OOH. Chapter 15. This is definitely the only story I've bothered continuing for so long! Hee hee. Hope some people hold out until this gets back to present day Layton. That's when the REAL fun begins! It's more serious, less feelings oriented. But I have to build a foundation, have to build up a part of Layton's past.
It was difficult writing this chapter. I didn't know how much to leave in, how much to take out. It was difficult to decide. I wonder if I truly captured what I wanted to but…I'm considering drawing this in comic format. It's easier for me to tell a story that way. D:
WHICH REMINDS ME. I have drawn Laura, if anyone cares. REMOVE THE SPACE AFTER IT SAYS "DEVIANTART" IN THE URL!
This is what she looks like in Layton-style (I tried!): deviantart .com/art/Laura-Haris-in-Layton-Style-280039478?q=gallery%3A008kenichijouji&qo=2
And in my style: deviantart .com/art/The-Jokes-Are-Among-Us-278792467?q=gallery%3A008kenichijouji%2F7619473&qo=4
Anyway. This is the last of my lame feelings/lovey dovey chapters for now. The next one will be a break from it, as something quite different will happen. I'm going to step away from the puzzled Layton and the ever-angry Laura combo for a bit, take them away from their own worries for a chapter. :] OH MAN I CAN'T WAIT. -chews on laptop-
THERE'S A LAME PUZZLE IN THIS CHAPTER. There will be another lame one in the next. I'm trying to make up my own, although they aren't very good. :[[[[[
Anyway, here you go.
I really hate the formatting on these fanfics...I want it to look like a Word document! :[ IF YOU NOTICE ANY STRANGE BREAKS IN THE STORY, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I often put a series of dashes when I want to change scenes, but...they haven't been showing on here. I need to go back and fix all those...
Avoiding civilization,
Kelsey
CHAPTER 15: ONLY THE LONELY CAN PLAY
"Care for a ride?"
Laura, Millie, and Clara were walking along the not-yet-plowed sidewalk, trudging through half a meter of powdery white snow that was unceremoniously dumped on the city overnight, when their archaeology professor pulled up along the curb, window down.
"Doesn't look very appealing, being walking snow shovels!"
Millie practically vaulted herself at the car, clambering to the front passenger side door, before wrenching it open and brushing the frozen precipitate all over the seat. Clara and Laura followed suit (but not as theatrically) and sat in the back seats.
"Oh goodness, Professor Layton, you couldn't have come at a more perfect time! Look at this! It's a blizzard! We couldn't get the car dug out this morning. Papa about had a fit, what with the butler not thinking about digging it out sooner! Lazy sod!" As usual, it was a tragic morning for a tragically fated girl, as Millie Miller often saw it. Laura rolled her eyes, contrasting the Professor's half-hearted chuckle.
"My word, it is quite the weather, isn't it? Only water though, Miss Miller. I think you'll live." He pulled the car into a faculty parking lot and brought the little vehicle to a crunching halt, a poorly plowed pile of iced snow grinding against the bottom of the car. "Oh dear. That could have been better."
Millie and Clara thanked the Professor—complete with overly girly giggles and batted lashes—and made the short walk to the front of their classroom building, Laura pretending to start off behind them. She turned around to see what was taking their teacher so long.
"Would you mind giving me a hand, Laura?" he grunted behind a large pile of books, holding them carefully as he walked warily across a patch of ice. "Perhaps walk with me and just open that door, yes, thank you, that saves me the trouble of potentially dropping all these…"
Laura looked at the titles on the books as they continued inside. "New textbooks?"
He nodded, setting the tower down outside his office door. He smiled as he breathed in and out a few times, catching his breath. "Precisely, they are course readers. I put these together as supplemental material. You look so enthused," he said with a chuckle.
"Oh, yes, quite," she said sardonically, raising her eyebrows. "Can't wait."
"You'll be getting one soon enough, so contain your excitement." A quick turn of the lock and the Professor entered his office. "See you in class!"
Laura walked through the sea of seated girls in the classroom, unable to help herself from listening in on some of the girls' conversation.
"Well, none of you need even bother, because I've already made up my mind about it!" Millie crossed her arms defiantly, curls bobbing against her poised shoulders. "As soon as this class is out, I'm going straight to his office and asking him!"
The other girls chattered pleasantly, some admonishing in tone.
"You can't possibly ask a professor to an outing on Valentine's Day. It's much too obvious, if not foolish!" Amy said exasperatedly. "Everyone knows you can't do such things with your professor—"
"Oh, and who's going to say a word, if not you? I'll have you know, Hershel is on my radar, and professor or not, he's free game! I don't care an iota about his age or his position as our teacher. I must say, that hat he's been wearing is quite fetching… Anyway, ladies, let it be known that men of his social status, of his caliber, are my prey." She clawed the air and purred like an overly sensual cat, yet giggled like a flustered finch when Professor Layton strode past the front row of the desks, hurriedly tossing his briefcase into his chair.
"Alright, ladies, before I forget, be sure to grab a course reader from my office after class. It's essential to…"
His words were drowned out by Millie's former conversation on repeat, going through Laura's head like bees in a hive. She felt her heart sink after hearing Millie carry on about Valentine's Day and the Professor. She'd completely forgotten about the holiday, not feeling it had much significance before. But perhaps this year…well, it was a bit different, albeit uncomfortable. It wasn't as if she had come out and laid her feelings on the table, and neither did he. But somehow, she felt it would be perfectly appropriate to get him a gift of some sort.
That was, until she started to second guess her thoughts, for the thousandth time.
'What if I'm reading him wrong, and I get him something, and he takes it the wrong way? It might cost me a lot of hurt, and a decent grade in the course! I really, really shouldn't be carrying on like this. Maybe I'll just stick with my usual February 14th routine and eat a small piece of chocolate cream candy that mum gets father…'
A spindly finger poked her on the nose, making her eyes flutter as they focused.
"Psst! Laura!" Millie was turned in her desk, facing behind her at Laura's still surprised expression. "I'll be interrupting your wittle review session this afternoon. Got to get a word in early about our Valentine's celebration! How do you think tea downtown in London sounds…?"
Laura shook her head, eyes squinted in disbelief. "You do go on about the silliest things, don't you?"
"You're right, it's time with Hershel. I'll be satisfied no matter where we go!" she chortled.
"That's not my point. What I mean is, since you stalk, I thought you'd already know… But, I guess if you don't know, then I won't bother telling you."
Millie's eyes lit up, her sense for gossip homing in on Laura's every word. "What should I already know?"
"Well, you should know…that he already has a girlfriend!" Laura hissed before she had time to process her words. She immediately regretted her statement as Millie's eyes widened to the size of cup saucers, Laura's guilt continuing to the size of a dinner platter.
