by Lewis Stanek
“Clara, you go ahead and select what you think is our best option here, I'm going to take a look at the laptops they have for sale. Come get me when you've decided,” Oswald said taking a step in the direction of the laptop computers.
“Don't go away Ozzie. Think this is the one you need.” Clara said pointing to a Kodak.
The more things change the more they stay the same, Oswald thought before saying.
“Fine I'll take that one. Do I pay here now or can I do a little more shopping first?”
“What else can I help you with?”
“I'm in need of a new computer. Something portable, a laptop, I'll probably want a spare battery while I'm at it. I don't want to spend a lot of money on software, but I need a professional office suite, so what have you got with Linux installed as the operating system?”
“Not many come with Linux installed, but we have a lot of requests, we can load it for you if you wish on any of the laptops we carry.”
“Fine, I'll take that one.” Oswald replied pointing to a Dell. How long before you have Windows scrapped and Linux installed?'
“No more than an Hour, do you want to pay for these now?”
“Yes, don't forget about the spare battery for the laptop.”
“Don't worry about a thing, Do you want to buy the optional insurance for your camera and laptop?”
“Do they come with a warranty?”
“Of course.”
“Then I'll skip the insurance.” The clerk rang up Oswald's purchases and Oswald handed the young man his credit card. Clara and Oswald walked through the aisles of the store, looking at all the modern marvels available for purchase.
“I'm sorry if I stepped on your toes picking out your new camera.” Clara said as they passed by a display of assorted stereo equipment.
“I appreciate your help Clara. I haven't been in the market for a camera in years, I wouldn't have know what to ask and probably would have bought the most expensive least useful camera in stock, but the one giving the salesman the highest commission.”
“But you certainly knew your way around the computers.”
“Computers have been part of my life at work for decades. I know what I need in that category. Remind me to stop and buy another five gallons of gasoline on the way back home.”
“You're calling the cabin home now?”
“I guess I am.” Oswald was paged overhead that his computer was now ready for him. They went to the service desk to pick up their purchase.
“I'm getting hungry can we stop somewhere for a bite to eat before go back?” Clara asked.
“Sure what would you like?” casual, fine dining, fast food, the sky's the limit. I'm in the mood to celebrate today.”
“Its your discovery, I think the restaurant should be your choice.”
“Clara, I have no idea what is available. Do you know of a good Italian restaurant in town?”
“Do you want pizza or do you mean real food?”
“Real food. I'm in the mood for eggplant parmigiana, or maybe chicken cacciatore, or maybe some lasagna. It's all good. Most of all I look forward to the desert, tiramisu or perhaps a cannoli.”
“Oh that all sounds so delicious.”
“If it's done right it is. We should have a bottle of wine too. It's simply not a celebration with out some wine.”
“The only Italian restaurant I know of in town is called Angelo's Ristorante. I always wanted to go. When I was in High School, I had a boyfriend once who promised to take me there on prom night, but he couldn't afford it. Then he promised me he would take me there someday, but someday never came.”
“Then that's where we're going tonight, we'll order whatever we want and have champagne to top off the celebration.” Oswald carried his new toys to the car and put them in the back. He was about to take the driver's seat then thought better of it. He handed Clara the keys once again.”
“Are you sure? You didn't seem too comfortable with my driving on the way here,” Clara stated offering Oswald the chance to take his car keys back.
“Clara, you know you're way around town here. I'm still a new comer. I think for the time being we'd be better off with you driving. Just get us there safely.”
“I always do,” She replied hopping into the driver's seat, as Oswald took his seat on the passenger side of the car. In minutes they arrived at the Ristorante.
“We might not be able to get a table, they usually want reservations here,” Clara advised.
“On the weekends, I'm sure we couldn't get in without a reservation, but this is a week night they should be able to seat us,” Oswald hoped he was right in his assertion.
They entered the restaurant through ornate hand carved wooden doors and were met at once by the hostess, a young woman about Clara's age who asked if they had a reservation
“No, we don't have a reservation, but this is a special occasion for us and we hope you can find room for us.”
It may be a little wait , but I'm sure we can find you a table. Why don't you have a seat at the bar, and I'll call you when your table is ready. What is your name?”
“Hubbard, doctor Hubbard.” Oswald replied, in his experience sometimes the title doctor provided a little deference from staff in situations like this. At the bar Clara and Oswald took seats at a high standing table surrounded by what could be bar stools with backs supports. A cocktail waitress approached and Clara ordered a glass of wine, Oswald chose a whiskey sour.
“It's just as I imagined it would be, Ozzie,” Clara cooed.
“Life is good.” Oswald replied and took a sip of his drink. The hostess came sooner than Oswald expected, before they could finish their drinks and led them to their table. The restaurant was busy for a week night, but there were empty tables here and there. Oswald held the chair for Clara.
“Oh how gallant,” she said taking her seat. The waiter approached their table offering them menus and asking for their drink orders.
“We just got our drinks from the bar, could you ask again later. I'd like a few minutes to look over your menu.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
“I'll have a refill on my wine, if you don't mind,” Clara stated before gulping down the last of her wine, emptying her glass.
