by Peter Plasse
“Stephanie’s right, Dad. You look terrible. How’d you get all scratched up like that?”
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Jacqueline chimed in. “Are you sick?”
“I think I am,” he answered. “But not bad. Don’t worry, Mother will make me better.”
“Hi, honey,” Jessica called out as she exited the laundry room.
“Hey, Jess. How’s it going?”
“Terrific,” she sighed. “You know. Same old, same old. Too much laundry. We need to hire someone to help me with this.”
After a quick embrace, she held him back at arm’s length. “I knew something was wrong,” she said. “You look a wreck. What happened to you?” She felt his forehead. “You don’t feel warm. Here, sit down.”
“Is Dad sick, Mom?” Jacqueline asked, then, “Is he going to be okay?”
All the faces of the children registered concern now, as they stared at Jessica waiting for her answer.
“Jess, I’m going upstairs to take a bath,” Blake said. “Could you please come up and have a look at me? I also need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. Can you draw the tub yourself? No, better, Jacqueline you go draw a tub for him. Stephanie, there’s fresh towels in the laundry room. Orie, you call for the pizza. I’m going to finish this last load of laundry, and I’ll be right up. Will you be all right?”
“I’ll be fine,” said Blake, not feeling fine by any stretch. “I’ll see you upstairs.”
The kids started to move towards their assigned chores. Jacqueline spoke up.
“Tell him about our visitor, Mom.”
“Not now, Jacq’. Daddy doesn’t feel well. Upstairs now. Draw Daddy’s tub.”
Now he sat down. He had to, or he felt he would pass out.
“What visitor, Jacq’?” he called to her with his head in his hands. She had already made it halfway up the stairs.
She stopped, and bounced back down. She finished the last step and punctuated the final jump with, “You tell him, Mom.”
“Well,” she said as she folded a shirt, “Believe it or not, it was one of your old professors from Colby, Doctor Thomas Easton, who happened to be passing through the area and dropped in for a visit. He’s going to a conference in New York on ‘The Biologic Effects of Magnetic Fields’. He said you wrote your senior thesis on this exact topic. Also, he just plain wants to see you; he needs to discuss some things with you. You weren’t here yet, and he had an errand to run, so he left. He said he would be back shortly, but I’ll tell him you don’t feel well. Maybe he can stop in tomorrow. I don’t know when the conference actually starts.”
Blake put his head down and groaned. Doctor Easton had died years ago, after he had left Colby.
Soaking in the tub, Blake was filled with apprehension. “Hey Jacq’?” he asked, “What did Dr. Easton look like, anyway?”
Jacqueline, only ten and still allowed in the bathroom while Dad was taking a bath, said, “He looked really old, Dad. He had long white hair. Wicked long. And the longest beard I’ve ever seen.”
“You mean like that guy in the Harry Potter movies?”
“Dumbledore,” she said. “Yeah, it was just like that. Wicked long like Dumbledore’s.”
Orie burst in unannounced. “That’s exactly what he looked like, Dad. Exactly.”
“Hey, I was telling him,” cried Jacqueline, happy to have news about this stranger that had stopped by.
“What was he wearing?” Blake asked.
“Regular clothes, I guess, why?”
“You mean like pants and a shirt?
“I guess so,” Orie said.
“That’s right, regular clothes,” Jacq’ echoed.
“He was wearing a white shirt with a button down collar, a blue tie, and tan pants,” Stephanie called in from outside the door. “Why, Dad? You never pay attention to what anyone is wearing.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Steph’,” he answered, trying to sound nonchalant, “I was just curious that’s all.”
“I didn’t like his eyes,” said Stephanie.
“What didn’t you like about his eyes, Steph’?” Blake called through the door.
“Well, they weren’t mean or anything,” she began slowly, “it’s like they weren’t happy.”
“What do you mean, not happy?”
“His eyes were fine,” announced Jacqueline, folding her arms for emphasis. “I liked his eyes.”
“I want to hear what Stephanie thought about his eyes,” Blake said. “Go ahead, Stephanie.”