"How do you know about that? I thought he was only interested in someone, not, well, committed," she whispered harshly. "How would you know that?"
Thinking quickly, she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, it's hard not to hear rumors being spread in the hall. They're like the common cold, changing, finding a new host all the time."
Millie spun back around in her desk, facing forward as Professor Layton finished writing on the board. He turned towards the class, smiling as he continued on with his lecture. Laura felt guilty for spreading such a ridiculous lie, knowing full good and well that it would probably come back to her like a razor-sharp boomerang.
'I really don't know why I said any of that… I really don't. Maybe I felt a bit...defensive? I didn't like Millie talking about the Professor that way. I don't feel that…she's allowed to.
But I am? Is that fair? I'm still not comfortable with all this…this feelings business!'
The reviews with her professor had continued on as discussed the night of her birthday. She would go to class, enjoy (or try to enjoy) lunch, rap on Professor Layton's office door quickly and enter without a word, but would leave with plenty having been said. It became too difficult to hide the fact that she looked forward to the daily discussions, perhaps even relied on them, as she would eventually get to talking more openly, more animatedly, something she only did with those she felt most comfortable around. It was rare, but it had been happening all the same. As much as she showed more and more of herself, however, the less open the Professor seemed to be, although Laura could tell the love for the conversation was mutual between them. He seemed more interested in hearing her talk, making her feel slightly self-conscious.
Now though, for a surprisingly first time, Millie was a threat, trying to take away her daily routine. At least, that was the answer Laura gave herself. Surely, it wasn't jealousy…
With the class finally having ended, Laura tried to get to the door before Millie, but with no luck, as she had been sitting behind the girl after all. With Millie's gold curly head having cleared the door frame a few girls ahead, Laura watched as Millie took a right down a deserted hallway, almost skipping. Laura smiled inwardly, a mischievous joy spreading through her brain: she knew her own route was the quickest.
She took the same path to the office that she took every weekday, but slightly earlier than usual. Lunch could wait; she had a finish line to cross. She hastened her steps, feeling the muscles in her lower calves tense up. Several science labs exited the classrooms just ahead, apparently finishing earlier than scheduled.
'I'm just so lucky…'
Cutting through a throng of girls, attempting to apologize as she interrupted several discussions and gossip sessions, she decided to abandon manners by the wayside, as she wanted to be sure she could secure the office before—
"Professor Layton, may I have a word with you?"
'For the love of God… She actually was serious about taking my review time away, and now she's bested my route!'
With affirmation from the Professor to continue, Millie began her marketing ploys. Laura stood just outside the office door, listening around the corner to the Miller girl lace her voice with all the femininity that she could muster. Girls from the class walked by the office in intervals, each taking the topmost book from the course reader pile that the Professor had left out. Laura waited with bated breath, watching the tower of books dwindle to a mere stack of five.
"…and it is Valentine's, and I didn't want you to feel lonely, so me and a few of the girls would like to treat you to the best tea house that London has to offer! Surely you're free?"
A slight pause, then a low chuckle. Laura was sure the Professor's face was red and he was a bit lost for words. Perhaps a slight straightening of the hat, any device to prolong his deliverance of an answer.
"I'm sure you could find better company to spend Valentine's Day with?" he tried to reason. "Some young man from Gressenheller would love to be your company for the afternoon, I'm sure—"
"Professor, you're really quite charming, don't insult yourself! I'm sure you're just fine to have a chat over tea with. Come now, how about it? It's a Sunday, we can go downtown in the afternoon and be back by evening!" she suggested, urgency rising in her voice.
The Professor cleared his throat. "Well, it's not so much that, as it is that I have a previous engagement…"
Laura imagined Millie's disappointed, horrorstruck face and had to stifle a low giggle.
"But, well, there's the whole day, perhaps another time on Sunday?"
"That means, Miss Miller, that I have plans for the whole of the 14th. I apologize for letting you down, but I'm sure you'll have a smashing time making plans with others."
"But, but—!"
Show time.
Laura knocked on the half open door, signaling her presence. "Um, sorry if I'm intruding. Do we still have a review session, Professor?"
"Ah, yes, Laura, please come in," he smiled, relief in his eyes. "Millie, if you'd like to stay for archaeology review, we'd love for you to join in on our discussion of today's material."
Without so much as a word, her facial expression confirmed the answer for them, sneering bitterly at Laura as she walked past. "Perhaps another time, Professor… I'll be off then."
"Good day, Millie." The door shut with a bang, Layton smiling almost triumphantly. "Oh dear, she was quite unhappy."
"Oh, don't worry. She'll find another date, I'm sure of it," Laura said lightly, taking a seat. "I didn't know she celebrated it so fondly anyway."
"Hmm, curious as to why she hadn't found someone who more closely shares her interests, I really don't understand why she continues to—but I suppose it's not my place to wonder about such things..." He fussed over a teapot, adding ingredients to a small metal net ball. "While I'm thinking about it, I won't be available tomorrow after class for review. Departmental meeting at Gressenheller."
Laura frowned, genuinely upset, but she wasn't going to let him know that. "I see."
"I feel bad for providing you with short notice, but I wasn't informed until this morning. I was wondering how you'd like to make it up? Say, Saturday. Would you be available on Saturday?"
She looked at him, puzzled. "On the weekend?"
"Why, does knowledge take the weekend off?" he chortled, setting the teapot on his desk, replacing the cap to let it steep. "You can help me figure out how to bake, as my house assistant and personal chef is out for the weekend."
"Bake? What for?"
He winked. "That's a puzzle for you."
She sat quietly, trying to think of what he needed baked goods for, then furrowed her brow. "Well, that doesn't sound like a review session as much as it does an opportunity to provide you with a favor." Meeting his smile with a sarcastic one, Laura crossed her arms loosely.
"Hmm. Well, okay, I suppose it's not much of a puzzle at all. You see, since you seem to have the hang of food preparation, after sampling your dish before winter break and partaking of your Christmas cookies, I figured you could help me make something for someone special," he said, pouring himself and her a cup of tea.
"Uh, and who would that be?" she dared to ask. She secretly wished he'd say something along the lines of "Why, you of course!" but knew him better, and immediately chastised herself.
The Professor laughed deeply, as if at her curious expression. "Why, I'm merely surprising my good friend and maid, Rosa. She's done quite a bit for me these past months and I'd like to pay her back with one of her favorite treats. I'm not very good with baking…" He casually opened the archaeology textbook he used for the class, eyeing her carefully from underneath the brim of his hat. "Of course, you're more than welcome to make extra for yourself to enjoy as well."
