Chapter 20
Father Andrew knelt in front of his mother's gravestone. His spectacles started to slide down his bulbous nose and he adjusted them with his left hand. His right hand held a single red carnation.
'I didn't forget, Ma. I'll never forget.' He put the carnation on the grave and looked up to the sky. His hand made its way to his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He dabbed it against his brow. The heat didn't mix well with the black priest robes. Father John Andrew thought it was a bit warm for the time of year. At least, he hoped it was just the seasonal warmth he was feeling instead of his heart problem.
He silently prayed for strength and made it from his knees to a standing position. He crossed himself over his mother's grave and began the walk slowly back up the hill to his church. There was a nagging pain in his arm.
He rubbed his left shoulder and wiped his brow. The sweat was collecting on his forehead and it started to dribble down the side of his nose. He stopped walking for a moment and put his hand into his coat pocket.
'I am Your servant, my Lord. But I don't want to visit just quite yet. A few more, Lord. Just a few more...' His words were cut off by a spasm of pain. His face twisted and his body doubled over. The pain in his arm felt like a clamp gripping down. He tried to rub the area, but his other hand felt numb. With a strained effort, he produced two small pills from his coat pocket and put them into his mouth.
The taste contorted his face further, but the other pains started to recede a small bit. 'Thank you, Father of blessed mercy.'
He stood next to the cemetery gate and leaned against a spiked pole for support. His eyes were shut and he allowed the gentle breeze to cool him. 'Thank you, Lord. Thank you.'
Father Andrew opened his eyes and looked towards the grave he had just visited. Between two gravestones stood a young woman. Her attire seemed more out of the early part of the century than current times. She stood there with jet black eyes and stared back intently. Her pale face held a blank expression. Not even pity or curiosity glimmered from her face. Father Andrew stood and returned her gaze. The two looked at each other for a moment longer before Andrew made a faint sign of the cross and turned away.
'The Lord is merciful.' Father Andrew said as he continued his walk towards his church. He opened the church side door and entered without looking back.
Chapter 21
Laura Davis held a college prospectus in her hand. She was studying the class information for Parapsychology. Her mousey brown hair was flowing over her shoulders as she tried to make sense of the classroom numbering system.
'3E 100b? Does that even make sense?' she said rather loudly.
She tried to find a map of the building near the doorway, but that just made matters worse. As she kept contemplating where her classroom was, carelessly tossing and turning, she bumped directly into by a man rushing through the door. Her paper fell to the floor, with the man's folders. She bent down at the same time as he did to pick their stuff up. Their two heads knocked together.
'Wow. Hey....' Laura yelled first.
'Oww yourself there. Sorry, I'm a bit tense. Late, you see. It's my fault. Here...' he bent over, picked up his folders and handed Laura her prospectus.
'Thank you. And I'm sorry if I caused your head any pain. That was my fault.' Laura apologized.
'No, no. It was my fault. I was in a rush. Late for class.'
'Me too. I can't even find my class! Hey, do you know where this is?' Laura handed him her prospectus.
'3E 100b, eh? Yes, it’s just down the hall.'
'How? Isn't this 2A? How is that 3E then?' she asked.
'This is 2B actually.' he replied.
'No, this is so not 2B! The sign says 2A!' Laura pointed out.
'2B or not 2B, that is the question then...'
'What? Ha-ha. Very funny. Listen, can you point me towards this class? I hate being late.' Laura pleaded now.
'Yeah, It's the least I can do for subjecting you to my humor.' the man said.
'Not to mention knocking my stuff out of my hands and then knocking my head around.' Laura teased. 'But if you just get me to my class, all will be forgiven. I'll even throw in a coffee!'
'We'll see. You might not want coffee with me in a bit.' He said as they walked down the hallway.
'Really? Something I ought to know?'
Henry shows a wry smile.
'Hmm. You'll see.'
They soon arrived at a door.
Well, here's your classroom. 3E 100b. As promised.' he said.
'So, that coffee?' Laura asked.
'Right. Maybe I should introduce myself first.' he said and ushered her into the class.
The classroom was plain. It had a few seats scattered along long tables. The tables seemed to be placed almost at random, almost like a cleaner was upset at his job and decided to let the floor waxer redecorate. Towards the far end of the room was a projector with its cord wrapped around. Near the projector was a blackboard that was smeared with chalk. A few broken fragments of chalk, no bigger than a fingernail, remained near the board. There wasn't an eraser in sight. Laura made her way towards the front row near a woman who was playing with hair. The hair looked greasy and smelled like old bacon.
