Kim thanked Carl and stumbled back toward her car. As she walked she thought about the double tragedy of Elizabeth being pregnant while she was being unwittingly poisoned by a fungus growing in her store of rye. In that day, everyone would have been certain Elizabeth had had relations with the devil to produce such a monster, certainly a manifestation of a covenant, especially since the “fits” had originated in Elizabeth’s house and then spread to the other houses where the children had taken Elizabeth’s bread. Elizabeth’s assertiveness, her ill-timed struggle with the Putnam family, and her change in social status wouldn’t have helped her situation.
Arriving at her car, Kim climbed inside and started the motor. For her it was now totally clear why Elizabeth had been accused of being a witch and how she’d been convicted.
Kim drove as if she were in a trance. She began to understand why Elizabeth would not confess to save her life as Ronald had undoubtedly urged. Elizabeth knew she was no witch, but her confidence in her innocence would have been undermined, especially with everyone against her: friends, magistrates, and even the clergy. With her husband away, Elizabeth would have had no support whatsoever. Utterly alone, she would have thought she was guilty of some horrid transgression against God. How else to explain giving birth to such a demonic creature? Maybe she even thought her fate was just.
Kim got bogged down in traffic on Storrow Drive and was reduced to inching forward. The weather had not improved. In fact it had gotten hotter. Kim felt progressively anxious about being cooped up in the car.
Finally she managed to get through the bottleneck at the Leverett Circle traffic light. Bursting free from the bounds of the city, she headed north on Interstate 93. With the literal freedom came a new revelation and the suggestion of figurative freedom. Kim began to believe that the shock of her visual confrontation with Elizabeth’s monster had caused her to stumble onto the message that she believed Elizabeth had been trying to communicate: namely that Kim should believe in herself. She shouldn’t lose confidence because of other people’s beliefs, as poor Elizabeth had. She shouldn’t allow authority figures to take over her life. Elizabeth hadn’t had a choice about that, but Kim did.
Kim’s mind was racing. She recalled all the tedious hours she’d spent with Alice McMurray discussing her low self-esteem. She remembered the theories Alice had presented to explain its source: a combination of her father’s emotional detachment, her vain attempts to please him, and her mother’s passivity in the face of her father’s womanizing. Suddenly all the talk seemed trivial. It was as if it involved someone else. Those discussions had never punched her in the gut as the final shock of Elizabeth’s ordeal had.
Everything seemed clear to Kim now. Whether her low self-esteem came from her particular family dynamics, or from a shy temperament, or a combination of the two, it didn’t matter. The reality was that Kim had not allowed her own interests and aptitudes to chart her course through life. Her career choice was a good example. So was her current living situation.
Kim had to brake suddenly. To her surprise and chagrin the traffic was bogged down on the usually freely moving interstate. Once again she was reduced to moving ahead in fits and starts, bringing the summerlike heat swirling in through the open window. To the west she could see huge thunderhead clouds massing on the horizon.
As she inched forward Kim experienced a sudden resolve. She had to change her life. First she’d allowed her father to rule her despite the fact that they had no relationship to speak of. And now she’d been allowing Edward to do the same. Edward was living with her but in name only. In actuality, he was only taking advantage of her and giving nothing in return. The Omni lab should not be on her property, and the researchers should not be living in the Stewart family house.
As the traffic began to free up again, and Kim was able to accelerate, she promised herself that she would not allow the status quo to continue. She told herself that she was going to talk with Edward the moment she got back to the compound.
Knowing her weakness regarding emotional confrontations and her inclination to procrastinate, Kim also emphasized to herself the importance of talking to Edward as soon as possible now that there was reason to believe Ultra was teratogenic, or damaging to a developing fetus. Kim knew such information was crucial for studying an experimental drug not only to protect pregnant women but because many teratogenic drugs were also capable of causing cancer.