Defeated, Laura tried turning off her emotional responses for the remainder of the review, finding it difficult to contain her irritation sparked by his comments.
'Oh, someone special indeed! I'm silly for thinking it was anything more. I really should know better. Really, I need to let this all just die. I don't care what happened over my birthday, I need to see reason. There's nothing to any of this, to us! There's nothing.'
He continued his condensed lecture, never straying from the topics, contrary to what they'd been doing for every review prior. It was almost as if he was more focused on the task at hand when he was mentally buried in thoughts of other things. Then, as Laura was jotting down something about an excavation in Italy, he grabbed his coat. "Ready to go?"
Stopping her pencil in mid-sentence, she looked up, flustered. "But, what about review? Wait, 'ready to go'? Um, meaning…?"
"You have engineering over at Gressenheller on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, correct?"
"Well, yes, but I just catch the bus at 1:30, so—"
"I can drive you today," he said matter of factly, closing his briefcase with a click. "I have business over there anyway."
"Well, okay, if you…say so?" Laura grabbed her things hurriedly and followed the Professor out the door quietly. "How did you know when I have engineering?"
He glanced behind him, slowing down to match her gait. "I'm good friends with your professor, Benjamin Sansonite. He lauds you often for your progress in the class. But regardless, I know his schedule."
"Lauds me? I'm sure he doesn't. I did terribly on the last project," she mumbled, ending with a heavy groan. "Then there's this class." She rapped her knuckles against the hard cover of the new archaeology text book.
"Really now! It's not so bad, honestly…"
They entered the car, Laura breathing against her stiff hands. "I really could have just taken the bus. It's much too early to go to engineering class now."
"I suppose so. You'll just have to spend your free time reviewing in my office," he said with a weak laugh. "Say, what's your favorite food?"
"Well, I have quite a few… What do you want to know that for?" she asked hesitantly.
Layton merely shook his head. "Nothing important. Only curious."
"That's a rather strange thing to randomly be curious about, wouldn't you say?"
"Hmm. Perhaps. But it's not random at all, as you'll be helping me bake. It's much less a favor and more a deliverance from me disgracing the kitchen with my lack of skill. I plan to pay you back, you know."
"Oh?"
"Indeed, that's what a gentleman does," he said with a wink, a slight inflection of his voice. The humming of the car engine was all that could be heard for some time, Laura gazing out the window at the heavy snowfall that blanketed the city. They arrived presently at their destination as Layton parked the car. "Mind the car next to you. Its owner is quite lacking in the parking department… Oh my, it's Beverly Warvel's, old girl shouldn't have a license, really. That sounds awful, but…"
After crossing the campus, the Professor unlocked his office door and flipped the light switch as he entered the dimly lit room. Tossing his coat onto a worn couch, he ambled around the desk and sat behind it, fingering through a pile of graded papers, almost forgetting his company.
"This really is not a race, you know!" Laura huffed in exasperation, finally making it to the entrance of the office. "Don't forget, you're quite taller than me!"
He laughed nervously, slightly anxious. "I'm sorry, Laura, I was lost in thought. I—yes, I apologize. I have no excuse." He motioned to one of the empty guest chairs at the front of his desk. Laura closed the office door and walked up to one but didn't sit. "Please, take a seat."
"Professor, are you really busy on Sunday?" she blurted out.
He looked up slowly from his students' papers, plain faced. She really couldn't read what was going on in his mind. "Well, why would I have told Miss Miller that I would be, if I really wouldn't be?"
"Because you have a way of speaking in puzzles," said his student, piercing his gaze with one equally as discerning. "Rather, you find loopholes in the discussion and reply in a way that gives an answer to a person's question, but doesn't really answer it, if you know what I mean."
Layton smiled, shaking his head. "As perceptive as always. Since you're so smart, do you really need me to confirm your suspicions? …I'll take your silence as an answer."
"Does a gentleman lie to an innocent, young lady?" Laura asked cockily.
"And, Miss Laura, where does a gentleman draw the line, if his intentions are already set to make another young lady happy? Tell me that." He returned his gaze to his papers, not bothering to make eye contact. "I never lied to her. I said I was busy."
She sat down in the chair heavily, crossing her legs as she grumbled to herself. "Really now! Omission of information might as well be considered a lie, at least in my book. And who might this 'another young lady' be?"
The girl sunk back deeper into her chair as the Professor let out an unusual laugh, almost as if he was thwarted, found out, and was trying to blow it off with a poker face. Laura decided rather quickly it was unnerving; if she didn't know him better, she might have thought he was being a tad rude, laughing at her in such a way. To put it bluntly, it was a very 'un-Laytonesque' laugh.
"Laura, have I made plans with you?"
"Well, not for Sunday…"
"Then, you know for sure who it isn't. Now, no more hints. You might want to start off to your class. It's about a 10 minute walk from this building to the engineering hall." Giving a small smile, he returned to marking off the papers he was holding. Laura stood up abruptly, her quick and jerky movements startling her teacher. "My, Laura, whatever is the matter?"
Swinging her bag over her shoulder, a gavel pounded inside her mind. Decision final, she was done. Done with the mind games, done with the stupid internal puzzle solving. It was getting out of hand, a giant game of back and forth, hints and hidden messages.
'Gentleman, gentleman this and that, all over, under and through! Lies lies lies. What an uppity little brat he's turned out to be. Professor or not, he's driving me insane. Perhaps I'm mental, but then, I really don't need to be hanging around this sort!'
She turned and walked towards the door, not bothering with facing him. She didn't care if it was impolite, or uncharacteristic even. "Don't bother giving me any more puzzles until you solve your own. I'm done with having my questions being met with the off-putting ones you deal out." She turned with a blank stare, but made it certain that her eyes gave off her feelings, glaring fire and brimstone. Her voice never rose above a mild pitch, which proved a bit unsettling for the Professor. Her expression was fiery, tone quiet, but it was laced with venom. "When I ask a question, I expect it to be answered. I've told you this before. Professor or not, good friend or not, you've become a bother. But I'll give credit for where it's due: thank you for the ride."
With a turn of the handle she wrenched open the door and flew out, promptly slamming it with a rattling thud that shook the smaller knick-knacks on the Professor's shelves. He stared, dumbstruck, at the spot she had just been sitting at. When he mentally accepted the situation, he felt a sense of self-loathing.
