 
Oakfield

By Jodi A Woody

Copyright © by Jodi A Woody 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Prologue

"Where is the child?" Horace Acerbi calmly asked his son.

"Someplace safe," answered the young man. "Did you think I was capable of taking care of a baby?"

"Your mother and I would have cared for the baby," Horace replied as he removed a speck of lint from his suit coat.

The sixteen year old raised his eyebrows, but refused to rise to the bait. Looking his father in the eyes he waited silently.

"So you packed him off like old rubbish to be raised by strangers?" the father asked shaking his head in condemnation.

Still the young man kept his peace.

Horace walked to the window of his great domain and stood gazing out at the night sky.

"I suppose you didn't give the mother much thought. She took the news rather hard, I am afraid. The housekeeper found her, just a short time ago, hanging from the chandelier in the nursery. It seems she used your old jump rope to do the job."

"You lie!" the young man finally caved.

"Go see for yourself, I told them to leave her. I wanted you to see what you have accomplished by your willful disregard for propriety."

"You want to lecture me about propriety?" yelled the youth as he ran from the room.

He took the stairs two at a time until he was on the third floor of the mansion. Blind with rage, out of breath, and riddled with guilt he burst through the door of his old nursery, and there cold and still, hung the body of the only person who had ever loved him...

1

The Offer

"So what do you think?" Olivia asked her husband.

"I'm not really sure. What do you know about this guy?" answered John looking at the formal letter hand written on fancy old school stationary.

"Not much. I googled him and didn't come up with much of anything. All the info was from the early 1900's, so unless this guy is a zombie there isn't a lot of information. He is listed as the owner of Oakfield which is the name of an estate that includes a huge Queen Anne mansion. I couldn't find any criminal records. It is a little weird though, that's why I waited to show you. I figured if it was some kind of a time share sales pitch, there was no sense even telling you about it. There is a name and number for a law firm that I can call, Montague and Morris, I did get information on them when I did a search. They are a legitimate and prestigious law firm."

"So he wants you to write the story of his family? And it says he is offering to pay all the expenses and that you would be staying at the mansion. He is guaranteeing you five hundred dollars even if the book never goes to print?" John read looking up at his wife.

"Yes. That's more than I would make in the two weeks at school. The few pictures I could find of the house were interesting, the place looks huge. You know I love to tour those old houses and this could be a great opportunity for us. You know how hard it has been trying to sell my books," Olivia commented.

"I know, maybe self publishing your book wasn't the best idea. Things have been tough. Can you get that much time off from work?"

"I should be able to. That's what substitutes are for. Mostly I'm just worried about leaving for that long and not being here with you," explained Olivia. "How would you manage?"

John was silent for a minute looking at the letter in his hands.

"I can see if Dad can come and stay while you are gone. He's been complaining about being bored since his retirement. We would probably have to pay for his plane ticket here and back. Things are tight for him too. That would pretty much eat up your five hundred...but if we think of it as a vacation for you, then that's not so bad. I'm not so sure that I want you traveling alone especially to a place that you can't find any info on," John replied. "Why don't you give this lawyer a call and just make sure. If it sounds like it's a valid offer, I'll call dad and we can call this Lucian Acerbi and give him our answer."

"The only contact info I have is his mailing address. He must be one of those old men who is technologically challenged," smiled Olivia.

"I resemble that remark," chuckled John.

"Hey, you're only a year older than me, so watch it buddy. Twenty six is still a long way from being old. And you could figure out the computer if you wanted to."

"No thank you. Why don't you go and give that lawyer a call and then we can plan your working vacation," John said with forced cheer.

Olivia hung up the phone and gave a dramatic sigh.

Should I go?

The lawyer had confirmed that Lucian Acerbi was a client and assured her that the offer was legitimate. The letter had put a longing in her heart for change. After years of hospitals, treatments, medicines, and feeling like she was stuck on a merry-go-round of nightmare proportions, she had lost her faith. Her life revolved around John and his injuries. Going back to work part time as a pre-school teacher was a necessity and it had taken her three years to finish her first published book. The indie market had looked like a doable option after having her manuscript rejected by several publishers. Now, she was just as frustrated with her lack of sales as she had been with the rejection letters.

Is it selfish of me to want a break? I love John so much, but we haven't been separated since he came home. I even sleep at the hospital during his surgeries and physical therapy. I need to get away...and I need to get a story that a publisher will want. If John Sr. can come then I will send a letter back to this old man. Maybe he really does have a story to tell. John must be worried about our mounting bills or he wouldn't even consider letting me go. It would be good for him to spend some time with his father. Now that his mother is gone, John's dad is a little lost. We may not have a lot of room, but I would have gladly given up my writing sanctuary for the extra help. I don't think John's dad understands what it takes to take care of his son. Listen to me... how selfish can a person get and still call herself a Christian?

Shaking her head to clear away the guilt she decided to have John call his dad, Big John, before she lost her nerve.

2

Oakfield

Olivia got out of the limo thanking the lawyer for picking her up at the airport. She stood in front of an iron gate that was as tall as the twenty foot stone walls on either side. As she was looking for a buzzer or an intercom, a section of the stone wall to her right opened up like something out of a Sci-Fi movie and a middle aged man stepped out. He was dressed in old fashioned work clothes and wore a bowler hat. As he handed her a piece of paper, she couldn't help thinking he looked like some of the old pictures of dockworkers from the nineteen twenties, even down to the handlebar mustache.

She gave a tentative smile and read the note: My name is Thomas Greene. I am mute. Please come with me and I will take you to Oakfield.

Olivia smiled at the man to indicate she understood. He simply grabbed her suitcase and turned to walk back through the door he had just exited. Olivia took a deep breath, looked around her and then followed. Expecting to come out into a yard or a field at best, she was surprised to find herself in what looked like an old fashioned garage. There were tracks on the floor, similar to train tracks. Sitting in the middle of these tracks was a cross between an old truck and a small train locomotive. Mr. Greene was waiting for her at the side door of the vehicle and offered her his hand to help her up the stairs.

Who does that anymore? She couldn't help thinking. And what in the world is this? Are we that far away from the mansion?

"Do we have far to go?" she asked out loud.

Thomas Green ignored her comment and motioned to an upholstered bench with a harness. So she sat down and buckled herself in with shaking hands, after setting her new briefcase with her laptop next to her on the floor. The strange man went to the front and sat at a set of controls, pressing a few buttons and turning some dials. Suddenly the floor of the garage fell and she realized they were in some kind of elevator. The drop was over before her brain fully registered what was happening, and just as suddenly they were moving underground in a tunnel on the same type of tracks. The tunnel was well lit and they were moving about twenty five miles an hour.

