When she found him, he was dressed in bib overhauls, drinking coffee in an empty cafeteria. Even seated, his size was undeniable, and in any room filled with people, Carl Hewitt would be considered a big man—at least in stature. His unshaven face and disheveled hair gave him the appearance of a man who was not used to being stared at. In his gray eyes, the reality of living in a cold indifferent world had softened to resignation. The world was what it was, and his place in it was little more than coincidence.
“Dr. Raymond,” he smiled warmly when he saw her come into the cafeteria. “My goodness, what brings you to the Abbey?” Standing to greet her, he added, “It’s been such a long time.”
“Nice to see you again, Carl. It’s been much too long.”
“Life’s like that, isn’t it?”
“Seems that way, some days more than others,” replied Liz.
“The wife was talking about you only last night. Said you’d be interested in this thing they dug up out on the ball field.”
“How’s your Jenny getting along these days?”
“Much better than anyone expected. Still has a few bad days, but the treatments seem to be working.”
“You be sure to give her my regards and best wishes when you see her.”
“You can bet I will,” he answered. “How about a cup of coffee? Just made it?”
“Thanks, but I’ve had plenty this morning.” Sitting across from him, she regarded Carl thoughtfully before speaking again. “About this thing that’s in the news, what is it?”
“Don’t know what all the fuss is about. Looks like nothing more than a big rock to me. But the way people are talking, it must be something important.”
“You say it’s on the ball field?” asked Liz.
“Well, under it, really. They found it when they were installing new drain tiles. They thought it was an outcrop of limestone. The roof of a cave someone said. This area is full of caves. Used to run those caves every chance I had when I was younger.” Pausing to refill his cup, he said, “Sure I can’t get you some coffee?”
“Thanks, I’m fine.”
“Never in my life did I think I’d see a rock create such a sensation. People been coming from all over the place to see it. Even the government’s been here and had a look.” He sipped his coffee slowly before adding, “Air Force had the entire field blocked off for nearly a week and wouldn’t let anybody near the thing. Don’t know what they expected to find—maybe a meteor. They finally packed up their people and equipment and went away. Strange thing though . . . ”
“What’s that?”
“The more they dug, the bigger it got. Still haven’t uncovered it all.”
“I’d like to see it if that’s possible,” Liz said.
“It’s just sitting down there big as life—and just about as strange.”
The walk down to the ball field took nearly 15 minutes. A few pickup trucks were parked in a lot near the Abbey, and in the distance, an excavator lurked like some prehistoric animal. Even from 50 yards away, the rock, as it was most often referred to by those who had seen it, eclipsed a building used to store maintenance equipment. The closer they got, the more imposing it became.
“There are times when I think it’s actually growing in size,” admitted Carl. “They’ve probably exposed more of it is all. Still, it looks real strange, like it just doesn’t belong there.”
“It certainly does look out of place,” Liz agreed.
“Looks like it just rolled down the hill and right there is where it stopped.”
Five feet above them, the rock tapered only slightly, and once out of the ground, it might certainly be symmetrical. Carl was right. It was huge and looked severely alien. A couple of people nearby were taking pictures of it. One man rubbed his hands at various places on the smooth surface, but for what reason, Liz couldn’t imagine.
“Two geologists from up north, Chicago maybe, said it was prehistoric. They didn’t think it was indigenous to this area,” Carl proclaimed rather officiously. “How do you figure that?”
“What do you mean, Carl?”
“If it’s not from here, how did it get here? Who put it here?”
“That’s curious all right,” agreed Liz.
“It’s more than that, Dr. Raymond. It’s another of those cosmic mysteries handed down to us by God.”
“You might be right, Carl,” she smiled.
The man who had been rubbing his hands across the surface of the rock stopped long enough to take several photographs, after which he took a small notebook from a canvas bag and jotted down some notes or calculations. Still curious, Liz came over and waited patiently for the chance to speak with him.
Before she could speak, he looked up at her and said so bluntly that it took her completely off guard. “I knew it.”
“Excuse me?”
The man, in his late 30s or early 40s, looked rough around the edges, unkempt, and the closer she got to him, the stronger the smell. His clothes were muddy and soiled, and although clean-shaven, he looked grungy, as though whatever it was that preoccupied him had precedence over anything else, even hygiene. Oddly, it seemed to Liz, the shoes he was wearing were wingtips, and highly polished, and seemed a contradiction to his otherwise disheveled appearance
“Put your hand here,” he directed authoritatively. With Liz’s hand pressed against the rock, “Can you feel it?” he asked.
“Feel what?”
“The heartbeat,” he replied.
Liz jerked her hand away. “It’s stone for God’s sake.”
He smiled at her before saying, “It has a pulse. Not like you or me, but it has a distinct pulse.”
She looked at him, only this time with displeasure instead of curiosity. “I’m sure it does,” she lied.
“An electronic pulse.”
Something about the man held her attention, though she could not say what it was about him that kept her from walking away. “I don’t understand.”