'Completely unexpected, not to mention nerve-racking! I didn't think she'd ever react in such a way. I suppose I should stop playing with her, although…I thought she'd be more astute to picking up my meanings… I guess it is a bit vague, especially since, well…it is Laura. She's a bit strict when it comes to methods of solving problems. Doesn't like floundering about in a sea of mixed messages…'
He sat the graded papers on the desk, a sensation stronger than disappointment and pity stirring from within. It was almost a lethal mix of sadness, embarrassment, and fear, as if he didn't want to come face to face with her ever again, but he knew he'd regret ever letting that happen. It was different from resolving communication problems with students in the past. They were underneath him, never reaching his level, separated by an invisible plane. He felt confident, correcting poor behavior or addressing dilemmas that occurred between members of the student body, or between himself and them.
But this time…it was as if his self-esteem was taken down a notch, as if he were a scolded puppy that meant well enough to curry favor, but didn't know how to go about it.
Two knocks, and Rosa tipped her head in through the cracked door. "Professor? My, my, what was that banging of the door about?"
"A disgruntled student, no less…" He stood, slowly making his way around the desk.
"Would you like me to make you a pot of tea before I head out?"
He smiled, shaking his head. "That isn't necessary, Rosa. Leaving so soon?"
"Well, I did mean to leave this evening, but I'd like to get a head start on my packing. Earl isn't quite as enthused to take up his own luggage, so I might as well do it for him, the lout!" The small woman handed him an envelope. "Do take care of yourself this weekend. Treat yourself out on Sunday, will you? Surely, you must have some lady friend you'd like to take along?"
The Professor laughed, waving off her words like so many annoying flies. "Now, now, Rosa, I'm much too busy for that, but I'll be sure to enjoy the holiday in my own way."
"Really, now, Professor, sitting at home with a cup of tea—like any other day, mind you!—does not count! But if you insist….I'll see you when I come back, dearie! Do clean up after yourself now!"
"Take care, Rosa," he said quietly, waiting for the door to click shut before loosening his already struggling smile. He opened the envelope carefully with a letter opener, letting out a snort-like laugh upon reading its contents.
"Laura isn't here today, Professor," Clara answered in a sing-song voice. "Might be sick!"
Professor Layton looked at the only empty desk in the room, already knowing who was missing, but asked the class anyway. It had been empty for two days' time now. "Ah, yes, Miss Haris… Anyone know about her whereabouts?" Everyone shook their heads. "I see. Hmm, well, perhaps she's really taken ill. I suppose it is the time for illnesses to spread about…"
The class started and ended as usual, many of the students grumbling at the introduction of a new puzzle. Layton had become accustomed to it, waiting only for whatever puzzle Laura had to hand to him during their review session.
'Looks like I'm not getting one today either…' he realized, feeling slightly disappointed. 'Perhaps I should contact her about missing two days' worth of class. It's strange, after all, not at all like her.'
He fumbled his key ring in his empty hand, shuffling the keys around to locate the office one, before finally looking up at the door. He was startled to find his missing student standing next to his message board. "My word, Laura, what on earth are you doing there, you gave me a fright…."
She responded emotionless, blank as a slate. "My father forced me to come for a review session. Says missing two classes will kill my grade, and then basically that I will want to be killed when I have to suffer his consequences for a failing grade."
Layton smiled enthusiastically, having had muddled through his feelings about her brash reaction nights ago. He was rather eager to wipe the slate clean and start over, so to speak, and was quite relieved she'd even showed herself, given her raw anger days ago. "I see. Well, if you insist, I'd be glad to host a review session for you. Come in."
Both took their respective seats, the Professor behind the desk, Laura in the guest chair. "I'm sorry about my reaction the other day, Professor," said Laura, staring at the top of the desk rather than at his face. "It was slightly childish, even if I felt it was justified. However, I meant every word of it." She eyed him carefully, making sure he caught and understood the last part. "I can't tolerate mind games anymore."
With another smile, Professor Layton chuckled. "Agreed and understood. I'll be more direct then, if possible. Now then, shall we discuss the material you've missed these past two days?"
After finishing the review, Laura would typically give more thoughts about whatever topic it was that they'd strayed to during their discussion, but today, the Professor shut his book and immediately returned his focus to his own work.
"Have yourself a good day now, Laura. Enjoy the sun while it lasts." He tore into an essay from another course, failing to direct his vision in her direction. Laura raised an eyebrow.
"Are you really so busy?"
He looked up with a slightly bemused smile. "Have I ever not been?"
"Well, you surely never ended so, so… suddenly?" She pulled her bag strap onto her shoulder and gave a tilted grin. "I'll see you Saturday then."
"Oh yes, about that…" He dug into his briefcase and pulled out a handout. "This should suffice for a review. I think it will suit you much better to not be distracted by our unconventional 'review' sessions. They aren't really reviews after all if we end up merely chatting. That's rather direct, I wager you'll appreciate it much more than a battle of wits, as our reviews tend to become."
"But…that's…really not what I—"
"I still do need help with baking though, so for that reason, you're still more than welcome to stop by, but it's not necessary by any means," he said, challenging her with another maddening smile.
"That's really not what I meant though," she said, slightly irritated. "I have no trouble with the discussions we have! Why would you get that idea?"
"Well, then whatever would have made you so upset the other day? You want things cut and dry, black and white. Reviews should be just that: review. That's what you said—"
"I'm talking about—!" She stopped mid-sentence, hitting a mental brick wall.
'I…can't tell him what I'm talking about…I can't just say 'I'm tired of you hiding your feelings', or at least alluding to feelings that I think are there! That's just too presumptuous! Is it a trap? Maybe he's trying to get me to admit to something, confess something. Oooh, what a cunning but seedy move! A bit dodgy, this… I'm not going to lose! Oh I just hate myself…'
The Professor looked at her carefully, chancing a chuckle. "Laura? What are you talking about?"
She shook her head, grabbing her bag. "Nothing. Nothing at all, nothing important. I'll come by in the afternoon tomorrow, then." She didn't give him a second glance and exited the room silently, failing to notice the successful grin on her educator's face.
"I'm coming, I'm coming…ah! Laura, so you decided to stop by after all."
It was a bitterly cold Saturday afternoon, although the sun taunted with its dazzling warm rays, blindingly reflecting off of the snow. After a few unremitting loud knocks, Professor Layton opened the front door wide, allowing his student entry. He took her coat and bag, placing it on a wooden peg on the wall near the door. Laura stepped out of her shoes and walked gingerly onto the living room carpet, careful to check the floor for possible snag points on which she'd ruin her black pantyhose.
"I hope you're having a good afternoon," she said promptly after the front door was shut and locked.
"I am, and to you I hope the same." He rubbed and cupped his hands together, blowing warm air into them. "I apologize for the chill. Seems my heater is on the mend." He jabbed a thumb randomly in the direction of the furnace. "I had to call maintenance from the college to lend a hand, but it's no problem. It'll be done soon, I expect. In the meantime, shall we?"