In a few minutes they came to a stop at a dead end, and the floor under them began to move up again. After they had stopped, Mr. Green helped her unbuckle the odd seatbelt, then picking up her bag, offered his hand again as she exited down the steps into another garage. This building was larger than the first and had a very old car, a buggy or carriage, as well as several other antique items that Olivia didn't recognize. Being evening there wasn't a lot of sun coming in the windows, but it began to look a lot like some of the old carriage houses that she had seen on her tours.

Mr. Green kept moving toward a set of doors and Olivia quickly caught up to him. When they exited the building the first thing she saw was the mansion. They were at the back of the home and she felt like she had stepped back in time. The sound of the city she had driven through did not reach into Oakfield. The only sounds were birds and the wind through the oak trees growing majestically around the grounds. A shiver ran up her spine, making the hairs on the back of her neck come to attention. In the twilight, the place had an ominous air about it.

Again she realized that Mr. Green had continued moving and she hurried to catch up, not wanting to be left behind in the deepening evening. The man stood at the rear entrance and held the door for her. The door was of heavy dark wood and beautifully carved. They entered into a high ceilinged hallway. Doors were on either side, but they continued to walk until they reached the door at the end of the hall. There her silent guide set down her suitcase and held his hand out for her briefcase. She reluctantly handed it over, but held on to her purse tightly.

Opening the door, he indicated that she should go on without him. As odd and quiet as this man had been, she couldn't help wishing he was going with her. The past few minutes had been strange and exiting and now she was feeling a little apprehensive. So naturally, she peaked through the door first. She was standing next to a grand staircase facing two huge carved wood doors. It took her just a second to realize that she was facing the front entrance. Glancing at Mr. Green, he nodded for her to continue. Stepping out of the hallway, she moved into the grand entryway.

The walls were rich paneled wood, with hand painted scenery on the top three feet and reached up to the second floor balcony. Her eyes could scarcely take it all in. She had toured some mansions from this time period, but most of them contained either replicated antiques or very tired originals. Everything her eyes fell on had its original luster and condition. Advancing a few feet into the room, she turned to look up the grand staircase. It sat in the middle of the entryway and was lit with a huge crystal chandelier. Caught up in the beauty of the shimmering crystals, she didn't notice the man standing half way up the stairs.

Jumping at the sound of his voice she gave a little laugh at her silliness.

"Welcome to Oakfield."

"Thank you," she replied as the man walked down the stairs towards her.

After staring at the light her eyes hadn't adjusted well. He was almost to the last few steps when she realized that he was a young man, probably in his twenties.

"I hope your trip was not too taxing," he stated as he stepped off the last stair.

Standing closer to her, Olivia could see that the young man was dressed in what looked to be a vintage suit. He was tall with dark hair worn back off of his forehead and long in the collar. He was thin compared to most men she knew, but not really skinny. The writer in her instantly labeled him as the good looking villain. When she noticed the black leather gloves she realized she was staring.

"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Lucian Acerbi."

"Nice to meet you, of course I am Olivia Patterson," she offered her hand but the young man walked past her ignoring the gesture.

"Please follow me into the library and we can talk about why you are here. Then you can freshen up before dinner."

Olivia followed her host into the library racking her brain. He must be the grandson, or son. He shares his father's name, just like John and his dad. Lucian Sr. must be waiting in the library for us. However, when they entered the room there was no one else there. Lucian sat behind a large mahogany desk and indicated a leather wing backed chair for her to sit in. Even though it was late summer, there was a fire in the fireplace and the lamps had been turned on. She was almost surprised that they weren't old fashioned gas lamps, but as she looked closer she realized that they didn't have typical light bulbs either. Before she could think too long on that, the young man began to speak.

"I appreciate you coming. I want to just go over our agreement. I assume you read through the papers that Mr. Montague had you sign on the way over?"

"Yes, I do have one question though. It said that I have to turn over my cell phone until I leave. I don't feel comfortable without it," she replied.

"Most of modern society doesn't feel comfortable without their gadgets," he remarked with a wave of his hand. "But you must make do without it for the week you are here. I will not allow any pictures, videos, or internet information going out without my permission."

"I will need to check in at home every day. My husband was a little concerned for my safety since I am here without him," she didn't feel the need to mention her husband's medical issues to a complete stranger. Her host sat quietly for what felt like a long time before answering.

"I will allow you to call your husband every evening from my house phone. Will that be reasonable?"

"Yes, that should be fine."

"Let's discuss what is expected from you. Over the next seven days you will be told an unbelievable story. You will come here to the library for those sessions. You will be given a room on the second story, your meals, and a supply of pens and paper."

"I have my laptop, that won't be necessary," she interjected.

Staring at her as if she was a slow witted child, he said, "No cell phone, no computer."

"Oh, sorry. I can do pen and paper. I am very fast at taking notes."

"Good. You may have a hard time accepting what you hear, but you will be expected to listen with an open mind and record every detail."

"I haven't written a biography before, are you sure I am the right person for the job?" Olivia asked.

"It has taken several years to locate you. You are the right person Mrs. Patterson. Now, if I may continue?" Olivia nodded her head. "After recording all of the information you will have six months to write your story, then submit it for review. At that time, a publisher will be found and financed. All of the royalties will go to you," explained the young man.

"But...? What about your family?" she interrupted him again.

"Mrs. Patterson..."

"Please, call me Olivia."

"Olivia, if you plan on interrupting every few sentences, I fear one week will not be long enough to complete this task."

"I am sorry! It's a terrible habit," she stammered cheeks burning.

"To answer your question, money is not the motivation behind this book. Once the manuscript has been approved, all rights will be signed over to you. Now, why don't I show you to your room and you can get ready for dinner."

With that he stood and waited for her to join him. He remained silent all the way to the door of her room on the second floor. After his comment about her interrupting, she refused to ask any questions, even though her curiosity about the mansion was about to kill her. Opening the door for her, Lucian allowed her to enter into another dream. The room had a bay window with a cushioned window seat. White furniture and light yellow walls, with floral pictures. Through an open door, she could see a white claw tub in a white tiled bathroom. There was a writing desk with a lamp, a comfortable looking chair in front of the fireplace, and a big four-poster bed in the middle of the room. The menacing feeling of the outside and the darkness of the library were banished at the sight of this bright, inviting room.

"Oh it's lovely," she replied breathlessly.

"Your suitcase is next to the bed, everything you need should be here, including some clothing in the wardrobe. I prefer not to be subjected to modern taste in clothing. Please change for dinner and meet me at the foot of the stairs. I will show you to the dining room from there. Shall we say half an hour?"

