A/N: Sept 13--23 I'll be gone for my brother's wedding. Yet, he and his wife will be coming home with me before jetting off for their honeymoon. So, chapters won't be updated as quickly all through Sept. Yet, I tend to post much faster than most authors, so I don't want to hear any complaining. Got it? Good.
Chapter Eleven
The Missing Piece
Utensils clinked against plates. Fabric shuffled against wooden chairs. Leafs swooshed against the branches. Veronica sporadically scrutinized the tense couple across from her. Malone glanced at his wife with concern, sending silent messages of worry. Marguerite and Roxton ignored everything around them, staring at their plates and eating without tasting the food, but doing so in a mechanical response to the knowledge that they should be hungry: even though their stomachs felt numb.
James was already down for the night, tired from his intensely busy day of playing. Veronica was thankful for the small miracle knowing this taut dinner would be much more awkward if the little boy were intervening into Marguerite and Roxton's private worlds. They were both obviously in a state of dire depression and to be forced to interact with her toddler would have strained them beyond the point of sanity.
Finally Malone, a man of polished words and destined for a Pulitzer Award, said: "Nice weather we're having." He mentally kicked himself. Nice weather? NICE WEATHER? Good God…
Roxton mumbled an agreement.
Marguerite didn't even blink.
Veronica smiled sympathetically at her husband's failed attempts.
Silence fell between them.
Then they all jolted, the sound of the elevator activating startling all of them out of their reveries. Veronica leapt to her feet and dashed over, anxious to see who the intruder could possibly be. As the lift's occupant came into view, Veronica squealed and jumped into his arms, throwing them off balanced.
"Well, Veronica, it is good to see you, too, child." He staggered back then, squeezed her before releasing her and stepping off of the elevator. He nodded his head at the other three who were now standing and staring at him in shock. "Hello."
Roxton stepped forward, clapping the older man on the back. "It's good to see you, George." Without hesitation, he gave his dear friend a quick hug.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Challenger said apologetically. "I had to give a lecture for Parliament or risk loosing my grant," he professed somewhat ashamedly. "I know it's a poor excuse, but I also didn't have the money to make the trip; the university was late sending out the paychecks this month. I feel terrible I wasn't here."
"It's all right, George. We understand." Roxton moved aside so that Marguerite could embrace the professor. "You know, George," Roxton went on, "I appreciate you could make it at all."
After embracing Marguerite and placing a father-like kiss on her cheek, he looked back at the hunter. "I would have eventually found away no matter what. Finn sends her condolences. She's enrolled in a class she can't get away from. It was horrible hearing that Christopher Burns had failed, but the bugger only had his own interests at heart."
"Whatever do you mean," Roxton inquired, his eyes naturally narrowing as they frequently did.
"To alleviate his own guilt, of course. And undoubtedly to win world-wide fame for his achievement if he had succeeded."
"What do you mean: "alleviate his own guilt"?"
Challenger glanced between Marguerite and Roxton, his expression baffled and slightly grave. How was it that they didn't know? Bracing himself for the blow he was about to give them, he took a deep and said: "I heard through the grape vine that he felt secretly obliged to your family."
"Why," Marguerite asked suspiciously. They had only met the doctor once before he approached them at the dock and it was at Adam's funeral. He had told them that he was a friend of the Roxtons.
"You really don't know?"
"Know what?"
"He's the one who killed Adam."
End Chapter Eleven
Spirita: I don't know. I can sometimes be a pretty crazy person! I'm thrilled you like this so much. Velma-K-o: I hope you don't mind that I abbreviated your name. Anyway, I understand what you mean about feeling like your Marguerite. I've read stories that made me feel the character's pain, too. And I'm so honored that you seriously feel that I'm your favorite author. You have no idea how that makes me feel. I honestly started writing Lost World fanfic fearing that no one would like what I had to offer. LoveMR: I hope you aren't getting tired of hearing this, but THANK YOU. Zeusfluff: I appreciate the compliments. And everyone keeps telling me it's "sad" and I'm jumping with joy: it's what I was shooting for. SierraSunshine: Lol. One of these days you should just cry at the computer and see what your roommates do. TheChosenOne3: I understand and appreciate your anger toward the drunken bastard. I want people to hate him! E1stwin: Wow. I mean wow. I didn't know fans of the story were so devoted to check multiple times a day for updates. Thank you for letting me know. It makes me want to write all the more!