TFRoot - The Elixer

by The Elixir (v1. 0) [lit]

  They sat down as Lucinda had suggested, Lucinda at the head, Tom and Carole to her right.

  "Help yourselves,” said Lucinda, gesturing to the salad bowl. “We'll serve family-style tonight."

  Carole took a generous helping and then passed the bowl to Tom, who did likewise, and then passed the bowl to Lucinda.

  "I'm sorry that Ed couldn't join us,” said Lucinda, “but I'm happy that he's making an effort to patch things up with Margaret, his lady friend.” She shook her head. “It's not good to be alone, you know."

  "He told us about his wife,” said Tom. “That was a shame."

  "Yes, it was. A case of terrible timing, I'm afraid. Speaking of timing ... Sammy! Salad!” Lucinda placed a tiny helping of salad, a few green leaves, a wedge of tomato, some carrots and a cucumber slice, on the salad dish of the place setting next to her and began cutting it into extremely small pieces.

  "You can be so rude sometimes!” said Lucinda as the cat came scampering into the dining room and leaped onto the chair next to Lucinda, upon which, it now became apparent, had been placed a large book which served as a kind of booster seat, allowing the cat to be at table-level while not actually being on the table. Sammy lowered his head over the dish and began eating the salad that Lucinda had prepared for him.

  Tom could see that Carole was also taken aback, but both of them politely pretended that this was a normal occurrence.

  "How long have you had him?” Carole asked casually.

  "Oh, sometimes it seems like he's been with me forever,” Lucinda said cryptically.

  "He gets around pretty good for such an old cat,” said Carole. “I mean, he must be pretty old, for a cat. Ed mentioned that you've had him for as long as he's known you, and that's been over twenty-five years."

  "Actually, Sammy has been with me longer than that;” said Lucinda with a sly little smile, “much, much longer."

  "It couldn't be too much longer,” Carole countered. “After all, how long can a cat live—twenty, twenty-five, maybe thirty years at most?"

  Tom sensed the awkwardness of the conversation and decided to take the direct approach. “How old is he?"

  For a second or two, which seemed like a minute, no one spoke. Finally, Lucinda broke the silence. “Sammy is three hundred and eleven years old.” She waited a few moments for this to sink in before adding, “of course, he hasn't always been a cat."

  Tom was nonplussed. He turned to his wife, trying to discern what she was thinking and to take some guidance from it, but it appeared that she was at as much a loss as he. Obviously, neither of them was quite sure what to make of all of this: this odd and mysterious woman and her stories and claims ... of everything Ed had told them about her ... the undeniable truth of Carole's health's sudden, inexplicable turn for the better ... and nowthis , this matter-of-fact assertion of this cat's age, undoubtedly the most aggressively outrageously statement Lucinda had made yet, which if accurate would plainly violate the immutable laws of nature and all that is reasonable. Then, suddenly, Tom and Carole were simultaneously seized by the identical inclination to laugh, which they both struggled to suppress.

  "Oh, yes, I understand,” Tom said blandly, nodding his head. “You're talking about his soul; reincarnation, that sort of thing."

  "Something like that, yes."

  "You studied all that in college, right, Tom?” asked Carole. “Tom was a philosophy major,” she added by way of explanation.

  "Yes,” said Tom, trying to sound profound. “Eastern philosophy is very interesting, very spiritual. Some people think that it's all pretty much the basis for what they call New Age beliefs; you know, reincarnation, channeling, that sort of thing. They're all related somehow."

  "But you two don't really believe in it, do you?” asked Lucinda.

  Tom shrugged. “I don't know; it's not part ofmy religion, of course, but that doesn't mean that there's no truth in it. I sometimes think that there's some truth in all religions, in all beliefs. I suppose that it doesn't really matter what you believe, as long as it works for you, makes you a better person.” He smiled at Lucinda. “That's all that's really important, right?” he added diplomatically.