Olivia was so shocked at his instructions that she was speechless. Lucian simply walked out and shut the door expecting her to do as he commanded. Her excitement at seeing the room quickly turned to irritation. First, I have to give up my phone and my computer and now I can't even wear my own clothes...what have I gotten myself into. Hopefully when I meet the rest of the family there will be someone a little friendlier.

Shaking her head, she walked to the wardrobe and opened the doors. It was filled with dresses right out of a movie set, all lined up inside. She wasn't sure the exact year of the style, but they were definitely very old. Thankfully, it looked like she would be able to wear her own underclothes and shoes. She had to admit they were lovely. Pulling out a light lavender dress, she held it up and was surprised to find that it looked just the right size. In fact even the length was correct and usually she had to hem her clothes since she was barely five foot three. Laying the dress on her bed, she rummaged around in her bag for her toiletries and went to freshen up.

The bathroom was a mix of old and new, but other than the tub, nothing looked familiar. There was a "toilet" and a "sink" but neither one resembled any she had ever seen. It took a minute for her to figure out how to work both of them. She couldn't wait until later to have a soak in the big tub. The first time she ever saw one as a little girl, she wanted one. Being short had its advantages, like being able to stretch full out in a tub this big.

Quickly she made herself presentable; pulling her dark hair out of the bun she had worn it in, ran the brush through and decided to allow her soft waves to lie loose on her shoulders and down her back. The lavender of the dress complimented her pale coloring and her blue eyes. Her low healed sandals looked slightly out of place, but were mostly hid under the floor length gown. Dressing up wasn't going to be so bad after all.

As promised, her taciturn host was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Without so much as a greeting, he led the way through the entrance to the dining room. Again, her breath was taken away by the beauty of the room. Light papered walls, thick moldings painted white, and another sparkly chandelier hanging over a table that could have easily sat twelve people. There were only two place settings, one at the head of the table and one a couple of chairs down on the left. Lucian pulled that chair out for her, and pushed it in being careful not to touch Olivia at all. She noticed that he still wore the gloves on his hand.

"Is there anyone else joining us?" Olivia inquired.

"No, there is not."

Before she could ask why they were eating alone, Lucian removed the covers off of several large serving dishes. Some had what looked like heating elements under them, and one was clearly cold underneath. Just like in her bathroom, everything looked so different than the normal table ware. Olivia was getting more uneasy by the minute. Without so much as a word, the young man placed some of the food on each plate. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful and looked like something out of a gourmet restaurant. Despite her misgivings, she was hungry. When her host sat and began to eat, she said a quick prayer under her breath and did the same.

After a few bites, the silence was terrible and she knew she wouldn't be able to enjoy her meal in the oppressiveness of it. Taking the chance to examine the young man up close in the brighter light of the dining room, she noticed that his eyes were a dark grey, more than the blue she thought them to be. His jaw line was rather square, his eyebrows very full, which both contributed to a somewhat sinister look. Lucians coloring was darker than hers, and his skin looked almost porcelain it was so smooth. While she was making her observations, he raised his eyes and she quickly spoke to cover the fact that she had been staring.

"The food is wonderful. Please tell your cook that it is wonderful, even if I don't know what it is," she said with a smile.

"You just did, and you are eating Poached Salmon with Mousseline Sauce, watercress and pine nut salad, and Vegetable Marrow Farci."

"You cooked this?" she asked in amazement.

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I guess I am. With a house this big, I just assumed that you would have a cook," she explained. "So what exactly is Marrow Farci?"

"Marrow is similar to a zucchini and they are grown in our hothouse here. These have been stuffed with mushrooms, cheese, onions, and among other things."

"It is very good."

When no other conversation was forthcoming, Olivia again tried to break the silence.

"Will I be able to get a tour of the grounds and the house tomorrow?" asked the guest.

Lucian paused as he was lifting his fork to his mouth, took a deep breath and answered, "If you would like."

"Yes, I would. I have always been interested in antiques. Purely for their historical value though, I don't have any in my home. Are these all original?" she indicated the lighting above their heads.

"Almost everything in the house is. The linens and some draperies had to be replaced as the material became brittle with age and some of the appliances, fixtures, and plumbing have also been upgraded."

"I thought some of the plumbing looked different," she mentioned.

When her fellow table mate refused to contribute more, Olivia decided to finish her meal in silence. After pushing her plate away she again thanked him for a good meal.

"If you will excuse me?" she stood to return to her room.

"I imagine you are tired after a long day. Please remain in your room after nine o'clock. The servants do all of their work from then until sunrise," Lucian instructed. "If you need anything to read, you may stop by the library for a book on your way up."

"Thank you, I brought something with me. Goodnight."

"Will you be calling your husband before you retire?"

"Oh, yes, he is probably worried." How could she have forgotten so quickly? "May I use your phone?" she asked.

Lucien led her back into the hallway and opened a built in cub hard in the wall. There was an old fashioned phone inside with rotary dial and all and an odd looking answering machine. He then stood not two foot away with his back to her. She waited for him to leave, but after he cleared his throat, she realized that he wasn't going anywhere. Olivia dialed John. She ended up getting his answering machine and with some relief left a message stating that she had arrived safe and sound, and that she would be checking in every evening with him before bed. She told him that there wasn't cell reception and that if he needed anything he should call the house phone.

Turning to Lucian, who was now facing her, he quickly supplied the number for her.

"My husband has some health problems, he may try to reach me," she explained after hanging up.

"I will pass any message on to you," he replied.

"Thank you."

"Please meet me here at seven in the morning for breakfast."

"I am not usually a breakfast eater. A cup of coffee would be wonderful though," she said.

"After that you will be able to tour the grounds before getting to work."

Once Lucian had left her on her own, she again took a mini tour of her room, ending with the bathroom. There she filled the large tub and took a long, luxurious soak. After donning her shorts and tank top for bed she laid there trying to sleep. Everything was so odd that she couldn't help the way her mind was turning. Finally, she got out of bed and decided to pray. Olivia had always done her best praying while walking. Her husband called it her "prayer pace." She hadn't really prayed like this in years, but the old habit was easily renewed.

As she was taking her third turn around the room, her door suddenly burst open and there stood Lucian. His hair was disheveled and his face was stormy.

"I thought I made myself clear?" he demanded.

Olivia stood in shock until she realized that her modern pajamas were probably more offensive than her daytime dress to her strange host. She grabbed up a pillow off of the bed and held it in front of her.

"What are you doing in my room?" she demanded.

"Give me the phone," Lucian said through clenched teeth.

"I gave you my phone," she replied confused.

"I heard you talking to someone."

"I...I was praying," Olivia shakily explained.

"You were talking to...God?" Lucian looked skeptical.