“X-ray eyes that see the trinity of light,” he laughed before hurrying away in the direction of the woods at the east end of the ball field.
“Don’t take him seriously,” Carl told her.
“You know him?”
“Not exactly. People in these parts call him Walking Einstein.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Nobody really knows who he is, but everybody knows him. If that makes any sense.”
“I’m not sure,” answered Liz slowly.
Twenty minutes later Liz was driving the remaining 30 miles to Evansville, where she would meet Adrian White and Ben Manning at Atwood House. She continued to think about what Walking Einstein had said and wondered if he really did know something. Or was he just one of those kooky characters found in any small town? The term “X-ray eyes” kept turning over in her head. Did it have any real meaning? The image of that man wearing high gloss wingtip shoes was what she recalled longest.
When she drove up, Adrian, Ben, and Jenna stood in a circle around the tower that still stood like a piece of abstract yard art near the stone bridge. She parked the car and hurried to meet them, waving to each as she crossed the lawn. “It all looks the same,” she said, stopping between Ben and Adrian after giving Jenna a slight hug and smile.
White spoke for the other two. “A few things have happened since you were last here . . . nothing earthshaking.”
“Well I’m anxious to hear about them.”
“Welcome back,” said Manning cheerfully. “Room’s all ready for you, and Jenna has prepared a meal for this evening, so I hope you’re hungry.”
“Sounds terrific,” Liz smiled.
“Hello again, Dr. Raymond,” said Jenna who was obviously glad to see her.
“Jenna, call me Liz, please.”
Jenna’s smile was warm and ingratiating, “Nice to see you agai
n, Liz.”
“I heard about the incident.” Liz went over to where Jenna stood and took her hand. “It must have been extraordinary.”
“Yes, it was every bit of that and then some. Even though I saw it happen, I’m sure I can’t explain any of it.” She glanced at Manning before speaking again. “There were moments when Ben thought it was spectacle.”
“Spectacle?” asked Liz inquisitively.
“Theater—the kind that involves Lacey Laurens,” Ben answered.
Ready with an explanation, Jenna looked at Liz and said, “I think I’ve managed to convince him that what happened was not something I arranged with Lacey to frighten him.”
“Oh, I see, your friend—the young girl who works with you.”
“Yes,” answered Jenna. “She’s always anxious to develop a convincing character.” She continued to look at Liz before speaking again—this time more seriously than any of them expected. “It’s not every day a woman steps out of another century to put a vase of flowers on a table, is it?” Jenna’s smile was forced slightly. She realized Liz Raymond would eventually ask again about the encounter with Anna Atwood. But Jenna was already looking ahead to Anna’s next visit, which she knew was inevitable.
Liz put her arm around Jenna’s waist. “We’re going to figure this thing out, honey. I promise you that. We’ll get to the bottom of what’s happening at Atwood House.”
Still smiling stiffly, Jenna responded, “I hope you’re right.”
Chapter 18
Just after dark on the ball field at Saint Meinrad Archabbey of the Benedictine Order, with a slice of moon low in the sky behind him, Walking Einstein pulled the long collars of his jacket tight at the neck, and taking a rag from his pocket, bent down to wipe dirt from his brown wingtips. Even with a nippy wind blowing out of the north, he was anxious to resume his study of the rock in front of him. Methodically, like a physician about to perform routine surgery, he laid the things needed on the ground.
Setting the bag to one side, he began walking around the rock, poking the sharp end of a metal pole into the sand until he struck something solid. At each of these spots, he placed a chunk of quartz about the size of a softball. Regarding the rock carefully, he aimed the beam of his flashlight at one specific section, a circular depression about two feet from the top. Picking up from the ground a larger stone, the size of a ripe Posey County melon, he worked it as deeply as possible into the cavity, which was no more than four or five inches deep. Next, he took up a small trowel and whiskbroom, scraped, then brushed surface dirt off six locations near the rock—those same places he had earlier marked with pieces of quartz. Looking back at the enormous rock, he folded his arms, drew in a long breath of cool air, and waited . . . and waited.
Autumn nights in Southern Indiana were spectacular. He watched the erratic movements of fireflies across the Abbey lawns and adjacent soybean fields, as the snappy night woke to the music of bullfrogs bellowing in the Lake of Galilee near the Abbey cemetery. Still, he stood motionless, waiting, expecting something to happen. Minutes passed. Still he remained in front of the stone that he had earlier embedded in the large rock.
With the moon higher in the sky, its soft light sinking into creases and crevices in the stones, a small white light sparked to life in all six smaller stones, as though someone had lit birthday candles. The longer he waited, the brighter each became. But it was the larger stone that caught fire—a greenish-white fire. He watched the light gather into a column of more protracted illumination that shot several feet into the sky. The display lasted no longer than a minute.
Walking Einstein gathered the few stones into the canvas bag and headed in the direction of the small town of Saint Meinrad. The bag slung over one shoulder, he leaned noticeably, as he tried to manage the weight more easily. Above him, a streak of purple light shot out into space. He stopped for several seconds to regard it, until it disappeared among the stars.