  "What's important is that we know what is true,” Lucinda snapped. Then, she checked herself, a bemused look on her face. “Well, there I go, doing exactly what your grandfather toldyou not to do."

  By this time everyone had finished their salads. Lucinda got up and collected the used dishes and silverware and the salad bowl.

  "I'll be back in just a minute with the main course,” she said. With that, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Tom and Carole alone in the dining room.

  Tom looked at Carole, and she at him. Clearly, they were both dying to share their thoughts on this latest but at the same time neither of them wanted to be rude.

  Finally, Carole could contain herself no longer. “How could she know his exact age?” she whispered to Tom, referring to Sammy, who was reclining in a sphinx-like position and staring at them unblinkingly through his clear blue eyes.

  "Do you think he told her?” Tom whispered back as Carole suppressed a giggle.

  "How old do you suppose she is, anyway?"

  "I don't know; probably too old for Ed, anyway.” They both gleefully nodded their heads up and down, holding in their laughter, like two little children, sharing an interlude of levity to relieve the tension of a socially awkward situation.

  Then Carole turned serious. “Tom, this is all too much for me,” she said very quietly.

  "I don't know for sure what to think, but I do know that I'm very uncomfortable."

  "I know exactly what you mean,” said Tom, nodding. “This is just so bizarre. It's as if we shouldn't be here, like just talking to her and seeing all ...this ... is just wrong somehow."

  "Sheis crazy, right? I mean, you know me, I have a pretty open mind, but this is all just too weird, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it definitely is. I think I had the right idea from the beginning, to stay away from her."

  "And that cat! I mean, I love Yukon, but I wouldn't share the table with him, especially if I were having guests. And he just sits there staring at us—he's starting to freak me out!"

  "I know; me too. All right, let's just try to get through this dinner; we'll just be polite, and we won't bring up anybody's age. Or health."

  "Or herbal teas,” added Carole.

  Lucinda emerged a few moments later with a large earthenware crock containing what she had referred to as a fish chowder, a kind of bouillabaisse containing clams, mussels, shrimp, lobster, cod, and various other varieties of fish and seafood in a rich, fragrant, well-seasoned broth featuring leeks, garlic, celery, small cubes of potato, and both tomatoes and heavy cream, and placed it on the table.

  "Oh, this looks wonderful,” exclaimed Tom. “Can I help you?” he asked Carole, who nodded affirmatively. Tom ladled a generous portion into her bowl, and then helped himself.

  Lucinda meanwhile had started to open the bottle of wine which had been chilling in the ice bucket. “This is a very special night, which I'm sharing with very special people, so it calls for a special wine,” she said, as she popped the cork on a bottle of a very fine vintage of a sparkling white. “I've been saving this for ages.” She poured a glass for each of them, including Sammy, and then stood up, holding the glass in front of her. “To Tom and Carole, my friends, to their health, happiness, and to a new beginning,” she toasted.

  "Well thank you, Lucy,” said Tom. “We wish the same to you."

  "Cheers,” added Carole.

  They all touched glasses, except for Sammy, of course, and drank. Tom noticed that Carole, who generally avoided alcohol out of concern for unfavorable drug interactions, obviously felt she could use a drink or two right about now.

  The fish stew was in fact wonderful, and was thoroughly enjoyed by all. A fine meal eaten at a leisurely pace, along with pleasant conversation and several glasses each of the wine succeeded in putting Tom and Carole into a peaceful
frame of mind, alleviating most of the unease they had felt earlier in the evening. They even stopped noticing that they were sharing their meal with a cat which, his owner maintained, had been alive before the time of the American Revolution.

  After dinner, at Lucinda's suggestion, Tom and Carole went to the living room to take dessert. They sat together on one of the tan couches for about fifteen minutes, until finally Lucinda emerged from the kitchen with a tray of assorted pastries, scones with clotted cream, and a tea service, which she placed down on the coffee table. Lucinda then sat down on the other couch opposite them.

