Assumptions (16 page)

Iain Pritchard hung up his overcoat just
inside the door of his apartment and took his newfound collection
to the library. He taped and filed them in proper order then stood
in the corner of the room to admire his work.

The tape holding up a bag marked
Soda
(unfinished), 7 November, 08:37, Eastview
gave way. It dropped
to the floor taking three others with it. Pritchard backed up,
pressing himself against the wall. He took a quick breath then dove
into the sea of brown paper bags on the floor, searching
frantically for the fallen among the cast-off bits. He crawled
across the floor pulling up bag after bag, laughing and crying
until his body ached. At quarter-past one he went to the kitchen
for something to eat. He brought back a bottle of screw-top red
instead. He drank half and passed out. The bottle tipped over,
spilling the rest of the wine over his precious finds.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: BLACK AND WHITE

Will’s zipped the bag over his tuxedo. He
pulled the small book out of his backpack and stuffed it into the
inside pocket of his overcoat. He headed out the door. The term had
ended and after the Black and White his obligation to Eastview
would be over, at least for a couple of weeks. At the bottom of the
stairs, the mail carrier jammed envelopes into the narrow boxes and
sighed.

“Busy this time of year,” said Will.

“Busiest time of all. Do me a favor and take
yours?”

“Sure. Merry Christmas.”

“You, too, Will.” She handed him a bundle of
a dozen cards and letters. He jammed them into the back pocket of
his jeans where they would go unnoticed by any holiday pickpockets
on the el.

Will rang the bell at Jordyn’s front door.
She answered in one of her father’s button down shirts and pink
sweatpants, her hair already twisted up in the back and piled high
on her head. A few tendrils fell in graceful spirals around her
face, just skimming her shoulders.

Jordyn took Will’s tuxedo. “I’ll hang this in
the guest bedroom upstairs. My dad’s coming from the office. We’ll
meet him there. I have to finish up. Snacks are in the kitchen.
Make yourself at home.” She ran upstairs leaving Will to fend for
himself.

Will went to the kitchen and helped himself
to a bottle of imported water, the one in the blue glass. He tossed
his coat over the top of a barstool and sorted through his mail,
discarding the advertisements and opening the envelopes that looked
like Christmas cards. Two came from their building tenants, one
from the dentist, and the other had no return address. Will pulled
the cards from their envelopes, “Season's Greetings” from the
dentist, the Star of Bethlehem from upstairs, and a reindeer on a
coffee break from downstairs. The card with no sender was white
with simple red letters, J-O-Y; no sentiment inside, just a note,
Peace be with you – TS
. Will checked the postmark.
Provident, Illinois.

Jordyn's high heels clicked lightly on the
wood floor. She walked into the kitchen. The silken folds of her
white gown hugged her waist and hips, falling into a train flowing
five feet behind her. Her shoulders and breastbone were bare.
Opalescent flecks sparkled on her toes and fingers and the faintest
shimmer of pink iced her lips.

Will stood, slack jawed. “Wow, you are a
girl,” he said.

"Emerson!"

"Honestly, you look amazing."

Jordyn curtsied. "Why thank you, sir.” She
pointed up the stairs. “Your turn."

Fifteen minutes later, Will came down the
stairs, jacket in hand, bowtie draped around his neck. "It’s been a
while since I tied one of these."

"My dad can't ever get it, either." Jordyn,
already in her coat, fixed his tie. She patted him on the lapel.
"Not so bad yourself. Cab's waiting.” She handed him his overcoat.
“Let's get out of here."

The driver cruised south on Lake Shore Drive.
Lake Michigan sparkled, reflecting the light of the city under a
cold, clear sky. The cab pulled up to The Field Museum behind half
a dozen more.

Jordyn paid the driver. "We'll get out here.
Thank you." She gathered up her gown and she and Will walked, fast
as they could, to the entrance.

They waited at the coat check, cheeks
wind-kissed and rosy. Jordyn took off her coat and draped it over
her arm. "Give me your coat. I'll check them. You can go find our
table." Will took off his coat and handed it to her. He started to
walk away. Jordyn felt something blocky on her arm. She reached
inside Will’s coat pulled out the book. "Emerson!"

Will turned around to see her walking toward
him, book in hand.