“Well, he did look old, you know. Like way older than you, right? Well, you know how when Gramma Kickie got older, and when she smiled she had smile wrinkles? Mom calls them that anyway. Well, Doctor Easton smiles enough, but he doesn’t have any smile wrinkles. It’s like his eyes don’t light up when he’s happy. They looked empty.”
“Oh Stephanie, you’re making way too much out of his eyes,” said Orie.
“Besides, he’s Dad’s friend so you shouldn’t be saying bad things about him.”
“Yeah, Stephanie, you shouldn’t say bad things about him,” Jacqueline repeated.
“Sorry, Dad,” said Stephanie.
Blake could hear Jessica making her way up the stairs. “No worries, Steph’,” he answered. “In point of fact, you’re absolutely right. There is something wrong with Doc Easton around the eyes. No question.”
Jessica entered the bathroom with towels and facecloths.
“Okay, guys, I need a few moments alone with your father. Out you go.”
The two children moved slowly. They were obviously reluctant to abandon their dad, who was clearly not right. That, and the sense that something was definitely up, made their approach to the door slower with each step.
“Out now,” said Jessica. “Your father’s going to be fine. And no waiting outside the door. Go on downstairs. Back to your homework. And no TV until it’s done and checked. You know the rules.”
“Are you okay, Dad?” asked Orie. He knew his dad. He knew him to be the toughest guy ever. He remembered when he had fallen off the barn and broken his ankle badly. Yes, he had cried, but when he saw his crying frightening the children, he had joked, “I guess my wide receiver days are over.” And Orie had laughed a little laugh and admired him for his toughness. But now his dad looked very, very sick, and frightened.
“I’m okay, Bud,” he said. “Really. Mum’s going to make me okay. I’m a little sick. But I’m all right. Really.”
“Really?”
He did his best ‘Shrek’ impersonation and said, “Really really. Now scoot, and let me talk to Mum.”
“All right. Let’s go, Jacqueline.”
On the way out he looked at Jessica as if to say, “Call me if you need me.” She nodded.
There was a bit of a pause as the kids headed downstairs. Once they were out of earshot, he began.
“Honey, you’re not going to believe me when I tell you what happened on the way home. Well, I know you’re going to believe me, because I would never lie to you. But I’m going to tell you a sequence of events, and what you are not going to believe are the facts of those events; that is to say, you may believe that I am telling you the truth about my perceptions of the events …”
“Blake, hold it,” she interrupted. “You’re babbling. Something happened to you on the way home. Tell me what happened.”
And so he told her. Everything. Right down to the acorn.
“Wow,” she said.
Now it was her turn to be afraid. She went at once from an attractive young woman, a Doctorate in Molecular Genetics, the picture of confidence, able to solve or at least deal with effectively pretty much any problem put in front of her, to a state of fear and confusion. She suddenly looked a lot older, not to mention paler, and scared out of her wits. Being a woman of action, her first words after “wow” were, “I’ll call Dr. Justin and make you an appointment. I don’t want you trying be your own doctor. Now, that’s not up for negotiation. Have you been having head
aches or anything? Oh, there I go. Sorry. No, we’re going to let Dr. Justin handle this whole thing. We can guide her, certainly, but she will be in charge …”
Now it was his turn to interrupt.
“Jessica, I know you’re worried, and believe me, however worried you are, I’m worried a million times more, but here’s the deal. I don’t think it’s ever going to make it to a call to Dr. Justin.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “Please don’t tell me you believe that entire hallucination that you just told me about. Please don’t tell me that. Please …”
At that moment the doorbell rang. They could hear the kids all mobilize to respond. In a few moments they could hear their children offering samplings of politeness.
“Welcome back, Dr. Easton.” That would be Jacqueline.
“May I take your coat, Dr. Easton?” That would be Stephanie.
“Dad’s in the tub. He’s not feeling well. I’m afraid he might not be able to see you tonight.” That would be Orie.