  "I stated earlier that this was indeed a very special night,” said Lucinda, as she poured three cups of tea, “and now I would like to explain to you exactly what makes it so special. But first, please, enjoy! Try the scones. I baked them this afternoon, and I think that they turned out very well, if I may say so myself. As for the tea, I am sure that you will recognize it; it's my own special chamomile, which I know is one of your favorites.” She gestured at the tray, and Tom and Carole each took a cup of the tea that Lucinda had poured for them and a scone, each in turn spreading on it a bit of the clotted cream.

  "Oh, yes, Lucy,” said Carole, taking a bite, “these are very good."

  Tom also sampled one, then nodded in agreement.

  Lucinda nodded in acknowledgement. She also took a scone and some clotted cream, but she remained strangely quiet, her expression almost completely blank, betraying nothing. It was only after Tom and Carole had both taken a sip of the tea that the oddest little trace of a smile barely creased her face. She waited several minutes, until they had both almost finished a cup, before she finally broke the silence.

  "First, I would like to apologize for engaging in the slightest bit of deception; although I imagine that surely both of you by now are somewhat on to me."

  "What do you mean?” asked Tom, a bit unsteadily, still feeling the effects of the wine, glancing down at his almost empty teacup.

  Lucinda smiled. “You must know that the tea that I gave you, which you have been drinking for the past few weeks, is something more than what I told you it was."

  "You said it was chamomile tea, enhanced with some of your own herbs. Isn't it?” asked Carole.

  "Yes, of course, but that fails to tell the whole story. What this tea contains are more than merely herbs. It is made from a very, very special plant. Actually, it's the buds of its flowers which create a very special drink, an elixir, if you will, that is far, far more potent and powerful than any drug ever known to man. You have already seen its effects first hand, in fact.” She looked to Carole. “You are feeling better than you have in years, are you not?"

  "Well, yes,” said Carole tentatively, “I suppose I have been feeling better than usual lately. But my RSD has always been like that. I have good stretches, and bad ones."

  Lucinda shook her head dismissively. “You haven't taken any pain medication today, I know that. I told you, I am a very astute observer of the human body, and I can tell just by looking at a person if they've taken certain drugs or not. Besides,” she added, with a wink, “you wouldn't have had all that wine if you had taken anything. Now,” she continued, “when did this sudden turn for the better begin? About three weeks ago, wasn't it? You've been wondering about it, now,” she said teasingly, “don't deny it. Well, the answer is yes. Yes, Carole, itis the tea that you have been drinking, the tea that I gave Tom when he first came into my shop. It is that tea which will, if it hasn't already by this time, cure you of your RSD."

  "You mean that you have actually discovered a cure for RSD?"

  Lucinda grinned broadly. “Oh, yes, my dear, I most certainly have. Not only RSD, but virtually every other disease known to mankind."

  Well that's it, Tom thought.Now it's out in the open . Lucinda had for the first time stated unequivocally her own conviction in what he and Carole had been suspecting all along, but which he, at least, for some reason, had never really wanted to believe. Tom now wished that he had drunk less wine tonight; while he would have argued in a court of law that he was in fact sober, he wanted to be absolutely certain that he understood perfectly what was being said to him and that he was in complete possession of all his critical faculties.

  "Let me get this straight: you're telling us that Carole's disease, RSD, the cause of which no one can explain and which is considered incurable, is being cured by drinking chamomile tea?"

  "No, Tom,” said Lucinda gently and patiently, as if explaining it to a little child, “chamomile tea can be very soothing and can help you get to sleep, but otherwise it has no medicinal qualities. It is the infusion from my herbs that has the power to cure disease."

  "And this is something that you just figured out?"

  Lucinda shook her head. “No, I've known about, and have used, this particular herb for many, many years now. Its powers are truly awesome. As I have said, there is virtually nothing, no illness or disease known to man, that it cannot completely cure!"

  "But, if that's true, why haven't you shared it with the world by now?” asked Carole, as if utterly scandalized by this concept. “I mean, how could you have kept it to yourself? There are so many people in this world that you could have helped, so much suffering that could have been alleviated."