"That is usually what prayer is, talking to God," she said with a burning face. "Is praying not allowed?"

"Of course...I apologize; I am used to being alone in the house. Please continue," he said as he turned to leave.

"Wait a minute." Now Olivia was just plain mad. "There is no lock on my door, how can I sleep knowing that someone can come barging in on me any minute?"

"I will have Thomas install a lock first thing tomorrow and I give you my word that you will not be disturbed again tonight."

And with that, he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

It wasn't until he had left, and she had calmed down that she realized exactly what he had said. What did he mean he 'was used to being alone in the house'?

3

Day One

The next morning dawned bright and sunny. At first when Olivia opened her sleepy eyes, she thought she might be dreaming. Then she remembered where she was. Without her phone for an alarm, she hoped she hadn't overslept. A quick glance at the clock on her mantle showed that it was six fifteen. She was thankful that she took the time for a long soak the night before and that she wasn't one of those women whose beauty routine took hours every day.

Though she hadn't thought she would be able to sleep well, her night was peaceful and her outlook was better. She said a quick prayer for a good day before descending the stairs in another lovely dress from her wardrobe. Lucian was waiting for her. Nothing was mentioned about the night before and Olivia decided to just let it go. Her excitement of seeing Oakfield in the daylight made her forget the questions that she intended to ask her host at breakfast. Lucian handed her an odd little coffee thermos as he headed towards the main entrance.

"I hope you like cream and sugar."

"Yes, thank you," she answered.

"I thought it best that we start outside," he explained as he opened the front doors. He was still wearing the gloves and Olivia decided that he must have something wrong with his hands. Knowing how her husband felt when people stared, she decided to ignore it.

True to the promise of a new day, the sun made the whole mansion look completely different. What looked scary the night before, looked glamorous and inviting this morning. There was a large covered front porch of brick and wood facing the landscaped yard in front. It had to be several acres of shrubs, flower beds, and those beautiful oaks. Lucian led her around the house, but never offered any explanation about what they were looking at.

"How long has Oakfield been in your family," Olivia asked.

"My family built it in 1866."

"It is very beautiful. The outside is as pristine as the inside. I am sure it takes a lot of work to keep it up," Olivia commented as they circled the house.

"Yes, it does."

"What are all of those buildings?" she asked pointing to several outbuildings in the back of the home.

"We have a hothouse, a garden shed, and the carriage house. If you don't mind, I think we will skip those and move back into the house, so that we can get on with our work," he suggested.

"Sure, after all, that's what I am here for."

Lucian gave her a quick tour of the first floor which included the parlor, the smoking room, the music room that had plenty of room for entertaining, and a bathroom similar to the one in her room, minus the tub. They ended up in the kitchen where, though they were recognizable, the appliances were defiantly not your normal retail store variety.

"You have already seen the library and the dining room," he stated as he led her to the second floor.

There he allowed her to look into a few rooms, which included a dark paneled room with a sleeping and sitting area, all with heavy furniture. The pictures on the wall all seemed to depict something dark and evil. Olivia thought that it was her least favorite room so far.

"My father's room," Lucian remarked.

"Will I be meeting him later?" Olivia asked.

"No, he is no longer living."

"Oh, I am sorry," she offered.

"Don't be," he answered as he walked from the room. "The rest of the rooms are similar to yours. The third floor has the nursery and what used to be the servants quarters. It hasn't been used in years. Now, are you ready to get started?"

"Yes, I am looking forward to it. Thank you for the tour. It is nice to get a feel for a place that you will be writing about," Olivia responded.

Once in the library, Lucian handed Olivia several notebooks and a few pens. He indicated the same chair she had sat in the night before while seating himself behind the desk.

"I want to remind you that what you will be hearing may seem strange, but I ask that you allow me uninterrupted time to relate what I have to say. You may ask questions after I am finished with each session. The story I am about to tell you is true, no matter what you might think. Are you comfortable? I would like to get as far as we can today."

"I am quite comfortable. I may need to get up and walk around now and then, I tend to get kinked up if I sit for too long," she explained. "I thought that it was perhaps your grandfather or father that would be orating."

"No, as I said, my father is dead, and I never met my grandfather," he explained.

"So, it is really just us and the servants in the house?" she asked with some nervousness.

"Yes, Thomas sleeps in the rooms above the carriage house. He did install the lock on your door while we were out. You needn't feel uncomfortable."

"It's just that I haven't seen a single servant..." she began.

"Nor will you. They only work at night while you are sleeping." Lucian positioned himself so that he was facing the large paned window, his profile towards Olivia. He seemed to have a problem looking her in the eye, and was more comfortable averting his face. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to begin. If I go too fast for you, please let me know."

"This would be much easier with a recorder," she mumbled, but when he looked her way with his stony face, she quickly opened a notebook, clicked her pen and said, "Ready."

"My family came to America from Italy in 1866. Horace and Theodosia were forced out of the country due to what was seen as their unethical scientific and medical practices. In a world where medicine was still pretty much in the dark ages, and women were not seen as possessing scientific minds, they were a couple that defied logic. Theodosia was considered an old maid, and past child bearing age at the time they met, being thirty. Because of her sharp mind and her questionable habits, she was also considered unmarriageable. She met Horace through a mutual friend. They had both managed to surround themselves with people who possessed brilliant minds."

"I was told that they saw in one another kindred spirits and were inseparable after that first meeting. A wedding was planned and carried out quickly and the two started their lives of research and implementation of scientific discovery. I don't need to go into detail of what exactly they did; suffice it to say that they caused more suffering in proportion to any benefits of their discoveries or inventions, which eventually led to their coming here to Oakfield."

"They both came from wealthy families and the gossip, from the few servants that came with them from the old country, was that their conventional families were more than happy to pay their way to begin a new life far away. In those days, it was quiet possible to reinvent yourself with no one being the wiser. Building this big house and drumming up supporters for their research helped them convince people of their so called good intentions. But as is the case with human nature, soon they found many like minded individuals who were invited into their world of secret experimentation."

Lucian continued his recitation of his ancestors, giving information of the nature of the two immigrants, the types of people they entertained, their inventions, and discoveries. He detailed the running of the mansion, how the couple was able to raise funding and sell a few patents, all under assumed names to become wealthy in their own right. Olivia was getting a picture of who they were and couldn't help being thankful that they weren't the current residents of Oakfield. At one point Lucian paused to pour himself a glass of water.

"Do you mind if I take a break and walk around a bit?" asked Olivia as she stood up from her chair, not waiting for approval.

Lucian looked at the clock and too rose from his chair.

"It is almost noon. I thought we might take our lunch outside on the porch. If you would like to wash up, I will meet you there and we can pause to eat."

