“There you are!” Christa cried from the courtyard she’d entered the building from. “I’ve been looking all over for you, Dr. Gould. Hello darling!”
Dean Patterson kissed his wife and put his arm around her.
Look at how sickeningly wholesome you look. Such a happy couple, Nina mocked mentally under her calm expression. It begs the question, why she kept her last name, doesn’t it?
“Here I am,” Nina said cordially. “I thought I’d stick around until you were done with your experiment on my class.” Her sarcasm was more arousing than she realized, which she instantly noticed by the reaction of the Dean.
“What? What experiment are you doing now?” the Dean asked his wife. The way in which he asked the question proved to Nina that his wife performing experiments on students did not seem to be anything new to Dean Patterson. It was an alarming notion to say the least, and Nina vowed to check on her students the moment she was released from the obligatory bullshit conversation they were engaged in.
“Relax,” Christa told him. “Dr. Gould’s wording is more alarming than need be.” She gave Nina a reprimanding glare. “She meant that I popped in this morning to give her students a surprise exam. That’s all. Right, Dr. Gould?”
“Correct,” Nina replied, electing to keep the pressure on while an important player was present. “Will you be marking the exams or have you brought them for me to mark?”
Christa seemed taken aback, but in front of the Dean she had to keep up the ruse of a pop quiz. “They’re on your desk in the basement office. I thought it would be only fair if you marked them, as you’re their tutor. After all, with your academic prowess a veering from your curriculum would not be a problem, would it?”
“Of course not. I haven’t seen the tests yet, but I doubt the results will be favorable, considering how unusually sluggish the class felt this morning. In fact, all of us eating the hostel food seem to be feeling two hundred years old today. I don’t think they were up to such a tough assignment,” Nina mentioned innocently. But internally, she was choosing specific phrases and words that she thought psychologically related to what was going on between the Dean and his wife.
The Dean turned his head to face his wife. “That would be a redundant practice, darling. These students can’t be tested on subjects Dr. Gould has not yet covered.”
“Oh come on, Daniel. I’m just keeping them all on their toes,” she responded, casting a look toward Nina to make sure she knew that she was included in that group.
“Even Mrs. Patterson thinks I’m too high strung, apparently.” Nina chuckled deliberately.
“My mother? What did she say, Dr. Gould?” the Dean asked.
Nina waved it away with a chuckle. “Oh nothing, really. She is very supportive of me. Lovely lady.”
The Dean nodded approvingly. Nina watched the tension grow in Christa’s face.
“Very protective, but unfortunately Mrs. Rutherford seems to think the poor old dear is some sort of burden around here. Treats her like a child, if you ask me,” Nina sighed.
“But nobody asked you,” Christa sneered.
“Yet it seems that my presence here is pivotal. However, I seem to be stirring up trouble within the faculty and I don’t feel all too needed here anyway,” Nina said, still playing the Dean.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he stopped Nina, dropping his arm from Christa to lay his hand on the historian’s. “Your expertise and interaction with our students has been nothing short of a godsend, Dr. Gould. Do not let anyone make you feel unwelcome or they will have to deal with me.”
The Dean was concerned about the way in which his mother was being treated, but his sober and tranquil manner hid it well. He was thankful to Dr. Gould for pointing it out to him. He was no fool. It was obvious that his wife was trying to shut up the historian and even clearer that the two women did not get along.
“Listen, Dr. Gould, I don’t see why you should go through all those exam papers when the subjects were not in your lectures. Let’s see those as a practice for mid-terms and nothing more,” the Dean released Nina and simultaneously rebuked his wife’s efforts at schoolyard tyranny.
“Thank you, sir,” Nina smiled sweetly, not even granting Christa a look to acknowledge her presence. “I could do with a bit of a break after all the research I did for today’s class…you know, that ended up not being used after all.”
“No, I agree,” he said. “You take the rest of the day and then you can use that lecture for tomorrow. Will that sit well with you?”
“Aye, that sounds reasonable. I just hope the class is more energetic tomorrow,” she remarked. “Good day.”
With a general greeting Nina excused herself and left in her wake the flabbergasted Christa Smith and the inquisitive Daniel Patterson. A smile broadened on Nina’s mouth with every step she took farther away from them. She could virtually feel Christa’s eyes burning into her back. When she had turned the corner at the end of the hallway and skipped down the steps onto the small stone pathway toward her cottage, Nina uttered a little laugh at her small victory. If she was going to be antagonized while teaching at St. Vincent’s, she may as well make it worth Christa’s while.
Traversing the triangular botanical garden stretch, she once again approached the ancient stone fountain that looked like a human form at night. Only this time Nina decided to stop and study the structure, hoping that a familiarity with it would lessen the grotesque impact of it on her.
Behind her, in the protective shade of the high old trees, another human-looking figure approached.
Chapter 10
Sam woke up feeling like a cadaver, post-autopsy. His blurry vision gradually became clearer only to reveal that the walls and ceiling around him were not that of his lodge. In fact, he’d only just realized that he hadn’t checked into any lodges when he heard the distant gibber-jabber of the Joensens, the hosts of the party the night before. They were in the kitchen, engaged in loud conversation.
“Oh yah,” he groaned softly as he tried to sit up from the couch he was lying on. The windows were wide open, curtains flanking the frame. The sharp cloudy daylight stung his eyes. “For fuck’s sake,” he whispered, surveying the room through slit lids. Sam’s head was pounding, but he got up as quickly as he could. Like a strike of a match the blond woman from the night before appeared in his recollection and Sam remembered what he’d stayed a bit longer for. He had to find out more about her.
“He’s up!” Heri shouted to the other men still there. From what Sam had gathered, they’d all just keeled over one by one the night before, just as he had. “How did you sleep, pal? My mother threw a blanket over you, otherwise you would have frozen to death.”
“Tell her thanks,” Sam grunted, petting his brow with a flattened palm to give it some heat for the pulsing hell in his skull.
“Tell her yourself. Mom, this is Sam Cleave, a journalist from Scotland here…” Heri did not want to open the Grind can again, “…on vacation.”
Sam gave him a thankful nod as he put out his hand to the small lady behind Heri. But when she stepped in front of her son, Sam was visibly taken aback by her unnaturally youthful appearance.
“Hello Sam,” she smiled in a heavy accent. “My English is not as good as my son’s, but welcome to the Faroes and to my home. Please excuse my sons and their friends when they get too crazy. It is a herid…herita…they get it from their forefathers.”
“Hereditary, Mama,” her son grinned and hugged her. “And Scots are as bad as we are. Most of the northern parts of Sam’s country are infested with people who come from the same roots as us anyway.”