It was nearing ten o’clock at Atwood House. Dr. White was talking with Liz in the doorway to the library. With the late evening meal finished more than an hour before, and the kitchen cleaned, Jenna prepared to leave, saying she had a busy morning the next day and wanted to turn in earlier than usual. Ben walked her out to the car and kissed her lightly on the cheek, then asked if she could spend Saturday afternoon with him.
“Doing what?” she asked coyly.
Speaking about Liz and Adrian, “I’m not sure what their intentions are for tomorrow. I do know that I’d feel considerably more at ease if you were around.”
“I’ll be here as soon as I can,” she assured him.
Ben watched her car drive down the long driveway, taillights glowing like the red eyes of a large primeval reptile. Except for a mild breeze rustling leaves in the large oak and chestnut trees that were everywhere around the property, the night was unusually quiet. Above Atwood House, the starry roof of the sky seemed higher than ever—all those primordial mysteries of the universe immutably silent in that coldness that was space.
The sound of an engine starting, in the direction of Shanklin’s pond, caught Ben’s immediate attention. Walking around to the back of the house, he saw headlights in the woods, probably on the trail road that led back to the pond. It sounded more like a truck than a car engine. Pickup trucks and SUVs had pretty much taken over the roads, and in a small rural setting like Newburgh, there were few exceptions.
Whatever it was moved steadily deeper into the woods, until only a trace of the lights remained visible. Then almost as quickly as it had come, it was gone. Not thinking too much about it, he went back inside the house to find Dr. White, who was searching through a folder of paperwork that he had removed from his briefcase. Liz studied the vase on the Victorian table as if she were attempting to determine its provenance and authenticity.
“Have you looked closely at this, Ben?” she asked when he entered the room.
“Not really. Is there something significant about it?”
“A couple things maybe,” she admitted.
“It’s Limoges porcelain.”
“Sounds expensive,” he told her.
“I’ve seen similar vases in antique stores. It’s French. I remember a friend telling me how much she loved a Limoges vase that she and her husband had bought while traveling one summer in France. She always referred to it as the most beautiful and most expensive piece of porcelain they owned, and when people saw it on her dining room table, they were absolutely taken by its beauty.”
“The colors are vibrant. It looks brand new.”
“It’s certainly the kind of vase you’d expect to find in a house built in the early 1900s, particularly among the furnishings of a family as wealthy as the Atwood’s.”
The bouquet of mixed flowers was stunning. They were not the colors of summer, but the darker shades of fall, and their aroma was pungent and pleasantly musky. Looking as if they belonged right where they had been placed, the vase and flowers breathed life into the large room. The vase more than ten inches tall, was decorated in an array of hand-painted flowers and infused with bursts of pink and yellow.
“You say she came into the room, set the flowers and vase on this table and left them as they are now?” Liz asked.
“That’s right. Her dress brushed against me as she passed. Once again, it all happened so fast,” he added. “Maybe the strangest part was how effortlessly she moved. Her single purpose was to put that vase of flowers on that specific table, as though she had done it several other times.”
“A routine,” suggested Dr. Raymond, “done so frequently during her lifetime that it was an entirely ordinary action.”
“You see, Liz, and if you’ll forgive me for saying so, that’s precisely what bothers me most,” Ben said.
“Her lifetime?”
“Exactly,” Ben replied. “How can her lifetime be in my lifetime?”
Liz, stepped back away
from the table and with Ben watching, concentrated, not on the vase, but on the flower arrangement. Tilting her head to one side, then the other, she bent lower to observe those smaller flowers near the rim of the vase. She was searching for the subtle messages revealed in the flowers. “It’s all here in front of us,” she nodded.
Catching her attention, Ben asked, “You’re saying she uses flowers to convey messages?”
“Emotions. Simple meanings in the choice of flowers and colors—we do the same thing today. Most women in the early 20th century felt they had to bite their tongues when it came to topics like love, sex, intimate feelings. Propriety was everything to them. Subtlety usually prevailed.”
“I never thought anything about it, just assumed cut flowers made a room smell pretty.”
“I’m sure that is often the case.” She regarded him carefully before speaking again. “It was a very good friend who taught me about flowers and their perceived meanings. For example, take the yellow primrose, the strongest color in the arrangement. It’s often used to convey young love. See how they seem to rise out of the darker shades of the hawthorn?”
“And that means something special?”
“Hope, and maybe the innocence of youthful love. When tied together with the long clutch of honeysuckle in the foreground, it means sweetness and bonding love. I’m sure there’s much more meaning here than I see.”
“I don’t think I’ll every look at flowers the same way again.”
Dr. Raymond gave a slight laugh, adding, “This could certainly be the bouquet of a young bride wishing for good fortune and lasting love.” She turned away from the flowers rather abruptly and regarded Manning. “If she brought these into the room, her fingerprints should be on the vase.”
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