by Robin Cook
“Why?” Kim questioned.
“Because I’m not acting like myself,” Edward explained. “I haven’t been sleeping well with everything that has been going on. If we have separate bedrooms I can turn on the light and read if I need to calm myself down.”
“That wouldn’t bother me,” Kim insisted.
“You’ve been sleeping at your apartment the last few nights,” Edward said. “Haven’t you been sleeping better?”
“No,” Kim said.
“Well, then, we’re just a little different,” Edward said. “I’ve been sleeping better. Knowing I’m not bothering you makes me more relaxed. Anyway, it will be a temporary arrangement. As soon as the lab opens and things settle down, the pressure will be off. Then we’ll move in together. You can understand, can’t you?”
“I suppose,” Kim said, trying to hide her disappointment.
The unloading of the moving van went considerably faster than its loading, and soon the cottage was filled to overflowing with boxes and haphazardly placed furniture. When the truck was empty, the movers picked up their gear and the boxes that had been unpacked and stowed them in the truck. Kim then signed the moving documents and watched the movers drive away.
No sooner had the truck disappeared from view than Kim saw a Mercedes emerge from the trees and speed toward her. She recognized the car. It was Stanton’s. She called up to Edward to tell him that he had company before going to the door and opening it.
“Where’s Edward?” Stanton demanded without so much as a greeting.
“He’s upstairs,” Kim said, pointing over her shoulder.
Stanton pushed past her and yelled for Edward to come down. He stood in the foyer with his hands on his hips, tapping his right foot. He was clearly agitated.
Kim’s pulse quickened. Knowing Edward’s fragile mental state, she was worried that Stanton would set him off. Stanton always operated as if he had no regard for other people’s feelings.
“Come down here, Edward,” Stanton yelled again. “We’ve got to talk.”
Edward appeared at the turn of the stairs. He was descending slowly. “What’s the problem?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing much,” Stanton said sarcastically. “It’s just that your burn-rate on our capital is out of control. This lab of yours is costing an ungodly amount of money. What are you doing, paving the johns with diamonds?”
“What exactly are you referring to?” Edward asked warily.
“The whole thing,” Stanton said. “I’m beginning to think you used to work for the Pentagon, since everything you order is the most expensive available.”
“To do first-class experiments you need a first-class facility,” Edward said. “I made that clear when we talked about forming Omni. I hope you don’t think you can buy such labs at garage sales.”
Kim watched the two men bicker. The longer they argued the less concern she had. Edward was angry but not out of control.
“All right,” Stanton said. “Let’s leave the cost of the lab alone for a moment. Instead I want you to give me a timetable for FDA approval of Ultra. I must know so I can estimate when we might see money coming in instead of going out.”
Edward threw up his hands in exasperation. “We haven’t even opened the doors to the lab and you’re talking about a deadline. We discussed the FDA issue at the restaurant before we agreed to form the company. Have you forgotten?”
“Listen, smartass,” Stanton shot back. “The burden to keep this operation afloat falls on my shoulders. Unfortunately it ain’t going to be an easy task with the rate you are going through our capital.”
Stanton turned to Kim, who was standing against the parlor wall. “Kim,” he said, “tell this thickheaded dork that fiscal responsibility is a prime requirement of startup companies.”
“Leave her out of it!” Edward snarled.
Stanton apparently sensed that he’d pushed Edward too far because he quickly assumed a more conciliatory tone.
“Let’s all be calm,” Stanton said, lifting his hands in supplication. “You have to recognize the reasonableness of my request. I have to have some vague outline of what you are going to do in this gold-plated lab so that I can try to anticipate and provide for our financial needs.”
Edward exhaled noisily and visibly relaxed a degree. “Asking about what we will be doing in the lab is a far different question than bursting in here and demanding a date for FDA approval,” he said.
“I’m sorry I’m not more diplomatic,” Stanton said. “Give me an idea of your plan of attack.”
“As soon as possible we’ll be launching a crash course to learn everything there is to know about Ultra,” Edward said. “First we must complete our knowledge of its basic chemistry, such as its solubility in various solvents, and its reactivity with other compounds. Then we have to commence controlled biological studies to understand metabolism, excretion, and toxicity. The toxicological studies will have to be done in vitro as well as in vivo on individual cells, groups of cells, and intact organisms. We’ll have to start with viruses, then bacteria, and finally higher animals. We’ll have to formulate assays. On a molecular level we’ll have to determine binding sites and methods of action. We’ll have to test under all sorts of conditions of temperature and pH. We’ll have to do all this before we file an investigational new drug application with the FDA, which is what you have to do before you can even start the clinical phase.”
“Good Lord.” Stanton moaned. “You’re making me dizzy. This sounds like decades of work.”
“It’s not decades,” Edward said. “But it is years. I told you that already. At the same time I told you that it would be significantly shorter than the twelve-year average development time for a drug.”
“How about six years?” Stanton questioned.
“I can’t say until we begin work and start getting some data,” Edward said. “All I can say is that it will be more than three years and less than twelve.”
“There’s a chance it could be three years?” Stanton asked hopefully.
