Acceptable Risk

10

Friday, August 26, 1994

The latter days of August flew by. Work continued at the compound at a furious rate, particularly at the lab, where Edward already spent most of his time. Pieces of scientific equipment were arriving on a daily basis, causing a flurry of effort to get them properly housed, installed, and shielded, if necessary.

Edward was a whirlwind of activity, wearing many hats. One minute he was an architect, the next an electronics engineer, and finally a general contractor as he single-handedly directed the emergence of the lab. The drain on his time was enormous, and as a consequence he devoted even less time to his duties at Harvard.

The conflicting demands as a researcher and a teacher came to a head due to actions of one of Edward’s postdocs. He’d had the temerity to complain to the Harvard administration about Edward’s lack of availability. When Edward heard, he’d become furious and dismissed the student summarily.

The problem did not end there. The student was equally incensed and again sought redress from the administration. The administration contacted Edward, but he refused to apologize or accept the student back into his lab. As a result, relations between Edward and the administration became increasingly acrimonious.

To add to Edward’s headaches, the Harvard Licensing Office got wind of his involvement in Omni. It also had heard a disturbing rumor of a patent application on a new class of molecules. In response, the licensing office had sent a slew of inquiry letters, which Edward chose to ignore.

Harvard found itself in a difficult situation. The university did not want to lose Edward, one of the brightest rising stars of postmodern biochemistry. At the same time, the university could not let a bad situation get worse since principles as well as precedents were involved.

The tension was taking its toll on Edward, especially when combined with the stresses of the excitement of Omni, the promise of Ultra, and the daily problems at the construction site.

Kim was aware of the escalating pressures and attempted to compensate by trying to make Edward’s life a little bit easier. She’d begun staying at his apartment most evenings, where she’d assumed more domestic responsibility without being asked: fixing dinner, feeding Edward’s dog, and even doing some cleaning and laundry.

Unfortunately, Edward was slow to recognize Kim’s efforts. The flowers had stopped as soon as she began staying at Edward’s on a regular basis, a cessation she thought was reasonable. But she missed the attentiveness they represented.

As Kim left work on Friday, August 26, she pondered the situation. Adding to the stress was the fact that she and Edward had not yet made moving plans even though both of them had to be out of their respective apartments in five days. Kim had been afraid to raise the issue with Edward until he’d had a less-stressful day. The problem was, he didn’t have any.

Kim stopped at the Bread and Circus grocery store and bought food for dinner. She picked something she was confident Edward would particularly like. She even got a bottle of wine as a treat.

When Kim got to Edward’s apartment she picked up magazines and newspapers and generally straightened up. She fed the dog. Then she made the dinner and had it ready for seven, which was when Edward had told her he’d be home.

Seven came and went. Kim turned off the heat from the rice. At seven-thirty she covered the salad with plastic wrap and put it into the refrigerator. Finally at eight Edward walked in.

“Damn it all to hell!” he said as he kicked the door closed. “I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said about your contractor. The guy is an ass. I could have hit him this afternoon. He promised me there’d be electricians there today and there weren’t.”

Kim told him what they were having for dinner. He grunted and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. Kim heated up the rice in the microwave.

“The goddamn lab could be functional in no time if these lunkheads would get their act together,” Edward yelled from inside the bathroom.

Kim poured two glasses of wine. She carried them into the bedroom and handed one to Edward as he emerged from the bathroom. He took it and sipped it.

“All I want to do is to get started on a controlled investigation of Ultra,” he said. “It seems that everybody wants to thwart me by putting obstacles in my way.”

“This might not be the best time to bring this up,” Kim said hesitantly, “but there’s never a good time. We still don’t have any formal moving plans, and the first of the month is almost here. I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a couple of weeks.”

Edward exploded. In a moment of uncontrolled fury he hurled his full wineglass into the fireplace, where it shattered, and yelled: “The last thing I need is pressure from you!”

Edward hovered over Kim. His eyes had dilated and his veins stood out on his temples. His jaw muscles were quivering and he was clasping and unclasping his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Kim blurted. For a moment she didn’t move. She was terrified. She’d not seen this side of Edward. As big as he was, she knew his strength and guessed what he could do to her if he were inclined.

As soon as she could, Kim ran from the room. She went into the kitchen and busied herself. As soon as the immediate shock lessened, she decided to leave. Turning from the stove, she started toward the living room and the front door, but she immediately stopped. Edward was in the doorway. To Kim’s relief, his face was totally transformed; instead of rage it reflected confusion, even sadness.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His stutter made getting the words out an ordeal. “I don’t know what came over me. I guess it’s been the pressure, although that’s not an adequate excuse. I’m embarrassed. Forgive me.”

Kim was immediately taken by his sincerity. She stepped over to him and they hugged. Then they went into the living room and sat on the couch.

“I’m finding this period terribly frustrating,” he said. “Harvard is driving me crazy, and I desperately want to get back to work on Ultra. Eleanor has been continuing work on the drug as best she can and is getting continually good results. It’s aggravating not to be able to help her, but the last thing I want to do is take my frustrations out on you.”

