Dead and Gone

by Tina Glasneck

  She walked over and undid the straps that bound my legs to the bed. “You must have been more tired than you said you were. You slept all the way here.” She handed me my gloves. I slipped them back on.

  “On the way to the airport, what was so funny that made you laugh?”

  “When Lance mentioned that Lawrence came to the research lab last year. You’d laugh too if you saw him in the ridiculous wig he wears when he’s pretending to be his father. I have to keep my lips together so a snort doesn’t accidently escape in front of a student.”

  “Need any help getting into the car?” Brett asked me, entering the cabin.

  “No. I’m fine.” I sat up and felt the plane spinning.

  Brett gripped my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Is the plane moving?”

  “No.”

  “It feels like it’s going in circles,” I said, gasping for air.

  “Lance thought you might be a little dizzy when you woke up. The pills he gave you were powerful. He said it should wear off in fifteen or twenty minutes.”

  “He’s got to stop giving me poison. Where is he, by the way?” I held onto the railing of the bed as I stood and regained my equilibrium.

  “He’s outside, giving instructions,” Brett answered

  Brett tried to hold onto my arm as I headed to the door. I pushed his hand away. “I am quite capable of getting out of here by myself.”

  “Your feet don’t hurt?”

  “Not now,” I said, moving down the airplane stairs in my sock-covered feet.

  Brett opened the back door of a black limo. “Crussetts aren’t the only ones who have limos,” he said, smiling as he closed the door behind me.

  Lance got in on the other side and motioned to the driver to leave.

  “Aren’t Brett and Lindsey coming with us?” I asked.

  “No. They’re going to the clinic in the ambulance to help unload.”

  “I’ve had enough hospital food and their antiseptic ambience. Just drop me off at a hotel. I’ll call and let you know if I decide to become a Tegen.”

  Lance’s eyes flitted across my face. “Wouldn’t you rather stay at my house instead?”

  “That’s an option?” I asked, feeling surprised.

  “I hadn’t planned on taking you to the clinic.”

  “Okay,” I said as my curiosity piqued about his house, and I wondered if it was the same place he lived with my biological mother. “Your house will be acceptable.”

  “Hattie has everything set up for you. She’s a Tegen, so you can talk freely around her. Most of the people who work at the clinic aren’t. My driver is not a Tegen.”

  After what Lindsey told me about Hattie, I was anxious to meet her since she had known my mother. “Is there any way Tegens can identify each other?”

  “Yes. Tegens’ arms contain special glands. By stroking each others’ arms, pheromones are secreted that we use to recognize each other.”

  My eyes popped wide open. “Is it poisonous?”

  “No, and the pheromones are only secreted if the arm is touched by another Tegen’s hand.”

  Gazing at Lance, I asked, “What would you like me to call you?”

  “Do you believe now that Jennifer and I are your parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’d like you to call me ‘Father’ or ‘Dad’. If that makes you uncomfortable, you can just continue to call me Lance.”

  Could I call this stranger father? “I don’t know. Let me think about it.”

  “Do whatever you want.”

  The limo stopped in front of a large metal gate. It opened for us. We drove in and through a heavy wooded area. The trees began to thin out. They still lined both sides of the driveway. We went around two curves and stopped in front of a stunning mansion that looked like something out of Gone with the Wind. Not what I expected in the woods near Bismarck. The exterior of the gorgeous southern colonial was white stone with a deep portico and round columns. The large windows were flanked with deep green shutters. I continued staring at the house until the driver opened the door.

  Lance got out first. “Take the luggage upstairs. Hattie will tell you where to put Sara’s.” He made it sound like I had more than one small suitcase. A woman with long black hair stood next to the front door as I entered the house.

  “You should try to stay off your feet,” she said, motioning me to sit on the cushioned bench in the foyer. I recognized the woman from Billings. She was the one who looked like a model. She had escorted me into the woods.

  “Put Miss Jones’ luggage in the corner bedroom overlooking the backyard,” she said to the limo driver. She walked closer and embraced me in her arms, taking me by surprise.