Laura had never seen beyond the front room before, but was thoroughly impressed with its size and choice of décor as the Professor led her past the living room and into the kitchen. "I love this tile, very warm, very earthy."
"Glad you approve. I've taken the liberty of preparing our ingredients beforehand, but…we'll see how we can manage until the end." He handed her an old yellowed index card, several stains and old crust along the edges.
"Must be a favorite," she said, tentatively turning the card over and analyzing the back. "It's um…well used, I suppose."
"Indeed." He pulled a few large mixing bowls from under a counter cabinet. "Now, I'll just go check on the furnace's progress, you can feel free to start where you must. I'll be back shortly."
Laura looked after the Professor as he vanished around the corner, shouting down the basement staircase as he addressed the mechanic through the din of a drill of some sort. He descended the stairs in a series of heavy clomps, closing the door behind him.
She noticed the refrigerator was full of appointment reminders and book titles, all written on tiny Post-It notes or index cards held fast by a magnet. A bright red card caught her attention, its crease not allowing it to lay completely closed as it hung loosely by a small button magnet. Laura peered inside briefly, studying the compact and rigid script. She barely had time to furrow her forehead in curious thought before she heard the Professor return to the ground floor. Taking her place back at the counter, she pretended she hadn't moved since he'd left.
"Any luck?"
"I thought I'd wait for you to come back. After all, I don't really know what you're confused about. Baking is quite simple when it's this sort of recipe." She started adding ingredients to the large metal bowl, mentally checking off the items from the list.
He laughed, washing his hands. "Well, I'm no pro at it, so…"
After a few minutes of educating her Professor, Laura fell silent, letting him stir after she got it started. Without a mixer, stirring batter 100 times was daunting, and taking turns, essential. She watched him methodically take to the whisk, as if he'd done it before. She squinted her eyes.
'I'm not stupid. This baking business isn't for Rosa at all…'
Laura cleared her throat nervously. "Professor, if I may be so bold, this baking that we're doing. It can't possibly be for Rosa." She turned her head just so to catch a glimpse of his expression. He stoically rinsed the mixing bowl in the sink after pouring the batter into a pan, his face unchanging.
"And why can't it be for Rosa?"
"Rosa is on vacation for a month, is she not? You'd really bake something for someone who won't be back in town before your treats spoil?" There was a thick silence despite the running faucet. "Surely you don't mean to freeze what you intend to bake, because that's what you'll have to do."
"I told you she'd be gone over the weekend. Where did you ever get the idea she would be gone for the month?" He looked at her, then at the red card she was pointing to on the refrigerator. "Hmm, aren't you brazenly curious!"
"I wasn't snooping, if that's what you mean. I was admiring your collage of reminders and it was right there, lying half open. I caught a glimpse. She mentions her being gone for about a month."
Fruit of their labors finally in the oven, he clapped off excess flour and wiped his hands against a towel. "Seems you've solved the mystery, Inspector Haris. Indeed, dearest Rosa is taking a much deserved month-long vacation and is leaving me to my own devices." He filled a kettle, placing it on the stove. "What is also true is that I really had no intention of baking for Rosa, although I daresay she deserves it."
Laura scoffed, washing her hands messily. "Then what is my purpose for being here? This is quite a waste of time. You lied to me."
Placing two mugs heavily on the counter, he gave her a stern but caring look. "I did not lie to you. This isn't a waste of—"
"All finished, Professor Lakeville!"
A rotund mechanic about the size of the refrigerator emerged from the depths of the house, covered in a dull black substance. He held out the work order. "If you can just sign right down there, I'll be out of your hair—or in your case, your hat!—in a jiffy!"
The Professor happily took a pen from his pants pocket, changing his expression in an instant. "Of course, my good man. I can't thank you enough, really. Coming out here on such a cold day, I really am appreciative."
"Aw, it's me job, you know. Gotta give you warmth enough to enjoy your pretty company here." He winked towards Laura, who only smiled lazily. "Anyway, I'll be off then!"
The Professor saw him out the door and returned to the kitchen, taking in the scent of their cake in the oven.
"Anyway, I—" He received a stack of cassettes, courtesy of Laura pressing them into his hands. "What's this?"
"A gift, obviously," she said curtly before turning and walking towards the living room. "I set a timer for that cake."
She took a book from the shelf that she'd noticed the last time she'd been to the old house, settling herself into a chair. Layton followed her from the kitchen, looking each tape over.
"Well, it's not every day a person gets handed three unlabeled cassette tapes. Is there anything recorded on them?"
"I thought I'd give them to you blank. Yes, there's something recorded on them," she laughed. "It's a puzzle. Make up for the days I missed at school. You'll have to figure out what the songs are and who wrote them. But don't bother right now. I don't want to die from laughter, watching you listen to them and get all flustered."
Ignoring her giggles, he placed the tapes next to a phonograph on one of the book shelves. "Ha ha, very funny. And what makes you think I'd be ignorant about the song titles and composers?"
Setting her book on the table, Laura looked up, smiling. "Trust me. You won't know. Bonus points if you can guess who's playing them."
"My word, this just might indeed prove impossible," said the Professor, chuckling as he took a seat. "Although I have a hunch on the pianist. Considering these were at one point blank tapes, and yourself are a gifted pianist, I'd wager you played them."
Laura theatrically waved her hands in the air. "Woo hoo, you got it, Inspector Layton," she said sarcastically, but with a warm smile. "Very intuitive."
"Although, you may need to redo these, as I don't think they'll sound very crisp." He rushed to the kitchen as the timer sent out a shrill series of beeps. He was taking the cake out of the oven as Laura rushed to the doorway, quickly following behind him, her expression inquisitive.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, they won't sound as good as they could," he said casually, removing his oven mitts. "You'll see when you get home. Now then, I'll just let this cool. Would you like a cup of tea? It's hot though, I apologize."
Slightly miffed, Laura put her hands on her hips. "What are you on about, again? Do you really enjoy puzzles so much that you have to buzz me with one in every comment you make?"
"Hmm, you know, I just might. It's quite enjoyable, you know."
"The puzzles, or making me forever curious?"
"Let's see, hmm. Both."
He walked to the living room, leaving her behind with another beguiling smile and a mindful of rage.
'Really…..really….I'm about ready to punch something.'
Two cups of tea later, Laura sat in silence, stewing secretively in her seat. The Professor was going on about something, or perhaps someone. Maybe somewhere? Who cares, she thought. She didn't know anything about it, and made slight nods and grimaces to make her acknowledgement of the discussion believable. Her own tea cup remained untouched, convincing enough, as she hated hot beverages anyway. He wouldn't have thought it was anything out of the ordinary. The Professor, however, was quite fond of his drink, and was on his third cup.
