The Crystal's Curse (6 page)

Mrs. Stewart came into the hallway. She looked from one man to the other be
fore saying, “Good, you’re home. Lunch is ready.”

Joseph stepped forward, put his arm around Joshua‘s shoulders and said, “Come on, let’s go into lunch and you can tell me exactly what your plans are now that you’re here.”

Joshua relaxed and followed the older man into the dining room.

In spite of having eaten a couple of hours ago, Joshua found he was starving. As he piled his plate with roast beef, buttery mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and Mrs. Stewart’s homemade bread, he answered his grandfather’s questions about his parents and the dig, carefully omitting any mention of the niche or the crystal currently warming his pocket. They discussed the subjects he was already taking online.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Joshua asked, “Grandpa, who’s Harry?”

“What?”

“Who is Harry? Back when you first saw me, you asked if I was Harry.”

Joseph stopped eating, fork in the air. “Oh….Harry was my brother. You looked so much like him standing there, and I wasn‘t expecting you. It just took me by surprise.”

“I never knew you had a brother.”

“The
last time I saw him was over forty years ago. He looked just like you do now.” He went back to eating, head down, not looking at Joshua.

Joshua could tell his grandfather would rather not talk about it, but a great uncle he’d never heard of was just too good a mystery to ignore. “Is he still alive?”

Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. He disappeared. We never heard from him again.”

Joshua chuckled. “You thought I was his ghost, didn’t you?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Changing the subject, Joseph asked, “What are your interests? What do you want to major in?”

“I’m not sure. I really like music and photography. I play several instruments, and have tried my hand at composing, but I’m also a good photographer. I do most of the photography on the digs with my parents. I thought maybe I would start with a general liberal arts major. I have a keyboard that I take with me when we travel, but I didn’t bring it.”

“Artistic talents like your mother I see.” Joseph seemed lost in thought for a few minutes. “We do have a piano in the music room, but it hasn’t been used in years. Probably needs tuning. Your grandmother used to play the piano every evening. After she passed away, well . . . since neither your dad nor I play, we just stopped going in there. But there’s no reason why you can’t use it.” After a bit he added, “You know, if you wanted to stay, I think I might be able to get you transferred to Harvard for this semester. The dean is a personal friend of mine.”

Joshua’s hopes began to soar until his grandfather said, “But first we need to contact your parents. Let them know you’re safe and see what they think. Who’s sponsoring this dig? They probably know how to reach your parents.”

“The Smithsonian. You’re right. They’ll know the satellite phone number. They left several messages for my parents in the last couple of months.”

“I’ll have my secretary get the number from them first thing tomorrow morning. Why don’t you come with me to the office? If the airlines haven’t located your bags by now, then they’re probably lost for good. I think you’re going to need some more clothes and there’s a mall just across the street.” Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “In the meantime I have some papers I need to work
on. The music room is the next door down from the living room.” He got up from the table, poked his head in the kitchen to thank Mrs. Stewart for a wonderful meal, and headed to his study.

Joshua couldn’t help wondering what would happen once his parents knew where he was. How would he explain how he got here? What did they think happened to him? He didn’t want them to worry. On the other hand, he didn’t want to go back either. He would have to tell them about the crystal. Dad would insist that it was an artifact and wouldn’t let him keep it. Somehow, he was strangely reluctant to give it up. Just having it in his pocket seemed to give him a feeling of confidence he’d never had before. He rationalized that he didn’t really know that the crystal had anything to do with his coming here. Maybe something else triggered the transporter. He knew his parents would continue their research once they knew he was safe. He decided he wouldn’t mention the crystal unless it became apparent that the two were connected.

When he opened the door to the music room, he could see that it hadn’t been used in awhile. No dust—Mrs. Stewart wouldn’t allow that—but it didn’t look like any other room in the house. In fact, it didn’t look like it belonged in this house at all. Where the rest of the house was austere, this room was crowded with doilies and family pictures on all the side tables. Music yellowed with age sat atop a baby grand piano. On one end of the room, two upholstered chairs covered in a floral fabric faced a red velvet loveseat. Several family portraits hung on the walls. In one corner, records were stacked neatly beside an old stereo system with a turntable.