“It would be a miracle,” Edward admitted. “But it is possible. But there is another factor you have to consider. The rapid spending of capital has been for the lab, and now that the lab is almost done, spending will drop considerably.”
“I wish I could count on that,” Stanton said. “But I can’t. Soon we will be paying the enormous salaries you promised your Ultra team.”
“Hey, I had to give big salaries to get the best people,” Edward said. “Also, I preferred giving higher salaries rather than more stock. I didn’t want to give away too much equity.”
“The equity isn’t going to be worth anything if we go bankrupt.”
“But we’re ahead of the game,” Edward said. “Most biotech and pharmaceutical companies are formed with no drug on the horizon. We’ve already got the drug.”
“I’m aware of that,” Stanton said. “But I have the jitters. I’ve never invested all my money in one company and then watched it being spent so quickly.”
“You’ve invested it wisely,” Edward said. “We’re both going to be billionaires. Ultra is that good, I’m sure of it. Come on. Let me show you the lab. It will reassure you.”
Kim breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the two men walk toward the lab. Stanton even had his hand draped on Edward’s shoulder.
Once they were gone, Kim surveyed the room. To her surprise her thoughts were not on the ungodly mess the moving had created. Instead the sudden silence brought an intense sense of Elizabeth’s presence and a strong recurrence of her feeling that Elizabeth was trying to communicate with her. But try as she might, Kim could hear no words. Nevertheless, at that moment, Kim was acutely aware that some of Elizabeth existed in the core of her being. And what was now Kim’s home was still in some way Elizabeth’s.
Kim was not entirely comfortable with these thoughts. Somehow she detected an element of distress and urgency in Elizabeth’s message.
Turning her back on what should have been
more pressing tasks, Kim hastily unwrapped the newly restored portrait of Elizabeth and hung it over the fireplace. With the repainting of the walls, the portrait’s silhouette had vanished. Kim had to guess how high it had hung. She was following an urge to replace the painting in the exact position it had occupied three hundred years previously.
Kim stepped away and turned to face the mantel. When she did, she was shocked by how lifelike the painting appeared. In better light Kim had thought it was rather primitive. Hanging in the afternoon twilight of the cottage gave a completely different effect. Elizabeth’s green eyes were hauntingly penetrating as they shone through the shadows.
For a few mesmerizing minutes Kim stood rooted in the center of the room, staring at a picture that in some respects was like looking into a mirror. Gazing into Elizabeth’s eyes, Kim felt even stronger the sense that her ancestor was trying to communicate with her across the centuries. Kim again strained to hear the words, but there was only silence.
The mystical feeling radiating from the painting sent Kim back to the castle. Despite the many boxes to unpack, and despite having spent so many frustratingly fruitless hours searching through the castle’s papers, Kim had a sudden irresistible urge to return. Elizabeth’s portrait had renewed her motivation to learn what she could about her mysterious ancestor.
As if driven by a preternatural force, Kim mounted the stairs and headed for the attic. Once inside, she didn’t hesitate nor did she take the time to open the windows. Instead she marched directly to what looked like an old sea trunk. Opening the lid, she found the usual mix of papers, envelopes, and a few ledgers.
The first book was an inventory of ships’ stores. The date was 1862. Directly beneath it was a larger, primitively bound notebook with a letter tied to it. Kim gulped. She could see that the letter was addressed to Ronald Stewart.
Kim reached into the trunk and lifted out the notebook. After untying the string, she opened the envelope and slid out the letter. Recalling how carefully the Harvard archivists handled the Mather letter, Kim tried to do the same. The aged paper resisted being unfolded. It was a short note. Kim looked at the date and her anticipation lessened. It was from the eighteenth century.
16th April 1726
Boston
Dearest father,
In response to your query I esteem it to be in the meete interests of the family and the business to forebear transposing mother’s grave to the family plot since the required permit would cause much disquietude in Salem town and awaken the whole affair which you suppressed with great diligence and effort.
Your loving son,
Jonathan.
Kim carefully folded the note and replaced it in its envelope. Thirty-four years after the witchcraft affair Ronald and his son were still concerned about its effect on the family despite a public apology and a day of mourning ordered by the colonial government.
Turning her attention to the notebook, whose binding was crumbling, Kim folded back the cloth cover only to have it detach in her hand. Then her heart skipped a beat. On the flyleaf was written: Elizabeth Flanagan, her book, December 1678.
Kim carefully leafed through the book and realized to her utter joy that it was Elizabeth’s diary! The fact that the entries she saw were short and not consecutive didn’t lessen her excitement.
Clasping the book with both hands for fear of its coming apart, Kim hurried over to a dormered window for better light. Starting from the back, she noticed that there were a number of blank pages. Coming to the last entry, Kim noticed that the diary stopped prior to what she would have preferred. The date was Friday 26th February 1692.
There is no end to this cold. More snow on this day. The Wooleston River is now thick with ice to support a person to the Royal Side. I am much distracted. A sickness has weakened my spirit with cruel fits and convulsions as described by Sarah and Jonathan in like manner as those I have observed with poor Rebecca, Mary, and Joanna and the same that Ann Putnam suffered on her visit.