'Sorry I'm late guys. If you're new, I'm Henry Bradshaw. But as most of you know, I'll be your teacher for all things Para tonight!' He made a spooky hand gesture.
Laura looked at her teacher, the man she just made a clumsy pass at, and blushed. Henry tried to act neutral, though a smile did crack through to his lips.
'All right, class. Settle down. Yes, right. Now, last week we covered a few commonly held beliefs in hauntings. Can anyone tell me what most of those beliefs were rooted in?' Henry asked his class as he picked up a sliver of chalk. He looked at the piece and tossed in the waste bin. He put his hand in his coat pocket and produced a piece of chalk that had a fine point sharpened on it. He put his hand towards the board ready to write anything his students said.
'Oh, come on now, don’t be shy. Just say what comes to mind. What were the fears really based on? Think!'
'God!' Someone yelled from the back of the class.
'God. Good. God.' Henry said as he wrote it down. 'What else?'
'The unknown' said the girl who was playing with her hair.
'The devil!' shouted another student.
'Demons!'
'Shadows!'
Henry spent his time writing all of the answers down. 'Right, right. But what do all of those have in common? What ties them all together?'
'Mortality.' Laura said.
Henry stopped writing and looked over at Laura. 'Yes! Very good, Ms... ummmm....'
'Miss Davis.' Laura responded with a smile.
'Well, very good Miss, Miss Davis. Mortality is what roots all of these together. God comes from our fear of being mortal. Same of the devil and demons. Even the shadows hide from us what is not seen in the dark.' Henry picked up a book from his folder and started to rifle through the pages.
'See here, Dry Cummings was writing about this very thing in his book. Listen,
'Where modern science would suggest, Cummings writes, paranormal events are nothing but social conditioning based on such fears.
'We find some societies already welcome death as a part of the natural cycle of life. They have no such fears, accepting paranormal occurrences as they do the physical world in which we live.'
Henry put the book down and looked at his class. He could see which students were thinking of dinner and which were thinking over what he had just said. Laura seemed absorbed into his words.
'For me, this is the reason I took up parapsychology. I needed answers. Modern science brushes off serious paranormal investigations. Anyone here believe the majority of the world is mad? I prefer to believe that there is more to this world, something we don't quite understand.' Henry argued. He paced a bit in front of the class and then continued.
'Everything, ultimately, can be seen as unknown. Your heart steadily. You aren't conscious of it, but they are. Imagine a world where you had to consciously control each and every heartbeat. You wouldn't live very long, now would you? Most of us can't even concentrate long enough to finish a television show without several breaks. That's why commercials came into play, wasn't it?'
'I thought it was to sell us the next mobile phone' another guy said.
Henry went on to explain to the class never to confuse the message with the delivery system. He said the message could be anything from what they urge people to buy, save or who they needed to vote for while the delivery system is the breaking up of larger pieces of information.
'We aren't really built to see the big picture. We aren't really built to absorb everything about our reality. Thus, the paranormal is sometimes dismissed as voodoo instead of science. It's easier for some not to see reality than it is for them to hold on to their horse blinders.' Henry paused and scanned the faces of the students in his class, most of whom were nodding in agreement. Laura's eyes did not falter from Henry and he turned from her gaze.
'Everyone in my camp then? That's nice to hear. Before you all so willingly agree, understand what differentiates a parapsychologist and your average ghost hunter, 'Kool-aid' drinker. The big difference is that parapsychologists aren't in it for ratings or to be famous. We have to go into any and every situation like a scientist. That means having an open mind, tempered with logic and scientific resolve. Question everything!'
Chapter 22
As the students filed out of Henry's class, Laura stayed behind. Laura watched Henry collect his books and jacket, obviously buying time before he had to engage with his last remaining student.
Laura walked up to Henry.
'So, Teacher, I don't think we properly introduced ourselves out there. I'm Laura Davis.' she held her hand out and he brushed his chalk covered hand off on his trousers before taking it.
'Henry Bradshaw. So, you can see why I said you might not want to buy me coffee after a bit. Not many people hit on their teachers.'
'Hit? Who said anything about that? A bit full of yourself, Professor Bradshaw.'
'I'm not a professor and I didn't mean...' Henry started.