Suddenly, she rose from her seat, smoothing creases from her long sweater. "Where's the bathroom?"
"Oh, it's up the stairs," Layton said, catching his bearings after the interruption. "It will be on your immediate left once you reach the top."
It was a very green bathroom, the emerald tiles and sink glistening as if the gemstones were actually present in the material. Laura glanced out the small frosted window, noticing the sun was already beginning its descent. She sighed, staring into the mirror.
'I really can't take much more of his puzzles and hidden messages. I just have to be forthright. Maybe that will get him to say something. It's starting to really irritate me, as if he finds this all hilarious! Perhaps he's just playing coy about it all. After all, he shouldn't really be…I shouldn't really be…well…yes, this really is all wrong, I suppose…I'm surprised about the whole birthday thing. I mean, honestly! Holding my hand, claiming it was to keep me warm? That's supposedly what a gentleman does? What a lie!'
She washed her face off and dried quickly with a hand towel. With a confidence-boosting glare at her reflection, she smiled craftily.
"I'll put these damned puzzles to a bitter end at last. Feelings and emotions and all that poppycock."
She left the bathroom, feeding on self-esteem, depending on it to carry her through the rest of the evening.
'Feelings…damn them all to hell.'
Laura came back down to find the Professor absent from the room. She looked around timidly, wondering if it was rude to walk about his house as she was now doing.
"Um, Professor? Professor Layton? Where are you?" She ventured into a dark room just off of the kitchen. The curtains were drawn completely in front of the windows. What light could get in cast strange shadows across the floor. With a flip of the switch, Laura found herself staring at several hundred artifacts, a majority of them small and stacked on shelves, but some standing on their own with minimal assistance from stands and other display contraptions. The Professor's briefcase lay open on a desk on the wall opposite the door. She walked over to it, and jumped slightly when she heard him call from outside the room.
"Laura, your dinner is getting cold!"
"Dinner…?" she muttered to herself. After looking around a bit more she walked out.
"Ah, there you are. Found my home office, did you?" he asked with a chuckle.
"Home office. You have three offices then. Poor Rosa. No wonder she needs a month-long break, what with you being the slob she must tidy up after…"
"That's not completely fair!" Layton sputtered, cheeks turning red.
"It's plenty fair. You are fond of clutter, after all," she said confidently. "You office is disgusting."
"Anyway," he interrupted, clearing his throat in nervousness, "come. The dining room has a present."
He led her to a seat at the long wooden table, a spread of food on the top. Laura stood behind her chair, mouth agape.
"Um, how exactly did this get here?"
"Timely as you are, when you were in the bathroom, my delivery came. Sorry, it's not homemade, but it's the next best thing. It's more of an upscale carry-out, if you will. I don't always have time to…well, let's just say, when Rosa's not available to cook, I don't always have time to prepare meals…"
"Slob about your office, plus lazy otherwise as well." She took a seat, triumphant in stabbing his pride.
Indeed, upscale was the correct word, as a few traditional fancy staples sat on pure white platters. Steak, chicken of some sort, several piles of steamed vegetables and different starches… Laura laughed out loud. "Really now! Is this really even necessary? I didn't know I was being fed. I feel quite undeserving."
"Nonsense, tuck in. It was a gift from a friend, anyway, so don't feel indebted." He already had a plate full of everything and waited patiently for his student to pick and choose her delights. "This is why I asked about your favorite food but…I never got an answer."
She shook her head, still incredulous, but attempting to hide it. "I'm glad I never told you! I would have felt extremely self-conscious. This really is not necessary. Really, it's not…"
After several minutes of thanks and apologies on Laura's part, and a long discussion about whatever topics decided to sew themselves together, an uneasy quiet reigned in on the conversation, commanding it effortlessly. Layton took sips from his cup many times, seemingly thirsty, but Laura knew better. He seemed to be getting unnaturally uncomfortable, atypical of his usual chatty demeanor when they'd chat. Both finished up their plates, the Professor carefully taking their dishes to the kitchen sink. Laura helped clean up and pack away any unfinished food, looking thoughtfully at the cake atop the oven when she'd stopped with cleaning.
"Shall we frost it?" she inquired, somewhat childlike, anxious to have a slice. The Professor took a lid off of a plastic tub, icing filling it to the brim.
"Great minds think alike. Would you like to do the honors?"
Knife in hand, Laura delicately applied the off-white cream to the top of their dark cake, crumbs flecked in the icing as she spread it around. She frowned.
"That's common, unfortunately. I hope you don't place looks over taste," she warned, putting the knife in the sink. "There."
"Looks delightful. Plates, forks, and a spot of tea already in the front room. How's this for a conclusion to a lovely day?"
Indeed, the dessert was quite tasty, Laura inwardly approving and patting herself on the back. Although still slightly warm, it was a very thick cake, something she enjoyed. Despite the taste, however, her mind was a battlefield. Somehow, even in the Professor's company, she felt lonely, as if she had no one to really talk to.
'It's as if I can't even feel comfortable around him anymore. I get too far in, then I second guess myself. Then I get too far away, and I miss him. I start being 'me' around him, and he gets all tricky, his words most notably hard to decipher…
Is this how it is when people get too close, and they shouldn't? Or rather, when they get close, but they just can't, I don't know, can't converge? Ever come together?'
"I suppose I should be on my way." She sat her dish and utensil on the small tray the empty tea cups were in, making her way to the door. As on Christmas, she wished for some sort of gift, maybe for the heck of it, maybe for Valentine's Day, but knew it was just a fleeting fancy. The way her birthday ended up might have given her reason to expect something more, but…it was just a silly holiday after all. And she was just a silly girl, emotions askew.
'I really am so stupid, after all.'
The Professor gathered her belongings, handing them over almost reluctantly. Inside, he didn't want the day to end, but he cut the feeling off before it had time to blossom. He'd been getting quite good at doing so, as he had constant practice.
He smiled. "Well, I do thank you for coming over. Hopefully it wasn't a waste, or a lie even."
Pulling on her coat, she let out a feeble laugh. "Um, well, I guess it was more of a twisted truth, rather than a lie. You did say before that you were going to bake for someone special. I have my reservations on how you go about choosing your words as to make loopholes of them, but…well, hopefully you accomplished your goal." Smiling timidly, she caught his gaze in hers.
"I'd say I did, more or less," he chortled, smiling warmly. He turned the handle.
"I have something to tell you." She looked at the floor, building whatever courage she needed to string words together. For some reason, it was slowly becoming difficult as she planned out her sentences.
