The Space between Atoms 58

 Lindsey listened with sharp attention.  “She just left ya, without an explanation?”

Terah nodded even though she was walking in front of him.

“I had a boyfriend once, in high school.  It didn’t end well.  Some of us just aren’t cut out for relationships, I guess.”  She stopped walking.

“Are you okay?” Terah wondered.

“It’s Calum,” she said.

Terah looked ahead.  Coming at them through the trees was a tall, balding man with white hair falling from his tonsure to his shoulders.  His beard was neatly trimmed like a man who had a mirror and a good pair of scissors.  He wore faded jeans and a plaid shirt under a jacket not dissimilar from Lindsey’s.  Terah realized they were very nearly identically dressed.

“Lindsey!  I knew it was you.  God, you look awful.”

“Thanks, Calum.  You know how to make a girl feel good.”  She was smiling.

“And this must be Dr. Terah Economy.”  He didn’t offer his hand.  “I don’t mean to be rude, but with the current situation it’s best we keep a little distance.  The good news is you don’t have far to go.”  With that cryptic introduction, he turned and led them the way from which he’d come.

“How’d you know my name?” Terah asked.

“There’ll be time for talk later,” Calum called back over his shoulder.  “Conversation isn’t easy when there’s no trail.”

Twenty more minutes of walking brought them to a clearing in which stood a remarkably large stone house.  “Welcome to Rothochtaid,” he said with a bow.  “Of course, Lindsey, you’ve been here before.”

“Thanks for comin’ to meet us,” she said.

“Still dropping your g’s?”  He smiled.  “A mentor is always glad to see his mentees again.  I have to say I’ve never had another like you.”

Terah’s confusion was reaching the danger level.  “What’s this all about?”

“First come away inside and get comfortable.  Kjell will take your packs.”  The front door was large and oaken, studded with antique door nails.  The handle was a wrought iron ring.  Calum turned it and stepped back to let them enter.  Kjell, Terah assumed, met them at the door.  He was a younger man, obviously not a formal butler, but he was wearing latex gloves and what looked like highland Scottish attire.  He gave Lindsey a shy smile.  Terah hadn’t seen a man in a kilt for years.

“Before I send you two off to the showers, I have to ask you if you’ve had any close interaction with anyone within the last two weeks.”

“We’ve gone to stores to get supplies, but that’s about it,” Lindsey replied.

“Where, and how long ago?”

“We were in Scotrun, and Terah picked up supplies about a week ago.”

Calum nodded.  “Lindsey, you remember where the guest rooms are.  Pick one for yourself and Terah.  When you’re done showering dinner will be ready.  We’ve got much to discuss.”

Terah followed Lindsey like a puppy, hoping against hope that they’d share a room.  The interior of the house was modern and comfortable with incongruous anachronisms.  Clearly Calum didn’t play at being some Merlin or Gandalf, but the sensibly redone interior favored the weighty over the light, insubstantial materials of just about every apartment in which Terah had lived.  The choices spoke of authenticity.  The stairs, for example, were polished red granite.  Their framework was heavy wrought iron, but each tread had a center carpeted with a woolen rug the color of heather.  Terah had the impression that Calum had designed it himself.  It was eclectic but it worked together.

At the top of the stairs—or rather second floor, as the stair continued upward—Lindsey led him down a corridor.  “These two,” she said.  She opened one of the doors, slipped inside, and shut it.  Although disappointed, Terah was curious and he stepped to the next door down.

During his early teaching days, before losing his full-time job, Terah had attended the annual meeting of the American Academy of Religion.  Attendees were housed in four-star hotels with the occasional, coveted fifth star in the mix.  This had been the only time he’d seen bedrooms as impressive as this.  Calum’s rooms were more noteworthy for their gothic touches.  The four-poster bed, for example, had a full canopy of rich brocade, so that it could be made practically a room within a room.  The floor was carpeted in a pattern that clearly took inspiration from tartans from Scotland.  The paintings on the walls were authentic—not old masters, but not hotel prints either.  The fact that it had a private bathroom almost made up for not sharing a room with Lindsey.

Tiled in actual marble the bathroom boasted elegant and stylish antique bronze fixtures.  It felt as if Terah had never had a shower before.  He luxuriated in hot water and scented soap.  It was like a mother’s hug.  Reluctantly he stepped out and dried off with towels softer than kittens.  Back in his room were clean clothes roughly his size.  Nothing fancy and wizardish, but what a professor might wear at home.  Lingering in the doorway lest the room disappear, he finally followed his hunger down the stairs.  Kjell led him to a paneled dining room with dark English oak and hand-carved chairs.  

Lindsey, who was wearing clean jeans and a new blouse, was already in conversation with Calum.  He spoke up, “Please, help yourself to the buffet and join us.”  Terah was inclined to take too much, but he reasoned that he’d better go easy after so long living on granola bars and air.  Pasta was on offer with several sauces from which to choose.  A variety of breads and sides of vegetables—actual vegetables!—almost made him weep.  A tapped cask offered ale.  Moderation had never been so difficult.

Tankard and plate in hand, Terah made his way to the table.  Calum and Lindsey were side-by-side and Terah took a seat across from them.  He took a sip of the amber ale and glanced around the surreal surroundings.  The warm food barely had a chance to be chewed as he realized that there was, incredibly, more than he could eat.

“You’ve been through a lot,” Calum remarked, looking from Lindsey to Terah.  “But I suppose Dr. Economy has many questions.  We mustn’t keep him waiting.”