'I'm teasing you. Coffee is just coffee. I still think I owe you for showing me to the classroom. I heard the teacher was a real stickler for being late.'
'I have to say it was a nice surprise to see someone so...'
'So....so what?' Laura asked.
'I don't want to say old, but I guess refined maybe is the right word. So refined as someone like you in this class.'
'Did you just say I was old and then try to turn it into a compliment?'
'Looks like if I keep talking, I'll be the one owing you the coffee.' Henry teased.
'Nonsense. I'm buying. And, yes, I still want to buy you the coffee.'
'Ummm...thank you. Yes. That would be nice, I guess. I don't get a lot of offers for free coffee. So, what did you think of the class?' Henry asked.
'I liked it.' Laura answered.
'I must have hit my head harder than I thought. First, I run into a new student and then she says she likes my classes. Most people just think I'm a weirdo for doing parapsychology.'
'I'm not most people. I'm Laura.'
'You sure are. So, that coffee? I know this nice little spot slightly off campus.'
'Oh. No. I can't tonight.'
'Have to wash your hair?'
'Who do you think I am? No. It's just that I have plans already. Maybe tomorrow? If you are in, that is.' Laura said.
'Yeah, I'm in tomorrow. Even if I weren't, I'd still come in just for the coffee. Someone wants to buy me coffee? I'm in! A no brainer.'
'Forget coffee then, I think we need a proper drink.'
'There's a great pub across the road. I usually go there after hours to unwind from class. We can meet there tomorrow night, say around 7?'
'I have psychology tomorrow, so if you make it 7:30, it sounds like a deal.' Laura said.
'Okay. Have fun with Boyce.'
'Boyce?' Laura was confused.
'He's your psych teacher tomorrow. Let's just say it will be an experience. I won't spoil it for you.' said Henry as a mischievous smile escaped his lips.
Chapter 23
The weather was warm and the streets were busy with people moving to and fro, trying to settle their personal businesses. Jenny Marshall in similar fashion strolled along. She slowed her pace as something caught her eye across the road. In a shop’s front window display stood some curious objects; porcelain figurines, glass and crystal pieces, clothing and various odds and ends. She crossed the road to get a closer look. It was an old antique shop with decrepit paintwork. Jenny wore her sunglasses over her long brown hair and adjusted her form-fitting top before entering the shop. A sign that read 'Gaffney Antiques' hung on the entrance with a bell attached to the door that jingled as she went through.
The shopkeeper with hair of an almost orange hue walked over to meet Jenny. Her glasses were attached to a string of gemstones that kept them from falling from her face when she looked down. The woman was elegant and yet had a working class strength to her. Apparently, Mrs. Gaffney had worked all of her life serving kids at the school. The antique shop had been her dream.
'Hello, madam. What may I do for you?' Mrs. Gaffney asked.
'I wonder. Could I have a look at the old perfume bottle you have in the window?' Jenny replied.
'Ah. The peculiar one? Very nice item. Dated and rare. I put it out this morning and said to myself if it didn't sell by today, I would keep it for myself.' Mrs. Gaffney said as she walked towards the window to pick up the bottle for Jenny to examine.
'Beautiful thing, isn't it?' Gaffney said as she rotated it in her hands towards the light. The light seemed to refract around the bottle and absorb different colors of the spectrum. The snakes on top of the bottle danced in the light. It was almost hypnotic.
'How much?' asked Jenny.
'Twenty-five pounds. A bargain at that. Won't find another like it. Believe me, I've been in the business long enough to know.'
'Fifteen and it's a deal.' Jenny said, giving her best poker face.
Mrs. Gaffney smiled. 'Oh, a bargain hunter? Well, if you promise to give it a good home, I could let it go for twenty. Not a penny lower.'
'Done!' Jenny yelped and pulled out her purse. She gave Mrs. Gaffney a twenty-pound note.
Gaffney looked the note over in the light and put it in her register. 'Let me wrap this nicely up for you. An object like this deserves to be treated with care.'
'Oh, I have some place in mind for it.' Jenny stated as a matter of fact.
Mrs. Gaffney looked at Jenny, smiled and reassured her that she’d be quite pleased with the package she was about to give. A bit of oil dripped out of the bottle as she placed it into a small wrapping box. She wiped her hands quickly on a rag and sealed the box with twine before handing the box over to Jenny.
Mrs. Gaffney watched silently as Jenny left the shop. Her customary sales smile disappeared when the door closed. She turned and went towards the rear of the shop.