  “Sara, this is Hattie,” Lance said.

  “I’m so glad you’ve come,” Hattie said, smiling as she stroked my arm.

  “So am I,” I said, smiling back.

  “I knew your mother,” she said with trembling lips. “You look just like her.” Her eyes glistened.

  Lance glanced at her for a minute, then turned and looked at me with a solemn expression on his face. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Marie has everything set up out on the terrace,” Hattie said. “Marie is Lance’s housekeeper.”

  Lance led me through a tastefully decorated and elegant living room filled with what appeared to be priceless antiques. I wanted to stop and admire the furnishings, but I continued at his pace. We walked across the dining room floor to the terrace. I smelled lilacs when we went outside. The terrace was bursting with flowers framed by a lilac bush on each side. More lilac bushes surrounded the outer edge of the lawn; a cluster was on a small hill. The table had been set with a bowl of sliced fruit, lunch meats, cheeses, and breads. Lance pulled out a chair for me.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” I said, feeling amazed.

  “Thank you, but I can’t take credit for it,” Lance said. “Your mother decided what she wanted. The gardener planted everything according to her specifications. Every gardener has kept the yard looking exactly the same.”

  “I love the smell of lilacs,” I said, putting fruit on my plate.

  “Lilacs were your mother’s favorite flower,” Hattie said.

  Lance looked at Hattie. “They’re also Sara’s favorite.”

  She smiled at me. “I guess it isn’t just your mother’s looks you’ve inherited.”

  After lunch, Lance rose to his feet. “I need to check on some patients at the clinic. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “This will give me a chance to show Sara the house,” Hattie said.

  “She needs to rest, so make it quick,” Lance said.

  Hattie nodded as he left.

  “Do you want anything else to eat or drink before we get started?” Hattie asked.

  “No. I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  I walked by her side into the kitchen. It had a breakfast nook that looked out into the garden. Marie, a middle-aged, dark skinned, stocky woman, was loading the dishwasher. She immediately stopped when she saw us.

  “Sara, I’d like you to meet Marie,” Hattie said.

  “I’m happy to make your acquaintance, Marie,” I said, smiling at her.

  “Marie, this is Sara Jones, Dr. Alston’s house guest.”

  “Miss Jones, let me know if there is anything I can do to make your visit here more comfortable,” Marie said.

  “Thank you. I appreciate your kind offer.”

  “The door over there,” Hattie pointed to one in the corner of the kitchen, “leads to Marie’s apartment.”

  We left the kitchen and went into a game room; in the middle stood a pool table. Cherry wood covered the bottom half of all the walls. At one end of the room was a large fireplace.

  “How long has Marie been working for him?” I asked, wondering how he handled the no-aging issue.

  “She’s been here for five or six years. Lance can’t keep any employees longer than ten years. He tries not to get
very close to any of them. He sometimes has to come up with some pretty elaborate excuses why their services are no longer needed.

  “That’s a problem all Tegens have to face. We can’t work and be friends with someone who isn’t a Tegen for more than ten or fifteen years at the most. We can’t tell them why we don’t age. It’s been an extra difficult problem for your father since he’s renowned in his field, and he loves what he does. I love it too, but I’m not in the same visible position that he is. Sometimes I’ve had to leave the clinic for a few years and work in a hospital. I try not to be very friendly with anyone who isn’t a Tegen.”

  Her eyes moved to the pool table. “Do you know how to play pool?”

  “Yes. I’m not very good.”

  “I’m sure your father will teach you all his tricks. He’s good.”

  “He seems to be good at everything except conversation.”

  Hattie didn’t comment as she led me into the den. It also had cherry wood on all the walls, including the two with bookcases that reached the ceiling. The desk had carvings that ran along the edge and down the legs. On one side of the room was a grand fireplace. Above it hung a painting of my biological mother. My eyes welled up with tears as I thought about her letter and saw her warm smile. She seemed so happy.

  Hattie put her arm around my shoulders. I didn’t say anything as I stared at the painting and breathed deeply, trying to calm down. “Do you live here?” I asked.