She slapped it into his hand. "Seriously. You
have to stop carrying this thing everywhere.”

Will shrugged and tucked the book into his
jacket pocket.

Jordyn went back to check their coats. When
she reached the Great Hall, it was already crowded.

"Jordyn," called a strawberry haired man.

"Dad!" She ran and jumped into his arms like
she did when she was three years old.

He kissed her on the cheek and set her down.
"Look at you!

Jordyn grinned. “I was afraid I might not see
you, tonight.”

“How could I miss you? You’re the most
beautiful girl, excuse me,
young woman
, in the place.”

“Dad,” she whined. She adjusted his tie.
“That’s better.”

“Thanks, Pumpkin.”

She took his hand. “Come on. I want you to
meet Will. He's already in there somewhere."

“Have you been in yet?"

"Not yet.”

"Then allow me to walk you in." M.L. Quig led
his daughter into the museum hall.

Faceted glass balls and twinkle lights hung
from balcony to balcony, glittering above their heads. Near the
center of the room, a big band played “Moonlight Serenade.”
Silver-haired ladies in couture whirled around the dance floor with
their tuxedoed gentlemen while most of the students slouched around
the edge of the room talking with friends or twiddling the
silverware, grudgingly waiting for the after dinner band.

M.L. Quig introduced his daughter to two
Aldermen, the Chief of Police, and the CEO of a multi-national.
Before long a crowd formed around him.

“Jordyn, do you mind if I meet you later?”
asked her father.

“No problem, Dad.”

“Save a dance for me?”

“Sure,” she said, but he had already been
swept away, the group around him increasing until he was no longer
visible. Jordyn watched for a few minutes, but he was gone,
enveloped in his world, not hers.

She surveyed the hall. Her eyes came to rest
across the room on the back of Will's head and she smiled. Someone
tapped her shoulder from behind.

"Jordyn?" said Logan.

She turned around. "You’re alone? Where are
all your friends?"

"They’re around. Nice dress."

"Thanks.”

Logan shifted his weight. “I’m . . . I’m
sorry.”

“About what?”

“That whole thing . . . in Geography.”

“Me, too.”

Alex, Jilly, and Cooper scurried up behind
him.

"Hi, Jordyn," said Cooper.

Jordyn smiled at her. Alex shoved Cooper
aside. “Saw your boyfriend.”

“What?” Jordyn looked around the room.

“Emerson’s a real hit with the gray-hairs.
Such a loser.”

Jordyn scowled.

Alex latched onto Logan’s arm. “Where’s your
little Irish friend?” she sniped.

“What do you care?” said Jordyn. “She's not
coming. Happy?”

Alex snorted.

“One less person you have to annoy. You'll
have more time to party," said Jordyn.

"Party? You have no idea. Come on, Logan.
She’s not worth your time." Alex turned and strutted away. Jilly
and Cooper fell in behind.

Logan shrugged. "See you," he said and
followed Alex into the heart of the hall.

Jordyn made her way across the room, saying
hello to the strangers who stopped her every few yards. By the time
she reached the place she had seen Will, he had vanished. She
wandered past a few tables, but did not see him in the crowd. She
climbed onto a chair for a better view.

Will stood in the middle of the room with two
professors, talking and laughing, not as student and teacher, but
collegially. Will spoke and the men were rapt.

A husky woman bumped into Jordyn, making her
reach down to steady herself on the back of the chair. By the time
she stood again, Professor Barrett had joined Will and the others.
Will shook his hand. He and Barrett excused themselves and found an
empty highboy near the entrance. They spoke for a moment. Will laid
the book on the table. Barrett touched the stone. He held it close
to his face, examining the clasp with care. He laid the book back
on the table, patting it gently. Will slipped it back into his
pocket.

Jordyn eased down from her chair and jogged
across the room. She found Will and Professor Barrett, still
talking.

"There you are," said Will.

"Good evening, Miss Quig," said Barrett.

"Professor." Jordyn smiled politely.

"Will was just telling me about your recent
adventures," said Barrett.

Jordyn shot Will an uneasy look. "Was
he?"

Security scrambled toward the museum
entrance. A man in a black overcoat forced his way past them and
into the hall.