  "Besides,” added Tom, “even if your motives were completely selfish, what would something like that be worth on the open market, one drug that can treat every human illness? Such a discovery would be priceless."

  Lucinda chuckled. “Yes, I suppose that it would. But, unfortunately, the supply is extremely limited. You could say that it comes along once in a lifetime."

  "What does that mean?"

  "The part of this herb that contains its power is its flowers, and this herb blooms very infrequently."

  "How infrequently?” asked Tom.

  Lucinda grinned, thoroughly enjoying being able to finally share with someone this amazing secret which she had kept to herself for so long.

  "Oh, only once every hundred years, give or take a year or so, depending on the weather and some other variables, and generally at the turn of the century. In fact, it is blooming this very year, right now, which is especially fortunate. The window of opportunity is open, and open very wide. You see, I usually dry the flowers, which preserves them indefinitely, or at least until the next crop can be harvested, but over time the dried flowers do tend to lose a great deal of their potency; the resulting elixir is not nearly as powerful. The flowers in their fresh, undried state, however, can create an elixir whose strength is truly awesome, and this elixir is at its strongest on this night, the summer solstice, when nature's life forces are at their absolute apex. Right now, at this moment, my elixir, what you are now drinking, has the power to totally and completely cure virtually any and all diseases, including, and especially, the one that ultimately kills us all."

  "And what might that be?” asked Tom.

  "Why aging, of course,” said Lucinda, as if this were patently obvious. “Let me explain. The human body is like a machine. It is axiomatic that any machine works better when it is brand new, and starts to be less effective as it gets older, as its parts begin to wear out. What we refer to as illnesses and diseases occur, in essence, when some part of the body simply stops working the way that it should: an organ such as the heart or the kidneys begins to do its job poorly or not at all, or the immune system fails to destroy a virus or harmful bacteria, or a concentration of cancer cells. Our chronological age really doesn't matter; no matter when it happens, we all get sick, and, eventually, die, because we all get old. Now, my elixir can completely stop, or in the case of an already sick person, reverse, this aging process; the body continues to function perfectly, like the proverbial well-oiled machine. Take me, for instance. I first began taking it when I was just about as old as you two are now, thirty-five, to be exact. I don't believe that I'm flattering myself excessively to state that I haven't aged more than a few years since then, at least as far as my body is concerned."


  "And I suppose that that's been ... a long, long time,” said Tom.

  "To satisfy your curiosity once and for all,” said Lucinda, pointedly, “I was born in England during the reign of Kind Edward I."

  "Over seven hundred years ago,” said Tom, remembering a bit of history gleaned from a popular motion picture about a Scottish patriot of that era.

  "Seven hundred and thirty-six next birthday, to be exact.” She chuckled softly. “Oh yes, dear,” she said to Carole, a bit sharply, “you were probably right; I suppose that I am a bit old for Ed Wilson."

  "You let his wife die,” Carole countered, even more sharply. “If what you say is true, that your elixir can cure just about any illness, how could you have let her die?"

  "I never let anyone die,” Lucinda snapped back. “There was simply nothing that I could do.” For a split second her blue eyes flashed with a deep, definite anger which dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by an expression of genuine sorrow. “Poor Claire Wilson,” she said, shaking her head. “She was a victim of terrible timing, among other things. Her cancer was extremely pernicious, and when she became ill, the supply of my herbs was very low, and what I had of it was over seventy-five years old. When it's that old, it's still quite good at sustaining good health or preventing disease but not as effective at reversing poor health, or curing disease. A few years earlier, and I might have been able to save her. I gave her quite a lot of it, but it just didn't work on her. I did give her other treatments, you know, which I can assure you did a lot more to help her than anything her doctors did. Besides, you have to realize that she was a rather large woman, not really overweight, but sturdy, and very, very tall; almost as tall as Ed, and he's over six feet."