Kim approached him and stood for a moment at his side. She was reluctant to interrupt him. As she watched his hands play across the keyboard, she detected a trembling of his fingers between individual key strokes. She could also hear he was breathing more quickly than she.
Several minutes dragged by. Edward ignored her.
“Please, Edward,” Kim said finally. Her voice wavered. “I have to talk with you.”
“Later,” Edward said. He still did not look at her.
“It’s important that I talk to you now,” Kim said hesitantly.
Edward shocked Kim by leaping to his feet. The sudden motion sent his ergonomic chair skidding across the floor on its casters until it slammed into a cabinet. He stuck his face close to Kim’s so that she could see red spiderwebs on the whites of his bulging eyes.
“I said later!” he repeated through clenched teeth. He glared at Kim as if daring her to contradict him.
Kim stepped back and collided with the lab bench. Awkwardly her hand thrust out to support herself, and she knocked a beaker onto the floor. It shattered, jarring Kim’s already frayed nerves.
Kim didn’t move. She watched Edward apprehensively. Once again he was acting like he was on the brink of losing control, just as he’d done when he’d thrown the wineglass back in his apartment in Cambridge. It occurred to her that something momentous had happened in the lab that had sparked a major disagreement. Whatever it had been, it had everybody on edge, particularly Edward.
Kim’s first reaction was empathy for Edward, knowing how hard he’d been working. But then she caught herself. With the benefit of her newly acquired self-knowledge, she understood such thoughts represented a falling back on old habits. Kim was committed to heeding Elizabeth’s message. For once in her life she had to stand up for herself and think of her own needs.
At the same time Kim was capable of being realistic. She knew there would be no benefit from inappropriately provoking Edward. From his behavior at the moment it was abundantly clear he was in no mood for a discussion about their relationship.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Kim said when she could tell Edward had regained some semblance of control. “It’s obvious this isn’t a good time for you. I’ll be at the cottage. I do want to talk, so you come over when you are ready.”
Kim turned away from his glower and started to leave. She’d only gone a few steps when she stopped and turned back.
“I did learn something today that you should know,” Kim said. “I have reason to believe Ultra might be teratogenic.”
“We’ll be testing the drug in pregnant mice and rats,” Edward said sullenly. “But at the moment we have a more pressing problem.”
Kim noticed that Edward had an abrasion on the left side of his head. Then she saw he had cuts on his hands just like those she’d seen on Curl’s.
Instinctively Kim stepped back. “You’ve hurt yourself,” she said. She reached for his head to examine the wound.
“It’s nothing,” Edward said, roughly parrying her hand. He turned from her, and after retrieving his chair, sat down at his computer and went back to work.
Kim left the lab, rattled from her visit; she could never predict Edward’s mood or behavior. Outside she noticed it had darkened significantly. There was not a breath of air. The leaves on the trees hung limply. A few birds skittered across the threatening sky, searching for shelter.
Kim hurried to her car. Glancing up into the ominous clouds that had moved ever more closely, she saw short flashes of weblike lightning that stayed aloft. She heard no thunder. On the short drive to the cottage, she used her headlights.
The first thing Kim did when she got home was head for the parlor. She looked up at Elizabeth’s portrait and regarded the woman with renewed sympathy, admiration, and gratitude. After a few moments of staring at the strong, feminine face with its bright green eyes, Kim began to calm down. The image was empowering, and despite the setback at the lab, Kim knew she would not turn back. She would wait for Edward, but she would definitely talk with him.
Taking her eyes off the painting, Kim wandered around the cottage that she and Elizabeth had shared. Her recent loneliness notwithstanding, it was a cozy, romantic house, and she couldn’t help but wonder how different it would have been with Kinnard around instead of Edward.
Standing in the dining room, which in Elizabeth’s time had been the kitchen, Kim lamented how few times the table had even been used. There was no doubt that September had been a bust, and Kim berated herself for allowing Edward to drag her along on his drug-development crusade.
With a sudden flash of anger Kim allowed herself to go a step further, and for the first time she admitted that she was repulsed by Edward’s incipient greed as well as by his new persona as defined by Ultra. In her mind there was no place for drug-induced self-understanding, or drug-induced assertiveness, or a drug-induced happy mood. It was all fake. The concept of cosmetic psychopharmacology disgusted her.
Having finally faced her true feelings about Edward, Kim turned again to thoughts of Kinnard. With her new understanding, she saw that she shared a significant portion of blame for their most recent difficulties. With harshness equal to that she’d expressed toward Edward’s new greed, she chided herself for allowing her fear of rejection to misinterpret Kinnard’s boyish interests.
Kim sighed. She was exhausted physically and mentally. At the same time, she was inwardly calm. For the first time in months she didn’t have that vague, nagging anxiety that had been plaguing her. Although she knew her life was in disarray, she was committed to change, and she felt she knew what it was she had to change.
Disappearing into the bathroom, Kim took a long, luxurious bath, something she hadn’t done for as long as she could remember. After bathing, she slipped into a loose-fitting jogging suit and made herself dinner.
After dinner Kim went to the parlor window and glanced over toward the lab. She wondered what Edward was thinking and when she would see him.
Kim moved her eyes away from the lab and looked at the black silhouettes of the trees. They were totally motionless, as if imbedded in glass; there still was no wind. The storm which had seemed imminent when she’d first arrived home had stalled to the west. But then Kim saw a bolt of lightning. This time it arced to the ground, followed by a distant rumble of thunder.
Turning back into the room, Kim glanced again at Elizabeth’s portrait over the mantel and thought of Elizabeth’s gruesome, malformed fetus swimming in its jar of preservative. Kim shuddered anew. No wonder people in Elizabeth’s time believed in sorcery, magic, and witchcraft. Back then there was no other explanation for such disturbing events.
Advancing closer to the painting, Kim studied Elizabeth’s features. The woman’s assertiveness was apparent in the line of her jaw, the set of her lips, and the forthright stare of her eyes. Kim wondered if the trait had been temperament or character, inborn or learned, nature or nurture.
Kim pondered her own newly cultivated assertiveness for which she credited Elizabeth and wondered if she could maintain it. She felt she’d made a start by going to the lab that afternoon. She was certain she wouldn’t have been able to do that in the past.
As the evening progressed, Kim began to think about the possibility of changing careers and to question whether she had the courage to take the risk. With her inheritance she knew she could not use economics as an excuse. Such a life-style change was a daunting possibility, especially the idea of doing something artistic. Yet it was also alluring.
One of the unexpected consequences of Kim’s efforts at sorting the three hundred years of business documents in the castle was the realization of how little her family had contributed to the community. The hoard of papers and the tasteless castle housing them were the two major legacies. There’d not been one artist, musician, or author among them. For all their money, they’d developed no art collections, philharmonic endowments, or libraries. In fact, they’d made no contribution to culture unless entrepreneurialism was a culture in and of itself.