"That sounds great. I can stretch my legs while I wait. Is it ok if I use the downstairs bathroom?" she asked.

"Of course."

Olivia left her notebook on the desk and quickly made a rest stop before going outside. She wanted a few minutes to walk around on the front porch and to think about what she had just heard. She was still mulling it all over in her mind when Lucian brought out a large picnic basket through the front doors.

"That is a big basket for just the two of us," she commented.

"It is only cold ham and some fresh fruit," he explained as he unpacked glasses, plates, silverware, and napkins.

"Oh, we could have used paper, no sense causing extra work for your staff," Olivia suggested.

"They won't mind, I assure you."

He continued unpacking and placed the fruit salad and cold ham on the plates. Next, he poured lemonade out of a thermos similar to the one she had her coffee in that morning. This time Lucian waited for Olivia to whisper her prayer before beginning to eat. Olivia noticed out of the corner of her eye and for some reason felt embarrassed. To cover up her embarrassment she began to ask a question about Horace, but her host raised his hand and wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"I would rather not discuss it while we are eating. You will have time later for questions."

"Oh, I am sorry. I guess my mind has trouble switching over from one thing to another. My husband teases me about that quite often," she apologized.

When he continued to eat silently beside her, she found herself once again trying to have a normal conversation.

"These dresses are lovely," she said indicating the pale yellow one she had on. "Where do you purchase them?"

"All of the clothing is made here at Oakfield."

"Really, even your suits?"

"Yes."

"Wow, you must have quite the seamstress," Olivia pointed out.

"If you are finished eating, I would like to resume where we left off," Lucian said as he stood.

"Thank you, lunch was very good. Do you need my help cleaning up?" she asked.

"No I will take this all back into the kitchen and meet you back in the library."

"Do you mind if I take a glass of this lemonade with me?"

Lucian refilled her glass and allowed her to help him repack the basket. It was obvious that he was uncomfortable being so close and made sure that they never so much as grazed hands while packing the basket. Then silently he left her on the porch.

Prince charming he is not, and his parents failed miserably in teaching him social skills. At least he has good manners, she thought. Only a few more days and then hopefully I will have a good story to show for all of the less than hospitable hospitality.

That evening Olivia sat at the open window of her room going over everything that had happened that day. The afternoon session had filled up the better part of the first notebook. Even though Lucian had promised a time for her to ask questions, he rushed through the last few minutes and then abruptly announce that he had to see to dinner.

Which happened to be another strained affair. Not one time did Lucian offer a single sentence, and answered every question or comment of hers with a "yes" or "no", when necessary the shortest answer possible, and a few times completely ignored her. Finally, she had pushed her plate away, used her napkin and looked directly at her host. Lucian had kept his eyes on his plate during the entire meal, and hadn't raised them, though she was sure that he had known she was staring.

"You aren't big on conversation, are you?" she had remarked.

Then he raised narrowed eyes.

"Does that bother you?"

"As a matter of fact it does. For most people conversation is part of a normal meal together," she had commented with a fake smile.

"Why is that?" he had asked looking back at his plate as he forked more roast beef.

"Well, it's considered polite, and usually we eat with people we care about and it's nice to share," Olivia had replied.

"I am unused to sharing my meals and we hardly know one another. Isn't it likewise considered rude to ask personal questions of a stranger?"

"Maybe, but you invited me here for the express purpose to tell your family story. So, don't you think that it makes sense for me to get to know you a little?" she had countered.

"You will surely wish you knew less of me before we are through, Mrs. Patterson," he raised his stormy eyes to hers.

"Well, then, Mr. Acerbi, I will let you enjoy the rest of your evening in the silence you are accustomed to."

Olivia had stood and walked out of the room in disgust.

Now, she felt guilty at her behavior. He clearly had issues. Living alone in this big house with no family and only servants for company was a testimony of that fact. Clearly, he treated his servants as less than human; by the way he talked about them.

Making them work at night, what was that all about?

So what if he is a little creepy, he had kept his promise and there had been a lock on her door when she got back to her room. He had paid her way here and staying at the mansion was like staying at a five star hotel. The food was delicious. So far it looked like the story about his ancestors may be interesting. Maybe she could get him to be more specific about why they had to leave Italy, or what "questionable" activities they had been up to. That kind of stuff sold books.

She decided, while she took another long bath, that she would apologize for being rude and just do her job. If he liked eating his meals in silence, and was used to eating alone, she could offer to eat in her room. No more ungratefulness from her. Tomorrow she would be professional and do the job she came to do. She wasn't here to make friends and regardless of what she and John had joked around about, this wasn't a vacation.

After getting out of the bath, once her skin looked as wrinkled as a raisin, she realized she wasn't tired at all. She had just grabbed the book she had brought with her when she remembered that she was supposed to call John. A quick glance at the clock showed her that it was ten minutes until nine. If she hurried she could call John and get back before her 'curfew'.

Unlocking the door, she was about to step out when it dawned on her that she was already dressed for bed, and hadn't brought a housecoat. Quickly she grabbed her swimsuit cover-up that she had packed in case there had been a pool, threw it over her shorts and tank top and practically ran down the stairs. Opening the cabinet for the phone, she knew she had to keep it short and sound cheery. Only when she picked up the phone, there wasn't a dial tone. She tried to remember if she had heard one the day before, but couldn't recollect. She dialed anyway, but nothing happened. Hanging up she tried again. After several attempts she gave up and wished she hadn't stormed off like a brat. Now it was too late to call John and he would be worried.

Hearing some noise coming from the kitchen, she thought maybe she could catch someone who could show her how to use the phone. She would add "leaving her room after nine" to her apology in the morning. As she got closer to the kitchen, she noticed the sounds coming from there weren't normal kitchen noises. There was a whirring, that didn't resemble her dishwasher as well as a mechanical sound that she couldn't quite place.

When she cracked the door, what she saw inside could only be described as surreal. Located at the kitchen sink, appearing to do the dinner dishes, was for the lack of a better term, a robot. Not humanoid in any way, it more resembled an oversized trashcan, with an octopus sitting on top. Its many arms were washing, rinsing, and drying all at the same time. The whirring noise was coming from inside the contraption, and the other noise she had heard was it's 'arms' occasionally clinking together.

Olivia stood there frozen for a minute until suddenly the thing turned her way and she could see that its 'head' included a very human looking metal face, with a slit where the nose should be and was missing a mouth. It looked right at her with its large lidless, very human eyes, stopping all movement. When it began emitting a high pitched beeping, she turned and fled back to her room, locking the door behind her. She spent the next few minutes waiting for Lucian to come pounding on her door for breaking his house rules. But after thirty minutes, she shut off the lights and went to bed.