By the time Kim drove onto the compound it was close to seven o’clock. With the thunderclouds still building to the west, it was darker than normal for that time of evening. As Kim approached the lab she saw that the lights had already been turned on.
Kim parked but didn’t get out of the car immediately. Despite her resolve she found herself debating whether to go inside or not. Suddenly she could think of a lot of excuses to put off the visit. But she didn’t give in. She opened the car door and got out. “You’re going to do this if it kills you,” she said. After smoothing out the wrinkles in her uniform and brushing back her hair, she entered the lab.
As soon as the inner door closed behind her, Kim was aware the lab had had yet another change of atmosphere. She was certain that David and Gloria and maybe even Eleanor had seen her arrive, but they didn’t acknowledge her. In fact, they turned away and purposefully ignored her. There was no laughter; there wasn’t even any conversation. The mood was palpably tense.
The strained ambience added to Kim’s anxiety, yet she forced herself to seek out Edward. She found him in a darkened corner at his computer. The pale green fluorescence from his monitor cast an eerie light on his face.
Kim approached him and stood for a moment at his side. She was reluctant to interrupt him. As she watched his hands play across the keyboard, she detected a trembling of his fingers between individual key strokes. She could also hear he was breathing more quickly than she.
Several minutes dragged by. Edward ignored her.
“Please, Edward,” Kim said finally. Her voice wavered. “I have to talk with you.”
“Later,” Edward said. He still did not look at her.
“It’s important that I talk to you now,” Kim said hesitantly.
Edward shocked Kim by leaping to his feet. The sudden motion sent his ergonomic chair skidding across the floor on its casters until it slammed into a cabinet. He stuck his face close to Kim’s so that she could see red spiderwebs on the whites of his bulging eyes.
“I said later!” he repeated through clenched teeth. He glared at Kim as if daring her to contradict him.
Kim stepped back and collided with the lab bench. Awkwardly her hand thrust out to support herself, and she knocked a beaker onto the floor. It shattered, jarring Kim’s already frayed nerves.
Kim didn’t move. She watched Edward apprehensively. Once again he was acting like he was on the brink of losing control, just as he’d done when he’d thrown the wineglass back in his apartment in Cambridge. It occurred to her that something momentous had happened in the lab that had sparked a major disagreement. Whatever it had been, it had everybody on edge, particularly Edward.
Kim’s first reaction was empathy for Edward, knowing how hard he’d been working. But then she caught herself. With the benefit of her newly acquired self-knowledge, she understood such thoughts represented a falling back on old habits. Kim was committed to heeding Elizabeth’s message. For once in her life she had to stand up for herself and think of her own needs.
At the same time Kim was capable of being realistic. She knew there would be no benefit from inappropriately provoking Edward. From his behavior at the moment it was abundantly clear he was in no mood for a discussion about their relationship.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Kim said when she could tell Edward had regained some semblance of control. “It’s obvious this isn’t a good time for you. I’ll be at the cottage. I do want to talk, so you come over when you are ready.”
Kim turned away from his glower and started to leave. She’d only gone a few steps when sh
e stopped and turned back.
“I did learn something today that you should know,” Kim said. “I have reason to believe Ultra might be teratogenic.”
“We’ll be testing the drug in pregnant mice and rats,” Edward said sullenly. “But at the moment we have a more pressing problem.”
Kim noticed that Edward had an abrasion on the left side of his head. Then she saw he had cuts on his hands just like those she’d seen on Curt’s.
Instinctively Kim stepped back. “You’ve hurt yourself,” she said. She reached for his head to examine the wound.
“It’s nothing,” Edward said, roughly parrying her hand. He turned from her, and after retrieving his chair, sat down at his computer and went back to work.
Kim left the lab, rattled from her visit; she could never predict Edward’s mood or behavior. Outside she noticed it had darkened significantly. There was not a breath of air. The leaves on the trees hung limply. A few birds skittered across the threatening sky, searching for shelter.