“As you wish.” The waiter replied then walked from their table to the bar. Oswald studied the menu. He decided on the eggplant parmigiana, with a Caesar salad and a side of pasta.
“What do think looks good?” He asked Clara.
“Lasagna has always been my favorite. Should we have appetizers?”
“Why not? Order whatever you want when the waiter comes back.” Oswald felt suddenly tired. Too much excitement for one day, he thought. “I need to excuse myself for a moment.” Oswald got up from the table and exited to the men's room, where he splashed some cold water on his face. He looked in the mirror, he looked old and haggard, he looked his age, much older than he has felt these past few days.
He's been living on Adrenalin, the thrill of discovery and now his age was going to catch up with him, but not before his celebration tonight. Oswald blotted his face dry with paper towels before returning to the table and his guest.
“The waiter brought us some bread sticks and water. I thought I'd wait until you came back before I ordered. What are you going to have Ozzie?” Clara asked happily. Oswald smiled wishing he could drain some of her energy for the night.
“I think I'll have the eggplant, but really I'm looking forward to desert. I can't decide between a cannoli or the tiramisu.”
“This is a celebration, have both.” The waiter returned and took their orders, Oswald asked for a cup of coffee, to help him get a little energy back. Oswald and Clara discussed the equipment they bought, Clara tried to explain how easy the camera would be to use. Oswald spoke of the importance of getting the measurements of the circle surrounding the clearing right. How everything must be as accurate as possible.
“Once I have the data organized and have a plan to pre
sent to the regents, I can call Aleister Dyer and let him know the details. It would be helpful to have him in my corner when I present my research proposal to the regents.” Clara listened closely, leaning forward toward Oswald, giving general leads when Oswald would pause, to show she was listening and to encourage Oswald to continue talking. Soon the waiter brought their food to the table, Oswald felt a little more awake, more energized than he had for awhile.
Focusing on the work ahead of him gave Oswald some of the energy he needed to continue. The food was delicious, Oswald ordered a bottle of champagne and made a great show of popping the cork and pouring Clara the first flute of the wine.
After dinner they left the restaurant in in a glorious mood. Oswald talking endlessly about the photographs and measurements he would take in the morning, and how he looked forward to showing them to doctor Dyer. Clara suggested sending the pictures as an email attachment to the doctor to save time.
“you can send them from the library here in Sterling. I'm sure they have computers the public can use,” Clara said eagerly as she drove Oswald home to the cabin. After the fine dinner and wine consumed this evening Oswald, not only didn't mind Clara driving, but he was so relaxed and comfortable on the way back to the cabin that he fell fast asleep.
Without Oswald to impress, Clara drove a bit slower at least until she left Sterling and was back on her home turf. Once back in Dixon, she stopped at Sam & Ella's to let Ed and Freida know she was safe. She let Oswald continue sleeping in the passenger seat of his Volvo wagon. They weren't happy with the idea of Clara driving Oswald home, not that they thought Oswald presented any danger to her, but they did not like it when anyone went near the cabin if it wasn't necessary, and the fact that it was their daughter intensified the feeling. But she had been on her own long enough that no matter how much they disliked the idea, they knew there was nothing they could do about it. They weren't happy about it but they could live with it as log as they knew their daughter was safe. After Clara promised to stop back after dropping Oswald off at the cabin and picking up her own car, she left.
“Get up sleepy head!? Clara said gently shaking Oswald's shoulder. He groaned a bit as he work. His neck was stiff and ached from sleeping in an awkward position. He sat up and stretched his neck, trying to work the kink out.
“So we're back.”
“I've got you home safe and sound. Do you want some help carrying in you things. ?”
“No, I've got it. Damn, I forgot the gas!”
“Don't worry, I didn't.”
“Oh thank you. What do I owe you?” Oswald tried to remember what the price of gas was the last time he filled up. “Do you think twenty will do?”
“You don't have to pay me. It's the least I could do after the dinner and the wine and everything,” Clara protested, but Oswald would have none of it.
“Here you go,” He said handing her a twenty dollar bill. “The celebration, wouldn't have been any fun without you, besides it's not often an old fart like me can take a pretty young woman such as yourself out for dinner,” He said with a wink. She took the twenty and slipped it into her pocket.
“Well I' see you around,” she said, sliding into the driver's seat of her mustang.
In a moment the engine roared to life and her headlights brightened the exterior of the cabin. Oswald thought he had better take advantage of the light before she turned the car around and her hurried to the front door carrying his packages. Once inside he put his gas on the floor and it a match, to provide enough light to get his bearings. He knew there were a couple candles near the kitchen sink he took a step in that direction and the match went out burning his finger in the process. He lit a second match, found a candle lit it and held it before him like a torch casting the dim light as far as it would go. Just then he remembered the trapdoor was still propped open. He peered into the darkness and could barely see a black square opening in the floor by the light of the candle. Oswald carefully avoided that section of floor as he followed the candle light to the kerosene lantern on the desk. Once he lit that and trimmed the wick he was satisfied with the light for the time being, but to be safe he let the trapdoor slam shut.