  “No. I have a house close to the clinic, but I’ll be staying here for a while. Your father doesn’t want you left alone.”

  I wanted to tell her I could take care of myself. Right now, because of the pain I had experienced in my hands and feet, I wasn’t sure if I could. “I’m surprised that a house like this exists in Bismarck.”

  “Lawrence Alston had it built over a hundred years ago. Your father is the original owner.” She took my arm and we walked into the living room.

  The fireplace covered almost an entire wall. Above the mantel was a painting of Lance and my mother. They were holding hands and smiling. It was strange to see Lance so happy. “I’ve never seen Lance smile before,” I said.

  “He seldom does anymore. He used to smile all the time. Sometimes that painting is put in temporary storage and replaced with a landscape for obvious reasons. Marie and her helpers have commented about how much Lance looks like his father. They’ve never suspected they are the same person. In the upstairs hallway is a fake picture of Lawrence looking like he’s in his sixties.”

  “Where do they believe Lawrence is living?”

  “If anyone asks, we say he lives in Montana. We also tell them that he wants his privacy. We don’t give an exact address.”

  We moved into the dining room. Ten chairs stood around the ornate table with additional chairs against a wall. There were two large buffets on two of the walls. In this room, a mirror hung above the fireplace.

  “All of the furniture was purchased by your father right after the house was built,” Hattie said. “Now everyone would call them antiques. They weren’t back then. Let me show you the upstairs.”

  We strolled into the large foyer. Hattie held gently onto my arm as we slowly went up a large, ornate, curved stairwell. Upstairs, we strolled along a massive hallway toward oak double doors at the end.

  She stopped before she reached those doors and opened one on the right side of the hallway. “This is a guest bedroom,” she said. The décor blended with the rest of the house, and against the far wall stood a canopy bed. “All of the bedrooms have a bathroom attached.” She opened the bathroom door. Next to the sink was a small table that had some personal toiletries on it along with a comb and brush.

  “Is this the bedroom you’re staying in?”

  “No,” she said, reluctantly. “Has Lindsey told you anything about her relationship with your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “She sometimes stays in this room. That’s her stuff.”

  “According to what Lindsey said, I thought they were more than friends.”

  “They are, but,” she hesitated, “your father would never sleep with another woman in the bed he shared with your mother. Lindsey knows that.”

  Wanting to know more about Hattie, I asked. “Do you have a boyfriend or someone special in your life?”

  “Yes,” she said, beaming. “Rex. He owns the house you stayed in when you were in Billings.”

  “Is he a petroleum engineer?”

  “Yes. He was my handler. That was when he was a doctor. Tegens often change their profession. We have opportunities to go back to school.”

  We left that room, and she opened the double doors. “This is the master bedroom.” In the center of the right wall was a giant, rosewood, 4-poster bed with carvings on all of the posts and the headboard. A large picture of my mother hung above the fireplace. On the nightstand was also a picture of her. French doors opened up to a balcony.

  I walked outside and saw it overlooked the backyard. “This is a great view,” I said, looking at the lilacs. “Is there something past the bushes on the hill?”

  “Just the woods.” She fidgeted with her fingers. “Why?”

  “The lilac bushes look wonderful. They just don’t seem to line up with the others.”

  She laid her hand on my shoulder. “That’s where your mother is buried. Your father always wanted her to be close to him.”

  A dreadful grief rolled over me. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. My mother. The woman that gave me life. The woman I didn’t even know existed until a few days ago. Tears were trickling down my cheeks when I heard Hattie sniffling.

  “Lance won’t like it if he comes back and we’re both crying,” she said as she wiped my cheeks with her hand. Hattie went into the bathroom and came back with a handful of tissues. We dried our faces. She flushed the used tissues down the toilet.

  “Let me show you the other bedrooms.” We stepped out into the hallway and she opened the next door. It was a nursery, ready for a baby.

  “Your mother wanted everything to appear to be normal.” She walked over and opened another door. “It connects to a room where a nanny would stay.” Hattie stood quietly and looked around the room. “The women at work gave her a baby shower. She glowed just like any expectant mother. She was happy.”