“I’ve been on edge as well,” Kim admitted. “Moving has always made me nervous. On top of that I’m afraid this Elizabeth thing has become something of an obsession.”

“I certainly haven’t been giving you any support,” Edward said. “I’m sorry about that too. Let’s make a pact to be more sensitive to each other.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Kim said.

“I should have said something about moving myself,” Edward said. “It’s not solely your responsibility. When do you want to move?”

“We have to be out of our apartments by the first of September,” Kim said.

“So how about the thirty-first?” Edward said.

Wednesday, August 31, 1994

Moving day was hectic from the first hours of daylight when Kim got up. The van arrived at Kim’s apartment at seven-thirty and loaded her things first. Then it went to Cambridge to get Edward’s belongings. By the time the last chair was put in, the truck was full.

Kim and Edward drove to the compound in their own cars, with their own pets. When they arrived, Sheba and Buffer met for the first time. Since they were approximately the same size, the confrontation ended in a standoff. From then on they ignored each other.

As the movers began bringing things into the cottage, Edward surprised Kim by suggesting they take separate bedrooms.

“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.

Looking back at the diary, Kim searched for a record of Elizabeth’s first meeting with Ronald. She found it on 22 October 1681, a day of sunshine and falling leaves.

I met today in our common room Mr. Ronald Stewart who proposes to be my husband. He is older than I supposed and has already a young daughter from a wife who died with the pox. He appears to be a good man, strong of mind and body albeit a hint of a choleric disposition when he heard that the Polks, our neighbors to the north had been attacked two nights before. He insists we move forthwith in our sundry plans.

Kim felt a twinge of guilt concerning some of her earlier suspicions of Ronald with this revelation of the cause of Ronald’s first wife’s death. Flipping ahead in the diary to 1690, Kim read more about fears of smallpox and Indian raids. Elizabeth wrote that the pox was rampant in Boston and that devastating raids from the red savages were occurring a mere fifty miles north of Salem.

Kim shook her head in awe. Reading about such tribulations brought to mind Edward’s remarks about how tenuous life’s threads were back in the seventeenth century. It had to have been a difficult and stressful life.

The sound of the door banging open startled Kim. She looked up to see Edward and Stanton returning from their visit to the nearly complete lab. Edward was carrying blueprints.

“This place looks as bad as when I left,” Edward said in a disgruntled tone of voice. He was looking for a spot to put down his plans. “What have you been doing, Kim?”

“I’ve had a wonderful bit of luck,” Kim said excitedly. She scraped back her chair and brought the notebook over to Edward. “I found Elizabeth’s diary!”

“Here in the cottage?” Edward asked with surprise.

“No, in the castle,” Kim said.

“I think we should be making more progress getting the house in order before you go back to your paper chase,” Edward said. “You’ll have the whole month to indulge yourself up there.”

“This is something even you will find fascinating,” Kim said, ignoring Edward’s remarks. She carefully opened the notebook to the last entry. Handing it to Edward and indicating the passage, she told him to read.

Edward put his blueprints on the game table Kim had been using. As he read the entry his face gradually changed from vexation to surprised interest.

“You’re right,” he said eagerly. He gave the book to Stanton.

Kim told them both to be more careful with it.

“That will make a great introduction to the article I plan to write for Science or Nature about the scientific causes of the afflictions in the Salem witch trials,” Edward said. “It’s perfect. She even talks specifically about using the rye. And the description of the hallucinations is right on target. Putting that diary entry together with the results of the mass spec on her brain sample closes the case. It’s elegant.”

“You’re not writing an article about the new mold until the patent situation is more secure,” Stanton said. “We’re not about to take any chances so you can amuse yourself with your research colleagues.”

“Of course I won’t,” Edward said. “What do you think I am? An economic two-year-old?”

“You said it, I didn’t,” Stanton said.

Kim took the diary from Stanton and pointed out to Edward the part about Elizabeth teaching others to make dolls. She asked him if he thought that was significant.

“You mean in relation to the missing evidence?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Hard to say,” Edward said. “I suppose it is a little suspicious… You know, I’m famished. What about you, Stanton? Could you eat something?”

“I can always eat,” Stanton said.

“How about it, Kim?” Edward said. “How about throwing something together. Stanton and I still have a lot to go over.”

“I’m hardly set up for entertaining,” Kim said. She’d not even ventured to glance into the kitchen.

“Then order in,” Edward said. He began unrolling his blueprints. “We’re not picky.”

“Speak for yourself,” Stanton said.

“I suppose I could make some spaghetti,” Kim said as she mentally reviewed what she’d need. The one room that was reasonably organized was the dining room; before the renovation it had been the old kitchen. The dining table and chairs and breakfront were all in place.

“Spaghetti would be perfect,” Edward said. He had Stanton hold the blueprints while he weighted the corners with books.