Under normal circumstances he would have felt extremely proud that his normally boisterous, rather loud, and less-than-ideally genteel cherubs were being so well-mannered, but right about now he knew he was dealing with something so potentially huge as to be unfathomable.
All at once he exited the tub. Dripping wet, he grabbed a towel, drying his hands and arms, and ran to his desk.
He picked up a pen and scribbled a note:
“Jessica. This is very important. Tell the kids to take Doc Easton down to the barn and show him the basketball court I built. Very important to get him out of the house!”
She started to speak, but before a sound came out of her mouth, he had his finger over his lips in the universal “Shhhh,” sign. He motioned to her to be about the business of doing what the note said.
When they could see that the gang had entered the barn, about 50 yards from the front deck, he whispered to her.
“This fellow is not Dr. Easton.”
“What do you …?”
Again he gave the “Shhhh,” sign, with emphasis and a touch of anger for effect. She had to know that this was potentially serious, very serious.
“Doctor Easton died years ago!” he wrote.
“So who is this man?” she wrote back.
“I will bet you a week’s wage it’s Hemlock.”
“So now what should we do?”
“We’ll invite him up to the house and have dinner, and talk to him after the kids go to bed,” he wrote. “As long as we agree to agree to nothing, it’ll all be okay. But I swear, Jess, this is all real. And you are about to meet Hemlock Simpleton, wizard extraordinaire.”
“Great,” she wrote, “and absolutely nothing interesting to wear …”
Chapter 3
“My-oh my, but isn’t this a nice barn,” Hemlock remarked, as he and the children stood in the upstairs.
“Our dad built it,” said Orie. He picked up a basketball and demonstrated his proficiency in dribbling. “It only took him a year, too.” He passed it over to Stephanie who laid it up and in.
“Mom said you were one of Dad’s teachers in college,” said Jacqueline.
“That’s professors,” said Stephanie, as she and Orie continued to pass and shoot. “Teachers are for school, professors are for college. Isn’t that right, Dr. Easton?”
“That is correct, Stephanie,” replied Hemlock. “And yes, Jacqueline, I was one of your father’s professors in college, one of his biology professors. Many years ago …”
No one spoke as Orie and Stephanie exchanged a few passes. Orie paused to spin the ball on his index finger, a trick he had only recently mastered.
“That is indeed impressive, Orie,” said Hemlock. “Do you mind if I try?”
“Go for it,” said Orie, and he passed the ball over.
Hemlock soon had the ball spinning perfectly on his index finger. All the children smiled. He changed hands easily, and then changed hands behind his back.
“Way cool,” said Orie. “Did you used to play?”
“What do you mean ‘used to play’?” asked Hemlock. “I still play. As often as my schedule allows, that is.”
“Really?” Orie asked.
Hemlock smiled. “Not really, but I would like to.”
“Hey, maybe if Dad is feeling well enough, we can have a game after dinner,” said Stephanie.
“Yeah!” agreed Orie.
Hemlock then performed some tricks that left all the kids staring at him, mouths open, after which they passed the ball around and did some shooting. Hemlock never once missed.
“How is your father?” asked Hemlock. “You said he wasn’t feeling well?”
“Oh, he’ll be okay,” said Orie. “He came home all scratched up and sweaty after work. We don’t know what happened. He’s in the tub. He wanted to talk to Mum so she sent us out to show you the barn.”
Hemlock chuckled. “Well, as I said, this is a great barn.” He started moving towards the stairs. “But look, this might not be a good time to see your dad and mother. I think I’m going to leave now and let him get some rest if he’s not feeling well. Perhaps I can stop by tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Jacqueline said, as they made their way down the stairs. “Tomorrow is his day off. Why don’t you stop by in the morning? He drops me off at school at 8:30. You can talk to him then.”
“Thank you Jacqueline,” said Hemlock. “Good manners. You know, good manners are never in bad form.”
Jacqueline giggled. “My Mom says that.”
“I know,” thought Hemlock.
