THE EQUATION
A short story by Hickory Cole
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
The Equation
Copyright © 2012 by Hickory Cole
Thank you for downloading this free eBook. This book may not be reproduced, copied or distributed for any purposes, in whole or in part, with the exception of quotes used in reviews.
Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
* * * * *
The old man was tired, not from the day, but from the past forty two years. He’d had his day in the sun but those days were well behind him now. He was ready to move on to the next plane and he felt his body preparing for the journey.
He milled about slowly in the empty mansion. His house robe hung open with one end of its sash dragging the floor. In one hand he clutched a printout. It was from the national weather service. He still checked it daily holding out hope, a vindictive, cynical hope. He used to consider it a fear, but he had grown bitter over the last fifteen years and now he felt a strange sense of disappointment each day as he read the report. He knew that wasn’t the way he should feel but he had suffered greatly for his choices.
The community he lived in was as desolate as the big house he wandered. Thirty years ago it thrived because of him. It was the final accomplishment of his life to foster the community he named Novus. It was the new beginning that was never to be. It waited in the shadows as the busy world passed them by. At first it garnered the attention of a few as a curiosity, but soon even the curious lost interest. It had been sustained by the old man’s vast fortune he had built in his early years. Now it was a ghost town.
The old man wandered down the long corridor leading to the old library. He rarely entered this part of the house anymore. This is where it all fell apart. His body was failing him but his mind was still razor sharp. He remembered that day like it was yesterday.
* * * * *
“BLAST! Foundry, you infernal peppercorn muncher” the old man exclaimed. He climbed down the rolling ladder where he had been perched for the last five minutes. They were in a dank old library that smelled of ancient books, dust, and pipe tobacco. It was Foundry McDermott’s library now that his father had passed.
“I’ve no idea what you are referring to Uncle.” The younger of the two men stood at the bottom of the ladder holding it steady for the elder.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t. Why would you? Why do I even bother?” Mortimer McDermott dusted his jacket sleeves. Something had incited him.
Foundry decided to let it go. His father had recently died at the age of seventy four. Mortimer was the eldest of the two brothers by eight years. Foundry had his suspicions he was not in his right mind. He didn’t want to stir up his Uncle too much for fear of confirming he was crazy.
“Your father…” the old man began hesitantly. He stared off blankly, deep in his own thoughts.
“My father… yes Uncle Mort?”
The old man cast a cold gaze towards his forty year old nephew. “You aren’t ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Mortimer ignored Foundry’s last question and walked off, gathering up the few books he had picked from the shelves, stacking them in one arm. His demeanor suddenly changed. “Why don’t we head to the kitchen and have Miss Valentine whip up a couple of her delicious sandwiches.”
Foundry shook his head realizing that he had nearly let his lovable but slightly off kilter uncle lead him down the path into his world of blurred reality. “Sure Uncle Mort. I’m hungry.”
The two men left the old library. The ladder remained in place. It had been moved all around the room that morning sliding along the brass rail it clung to. Directly across the room, alone on the top shelf, an old book lied flat on its side. Just out of sight, the gold spine of the missing book glinted from the intermittent rays of sun light stealing peeks through the shade trees outside the windows that lined the top of the walls of the old library.
The older man pulled up a chair to the kitchen table while the younger grabbed two glasses and a pitcher of freshly brewed iced tea bringing them to the table. Foundry poured a glass for each of them and they sat patiently sipping from their glasses while Miss Valentine worked her magic. She made the best lunchmeat sandwiches. They were her specialty. She was not the staff cook, but at some point along the way she had become the queen of the sandwich. Though it wasn’t her job it had become her thing, and doing it made her as happy as those she fed. She liked having a purpose. As simple as it seemed it was important to her.
“So Uncle,” Foundry began. “What interesting books did you grab from the library today?”
Mortimer glanced over at the short stack of books on the corner of the table. “Oh, nothing much really. Certainly nothing new. I’ve probably read every volume in that library at one point in my life. I think your father stopped adding on to his collection twenty years ago.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. They all look pretty old to me.” Foundry paused for a moment unsure he wanted to bring it up, but not enough to overcome his curiosity. “So, I take it there was one you didn’t find.”