"Will!" the man shouted. "William
Emerson!"

"I think it’s Pritchard," said Will. Jordyn
stood high on her toes, but couldn’t see over the people standing
around them.

Pritchard burst through the crowd and, for a
moment, stood eye-to-eye with Will. Security pulled Pritchard back
and zip tied his wrists hard and tight. They dragged him away
screaming, "Will, it's real! I know it! The book is real! You must
protect it. Your father will know what to do. Will! Protect
it!"

Will stood at the highboy, speechless. Jordyn
tugged on his sleeve. "You okay, Emerson?"

Will nodded. “So, maybe he is a little
weird." He put his hand in his pocket. The book was gone and so was
Barrett.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: CROSSROADS

"The coat check!" Jordyn shouted. "He's
leaving!"

They sprinted after him. Barrett ran down the
museum stairs to the taxi stand and jumped into a white car with
'AAA' on the side. It squealed away before the door closed.

Will opened the nearest cab door he could
find. He and Jordyn scrambled in. Will shouted at the driver.
"North on Lake Shore Drive. Hurry!"

"Where is he going?" asked Jordyn.

"To a crossroads."

Jordyn pointed ahead. "There’s his cab."

The white cab exited at Foster Avenue. "Isn't
this your neighborhood?" said Jordyn.

Will nodded and leaned forward in his seat.
“Get off here, then go north on Broadway," he directed the
driver.

He took off his jacket and wrapped it around
Jordyn's bare shoulders. "We'll be there soon." He pushed some cash
through the slot in the window separating them from the driver.
"Pull into the church parking lot on the left, just past
Catalpa."

The church grounds were quiet. Will took
Jordyn by the hand and led her through the courtyard, past Ita’s
statue, up the steps. They entered the dark vestibule. Will
tightened his jacket around Jordyn. He whispered, “Go to the
rectory. It's right around the corner. Get the priest.”

“But, Will," she protested.

“Just go. Now." He turned her body toward the
door. She gave him an apprehensive look over her shoulder then
disappeared through the doors.

Jordyn stepped outside into the cold night.
The stars, usually faded in the city light, shined with startling
clarity, bright and abundant. She clutched Will’s jacket and took
off down the stairs. The straps of her shoes cut into her feet and
she began to regret her choice of footwear.

It took only seconds for her to reach the
front of the rectory. She rang the bell and pounded the door as
hard as she could.

“Hello!” she shouted. “Please, we need help!
We need your help.” No one came to the door; no one turned on a
light. She ran to the back door and repeated her plea. There was no
answer.

Will stood in the vestibule, listening to the
faint shuffling of a single pair of shoes on stone. He cracked the
door and slipped quietly into the nave, now decorated in the solemn
pink and violet of Advent. Only the sanctuary was lit.

Barrett covered the altar with a cloth and
laid the small, dusty book in the center. He lit the candles.

Will inched forward. "Professor Barrett?"

"Stay where you are!"

"You don't have to do this."

"The book was meant for me, not you.” Barrett
slipped a violet stole over his head.

Will stepped forward.

"Stop!" shouted Barrett. He paced behind the
altar. "More often than I can count, Stillman sat in that office
complaining about his job and confessing his sins. He couldn’t stay
away from the boats and the horses. He needed the money. It was
easy to convince him to recommend an appraisal to that old bat . .
. for a price, of course.” Barrett chuckled. “And I gladly handed
over every penny I had. Dorothea Whitford, she couldn’t have been
more overjoyed to see him.”

Will inched up.

Barrett held up his hand. "I told you not to
move!" He closed his eyes and put his hands together in prayer. He
took a deep breath then exhaled slowly. “I didn’t count on the
storm, but, really, it was perfect.” He smiled for a moment.

Will stepped forward.

“I said, don’t move.” Barrett opened his eyes
and frowned. “Perfect . . . until Stillman decided to stay on to
pick up the pieces. No matter, I was already waiting anyway. What’s
a little more time? It was nothing."

Barrett came from behind the altar and walked
down a step. "Stillman got the book, though; brought it home. Then
he stopped taking my calls and he returned my money. He returned
the money!” Barrett backed up the step toward the altar, keeping an
eye on Will. “And he sent the book to your father instead.”