Kim hurried to her car. Glancing up into the ominous clouds that had moved ever more closely, she saw short flashes of weblike lightning that stayed aloft. She heard no thunder. On the short drive to the cottage, she used her headlights.
The first thing Kim did when she got home was head for the parlor. She looked up at Elizabeth’s portrait and regarded the woman with renewed sympathy, admiration, and gratitude. After a few moments of staring at the strong, feminine face with its bright green eyes, Kim began to calm down. The image was empowering, and despite the setback at the lab, Kim knew she would not turn back. She would wait for Edward, but she would definitely talk with him.
Taking her eyes off the painting, Kim wandered around the cottage that she and Elizabeth had shared. Her recent loneliness notwithstanding, it was a cozy, romantic house, and she couldn’t help but wonder how different it would have been with Kinnard around instead of Edward.
Standing in the dining room, which in Elizabeth’s time had been the kitchen, Kim lamented how few times the table had even been used. There was no doubt that September had been a bust, and Kim berated herself for allowing Edward to drag her along on his drug-development crusade.
With a sudden flash of anger Kim allowed herself to go a step further, and for the first time she admitted that she was repulsed by Edward’s incipient greed as well as by his new persona as defined by Ultra. In her mind there was no place for drug-induced self-understanding, or drug-induced assertiveness, or a drug-induced happy mood. It was all fake. The concept of cosmetic psychopharmacology disgusted her.
Having finally faced her true feelings about Edward, Kim turned again to thoughts of Kinnard. With her new understanding, she saw that she shared a significant portion of blame for their most recent difficulties. With harshness equal to that she’d expressed toward Edward’s new greed, she chided herself for allowing her fear of rejection to misinterpret Kinnard’s boyish interests.
Kim sighed. She was exhausted physically and mentally. At the same time, she was inwardly calm. For the first time in months she didn’t have that vague, nagging anxiety that had been plaguing her. Although she knew her life was in disarray, she was committed to change, and she felt she knew what it was she had to change.
Disappearing into the bathroom, Kim took a long, luxurious bath, something she hadn’t done for as long as she could remember. After bathing, she slipped into a loose-fitting jogging suit and made herself dinner.
After dinner Kim went to the parlor window and glanced over toward the lab. She wondered what Edward was thinking and when she would see him.
Kim moved her eyes away from the lab and looked at the black silhouettes of the trees. They were totally motionless, as if imbedded in glass; there still was no wind. The storm which had seemed imminent when she’d first arrived home had stalled to the west. But then Kim saw a bolt of lightning. This time it arced to the ground, followed by a distant rumble of thunder.
Turning back into the room, Kim glanced again at Elizabeth’s portrait over the mantel and thought of Elizabeth’s gruesome, malformed fetus swimming in its jar of preservative. Kim shuddered anew. No wonder people in Elizabeth’s time believed in sorcery, magic, and witchcraft. Back then there was no other explanation for such disturbing events.
Advancing closer to the painting, Kim studied Elizabeth’s features. The woman’s assertiveness was apparent in the line of her jaw, the set of her lips, and the forthright stare of her eyes. Kim wondered if the trait had been temperament or character, inborn or learned, nature or nurture.
Kim pondered her own newly cultivated assertiveness for which she credited Elizabeth and wondered if she could maintain it. She felt she’d made a start by going to the lab that afternoon. She was certain she wouldn’t have been able to do that in the past.
As the evening progressed, Kim began to think about the possibility of changing careers and to question whether she had the courage to take the risk. With her inheritance she knew she could not use economics as an excuse. Such a life-style change was a daunting possibility, especially the idea of doing something artistic. Yet it was also alluring.
One of the unexpected consequences of Kim’s efforts at sorting the three hundred years of business documents in the castle was the realization of how little her family had contributed to the community. The hoard of papers and the tasteless castle housing them were the two major legacies. There’d not been one artist, musician, or author among them. For all their money, they’d developed no art collections, philharmonic endowments, or libraries. In fact, they’d made no contribution to culture unless entrepreneurialism was a culture in and of itself.