It was enough to cause his heart to pound. Layton held fast to the doorknob, unsure of whether he wanted to hear what the something was. His intuition ran haywire, but it was sensible enough to feel uneasy.
'What a frightening way to begin…leaves me wondering if it's good news or bad. I'm quite unsure of what I'd like to hear, honestly…'
He waited for her to lift her head, her eyes almost wild with some sort of inner turmoil. In an instant, they became calm, a smile pleasantly taut across her lips.
"Unlike you, I would feel silly, were I to play with talking in puzzles and riddles. For that reason alone, I'll just be frank. I mean, well…you might not intend what I think you have been intending all this time, when you give such haphazard hints and such, but…" She sighed, folding her hands as her arms hung loose in front of her. "Professor, regardless of how you take this, I'd just like to be clear, so you know. I really enjoy, well—like? Hmm, no, that's not—okay, well anyway, I really love spending time with you. I look forward to 'review' every day, and the weekends almost seem like punishment anymore, since I don't have any sensible conversation at home."
She briefly looked into his eyes to ensure he wasn't bored out of his mind, or disgusted in what she was saying. "And, well," she swallowed, looking back at her hands, unable to look at him straight, "I really would like to thank you for letting me do little things with you, here and there, such as today. I don't know 100% what you mean by it, but it kept me up all night in anticipation. I don't really get to do much, so it really does make my life more exciting.
I'm not sure if anyone has told you this, but you're a very nice man. Not just nice in terms of being kind, but…being genuinely concerned with others' affairs. Regardless of whatever academic pursuits and goals you may have in the future, and regardless of where our paths may diverge, I hope you'll remember that you at least gave one of your students some meaningful, intelligent conversation, and that is more than I could have hoped for from going to stupid archaeology cla—"
For a moment, she didn't know if she was pulled by the man in front of her, or pushed by the bookcase at her back, it all happened so fluidly. But she found her face stuffed into some sweet smelling material, and a second's time passed before she realized she was being hugged close, perhaps embraced was a more meaningful term, by the Professor, all physical feeling leaving her limbs. Her arms hung limp at her sides, unsure of whether or not to reciprocate. Her senses revved up again, nerves tingling along her scalp as she felt fingers comb delicately through her hair.
"Archaeology isn't stupid," the Professor whispered, very much near her ear. Laura shivered, his words almost sensual in the way he dictated them. She felt stupid for reacting in such a way and hoped he didn't notice. He let her go, Laura upset it had to end so soon, but only after recovering from the realization of what had just happened.
Before she knew it, she was on the front porch, light spilling from the house and onto the most recent dusting of snow, sprinkled across the porch. The snowy expanse of the lawn, sidewalk, everything seemed daunting, causing her to want to stay a bit longer. She turned back to him, standing calmly in the door way, hands in his pants pockets.
"Thanks again. That was fun," she said languidly, somewhat in a daze, as if she was speaking to the door jam but somehow knew it was ridiculous to talk to inanimate objects.
"Indeed, I'm glad you actually came. I wasn't sure whether or not to expect you. I'm very concerned about you getting home safely. I really think I should walk you home, or at least—"
She held up her hand, gloved palm out. "I'm fine. It's somewhat dark, but the streetlights are bright, no one in their right mind would be out, and my parents expect me back on foot, on my own. I told them I was visiting a friend nearby. I can't have you showing up. They'll think I am using you or something." She rolled her eyes, normal demeanor slowly returning.
"Well, if you insist…" Taking his hands from his pockets, without warning, he cupped her face in his palms and placed his lips to her forehead. He stepped back and laughed as Laura stood lifeless for a second time, gawking at him with glazed over eyes. "I'll be sure to enjoy your tapes. Thank you again. It's a joy hearing you play. I'll see you Monday, then? Are you okay?"
Laura nodded, deadened to anything happening around her. "Yes. I'm fine. Monday. School, that's…yes, I'll see you later, Professor."
She shuffled down the porch steps, meandering the front walk and finally continuing to the main sidewalk. Turning to wave, she pulled her hat about her and cleared the Professor's range of visibility.
Professor Layton shut the door and locked it without a second thought, aimlessly taking to his study, picking around at artifacts and pushing loose books to the back of the shelf. He'd struggled with it, but…the day was done. His deeds were done. Whatever he wanted from the day: it was all done.
He glanced at his briefcase, lying open as he'd left it earlier before Laura came by. A small parcel lay inside it now, a ruby velvet bag tied at the top with a piece of gold ribbon. A small note was at its side, folded over with care.
"Whatever could this be?" He read the card carefully, smiling as he chuckled. "Seems to be a puzzle. Let's see here…
I'm one of five, that is all, though certainly not the best.
Much more useful, so it seems, are the four that make up the rest.
I'm not a necessity most of the time, though useful I can be,
When I sense a fire's smoke-ridden wrath, I'm the first to suggest you flee.
I don't watch movies, or catch a chill,
No food for me either, no drinks to spill.
No music to enjoy, no tune, no chord.
However, remarkably, I'm never bored.
I can recall mountain lake and hot summer air,
Funnel cake, corn dog, carnival fair.
New shoes, baked cake, charcoal grill blaze,
Cold pine, blizzard snow, labyrinth hay maze.
Scraped pumpkin, smashed berry, warm morning shower.
Fresh dirt, tilled earth, new spring flower.
Minted money, clean laundry, rubber four square ball,
Pepper rub, bleached tub, newly painted wall.
Nostalgia is my specialty, memories linger like a spell.
No time machine required; you can travel there by _.
-(Dear reader, as trivial as this poem is, if you want to solve it, don't continue, as the answer is going to be revealed within a few lines of reading!)-
"…by...travel there by…? Oh dear…" He whispered possible rhyming words to himself, shaking his head, as none of them made much sense when inserted into the blank. "Tell, well, sell, fell..." He reread the poem several times before his eyes focused on the first few lines.
'One of five…not always useful. But, it could help during a fire, supposedly. Perhaps it's a tool of some sort? Yet there're all these items: weather, foods, common everyday objects. I really don't see… Oh!'
He chuckled, penciling in the missing word. "Oh but of course. It's 'smell'. The five senses. Not always as useful as sight or sound, but…it would prove helpful if one smelled a fire from a safe distance before stumbling upon it with one's sense of sight, wouldn't it? And yes, scent does link with the memory in ways the other senses can not. Very clever…I'm quite certain this is an original."
Untying the bag carefully, a small vial appeared as he looked in the opening, the glass bottle suspended in light paper packing. There was no questioning it was cologne, but with a small note attached to the cap with a thin piece of ribbon.