Her night was filled with strange dreams, mostly weird scattered scenes of robots with human faces, the dark sinister bedroom just doors away, Oakfield as she saw it the night she arrived, Lucian's cold stare, and always in the background that endless beeping.

4

Day Two

Olivia was late coming downstairs. Her troubled sleep showed itself in her puffy tired eyes. Not taking any pains with her grooming, her hair was in a messy bun and she hadn't bothered with any makeup. She had grabbed the first dress she had laid hands on and the dark grey only called attention to the dark circles she was sporting. To make matters worse, she didn't know if she should tell Lucian that she had seen his 'dishwasher' and that she wanted to leave, or to pretend that all was well, go ahead with the apology and try to get the story before she left.

She never even thought about praying until she saw Lucian standing in the door of the library with her thermos of coffee.

Lord, what should I do? Should I leave, or do you want me to stay?

It had been so long since Olivia had any faith in her prayers that she couldn't be sure that God would even answer, especially since she had backed away from her relationship with him. But as she took the coffee from Lucian, the butterflies in her stomach stilled and she felt a calm that she hadn't experienced in years. She tried to judge the temperament of her host, but he wore his usual stoic look. It wasn't until she sat down and picked up her notebook that she realized the hand that had passed her the thermos had been shaking.

"I'd like to get right to it if you are ready," he said as he sat.

So much for an apology, she thought as she quickly found her place in the notebook.

"In 1868 Horace and Theodosia gave birth to a baby boy. A child didn't exactly fit into their lifestyle and to this day I often wonder why they didn't just abort the baby. Even in those days there were ways to terminate an unwanted pregnancy. Of course, Theodosia felt it was beneath herself to care for, let alone feed a baby, even if it was her own flesh and blood; they set out to find a nursemaid. One of Horace's rich, sadistic followers had raped one of his young servants, getting her pregnant. After a particularly cruel beating, by the same man, she was left disfigured in her face and a few months later the baby was still born."

"In his great generosity, he offered the fourteen year old girl to Horace and Theodosia as a wet-nurse for their newborn. Dagmar came to Oakfield and immediately took on the responsibility or caring for the boy. I believe if she had been given free reign with the child, things would have turned out differently. But both parents were very adamant about how they wanted their son raised."

"Though Dagmar was at her very nature a caring and kind girl, she was not allowed to show any physical affection outside of nursing the baby. No hugs, kissing, petting, or physical touch was allowed. Only the bare necessities of bathing, diaper changing, or carrying the little one from one place to another was allowed. She managed to comply most of the time, but she couldn't help her nature and when no one was looking tried, by looks, by her smile, by small gestures of affection to show that she cared for the boy."

"Those rules weren't just for Nanny, as the boy called her, but the parents themselves adhered to the same ideals. Not a single servant was allowed to speak to the child let alone have any kind of relationship. He grew up in a house without natural affection, feeling unwanted, and unloved. The only bright spot was his Nanny. But in fear of losing her job, and knowing that her future with a scarred face would be at best, making a living on the streets, she was very careful in the little bit of love she did show the child."

"Over the years, the Acerbi's began experimenting again. They had a seemingly endless supply of 'patients' to work their torture on. When rumors started up, they confined themselves to their own servants. Many were maimed, and several murdered in their quest to mix man and machine. They were sacrificed to the god of science."

Olivia gasped at this statement, remembering what she had seen in the kitchen the night before. Lucian however was caught up in his tale and didn't notice, he continued without pause.

"When the boy developed a heart condition, it didn't take them long to begin their experimentation on him. Every attempt to cure him, failed. So they began to design and plan a mechanical heart. After replacing his diseased heart with their creation, the boy began to exhibit side effects and his health rapidly declined, by an act of fate, or an accident if you will, a serum was discovered that could counteract those side effects."

Lucian paused, and looked off into the sunny landscape through the window of the library. He didn't show a single emotion on his face. Yet, he told a tale that would rattle even the most hardened journalist and he was talking about his own family, albeit from many generations back.

"That child suffered the most unimaginable horrors at the hands of his own parents. Anesthesia was not what it is today and several of the medical procedures were done with very little, or none to speak of. Living in Oakfield was becoming almost unbearable. His abnormal relationship with his Nanny couldn't replace the need for love and human compassion in his life. Then one day a new man was hired on to run the hothouse. He brought his eleven year old son with him. A single father, his wife having succumbed to typhoid, he wanted a new life for himself and his son."

"One particular hard day for Oakfield's heir, he had ran and hidden himself in among the plants and greenery, in the hothouse, looking for some semblance of peace. The employee's son found him there and before either of them knew what had happened, the whole story had come out. Nanny found them together and quickly escorted her young charge back to the house, but not before she noticed the sign of tears in both children. As soon as the Nanny and his new friend were out of sight, the employee's son immediately went to his father and related the story."

Again, Lucian paused and seemed to be looking into the past, not seeing what was in the here and now. Had he looked towards Olivia he would have seen that her pen had slowed and that she was sitting on the edge of her seat.

"That brave man believed his son and went to the authorities. Then he promptly came back to Oakfield to gather up his belongings and leave with his son. In his righteous anger, he railed at Horace for his treatment of his own flesh and blood calling him a 'monster' and threatened him with justice, admitting he had contacted the police."

"By the time the police had arrived, the new employee was nowhere to be found. When they demanded to see Horace's son...a young boy was brought before them. Theodosia gave the dramatic performance of her life, claiming the sedated child was unable to talk and that he was mentally unstable. Horace insisted that the new employee had slandered them and that the proof was standing right before their eyes. Not a simple man, the constable insisted on them unbuttoning his shirt, since the story given to him included the fact that the new heart was encased in glass and was clearly visible."

"When Horace opened up the shirt of the boy before them, his chest was unmarred and normal. One look at the groggy, drooling lad, and the lack of evidence produced a half hearted apology. As Theodosia escorted her 'son' out of the room, Horace passed a large sum of money into the hands of the constable mentioning the waste of time and how underpaid public servants shouldn't have to be subject to wild goose chases. The man left with a smile and Horace had made another friend for life... it's amazing what a little money can do."

"Later Horace and Theodosia summoned their son to the laboratory in the basement. With pride and arrogance, they presented him with the eleven year old boy who had tried to help him. Of course that was who had met the constable; it hadn't been their son at all. With a cruel laugh Theodosia told her son to feel free to tell as many secrets to his friend as he wanted, as he would never be able to tell a living soul. In fear he looked from his father to the drugged boy. Finally, Horace forced the boy's mouth open, exposing his severed tongue."