Joshua walked around the room looking at the pictures, stopping in front of one of the portraits hanging on the wall—a family portrait of a middle-aged couple and two sons. From the style of clothes, he was fairly certain that his grandfather was the teenage boy, so the younger son would have been Harry. Curious about the resemblance, he looked around the room to see if he could find any other pictures of Harry when he was older. In an album on one of the small tables, he found Harry’s graduation picture, neatly labeled with Harry’s name and the year on the back. His grandfather was right. Aside from the style of clothes, they did look a great deal alike.

Curiosity satisfied, he sat down at the piano and began to play. He’d never played a baby grand. The sound was incredible. It was a little out of tune but that didn’t mar his pleasure. He played several of the songs from the old sheet music on the piano.

His grandfather came in and stood in the doorway listening for a few minutes. Then he cleared his throat. Joshua stopped playing and looked up.

“I have reservations to go out to dinner. I thought you might like to go with me.”

Joshua went upstairs to see if he could find anything suitable to wear. He knew from experience that the kind of restaurants Grandfather went to required a jacket and tie. He found a pair of dark brown slacks and a brown tweed sport coat that didn’t look too bad. He paired it with a tan shirt and a striped tie. Then he went looking for shoes. Near the back of the closet was a pair of brown loafers.

When his grandfather had suggested buying new clothes, he almost said that he could send for his own from the Washington D.C. apartment his parents kept. All he’d taken to the dig were his work clothes. Looking at himself in the mirror now, he was proud to see he’d not only grown taller, but much more muscular. Clearly, his old things would no longer fit. He flexed his muscles a few times in the mirror and then laughed at himself. Feeling very confident, he went downstairs where his grandfather straightened his tie and pronounced him presentable.

They went to an exclusive seafood restaurant called The Seafarer--chandeliers, candlelight, white linen tablecloths, and a wall of glass overlooking the harbor. The maitre d` recognized his grandfather and led them to a table for eight. Already seated there were three middle-aged men and three young men about Joshua’s age.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my grandson, Joshua Carson. He‘s staying with me for awhile. Joshua this is Darin Loomis. He’s one of the vice presidents of the bank, and this is his son, Clay.”

Both Mr. Loomis and Clay stood to shake his hand. Clay was a good-looking blond with a ruddy complexion. Shorter than Joshua, but well built like a football player. Clay returned Joshua’s grip with a little more force than necessary with a slight smile on his face. Joshua smiled back, tightened his grip for a moment, then released him and turned away.

Joseph turned to the next man. “This is David Olson, the General Manager, and his son, Frank.”

Frank had the same athletic build as Clay but with dark hair and olive skin. His handshake perfunctory, he sat down immediately, looking bored.

Joseph turned to the last man, “and this is Oscar Steinberg, our CFO, and his son Nathan.” Nathan was as tall as Joshua, but thinner. He wore horned rim glasses, making him look slightly nerdy. However, he gave Joshua a genuine smile.

Joshua sat down in the empty chair next to Nathan with his grandfather on his other side.

Joseph explained that Clay, Frank, and Nathan were all attending Harvard and expressed the hope that they would be willing to show Joshua around. Joshua was embarrassed but the conversation quickly moved on. The men discussed sports. They confirmed Joshua’s first impression that both Clay and Frank were on the football team, even though they were freshmen. Nathan was a science major.

After awhile the older men fell into discussing work. Joshua’s attention wandered. He looked around the room. Mostly older couples filled the tables. He thought that made sense since this was a very expensive restaurant. However, in one corner, he noticed a striking young woman. Long auburn hair and pale skin, she would have stood out anywhere, but was even more noticeable in this setting. She sat across from an older woman. A dark window at her back, she faced the center of the room. The candlelight cast a soft glow picking up copper highlights in her curls. He couldn’t help staring at her.

When Nathan noticed where Joshua was looking, he leaned over and whispered. “That’s Sara Whiting sitting with her grandmother. She’s new here. You’ll have to get in a long line, if you’re interested in meeting her.”

