Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II (9 page)

Chapter
Fifteen

Cleveland
Heights
, Ohio

September
19, 2011

I
had a meeting with my publisher in Cincinnati. My rep was Kate Gianopoulos. She
was a young, energetic associate who was totally gung ho about my book.

It
was mid-September, and even at ten in the morning it felt like the start of a
warm and breezy June day. The remarkably warm day I knew was going to make the
trip pleasant, which was good since I was a little anxious.

I made Mase go with me and tried to make him drive my Buick
LaCrosse. I was just getting too old to climb in and out of his SUV. But no
way, he said, he was not riding ten hours, five there and five back, in my
little
car. It had four doors. I don’t know what more he could want.

I was pushing forward. Put the book out first. Get the proof
second. Then tell the world. But still, with my plan, I was nervous and I
didn’t want to face it alone so I dragged Mase along. He was fine with it all.
He even encouraged me to “tell all.” I don’t think he realized what he was
saying or what he was pushing me to do. His whole life could be ruined.
Didn’t
he realize that?
They would find out about my depression, my bouts of
craziness and then pounce on the fact that I believed that man came from Mars.
We would all be ostracized, maligned – we’d probably have to change our names
and move to another country.

I could picture it . . .

They would come for me, in the dead of
night. Their torches blazing, pitch forks in hand, ready to bang down my door
and drag me, kicking and screaming, into the streets.

Then I smiled thinking about what would happen next. . .
Instead,
I would swing open the door, just as they reached it, a bright light shining behind
me and hold up, high above my head, the irrefutable proof that I had gleaned as
to man’s origins. Touting it like a banner for them to see, nay, for the world
to see. Evidence of my claims that would make them falter back, mumble among
themselves and cower . . .

“What are you over there smiling about?” Mase looked at me.

“Huh? Nothing.”

Yeah, so I was crazy.

But I had to do something to build up the confidence I needed
to face what I had to do. I had to believe that I could make it all okay once I
showed the world the technology that our ancestors had left for us. The
technology that could make our world better. I had to believe that when I did
it my family - and me, would be able to get through it and be okay, even if it
included talking to myself in horror movie genre-
ese
.

I looked over at Mase. Good thing he didn’t know the things that
were going on in my head. He wouldn’t ever let me out the house, let alone
write a book to tell everybody about it. He pulled over in the gas station on
Mayfield and Belvoir.

“Get whatever you need, because we are not making a bunch of
stops going down the road.” He looked over the top of his sunglasses at me.

“I’m just gonna get a Pepsi.” I shrugged. He raised his
eyebrows as if he didn’t believe me. “You want anything?” I asked.

“Nope. I’m good.”

“I grabbed the pop from the cooler, once inside, then I
thought about what he said,
“Get whatever you need.
” So I turned around
and went and grabbed up an armful of assorted snacks – Cheez-It, Snyder Salt
and Vinegar potato chips, and some chocolate candy. Lots of chocolate candy. And
stood in the short line for the register to pay for it. Someone behind me
tapped me on my shoulder. I knew who it was before I even turned to look. I
knew that scent anywhere.

“Hi, Professor Abelson.” I turned around and looked down at
her 5’1” tall, slender frame. “How are you?” I shifted all my stuff to one arm
and gave her a hug with the other.

“I’m well, Justin. Fancy meeting you here.”

I turned to the side so I could talk to her and still follow
the line. “I know. You’re not driving are you?” I looked out the plate glass
window to all the cars parked at the pumps. I had never known her to drive.
Even in her late seventies, Hannah Abelson was the picture of health. She
didn’t look a day over sixty, and she swam and walked religiously.

“Ah, do you think me too old to drive, do you? I do own a car
you know.”

“No, I didn’t know you owned a car. And no, I didn’t think you
too old to drive. I was just asking.”

“Well, I am driving. But, I’m not alone. My husband, Samuel is
with me.”

The mysterious husband, Samuel.
From what I’d heard around Case no one had
ever seen him.

“I’ve never met him,” I said smiling. “You’ll have to
introduce him to me.”

She smiled back. “Of course I will, dear. Just not right now.
He’s sleeping. Wouldn’t want to disturb him because we just left the doctor’s
office, and they gave him some medicine.”