"Hmm, 'Wear it to review: maybe I'll focus more :)'. It's from Laura then… Although, it's quite bold for her, I am quite surprised! Ha ha…although…she was a bit more bold this evening, more than usual." His face turned red to match the packaging of his gift.
All of a sudden, he frowned, unable to stand the feeling building up inside him. He left the room as it was, climbing the stairs, entering the bathroom all without his cognizant permission. He switched the light on, looking about without a reason.
It was a realization that was bound to come sooner rather than later, but no matter the timing, it was distressing. He'd noted trends in his feelings, the ups and the downs, the times he had energy and the times he just couldn't do anything, let alone focus. Each time there was a shift in feeling, a change in energy, a fluctuation of self, it had to do with this student. And in the matter of a moment, he was able to admit it.
His hands shook. He slumped against the door and felt little pools of tears well up in his eyes when all his thoughts and feelings converged into one painful epiphany: he had fallen hard for a girl ten years his junior. It wasn't a terribly dreadful difference, but…
Sliding to the floor, his stomach lurched even more recalling that she had just turned 18, that any mention of his feelings just weeks ago would have cost him his job immediately. He thought of himself as an 18 year old, when she would have only been around 8 years old.
'When I think of it that way, it's very strange….very strange indeed…almost disgusting.'
Regardless of whether she was an adult, there were just certain things that a man in his position, of his status, at the schools he was teaching, should be expected not to do, and one near the top of the list would be having romantic inclinations toward a student.
He felt vile, somewhat deranged. He tried telling himself over and over that he was just enjoying the time spent with her because it mimicked legitimate, productive academic discussion, caused him to feel as he did when researching, finding hidden artifacts and digging up their histories, solving puzzles. Wasn't that all? Shouldn't that have been all that it was?
Burying his face into his arms, he leaned against his knees, brought up to his chest. There were other thoughts that kept repeating and running through his mind just as often as his excuses, and even stronger. He constantly wondered what she was doing, thought in advance what the next day's review had in store, and often thought up things to ask her, just to get to know her better. It was what carried him into sleep, and what delivered him out of it again. All things involved Laura, even when she wasn't there in person.
"I'm terrible," he whispered, staring into the corduroy fabric of his pants. "I'm a failure. I've ruined a perfectly acceptable student-teacher relationship, and turned it into something revolting. How…how could I….? I haven't even started as full-time professor yet, and I'm already destroying my future."
He couldn't get the anticipation prior to kissing Laura on the forehead out of his mind. It was exhilarating, if not also dreadfully frightening. He'd had half a mind to aim a bit lower, but completely decided against his carnal voice. Now, this feeling was coupled with guilt, and playing tug of war with them was beginning to stress him out to the point where he wished she could be there, saying something intelligent with the plainest face, as if her ever-present logic should have already struck him as obvious. He heard her voice: "Really? Honestly?"
'How she's always so emotionless, it really is admirable…unless she's just hiding it very well. I've been a wreck for months…'
He turned the bottle of cologne around in his hands, gingerly cupping it in the palms. It was a smooth, frosted glass container, the liquid inside barely visible. Squirting a small spray onto his wrist, he breathed it in deeply. It reminded him somehow of pleasant smelling wood, leather, and long winter nights spent warmly under thick blankets and bedding. He smiled, picturing Laura searching for the perfect scent in the department store.
"Something made her like it… It's very lovely, really." He stood, brushing his pants off as he strode to the mirror, removing his hat. Perhaps it was merely a figment of his imagination, but he swore each time he looked at himself, he looked a year older.
'No wonder that chap at the theatre thought Laura was my daughter…'
The house felt heavy. The halls seemed to groan alongside him, dim wall lights helping him down the path to his room, but the atmosphere was brooding. No sounds could be heard, leaving him with no distractions, something he desperately wanted at the moment. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hands.
"Logically, I don't feel any of this is right, but… I don't know, I just don't know." He laid down, not bothering to turn off the lights. He wasn't certain he'd be able to get himself back up. Everything seemed useless. It was the first time he felt he didn't want to bother with thinking, as if he wanted to just…let logic go.
'I'm no where further than I was thinking of these things a month ago. It really is complicated, something seemingly so simple, so…supposedly inviting.
Sorry, Rosa. I can't help but feel lonely on Valentine's. Not that it matters any.'
Laura walked home, but she didn't recall any of it. She was welcomed with a severe frown from her mother, her father blustering into the foyer just as the front door closed behind her.
"A bit late, returning from a visit to your friend's, isn't it?" he grumbled testily, his face cross. "You know it's bad manners to keep your parents up and worried!"
Laura checked the large clock on the wall. "It's barely 8 o'clock. I didn't think it was that late to return home. We finished up supper, and I helped clean the plates," she said convincingly, knowing it was indeed true. It scared her, how good she was getting at pulling the wool over their eyes. Proud of her wit, she wasn't proud of mincing her own words.
"Be that what it may, but have you any idea about some piano tuner coming over this afternoon?" he said gruffly, tugging his robe closer. "The man said he was told this was the exact address he was given. Apparently already paid in full! Now who would give our address?"
Rushing into the front room, she stood staring at the wall piano. It sat as it always had, heavy, tall, wide: a giant among the room's furniture and show pieces. Her father slid his hand across the top, as if looking at it fondly, but merely snorted. "Piece of junk, this, and someone supposedly has it tuned! Doesn't sound all that bad, but…still. Seems a waste to me."
Laura chanced a scowl and opened the lid to the keys. Everything looked the same. "Who would have… There was no mention of a name?"
"No one. The tuner just came on in here, did his work, left without a word. I didn't want him in at first but…well, I knew the business was credible, but the whole thing was curious. Very strange. I almost thought I had gone mad, hearing him go on about how this was indeed the address. Who am I to tell him wrong? Not my problem if he had the wrong place!" He left the room, catching his wife as a listener to his tirade about how batty everyone was getting.
Laura sat on the bench, running her fingers loosely along the keyboard. She played a few chords, expecting the sound she had grown used to, but…
"It's so…crisp. It's not dull, it's…musical! I really don't—That's what he meant." She covered her mouth as she stared at the black and white keys, blurring together into wet blobs as tears formed along her eyelids. "That's why he said I'd have to redo the tapes. He knew about this, he set it up. My piano…"
'Oh, Liam, I know you'd love this. I wish you could hear this in person, but…
Somehow, I know you're listening and watching anyway. I'd never replace you, but someone else knows. Someone else cares. They understand. They love what we loved together, you and I.'
Quietly, paying no heed to whether her parents cared, enjoyed, or were bothered, she started her favorite melody from memory, its music long buried within a casket, but not lost.