All The Way
Chapter 36
On the veranda…..
Eliot Stokes moved the cup of hot tea back and forth between his hands, stopping to flex and inspect his stiff hands and fingertips. Herb had walked by and tossed a pad of drawing paper and a box of charcoal on the table before disappearing into the kitchen. Pulling Herb's tweedy gray sweater together against the cool evening air, he decided to humor his friend by leaning in and positioning the drawing pad at an angle and slipping a stick from the box. Moving the charcoal between his fingers, staring ahead, he thought of Hallie. Slowly touching the charcoal to the paper, attempting to create the vision in his mind, his fingers felt awkward, inflexible, as though his eyes and fingers were no longer connected.
My fingers feel like clumsy stubs!
Flexing, he tried again to gain control of the charcoal, his face showing his frustration as he took the drawing paper and roughly pulled it from the pad. Tossing the charcoal, he angrily balled the paper and tossed it across the table. Frustrated fingers massaged his temples, not noticing Osmond walking by and staring at the blank drawing paper.
Stokes' eyes grew moist realizing his failed attempt with the art materials paled in comparison to the dexterity he would need to play his violin. Would he ever be able to play again, would his fingers always feel this awkward and disconnected? The pounding in his head increased, feeling ill, he rose from the table.
Eliot's face turned pale and his friend moved to his side. "Should I get Julia?"
Stokes waved his hand in dismissal, turned, and returned to his room. Herb followed at a distance till his friend had entered his room and closed the door.
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Later that evening…..
Sitting on the veranda, Herb played the congenial host, making small talk, letting them know the university had decided the site would be closed until a safety audit could clear the site for the following spring.
Osmund moved the food around his plate and watched his companions solemnly doing the same until the phone rang deep within the house. Anxiously, the trio looked to the interior of the house and heard Amorita's footsteps echoing on the tile floor, then the ringing ceased. Quietly, the housekeeper approached the table, a grave expression on her face.
"Professor Stokes, the hospital would like to speak with you concerning Senorita Hallie."
Wordlessly, the professor placed his napkin on the table and departed for the interior of the house as Julia and Herb exchanged worried looks.
Julia toyed with her food momentarily before rising from the table to join Eliot in the living room. She found him on the couch leaning on his knees, head cradled in his hand quietly listening. Julia sat next to him and patiently waited. Stokes heaved a weary sigh then straightened.
"Thank you for calling. Good-night."
He hung up the phone and leaned back against the couch pillows, the glow of the nearby lamp bathing him in amber. Julia studied the traces of gray in his pencil thin moustache and the gleam of his silver hair tied back with a leather thong. The lines of stress and strain were forming lines on his smooth, patrician face. Her professor seemed to have aged in just a few days. She gently touched his arm before she spoke. Stokes turned to face her with dark and fathomless blue-gray eyes.
"What is it, Eliot?"
Since the cliff top ordeal, their conversations and emotions were closely guarded. Eliot had replayed their exchange on the cliff over and over and felt he had made a grave error in telling Julia his feelings for her. In the cave they had talked freely… their conversations now... strained and awkward.
Of course, she would feel awkward, if she didn't love him. What could she say to him? How could she tell him? And his darling, Hallie, would she remain lost to him. All the important things in his life…..his little girl,…..art…..music…and Julia…..all were slipping away. Nervously, he moved his fingers and heaved a sigh.
"They want to release Hallie tomorrow afternoon. They feel they've done all they can do. They believe being here with us will help her."
Julia pursed her lips. "Perhaps I should speak with the doctor. There may be other means available." The physician reached for the phone.
Eliot placed his hand across the phone and his look stopped her.
"Julia," The professor spoke firmly, "you must accept that sometimes science does not have all the answers. I had hoped your meddling with nature experience would remind you of its limitations."
Julia stood, walked to the center of the room, arms folded across her chest, and grew increasingly annoyed… annoyed that he would bring up the unfortunate situation with Adam. Lang's experiment had been their only hope for Barnabas. She had done her best, the consequences were totally unexpected and beyond her control.
Nervously, she began to pace, waving her hands as she spoke. "I need to speak with the lab technicians. I want to know the cocktail of compounds in that powder. Surely, by now they have narrowed down the pharmacological family, the…."
Stokes interrupted. "Julia, tomorrow afternoon Hallie will be released. We will bring her here and begin the recovery. We will love and care for her."
The physician watched as Eliot slowly rose and returned to the table where Herb waited. Julia felt her eyes welling up. Sheriff Winslow's words wormed their ways through her thoughts.