Jacqueline led the group down the stairs. A few seconds later she was headed up the driveway to the house, not aware that the three others had lingered behind out of earshot. She was scanning the hillside, hoping to spot any of the wildlife that was so abundant on the property.
“Orie, Stephanie, might I have a brief word?” Hemlock paused in midstride. Orie at this precise moment was looking at the handrail that he was about to grasp. Stephanie was looking at Jacqueline as she skipped along towards the house.
All of a sudden he was dressed in his wizard’s attire. Both gasped as they took in this instantaneous transformation, but not so loudly that Jacqueline noticed.
Stephanie was the first to ask, “How did you do that?”
“While the answer to that question would be both long and interesting,” Hemlock answered, “what I must tell you now, before I go, is this. Things are almost always more than they seem at any given point in time. For example, some day you will learn that, according to the ponderings of Albert Einstein, there is absolutely no difference whatsoever between the past, the present, and the future, despite how tenaciously we all tend to cling to that illusion. But even that simple notion, despite the fact that it is the mathematical explanation for a whole lot of interesting toys I have, is sort of useless to us right now.
“Here’s the thing. I must see your Dad, and it is not because I was his old college professor. It is because I need him. I need your mother too, but I will need them for only a few brief moments. Yet the help that I hope they are willing to give me might prevent a lot of innocent people from dying. Meanwhile, because it is essential that your dad not get sicker right now, I am going to leave so he can rest. But I will be back tomorrow if you’re sure that’s satisfactory.”
Jacqueline started to turn back towards them. Instantly, Hemlock was back to wearing the same tan pants, white Oxford button-down shirt, and blue tie.
Stephanie and Orie exchanged a meaningful glance. It said, “Wow, we have got to talk this over immediately,” and, “I can’t believe this is happening,” all at once. Orie flashed their secret hand-stabbing-wrist sign for danger. She acknowledged it by nodding slightly.
“I’ve heard of Einstein,” said Stephanie. “He was a really smart man who started off as a patent clerk.”
“Excellent, Stephanie,” said Hemlock.
“You got that from ‘Ghostbusters’,” said Orie.
They exchanged goodby
es and Hemlock drove off slowly, waving out the window.
Back at the house in the kitchen, Jessica asked, “Where is Doctor Easton?”
“He left,” said Orie. “He said it wasn’t a good time to talk to Dad, him not feeling well and all, and Jacqueline invited him back tomorrow morning.”
“Hmmm,” Jessica mused.
“What is it, Mom?” asked Stephanie.
“Yeah, what is it?” echoed Jacqueline.
“Nothing, nothing. No, it’s nothing. You kids finish your homework. I have to get dinner. Right now, then. Spit-spot.”
At dinner, the kids were beside themselves relating some of the interesting magic Hemlock had displayed in the barn, like getting two balls spinning crazily and then levitating of their own accord, and opening his car door from twenty feet away. Neither Orie nor Stephanie mentioned the instant change of outfits detail.
“The second one could have been easy,” exclaimed Orie.
“Yeah, the hidden car remote,” broke in Stephanie. “We already talked about that.”
“But that other thing, the one where the balls were spinning, and then came off of the floor by themselves,” Orie continued, “that was crazy.”
“It was amazing, Mom,” said Jacqueline, “And did you notice that he kind of pointed towards the balls before they started spinning?” she asked, jousting for a contribution to the observation pool.
“No he didn’t!” Stephanie came right back. “His hands were in his pockets.”
“Exactly,” Jacqueline said. “His hands were in his pockets, but he kind of pointed through his pockets towards the balls.”
“Which hand?” asked Orie, not wanting to hurt his little sister’s feelings.
Jacqueline got up and faced the barn, gestured a bit, and sat back down.
“The right one,” she said.
There was a brief silence, except for the clattering and smacking sounds of
a meal being eaten.
Jacqueline spoke first. “Please pass the butter.”
All recoiled sharply back from the table with great gasps of surprise when
Hemlock suddenly appeared, positioned right in front of the butter, which he