With a sigh of relief, Kim slipped between her crisp, clean sheets for her first night’s rest in the cottage. From the moment she’d started making the spaghetti to a half hour previously when she’d stepped into the shower, she’d not stopped working. There was still a lot to do, but the house was in reasonable order. Edward had worked equally as hard once Stanton finally left.

Kim lifted Elizabeth’s diary off her night table. She fully intended to read more of it, but as she lay back into her bed, she became aware of the sounds of the night. The most notable was the remarkably loud symphony of nocturnal insects and frogs that inhabited the surrounding forest, marshes, and fields. There were also the gentle creaks from the aged house as it radiated off the heat absorbed during the day. Finally there was the subtle moan of the breeze from the Danvers River wafting through the casement windows.

As her mind calmed, Kim realized that the mild anxiety she’d felt when she’d first arrived at the house that afternoon still lingered. It had merely been overwhelmed by her subsequent intense activity. Although Kim guessed there were several sources of her unease, one was obvious: Edward’s unexpected request to sleep apart. Although she understood his point of view better now than when the subject had first come up, Kim was still disturbed and disappointed.

Putting Elizabeth’s diary aside, Kim climbed back out of bed. Sheba flashed her an exasperated look, since she’d been fast asleep. Kim slipped her feet into her mules and crossed to Edward’s bedroom. His door was slightly ajar and his light was still on. Kim pushed the door open only to be confronted by a deep growl from Buffer. Kim gritted her teeth; she was learning to dislike the ungrateful mutt.

“Is there a problem?” Edward asked. He was propped up in bed with the lab blueprints spread around him.

“Only that I miss you,” Kim said. “Are you sure about this idea of sleeping apart? I’m feeling lonely, and it’s not very romantic to say the least.”

Edward beckoned her over. He cleared the bed of the plans and patted the edge for her to sit down.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It is all my fault. I take full responsibility. But I still think it is best for now. I’m like a piano wire about to break. I even lost my cool with Stanton, as you saw.”

Kim nodded while examining her hands tucked into her lap. Edward reached out and raised her chin.

“Are you OK?” he asked.

Kim nodded again, yet she was struggling with her emotions. She guessed she was overtired.

“It’s been a long day,” Edward said.

“I guess I also feel a little uneasy,” Kim said.

“What about?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Kim admitted. “I suppose it has something to do with what happened to Elizabeth and with this being Elizabeth’s house. I can’t forget the fact that some of my genes are also Elizabeth’s genes. Anyway, I sense her presence.”

“You’re exhausted,” Edward reminded her. “When you’re tired your imagination can do crazy things. Besides, this is a new place and that’s bound to upset you to a degree. After all, we’re all creatures of habit.”

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” Kim said, “but it’s not all.”

“Now don’t start getting weird on me,” Edward said with a chuckle. “I mean, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you?”

“I never have in the past, but now I’m not so sure.”

“You’re kidding?”

Kim laughed at his seriousness. “Of course I’m kidding,” she said. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but I am changing my opinion about the supernatural. The way I found Elizabeth’s diary gives me chills when I think about it. I’d just hung up Elizabeth’s portrait when I felt compelled to go back to the castle. And once I got there I didn’t have to look very hard. It was in the first trunk I opened.”

“People get a sense of the supernatural just being here in Salem,” Edward said with a laugh of his own. “It has to do with that old witchcraft nonsense. But if you want to believe some mystical force guided you up to the castle, that’s fine. Just don’t ask me to subscribe to it.”

“How else can you explain what happened?” Kim said fervently. “Prior to today I’d spent thirty-plus hours without so much as finding something from the sixteen hundreds much less Elizabeth’s diary. What made me look in that specific trunk?”

“OK!” Edward said soothingly. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. Calm down. I’m on your side.”

“I’m sorry,” Kim said. “I didn’t mean to get all worked up. I just came in here to tell you that I missed you.”

After a lingering goodnight kiss, Kim left Edward to his blueprints and stepped from the room. After closing Edward’s door she was bathed in moonlight coming through the half-bath window. From where she was standing she could see the black brooding mass of the castle silhouetted against the night sky. She shuddered; the scene reminded her of the backdrop of classic Dracula movies which used to terrify her as a teenager.

After descending the dark, enclosed staircase that took a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, Kim navigated through a sea of empty boxes that filled the foyer Stepping into the parlor, she looked up at Elizabeth’s portrait. Even in the dark Kim could see Elizabeth’s green eyes glowing as if they had an inner light.

“What are you trying to tell me?” Kim whispered to the painting. The instant she’d looked at it the feeling that Elizabeth was trying to give her a message came back in a rush along with a clear understanding that whatever the message was, it wasn’t in the diary. The diary was only a tease to goad Kim to further effort.

A sudden movement out of the corner of Kim’s eye brought a stifled scream to her lips, and her heart leaped in her chest. She raised her arms by reflex to protect herself, but then quickly lowered them. It was only Sheba leaping onto the game table.

Kim supported herself for a moment against the table. Her other hand was over her chest. She was embarrassed about the degree of her terror. It also indicated to her how tense she really was.