"You are either lying or the most incompetent doctor I've ever met."
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Julia was relieved the evening meal was over and she could retire to her room. Dropping the towel, she slipped the silky material over her head and pulled the straps across her white shoulders. The gown was a pale green with an empire waist and flowing skirt. She stared into the mirror admiring how the thin fabric of the gown clung to her body. The cut of the bodice revealed the soft curve of her small breasts and flat abdomen. Again, the garment was not something she would select for herself; it was far too revealing.
Pulling the hem to her thigh, she inspected her legs and chuckled.
One evening as they dressed, Diane stared at her, waving a cigarette in one hand, a glass of bourbon in the other, she quipped. 'You know kiddo; you've got a great pair of legs.'
Dropping the hem she picked up the matching robe with its lacy trim. The nightgown was no doubt another part of Patrice's wardrobe. Amorita, the housekeeper, seemed as pleased as Herb to see her wear the clothing and continued to supply her with garments.
Running her fingers across the lacey lapel, she thought of Herb, the widower. On first impression, he didn't seem to be a sentimental man who would store his late wife's clothing. During the tour of his home, Herb proudly shared many framed photos of their lives as a happy couple and spoke of their courtship and life together. The photos of Patrice closely resembled a younger version of her own mother. She understood Herb's loss. After all these years, she still grieved for her parents and wished they were still a part of her life.
Stepping back from the mirror, she checked to make sure the door to her bedroom was locked before walking to the side of her bed and picking up her right boot. Julia's fingers moved to the toe and pulled out a white cloth. Carefully, the cloth was unwrapped revealing a crusty, reddish brown stain. The physician's eyes moved covetously over the knife, the cracks between the folded blades were filled with a thick red coating. She would wait till the house was silent and all were asleep before she would begin her work.
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Eliot laid in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the silence, hearing the blood rushing through his ears, the movement of his body scratching against the starchy sheets like the cracking of dry twigs. With a snap, he tossed back the covers. Slowly, he sat up in bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. In the dim glow of the lamp he scanned the row of books on the distant shelf, and recalled inspecting the many splendid titles with no success. He was not in the mood to read. He was restless and needed to walk, to stare at the stars and smell the night air. Pulling on his robe, he slipped into the hallway and across the rambling ranch to the open veranda. Padding along the terra cotta tiles he noticed a light under a door in another part of the house.
Eyes narrowing, he recalled Herb had a work room where he would continue projects at home. Was Herb still awake at such a late hour? Perhaps his old friend could use some company. Moving silently across the soft tiles, he stood outside and noticed the door slightly ajar, a thin slice of light along its longitudinal edge. With his toe, he nudged the edge of the door further open.
Across the room a slender figure draped in green softness, was perched on a stool, gown pulled up, exposing an expanse of silky white legs gracefully bent and braced on the stool, a strap dangling from her shoulder. Lost in her own world, Julia's eyes were glued to the eyepiece of the stereomicroscope, moving an object with one hand while the other manipulated a metal probe. The object beneath the scope was all that mattered. Oblivious to the voyeur and her physical state, Julia allowed the strap of her gown to slide further down her arm with each turn of her hand.
Eliot caught his breath, unaware he had stopped breathing. The gown had become unimportant, a nuisance, only the item on the stage mattered to her. For comfort on the stool, she had pulled the hem to her thighs. The tug of the strap revealed more and more of the round softness of her right breast. Eliot felt his body change, pulse quicken, becoming aroused. Suddenly, he felt a surge of embarrassment, after all, he was a gentleman and for modesty's sake he should look away. But he couldn't. Just like the photo in the kiva, he couldn't. At dinner he had stolen sidelong glances, noting how the sheer blouse she wore clung to her skin, the erect nipples dimpling the fabric in the cool evening air.
Eliot pushed the door open, stepped inside and focused to see the object of her intense scrutiny.
Words erupted at the sight of the object on the stage. "You little fool!"
Julia jumped, eyes and mouth wide with alarm. Eliot quickly pushed the door closed behind him and sprinted toward her. Julia grabbed the knife from the stage and wrapped the cloth around it. The urgency in his steps caused Julia to turn and seek refuge behind the work bench beyond his reach.
Stokes could not believe his eyes. Why had she kept the knife?
Julia moved around the end of the counter as Eliot's arm reached out to grab her. Pivoting, his fingertips brushed across her shoulder causing the other strap of her gown to slip down her arm. Julia gripped the clothed knife with one hand and the bodice of her gown with the other.