It was my turn to pay. I slid up to the counter. Fishing a
crumpled twenty dollar bill out of the bottom of my purse, I glanced back out
the window. I wanted to see this husband of hers. Instead I saw Mase finishing
up at the gas pump.
Aw, shoot
, I thought, he’ll want to leave right
away. He wanted to drive to Cincinnati and turn around and come right back. He
wouldn’t want to wait, or for that matter approve of me hanging around, to spy
on Professor Abelson.

“Who are you with?” Professor Abelson asked me.

“My husband, Mase.”

“Oh, how nice. Just the two of you, spending the day together?

“Actually, we’re headed to Cincinnati for the day.”

“Visiting friends?”

“Uhm, no. Aren’t you going to pay for your gas?” She had
stepped out of the line and people were moving in front of her.”

“Oh, I’m fine. You were saying?”

May as well start letting people know, I thought. Everyone
would find out soon enough anyway. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m on my
way to see my publisher. I wrote a book. Actually, this is the second book I
wrote about the subject. So it’s the sequel, I guess.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Just about some manuscripts I found in Israel
a few years back.”

“Manuscripts?”

“Mm-hmm.” I saw Mase holding his door open, looking into the
store. “I have to go Professor Abelson.” I leaned down closer to her and patted
her on her arm. “You take care now.”

“Justin.” She called out to me as I headed out. Smiling, I
turned and waved as I pushed open the glass door.

I climbed back into the SUV.

Looking down at the bag, Mase chuckled. “Now I see what was
taking so long. I filled up the car while you were gone.

“I saw Professor Abelson in there. She is like about ninety,
out driving and pumping gas. Did you see what car she got out of?”

“Who is Professor Abelson?”

“You know. Hannah Abelson. She’s a Professor Emeritus of
Semitic over at Case. She’s a little, I don’t know, eccentric, I guess is the
word. She does strange things. Like she just told me that her husband is in the
car sleeping.”

“How is that strange?”

“Did you see a car with anyone sleeping inside of it?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

“And no one has ever seen her husband. I don’t think she actually
has one.”

“You shouldn’t be so suspicious of people. Buckle up,” he
said, pulling out of the gas station.

“I’m not suspicious of “people.” I’m suspicious of her. Can’t
we wait until she comes out so I can see what car she gets into?” He glanced over
at me and shook his head. I didn’t think that was the answer to my question, I
think he was shaking his head because of what I wanted to do. And, I’m sure, he
was rolling his eyes behind those sunglasses of his.

“She acts so strange.” I kept talking. “She doesn’t really
speak to me. She just stares at me all the time, and other people tell me that
she’s always asking about me. I just feel compelled to be nice to her because
she’s so old.”

“I never heard you talk about her before.”

“That’s because I don’t have a reason to talk about her. I
mean we’re close enough as colleagues. But she kind of creeps me out.”

“You didn’t see her go in?” Mase asked.

“No. She came up behind me when I was standing in line. I knew
it was her before I even turned around. She always smells like roses.”

“Roses?”

“Yeah,” I said, and chuckled. “She wears this rosewater,
toiletwater, parfum, or something. She’s been wearing that scent ever since
I’ve known her. I don’t think she wears any other fragrance.”

“Who would wanna smell like roses?”

“Exactly.”

University
Heights
, Ohio

“How
could I have not known?” Hannah jammed the butcher knife into the loaf of rye
bread that she had set on the counter. She was so angry with herself. “All this
time. How could I have not known,” she repeated. “I came here to watch her and
right under my nose she publishes a book on the manuscripts.”

And
why hadn’t he known? Was she going to have to take care of this herself?

Hannah
had been at the gas station to fill up her car. Although she rarely drove it,
she always made sure it was ready in case of an emergency. But after she had
spoken to Justin she had become so enraged that she had driven straight past
her house and went to the Veale Natatorium at Case, and swam for more than an
hour. But even that seemed not to calm her. She got dressed and headed over to the
Kelvin Smith Library to find Justin’s book. After much searching, and her
getting angrier with each passing moment, no book was found by a Dr. Justin
Dickerson and she stormed out. Sitting in her car she banged on the steering
wheel with both hands, then twisted the ignition, her rage still not settled,
and drove home. Walking in her stocking feet, she went into the kitchen.