Without taking his eyes off her, Joshua replied, “I don’t doubt it. She’s beautiful.”

“Smart too. I have a couple of classes with her. Her major is physics.”

Joshua wrenched his eyes away. “Definitely out of my league.”

Nathan frowned, but said nothing.

Clay noticed Joshua’s interest as well and nudged Frank. When they got up to leave, Frank made a point of walking out next to Joshua. When Joshua glanced over at Sara again, Frank leaned in and said, “Don’t even think about it, Carson. That one belongs to me.”

For some reason Joshua had taken an instant dislike to Frank so he couldn’t pass up the chance to needle him. He raised one eyebrow. “Afraid of a little competition?”

Looking directly into Joshua‘s eyes, Frank sneered, “I don’t see any competition.”

Joshua chuckled. “I never could resist a challenge.”

Frank’s jaw tightened, but there was no time for any further conversation as each family walked outside and separated to their vehicles.

Outside the restaurant, Joshua’s headache returned with a vengeance.

Chapter Five

Sara watched the Carson group depart. It seemed an odd grouping to her. She had a couple of classes with Nathan whom she liked. Then there was Frank and his thug, Clay. Frank, the BMOC in high school—football star—money and looks, expected every woman to be flattered by his attention. His big come-on line had been, “Hey, beautiful!” When she ignored him, refusing to fall at his feet in a puddle just from the sound of his voice, he’d gotten aggressive. He showed up outside her classes, tried to walk with her with his arm around her. Less than impressed, she’d shaken him off, tried to ignore him, refused his every advance, and still he’d showed no signs of backing off. Obviously, he considered her a challenge. She wished that she had just pretended to melt when he first spoke to her and then maybe he would have been satisfied and moved on.

She wondered where the good-looking dark-haired guy she hadn’t met before fit in. When she saw Frank walking close to talk to him, and the new guy laughing, she mentally wrote him off as siding with the enemy.

Even though her grandmother had her back to the party, she had obviously noticed her distraction. She asked, “See something you like?”

“A good-looking guy I haven’t seen before, but I don’t like the company he’s keeping, sooooo . . . no. Oh, did you mean from the menu?” Sara asked innocently, giving her grandmother a grin.

Helen Whiting laughed.

They had an easy, playful relationship. Sara never had to censor her words in front of her grandmother. She knew Helen adored her, loved her sense of humor, and respected her intelligence. When Sara had gotten the full scholarship to Harvard, she called her grandmother and asked if she could live with her. Sara told Helen she didn’t want to be a part of the dorm scene. She needed a quiet place to study.

Helen had readily agreed. She’d been astonished when Sara showed up on her doorstep, saying, “It seems like just a short time ago, you were a skinny tomboy with freckles who always had her nose in a book. Now you’re a beautiful woman I almost don’t recognize.” Within five minutes, Sara managed to convince her that she hadn’t changed.

Helen had been, and still was, a striking woman. Tall and still slim with silver hair pulled up in a chignon, she sat up straight, looking past Sara through the window at the twinkling lights of the harbor. Many people came here to hobnob with the rich and famous. Helen came for the excellent food. She had no desire to socialize, and couldn’t care less if anyone saw her. She’d intentionally sat with her back to everyone, hoping no one would notice her and stop by to chat. She wanted this time with Sara all to herself.

Sara wore a jade green dress that brought out the green in her eyes, the one feature both Sara and Helen shared. Eyes that were a clear emerald green, not the muddy brown green that most people had. Even today, when Helen’s eyes had faded with her hair, people still asked if she wore contacts because the color was so unusual. Helen wondered, not for the first time, whether Sara would find her beauty an obstacle. Sara wanted to be a physicist. In Helen’s day, beautiful women struggled in serious careers. Helen had to fight for acceptance to medical school. Even after graduating at the top of her class, it had taken her years to be able to specialize in neurology. In her experience, most men did not react well to a combination of both brains and beauty. She spent many years trying to do serious work while fending off advances, only to be labeled a feminist or a lesbian. Only now, as a senior citizen, was she respected as an authority in her field.