Mortimer stared out the kitchen windows as he drank from his glass. “Yes. I thought it would be there.”
“What was it?”
“What is it? It’s hard to explain. I’m not sure…”
Miss Valentine interrupted their conversation setting down the plated sandwiches in front of the two ravenous men. The sandwiches looked as mouth-watering as they ever had before with a mound of potato chips on the side of each plate and the single pickle spear. Their hunger got the better of them and they dropped the conversation, digging into their lunch. Within a few minutes both had polished off the majority of their meals and were winding down as they munched on the few remaining chips.
“So Uncle, you say it’s hard to explain?”
Mortimer’s stoic expression returned. “Yes, I’m afraid it’s very difficult to explain. Finding the book will help.”
Foundry pushed himself back from the table. “Then find the book we shall.”
Mortimer remained seated at the table. “Sit back down for a minute Foundry.”
Foundry obliged. “Yes Uncle Mort?”
“Foundry, I have known you your entire life.”
“Yes, of course, you’re my uncle.”
“I like to think that we have had a close relationship, closer than a typical uncle and nephew would be.”
“I can say that is a fair assessment.”
“Your father was special to me as well, though not as you would expect.” Mortimer paused as if he was unsure he should continue.
“Go on” Foundry said, encouraging the elderly man to continue.
“I am not who you think I am. Lawyer McDermott was not my brother.”
The inquisitive look on Foundry’s face disappeared. He did not like where this was leading. “What does that mean? I’m not following.” He caught himself. He was letting his deranged uncle get to him. “Uncle Mort, of course you were his brother.”
“This is why I need that book.”
“No book is going to convince me that my senile old uncle is not really my uncle. That is pure nonsense.”
“I knew you weren’t ready.”
“Ready? Ready to learn that you have most certainly gone off your rocker? No, maybe not? But you have to believe me Uncle Mort, dear sweet Uncle Mort, that you ARE my uncle and you won’t convince me otherwise.”
“I am not
the delusional one here.”
“Delusional? Me? You’re saying I’m delusional. Perfect. Why wouldn’t you think everyone else is crazy?”
“I didn’t call you crazy. You believe what you want to believe because it is convenient.”
“Convenient? Taking care of my aging uncle is convenient?”
“Now right there, you just hit on it.”
“Hit on what?”
“Foundry, how many years has Miss Valentine been working here?”
“I don’t know, ten years maybe more.”
“And the cook?”
“About the same?”
“And the groundskeeper?”
“Where are you going with this?” Foundry’s level of frustration was nearing its peak.
“You’ve been on this earth forty years and you have yet to notice that the staff around this place has completely turned over three times in your lifetime.”
“So? What of it?”
“Do you remember Miss Mattie?”
Foundry smiled at the mention of her name. “Yes, of course.”
“Yes, you loved Miss Mattie. And she loved you. She loved working here. Your parents adored her. I was quite fond of her myself.”
“Yes. So what is your point?”
“Why would she have left?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. There was no good reason. And when we let her go you were devastated, as were your parents, as was Miss Mattie. But she had to go. They all have to go.”
The faint glimmer of a light bulb began to form in the recesses of Foundry’s mind. He had memories of people entering and leaving his life inexplicably. They had become entrenched, seemingly enough to withstand the next purging but it always happened. Eventually they were replaced.
“So why do they have to go?”
Miss Valentine entered the kitchen. She had gone about her duties after making the two men their lunches but had just returned.
With her reappearance Mortimer felt it was best to move their conversation elsewhere. “Come my boy. Perhaps you can help me find the missing text I have been searching for all morning.”
The two stood and headed back to the library. Before they left the kitchen Mortimer turned back to Miss Valentine. “Thank you so much for the delicious sandwiches Miss Valentine.”
Miss Valentine smiled. “You are most welcome sir. Anytime.”
Mortimer turned to follow Foundry out of the room letting out a sigh as he left. “Such a shame” he muttered to himself. “She does make such delicious sandwiches.”