"In guilt and grief, he ran up to his old nursery to find his Nanny. When his search came up empty, he threw himself in a corner and thought about his life up until that point. Then, he thought about the strange side effect that they discovered after taking the serum his father had created. It seemed that superficial wounds healed quickly. His father and mother believed that over time, it would slow down if not stop the aging process. They hadn't started taking it themselves at this point, wanting to monitor their test subject a few more years first. The possibility of living a long life in his current situation or of his parents obtaining immortality caused a new desperation."

"At that precise time, his eyes landed on one of the few playthings his parents had allowed him. His jump rope lie forgotten next to the fireplace...Nanny Dagmar found him just as he was ready to kick the stool out from under his legs. He fought her with all of his strength, cursed her and called her unmentionable names. Her only response was to hold him as tight as she could until he stopped struggling and for the second time that day, cried, something he hadn't done in years."

"That was the last time he ever did...Dagmar tried leaving the house the next day. In her heart she knew that she wouldn't be able to stay and watch his suffering. Theodosia is the one who caught her. She was punished in an inventive way. Though Horace and Theodosia were inhuman themselves, they understood human nature. They made her watch as hot oil was poured over her charges hands..."

Over the last half hour understanding was dawning in Olivia's mind!

When Lucian paused she asked quietly tears streaming, "Is that why you wear the gloves?"

"No," he answered in an absent minded way. "My hands were healed by the next day. But Dagmar couldn't get those screams of pain out of her ears or the blistering skin out of her mind. From that day on she complied with every demand, since her employers insisted that their son would suffer, just so, each time she disobeyed."

Olivia choked back a sob and Lucian came out of his memory.

"I think I need to stretch my legs," she stammered through her tears and ran out of the room.

Finding herself in her own room, she threw herself on the bed and sobbed. She cried for that little boy and for the man downstairs. Then every pent up tear from her own life over the last few years with John came out as well. Once the dam had burst there was no stopping them.

After some time, there was a soft knock on her door. She hadn't bothered locking it and when she didn't answer, the door opened a crack and Lucian looked through. Olivia sat up in bed and wiped her eyes with both hands. Neither of them spoke and he walked to the bathroom to retrieve a hand towel. Bringing it to the bed, he handed it to her and stood there while she did a better job at drying her eyes.

"You are crying...for the boy?" he asked.

"Yes and no."

"The incidents that I shared with you happened over a hundred years ago. There is nothing you can do about it now."

"No, there isn't," she agreed.

"Yet, here you are."

"We have a lot in common that child and me. We both live a life that is unbearable. Not that my horror is anything compared to his. I guess hearing his story let some things loose in me..."

"Can you change your situation?" he asked.

"No."

"Then what do the tears accomplish?"

"They honor his hurt and they help me in some way. I guess I have been holding it all in. That can't be healthy," she said as she blew her nose.

"Lucian, that boy...it's you isn't it?" she finally asked.

He walked to the window seat and sat down.

"Yes."

"How?" she asked in amazement, but knowing it to be true.

"The serum."

"So...you are what, immortal?" Olivia tried wrapping her mind around it all.

"In a sense."

"Horace and Theodosia...they aren't ancestors, they are your parents," she stated.

"Were, yes."

"And that...thing...I saw in the kitchen, that used to be one of your servants?"

"Yes."

Olivia shook her head, and trying to keep from crying again.

"All of those things you talked about, they happened here in this house, and it all happened to you."

"Yes."

Olivia jumped up from the bed and began grabbing her things. Lucian stood from his seat.

"What are you doing?" for the first time since she met him, Lucian seemed less than calm.

"I can't stay here. I can't spend another night in this despicable house," she said through clenched teeth.

"Pack up your things and follow me," he commanded.

Thinking he was getting her on her way back home, she did as he bid. Soon the two of them were down the stairs and out the back door. Lucian stalked to the carriage house and entered the 'train'. Olivia followed and harnessed herself in.

When the vehicle stopped, this time it didn't rise to the surface again. Instead Lucian exited under the ground and went through a set of metal doors. Olivia was torn between following and running away, but where would she go. She didn't know how to work the controls and would only end up back at the mansion. Finally she followed if reluctantly. The passage was well lit and soon they came to another set of doors. Lucian pulled a lever and the doors opened.

Olivia found herself in a living area that was a complete contrast to Oakfield. A perfect mix of modern and old, she stood in a great room with ceilings at least ten foot high. Living room furnishings, a baby grand piano, and a writing desk filled the room. Off to one side was a full modern kitchen with a few gadgets similar to the ones in the mansion. There were a couple of closed wooden doors on the opposite side of the kitchen. There wasn't a window in sight, but the lighting so closely resembled natural light that she didn't at first notice. Several pieces of art were hanging on the walls and others were on tables.

As she stood there speechless, Lucian walked to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. He hadn't volunteered any information, nor looked her way since going through the doors. Olivia took a deep breath and set her bag next to the door. After turning on the heat, Lucian removed his coat jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. Folding the jacket and laying it on the back of a comfortable looking couch; he took a few mugs out of one of the cupboards and set tea, sugar, and cream in the middle.

Turning her way, he removed his stiff collar and his necktie, unbuttoned his top button and finally looked her in the eye.

"Please, come and sit."

"Where are we?" she didn't think things could get any weirder.

"We are still on the property. I had this built years ago. I too couldn't abide living in that house any longer. The past two days is the most time I have spent there in the last fifty years."

"Are we completely underground?"

"Yes."

"And you live here?" she knew she was sounding like an idiot.

"Yes."

"Do you have...servants here?" remembering their earlier conversation she couldn't help the tremble in her voice.

"No!"

"Good," just then the teapot whistled and Lucian brought the pot to the table, pouring both cups full of the steaming water.

"This has been hard for you," he stated the obvious.

"Just a little," she snorted. "I still don't understand what is going on."

"I told you that it would be unbelievable."

"Yes, yes you did," she agreed.

"Drink your tea. Your hands are shaking."

Olivia did sip her tea taking the opportunity to look at Lucian across the table. He seemed to have changed since entering his safe haven. His face had lost some of its hardness, his hair no longer slicked back, and the loss of his jacket and tie had loosened him up. He still wore the gloves and looked into his cup instead of at her.

"You said that your hands are not burned."

"No."

"Then why do you wear the gloves?" inquired Olivia.

He took another drink before answering her.

"It has been years since I have had contact with another human..."

"What about Thomas?" she interrupted.

He raised his eyebrows and met her eyes, "Our relationship is complicated."

Again, something dawned in Olivia's mind and she forgot about the gloves.

"He's the boy. The one who lost his tongue!" she declared.

This time he didn't even answer, but only nodded his head.

"What happened to his father?"