“I
will
kill her,” she said, nodding her head and jerking the refrigerator
door open. She grabbed the jug of milk and cheese, and slammed the door,
flinging them both onto the counter.

 “That
little imp! Who does she think she is?” The words spewed from behind clenched
teeth. The muscles surrounding her nose and lips were drawn tight, the ends of
her eyebrows pushed up, her entire face crimson red. She looked like an enraged
elf. Hannah grabbed a plate from the cabinet, and jerking the knife out of the
bread, her elbow hit the milk and it hit the floor, bouncing several times
before resting on its side with a split in the plastic. Milk gurgled out across
the floor.

“Dammit
to hell,” she said, and made a hissing sound. Spreading her legs, she reached
over the puddle to grab paper towels from the counter. Pulling a little too
hard to tear off a towel, her foot slipped in the milk and she fell. On her way
down she tried to grab the edge of the counter, and then the handle of the
drawer underneath it. The drawer and its contents came crashing down on her,
the weight of it twisting her arm.

She
heard a crack.

•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•

“I
can’t put this gown on. It’s my arm for God’s sake.”

Hannah
was in an examination room at University Hospitals. She had crawled, one-armed,
into the living room to dial 911. Paramedics had to come and get her off the
floor, and an ambulance drove her to the ER. As soon as the triage nurse found
out her age, they took her right in.

“Why
would I get undressed for you to check my arm? Have the doctor come in,” she
said, barking at the nurse.

“It’s
a wonder you didn’t break your hip, Miss Abelson.” The male nurse took back the
hospital gown she had pushed away.

“Why
would I have broken my hip? It was just a slip.”

“At
your age, nearly eighty, you have to be careful.”

“Don’t
you think I know how old I am, and what I can and cannot do? I don’t need the
likes of you telling me.” Hannah bowed her head and looked at him menacingly.
“And usually I am very careful. It was just . . .”

“Do
you live alone?”

“Pardon
me?”

“I
just wonder if you need help at home. We have a social worker that could speak
to you.”

“I
don’t need any help. I do quite well. And, my husband lives with me.”

“Your
husband?” The nurse looked down at the sheet of paper clipped to the blue
chart. “Do you want me to call him? I don’t see him listed. Or, you don’t want
him here with you?”

“What
a thing to say. Of course I want him here with me. Samuel. His name is Samuel,”
she said, and looked at the nurse out of the corner of her eye, strands of hair
in her face, “He’s out of town now. On business. That’s why he isn’t here with
me.”

“He
still works?”

Hannah
let out an irritated sigh. The nurse nodded. “I see.” Putting up his hands as
if backing down from a fight, “Well, the doctor’s pretty sure that that arm is
broken. And because of your age, we’re going to keep you overnight and make
sure no bruising or clotting occurs,” he said. “But by morning you’ll have to
have someone come and pick you up. Once we get that arm in a cast, and the
doctor releases you, we can’t let you go home by yourself because of your age,
and the meds we’ll give you for the pain. Do you have someone you can call?”

“Yes.
Of course I do.”

“I
didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that you’ll need to call them before
you’re discharged. Or we can call social services.”

“I
said I have someone you can call. A good and dear friend of mine. She will not
hesitate to come to my aid. I have her number written down. Would you hand me
my purse, please?”

The
nurse reached over to the chair where Hannah’s purse set, her shoes slid underneath.
Picking up the purse, he handed it to her.

“Thank
you.” Hannah snatched the purse with her good arm. “I know I have it here
somewhere.” She pushed back the wisps of hair that had fell around her face,
and searched down in her purse. She pulled out a wallet and checked in the
zippered section of it. “Yes, here it is.” She handed the card to the nurse.
“Call her. Let her know I’ll need a ride tomorrow. She’ll come and get me.”

The
nurse nodded his head. “Justin Dickerson?” he read off the name. Hannah nodded.
“Okay. Is this the right card. You said ‘she’ would come and get you. So,
Justin is a girl?”

“Yes.
Why else would I give you that card?”

“I
was just checking.”

“Well
call her and let her know. She’ll come right over. She will come and pick me
up. You needn’t worry about that. And, that’s
Doctor
Justin Dickerson.”