"Julia!" Eliot firmly whispered as to not to wake Herb and Amorita. The physician frantically looked around the small room trying to find a secure place for the knife or a means of escape. She was sure he would take the knife from her, the knife that still contained Richard's dried blood. She needed that blood; she needed to run tests. She had to know!
"No!" She growled with eyes wide with a mix of fright and fury.
Eliot's pace slowed, realizing she was in the corner of Herb's lab and had nowhere else to turn. Panic was in her dark eyes, hands trembling, holding the cloth and gown tightly against her heaving bosom. The physician's eyes darted around in desperation, watching the pajama-clad professor slowly moving toward her. She whirled around and grabbed for the handle on the four-drawer file cabinet. Eliot covered the distance in two quick steps, arms moving around her, reaching for the cloth before it would disappear in the drawer. Moving together in a strange dance, the cloth moved wildly between them, before finally dropping in the narrow opening in the drawer. Julia slammed the drawer shut, shoved the locking mechanism home and pulled out the key. Eliot's hands quickly reached for the key as Julia turned to face him, slipping the key into her bodice beneath her breast. Pressing his body against hers, the stiffness in his groin pressing against her hips, he used his body to pin her against the file cabinet, his legs on either side of hers. Leaning back, his eyes searched along her cleavage for the hidden key.
Julia felt the strength of his body, his aroused state beneath the thin fabric of the pajamas. The warmth of his breath fell on her cheek as she defiantly turned toward him.
"So you think I'm a little fool?" She hotly whispered, watching his eyes moving over her chest and neck before locking with hers.
"The sheriff has been looking for that knife, my knife! He's threatened to serve us with a subpoena duces tecum, a subpoena to produce evidence, like this knife." Eliot breathed heavily from their struggle, felt the warmth of her body, her perfume and the sensual closeness of their bodies.
"I'm very aware of that, Eliot!" She snapped, staring into his eyes.
"And yet you insist on keeping it. Do you realize that knife can be traced to me? If I'm asked in court about that knife, I will not lie, Julia!"
"Are you saying I would?" She countered hotly.
Eliot's eyebrow arched.
"I'm saying, I would tell the truth. What you do or say depends on you and your conscience."
"It doesn't matter; I'm the one who used it!"
"I don't give a damn! I'm the one they will think murdered Carter!"
Eliot rolled his eyes in frustration. "The knife is covered with Carter's blood."
"Don't you want to know the truth?"
"We know the truth!"
"No we don't, Eliot!" She countered through gritted teeth, their eyes locked with equal determination. His fingers gently stroked the soft skin of her shoulders, inhaling the shampoo still clinging to her hair. Julia felt the warmth and firmness of his body against hers and yearned for his comfort, not his anger.
"Give me the knife!" Eliot softly commanded.
Julia's eyes sparked with defiance, chin raised, lower lip pushed out in a determined pout. "We don't know the truth. I'm the site physician, I'm supposed to know the truth and I don't." Eliot felt her body stiffen further. "Don't you see, I have to find out what was wrong with Richard? He was my patient. It's my duty."
"Duty?" Eliot asked incredulously. "Duty be damned, the man tried to kill me! You saved my life! Wasn't I your patient, don't I deserve your concern?"
"That was different!" She answered hotly, trying to push him away. Eliot could not believe what he was hearing.
By keeping the knife she was risking everything. She was risking their careers, their lives and all for Richard Carter.
Stokes felt tightness in his chest. Slowly, his hands released her arms, allowing her to move away from him. In one sense, he had never seen her more beautiful, more sensuous, or more desirable…..and yet…..the heartbreak and disappointment overwhelmed him.
Julia leaned against the file cabinet, holding the bodice to her chest, eyes blazing. "What do you want from me? Just tell me, Eliot, what is it that you want?"
Stepping back, leaning against the counter for support. Eliot slowly moved his hand across his chest as though covering a lethal wound. What do you want from me? Why should he have to tell her?
What do you want from me? I want you to love me with all your heart and being, Julia! I want you to love me with the same passion, the same yearning and undying love and loyalty you bestowed upon Barnabas Collins…..and now, Richard Carter. What do you want from me? I want you to tell me you love me. I want you to love me all the way!
But no, the words would not come out. What a fool he had been! He forced himself not to imagine, the unimaginable. Slowly, he moved down the counter as Julia stood firm, waiting for his reply. He eased to the door, turned, and looked at her with eyes growing moist, throat choking, he spoke.
"I can't believe you were in love with him."
Turning, he silently slipped through the door and closed it.
~~~tbc~~~