How have I offended almighty God that he would visit such torments on his dutiful servant? I hath no memory of the fits yet before I see colors that now affright me and hear strange sounds not of this world as I feel as if to faint. On the sudden I am restored to my senses to discover I am on the floor and have thrashed about and said unintelligible mutterings or so have said my children Sarah and Jonathan who, praise the Lord, are still unafflicted. How I wish Ronald be here and not on the high seas. These molestations commenced with the purchase of the Northfields tract and the spiteful quarrel with the Thomas Putnam family. Doctor Griggs is mystified for all and hath purged me to no avail. Such a cruel winter and travail for all. I fear for Job who is so innocent as I fear the Lord seeth to take away my life and my work is not done. I have endeavored to do God’s work in his land to aid the congregation by baking the rye grain to extend our stores taxed by cruel weather and poor harvest, and refugees from Indian raids in the north whom I have encouraged the brethren accept into their hearth as family as I have done with Rebecca Sheafe and Mary Roots. I have taught the older children in the manner of constructing dolls for the surcease of the torment of the orphaned infants whose trust the Lord hath given us. I pray for Ronald’s speedy return to help us with these terrible molestations before the sap runs.
Kim closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was overwhelmed. Now it was truly as if Elizabeth were speaking to her. Kim could feel the force and character of Elizabeth’s personality through her anguish: caring, empathetic, generous, assertive, and courageous; all the traits Kim wished she had herself.
Kim opened her eyes and reread sections of the entry. She wondered who Job was, or if Job were a biblical reference and not a person. She reread the part about doll-making and wondered again if the evidence that convicted Elizabeth had been a doll rather than a book.
Fearing she might have missed something, Kim reread the entire entry and became impressed with the tragic irony that Elizabeth’s generosity might have caused her to spread the poisonous mold. Perhaps the unspecified evidence somehow proved Elizabeth’s responsibility.
For several minutes Kim stared out the window, pondering this new line of thinking. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of any way Elizabeth could have been implicated. At the time, no way existed to connect the mold with the fits.
Kim looked back at the diary. Carefully, she turned individual pages and glanced at other entries. Most were short: only a few sentences for each day, which included a terse description of the weather.
Kim closed the book and then reopened it from the front. The first entry was 5th December 1678, and was written in a larger, more hesitant script than the last entry fourteen years later. It merely described the day as cold and snowy and gave Elizabeth’s age: thirteen.
Kim closed the book. She wanted to savor the experience. Clutching it to her chest as if it were a treasure, Kim returned to the cottage. Moving a table and a chair to the middle of the room, she sat down. In full view of the portrait she randomly leafed through the pages. On 7 January 1682 Kim found a longer entry.
Elizabeth described the weather as being warm for the season of the year and cloudy. She then matter-of-factly mentioned that she’d been married that day to Ronald Stewart. That short sentence was followed by a long description of the fine carriage she rode from Salem Town. Elizabeth then related her joy and amazement at moving into such a fine house.
Kim smiled. As she read relatively lengthy descriptions of the rooms and their contents she understood that Elizabeth was relating her reactions to moving into the same house Kim was currently moving into. It was a charming coincidence to have found the book on such a day, and it made the three-hundred-year interval that separated Elizabeth and Kim seem suddenly short.
Kim made a quick subtraction and realized that Elizabeth had been only seventeen when she married. Kim could not imagine herself getting married at such an age, especially considering the emotional problems she had during the first few years of college.
; Looking ahead in the diary, Kim learned that Elizabeth became pregnant only a few months later. Kim sighed. What would she have done with a child at that age? It was a frightening concept yet obviously Elizabeth had dealt with it admirably. It was also a stark reminder to Kim that birth control had not been available to Elizabeth, and how little control Elizabeth had over her destiny.
Reversing her direction in the notebook, Kim glanced at entries prior to Elizabeth’s marriage to Ronald. She stopped at another relatively long entry for 10 October 1681. Elizabeth recorded that on that hot, sunny day her father returned from Salem Town with an offer of marriage. Elizabeth went on to write:
I was at first troubled in spirit at such a strange affair since I know nothing of this gentleman yet father speaks well of him. Father says the gentleman espied me in September when he visited our land for purposes of timber for masts and spars for his ships. My father says it is for me to decide but that I should know the gentleman has offered most graciously to move us one and all to Salem Town where my father shall work in his company and my dear sister Rebecca should go to school.
A few pages on Elizabeth wrote:
I have told my father I shall accept the proposal of marriage. How can I not? Providence beckons as we have been living these years on poor land in Andover at constant threat of attack by red savages. Our neighbors on both sides have suffered such grave misfortune and many have been killed or taken captive in a most cruel way. I have tried to explain to William Paterson but he does not understand and I fear that he is now ill disposed toward me.
Kim paused and raised her eyes to Elizabeth’s portrait. She was moved by the realization she was reading the thoughts of a seventeen-year-old selfless girl willing to give up a teenage love and to take a chance with fate for the benefit of her family. Kim sighed and wondered when the last time was she had done something completely unselfish.
