”

  “Yes, that does present a problem. How much does she know about me?”

  “Only that you are someone I met and often work with out in your garden, that’s all,” she answered as she wiped her warm forehead with a cloth.

  Above, the sun disappeared unexpectedly behind a large cluster of clouds, casting a wide shadow over the area. A sudden light breeze caressed them and gently stirred the trees and shrubs around them. The breeze had a cooling effect on their warm bodies.

  “It appears as though it’s going to rain any minute now,” Irene said, her hair lightly fluffed by the wind.

  “Naah, it will not rain for another forty-fiv
e to fifty minutes,” the professor said confidently, looking skyward. “Would you care for something to drink?”

  “Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” she said.

  “Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go inside,” he replied, slowly standing up.

  “If I may, I’d like to sit here a while longer and enjoy the cool breeze,” she announced. “It’s so peaceful and relaxing in your garden. Actually, thanks to this sudden breeze, I could sit here all day and dream.”

  “Very well,” he uttered. “I’ll bring your drink to you. Care for a tuna sandwich, as well?”

  “Sure, thank you,” she replied with a pleasant smile.

  “No problem, star pupil.”

  “Oh professor,” she called out. “Before you make the sandwiches, could you play my favorite tune for me?”

  The professor took a minute to reflect on which selection she might be referring to. It came to him almost instantaneously, at that point.

  “I think I can do that much considering all the trouble you have gone through for me,” he replied, his voice soft and gentle.

  “By the way, what is the name of that piece?” she asked.

  “The piece is by a composer named Bizet and is entitled “Duet Theme” from The Pearl Fishers opera,” the professor said before taking off.

  After watching him fade from view, she grabbed a scholarly magazine from the glass tabletop, that featured an article on the great philosopher Plato, and thumbed through it while, at the same time, she pondered the professor’s true identity. Within minutes he had opened several windows in his music chamber. Seconds later, she heard him playing her favorite tune on the pipe organ.

  Leaning all the way back in the chair, she closed her eyes, her hand gripping the magazine loosely at her side. The tune touched her soul and her heart in a way no other tune had ever. It was romantic, moving, and enchanting and all at the same time. The music, the lovely garden, the chirping birds, and the heavenly breeze put her in a state of relaxation she was reluctant to ever leave.