Oswald checked the fireplace for any sign of life left in the firebox, but the fire he started earlier that day had long ago burned out. He carried the lantern to the kitchen table left it there and went out to get some more of the wood he had split earlier. He was not going to be a cold night in the cabin tonight if he could help it. He carried the firewood to the fireplace, set it in place and set the fire. He was becoming quite adept at coaxing the logs into flame. He relaxed sitting across from the fireplace and watching the flames dance in the fire. Soon he fell fast asleep.
Chapter Eight
Oswald awoke with a dry filmy feel to his mouth. He went to the kitchen looked into the now warm icebox to look for something to drink. The aroma of food going bad rose to his nostrils.
“I have got to remember to buy some more dry ice,” He said aloud. Oswald slammed the ice box shut to block out the smell. And went to the sink to pump some water into a glass. He swished the water around in his mouth then spit it into the sink. He remembered his new toys. The camera and laptop, he gathered up his purchases and opened the bag. He fumbled for a moment with the packaging for the camera. Finally deciding to cut the hard plastic with a knife to get to the soft cardboard inside containing the camera. After opening the box he pulled out the camera, the instructions, batteries and a CD to install the camera software on the computer.
He took it all to the kitchen table put it down and started a fresh pot of coffee. He read the instruction manual while he waited for the coffee to brew. The camera seemed easy enough to operate. He loaded the batteries and watched the camera light up. He set it to auto, pointed it out the window, looked through the view finder, waited for the camera to signal it was ready with a green light then finally pressed the button, snapping his first photograph. He looked down on the screen and admired the picture. It was a clear view of the woods outside the kitchen window.
“This will do,” He said turning the camera off before putting it back on the table.
Oswald looked around the room, opening and closing drawers searching for something to use for trash. He found a bag and then emptied the spoiled food from the ice box into the bag trying not to gag at the stench. Last he carried the trash out. Not sure where to put it he tossed it all into the fire pit, poured some kerosene over it and set it on fire. Better to burn it than have it attract who knows what to the cabin, he thought. He was hungry, but more than that he was eager to go to the site and take some photographs of the altar and the standing stones. He hurried inside, threw on his jacket, grabbed the camera, and rushed out the door. Remembering his plan to clear the path he thought of buying a machete the next time he went into town.
It was a clear day with a crisp breeze blowing the fallen leaves about the ground when Oswald began his walk to the clearing. He carried his new camera with him, along with a notebook and pen. Eager to get to work on his find the walk seemed to drag on for hours before he was greeted with the altar bathed in golden sunlight when he arrived at the site.
He began his work by taking his camera and photographing the altar from every side, and every angle. He then walked out of the clearing and into the woods to get a shot of the clearing from its edge. Last he knelt down and photographed the first standing stone. It was no more than a foot tall, no real comparison to Stonehenge in size, but he was sure the little stones had similar significance. He then photographed each of the remaining standing stones before taking a tape measure from his jacket pocket and measuring the distance between one standing stone and the next.
He measured the distance between each stone one from the other and recorded the results in his journal. As he expected not a a fraction of an inched difference between the stones. He laid the tape measure out between two stones locked it in place and photographed this too, to illustrate the distance and the relative size of the stones. Sati
sfied with his work for the day, he decided to pack it in, go into town, get something to eat, and replenish his supplies.
Walking back to the cabin he remembered the jerry can filled with gas in the back of his car. He will need to fill the generators tank before he uses his new laptop to write his initial report. Once at the cabin, he went to his car to get the can and carry it to the kitchen. He climbed down the ladder into the root cellar and filled the generator's gas tank. He was not about to waste the power this time, he would leave the generator off until he returned home from town.
Oswald left the jerry can in the cellar, and carefully lowered the trap door to the floor. He left the cabin and drove to Dixon to replenish his supplies. In town Oswald spent as little time shopping at Olivers as he could. He didn't feel like being social with some the natives just now. At least not the merchant's, except perhaps Ed and Freida. He felt he owed them an explanation regarding Clara spending so much time at the cabin. He loaded the back of his car with his groceries, then walked across the street to Sam & Ella's. The sign in the door read OPEN. He pushed the door open and walked inside.
“I'll have one of those famous steamed burgers of yours, if you don't mind.” He yelled into the kitchen as he sat at one of the stools at the counter.
“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Freida said, coming out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “I suppose you want a cup of our legendary coffee while you wait on that burger?” Without waiting for his reply she took with the grace earned from years of practice Freida a cup from the stack of cups with one hand and the hot coffee carafe with the other and poured Oswald a cup of coffee. Freida looked to be in much better spirits than she was the last time Oswald saw her.
“So have you seen Clara, since we last talked? Oswald asked then took a sip of his coffee. “Hmm, that is delicious coffee.”
“Clara came back and and told us how she helped you out getting into town and buying a bunch of things to help you with your work. She said you're some sort of archaeologist or something.”