  I noticed the unused baby toys, the rocking chair that was never used to rock a baby to sleep, unwrinkled linens and blankets lined the bottom of the cradle, and infant shoes stood on top of a dresser. Next to them I saw a picture and went closer. It must have been taken right after I was born; Mother was holding me. She did look happy. On the table by the cradle was a picture of Lance, Mother, and me. They were smiling.

  “Your father was able to keep your mother alive for almost a day after you were born,” she said in a solemn tone. “We always have spiders with us. Your father worried that your mother could accidentally be bitten. He invented a vaccine just for her. I’m sure that helped keep her alive. He also had her hooked up to equipment. She wanted to see you.”

  “Who took the pictures?”

  “I did.”

  I wondered if Lance was keeping all the baby things as a shrine to my mother’s memory. “Will this room always remain a nursery?”

  “Maybe now your father will think about changing it back. I don’t think it’s good for him to have that constant reminder.”

  She was right. He should change it back. There will never be a baby in this house.

  “You need to get off your feet.” She then showed me to my room.

  It was a corner room with a canopy bed. The balcony overlooked the backyard. The windows on the other wall faced the woods. I opened the door to the bathroom. My toiletries were lying on the table next to the sink. “Did someone unpack my suitcase?”

  “Yes. Lance had Marie unpack it. He wanted you to be able to relax.” She looked at me. “You’re not upset about that, are you?”

  “No. I didn’t have anything in it that she shouldn’t see. I never packed my
suitcase. I only found out what was in it when I got dressed this morning.”

  “Who packed it for you?” she asked with a puzzled expression.

  “Conner,” I replied, certain she knew who he was. I opened the closet door. There were nightgowns hanging in it. “Who do these belong to?”

  “All but one was your mother’s. Your father didn’t want you to wear hospital gowns while you were here.”

  “Which one wasn’t?”

  “The black one.”

  I held it up. The fabric was soft. It was nicely tailored with long sleeves. “Did my father buy me a black nightgown?”

  “Yes.”

  How strange. “I am getting tired.”

  “Why don’t you put on one of the nightgowns and take a nap?”

  “I’ll wear the black gown.”

  “No,” she replied in a firm tone.

  “Why not?”

  “Well.” She paused. “I’ll explain after you’re in bed.”

  I took off my clothes, slipped on a light blue nightgown, and climbed under the covers. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Hattie pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. “The black gown is to be worn to the Tegen Cave, if you decide to join us.”

  “Does everyone wear black when they go there?”

  “Yes. Tegens can see in the dark. Black doesn’t stand out. It’s more of a relaxing color. That’s also the color our spiders like.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t have any proof that’s what they like. It’s part of the information passed down over the years. Lindsey did tell you about Sir Randolph, didn’t she?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know all of his documents were destroyed in the Chicago fire of 1871. Tegens just know about the color black through word of mouth. None of us want to take a chance of being unwelcome when we go to the cave, so we wear black.” She rose to her feet. “Now it’s time for you to sleep.”

  “No. Please stay. I’d like to ask you some questions about my mother.”

  She smiled as she sat back down. “Okay, just for a few minutes. What do you want to know?”

  “What was she like? How did she meet my father?”

  “She was warm, kind, loving, and as pretty as can be. I think your father fell in love with her the first time he saw her. He was looking for a registered nurse. Your mom had just graduated. She applied for the job along with twenty others. You see, Lawrence is very famous in his field. His clinic is known all over the world. Everyone who applied wanted to work for Lawrence Alston. Your mother just wanted a job. The other applicants had years of experience. All your mom had was a degree, but she had completed an internship at the local hospital. She was so nervous, looking at the floor. Lawrence raised her chin and asked her name. She only gave him her first name, Jennifer. He asked her if she had a last name. She blushed and said yes. Then he waited for her to say it. After a noticeable pause, he asked her, ‘What is your last name’?” Hattie smiled. “You should have seen the way he looked at her—absolutely adoringly.”