By nine P.M. Kim was beyond exhaustion. For a brief moment she entertained the notion of going back to the lab, but she quickly discarded it. If Edward had wanted to talk he would have come to the house. Instead she wrote him a note on a Post-It and stuck it on the mirror in the half-bath. It said simply: I’ll be up at five and we can talk then.
After taking the cat out for a brief sojourn, Kim climbed into bed. She didn’t even try to read nor did she even consider the need for a sleep aid. In a matter of minutes she was fast asleep.
20
* * *
Tuesday,
October 4, 1994
A STARTLINGLY loud clap of thunder yanked Kim from the depths of a dream in the blink of an eye. The house was still vibrating from the horrendous noise as she realized she was sitting bolt upright. Sheba had responded to the cataclysm by leaping from the bed and diving beneath it.
Within minutes of the thunder came rain and gusty wind. Having held back for so long, the storm hit with unbridled ferocity. Droplets large enough to sound like hailstones battered the slate roof above Kim’s head. She also heard the rain beat against the screen of the westerly-facing open casement window.
Kim dashed from her bed to the window and began cranking it shut. She could feel the wind carry rainwater into her room. Just as she was about to lock the window in place, a flash of lightning struck the lightning rod on one of the castle’s turrets and filled the entire compound with a blue light.
In the instant the field between the cottage and the castle was illuminated, Kim saw a startling image. It was a ghostlike, scantily clad figure running across the grass. Although Kim couldn’t be certain, since she’d had only the briefest glimpse, she thought it might have been Eleanor.
Kim winced as another clap of thunder came close on the heels of the lightning flash. Ignoring the ringing in her ears, she strained to see out in the darkness. With the driving rain, it was impossible. She waited briefly for another flash of lightning, but none occurred.
Leaving the window, Kim ran through the connecting hall to Edward’s bedroom. She was convinced she’d not been hallucinating; someone was out there. Whether it was Eleanor or not was immaterial. No one should be out in that storm, especially when there was the added danger of the wild animal that had been plaguing the neighborhood.
Edward had to be told. Kim was surprised to f
ind his door closed. He always had it open. Kim knocked. When there was no answer, she knocked louder. When there was still no answer, she looked down at the lock on the old door. A skeleton key protruded from the keyhole, meaning the door couldn’t be locked. Kim opened the door.
From where she was standing Kim could hear Edward’s stertorous breathing. Kim called out to him several times in a progressively louder voice, but he didn’t stir.
Another flash of lightning filled the room with light. Kim got a brief glimpse of Edward sprawled on his back with his arms and legs outstretched. He was clothed in his underwear. One pant leg had not been totally removed; his trousers were draped inside-out over the side of the bed.
Kim again winced in preparation of the thunder, and it didn’t disappoint her. It was as if the storm were centered on the compound.
Turning on the hall light, which spilled into Edward’s room, Kim hurried over to his bedside. She tried calling to him again. When that didn’t work she shook him gently. Not only didn’t he wake up, his breathing didn’t even alter. Kim shook him vigorously, and when that had no effect she began to be concerned. It was as if he were in a coma.
Kim turned on the bedside light to its brightest level. Edward was the picture of tranquillity. His face had a slack appearance, with his mouth open. Kim put a hand on each shoulder and shook him insistently, loudly calling his name.
Only then did his breathing change. Then his eyes blinked open.
“Edward, are you awake?” Kim asked. She shook him again and his head flopped from side to side like a rag doll.
Edward appeared confused and disoriented until he noticed Kim. She was still holding his shoulders.
Kim watched Edward’s pupils suddenly dilate similar to those of a cat about to spring. Then his eyes narrowed to mere slits while his upper lip curled back like a snarling beast’s. Edward’s previously flaccid face contorted into an expression of sheer rage.