"We never found out. I assume that he was disposed of."

"Lucian, why didn't you ever leave?" Olivia was still trying to figure it all out.

"And go where? I am a monster, a freak of science. Haven't you ever read Shelly's "Frankenstein"?"

"It isn't the same thing at all."

He remained silent and drained the last of his tea.

"Would you care for some lunch?" he asked as he took his cup to the sink.

Olivia's stomach turned at the mere thought of food and she shook her head.

"No?"

"I am really tired. I know it isn't even one o'clock but I think just need to sleep..." she looked around the room hoping for a place to lay her head.

"Of course," Lucian walked to the door and grabbed her bag, and then he opened one of the doors that led into a bedroom.

The room was large and contained all of the normal bedroom furnishings. There were some lovely landscape painting hanging on the walls and one large one even had curtains hanging on each side, giving the impression of a window. Lucian turned down the bed and then stepped away. She wasted no time and collapsed into the bed.

Lucian turned down the lights until it felt like the silvery light of the moon and quietly shut the door behind him.

5

Day Three

Olivia woke to the same silvery light. She still felt groggy and stumbled to the door that she hoped held a bathroom. After washing her face, she finally felt awake. Her dress was crumpled from sleeping in it. Raising the lights she looked in the wardrobe. Inside was an array of men's clothing.

Had she slept in Lucian's room?

She had only two options, leave the wrinkled dress on, or dress in something of her own. Way past caring about offending her host, she finally donned a pair of khaki pants and a short sleeved cotton shirt. Still she was reluctant to leave the room.

How long have I been sleeping? Lord, can this all be real? What am I doing here? This clearly isn't about a story...

"Set him free," the words were spoken into her heart.

How do I do that?

"Listen."

Can I trust him?

"Trust me."

Taking a deep breath, Olivia opened the door and walked out of Lucian's bedroom. At the sound of the door, Lucian who was in the kitchen turned her way.

"You are awake."

"Yes, and I feel much better," she admitted.

"I made breakfast. I thought you might want to eat since you only had a cup of coffee yesterday."

"Yesterday?" again Olivia found herself confused.

"You slept through the night."

"In your room," she stated.

"Yes."

"Where did you sleep?" she inquired as she took a seat at the table.

"The couch."

"I am sorry, you should have wakened me..." she stammered.

"No, you clearly needed the rest and you are my guest."

Lucian set a plate of fresh fruit and a fried egg in front of her. To her delight, her stomach didn't rebel at the thought of food. She pulled the plate closer as Lucian set a cup of coffee in front of her.

"Aren't you eating?" Olivia asked around a mouthful of food.

"I did."

Lucian watched her eat and she decided this was more uncomfortable than his not making eye contact during their meals together. It wasn't until she set her napkin on her plate that she noticed his gloves were missing.

She raised her cup and calmly pointed out the fact, "You aren't wearing your gloves."

"I never answered your question yesterday."

"I just remembered that I even asked it," she said with a smile.

"Honestly, I have issues with human contact."

"Oh," Olivia didn't know what to say.

"I haven't...touched...another person since... it was a long time ago."

"That is why you didn't shake my hand," she commented more to herself than to him. "So, you never married, you never had children?"

"No."

"You aren't comfortable talking about this part of your life, are you?" she noticed his clenched jaw.

"No."

"Ok, back to your story yesterday. What happened to your parents?"

"I prefer not to discuss my past here. That's why we were meeting at Oakfield."

"I can understand that. I assume you want to continue with our agreement since you brought me here instead of sending me home?" Olivia questioned.

"Yes."

"I refuse to return to that house," insisted Olivia. "And you don't want to work here, so we need to think of another option."

"You want to stay?"

"I agreed to do a job," Olivia brushed some imaginary crumbs off of her lap. "What about the hothouse? You felt comfortable talking there with Thomas when you were young."

Lucian thought for a minute and then nodded his head.

"Shall we get to work then?" Olivia asked.

"Yes."

"Look, after everything you have told me, I understand that your people skills aren't the best. But if we are ever going to have a real conversation you are going to have to offer more than the words 'yes' and 'no'. That is what conversation is, two people talking," she advised.

"I have spent hours talking to you," he countered.

"Those could hardly be called a conversation. You talked and I wrote. And those times for questions that you promised never materialized," she reminded him.

"No, they didn't."

"See, that is a little better. You didn't just offer a 'no'."

"Shall we," Lucian asked as he stood, ignoring her comment.

"I will need the notebooks."

"I have them, I went back and got them while you slept. I also brought some of the dresses, if you want them. I think all things considered, it was rude of me to insist on you wearing them. It is your choice."

"Who sewed them?" she asked bluntly.

"An Oakfield seamstress."

"A person?"

Lucian gave a great sigh. "I think it best if you wear your own clothing."

"We will talk about this more in the hothouse," she insisted.

Olivia followed him back to the underground garage.

"What is this thing?" she asked him as she began to harness herself in.

"It is a locomotive."

"So it really is a train? It looks so different from anything I have ever seen," Olivia replied.

"It is different."

When they were back above ground, Lucian led the way to the hothouse. Basically it was a glorified greenhouse. She was amazed at the size and the variety of plants inside. The ceiling was over two stories high and housed even trees under its curved glass roof. He gave her a tour and explained all of the workings. She recognized some hydroponic systems, as well as some intricate sprinklers, but there were other things that were completely unfamiliar to her.

Seeing a robotic crouched under a system of shelving, she gave a start. Lucian was quick to assure her that there was not a human element to this one. It was simply machine, though advanced. Finally they settled in a seating area surrounded with palm trees and tropical plants. The wicker furniture looked a little worn, but the cushions were comfortable and Olivia settled in with her pen and notebook. Before Lucian could begin, she reminded him that she hadn't been able to ask any questions and requested that they begin with the ones she already had.

Looking at her notes, she began with her first question.

"How old are you really?"

"I was born in 1868, so that would make me one hundred and thirty-eight years old," he answered.

"But by looking at you, you seem to be in your early twenties?"

"An effect of the serum."

"So you were in your twenties when you started taking it?" Olivia was writing in the margins and was not looking at Lucian.

"I was eight when I received the mechanical heart. I was on my third heart and ten years old when I began the first serum. Over the next several years, the dosage and some of the makeup of the serum changed until the ageing process almost completely stopped by the time I was sixteen. It has taken that many years for me to age to the place you see me now."

"Did you parents begin taking the serum?" She continued with this line.

"Yes."

Olivia raised her head and gave him a pointed look.

"When they realized that the serum was working and that the only side effects were good ones, such as the quick healing, they too began a daily regimen."

"So, you still take it every day?"

"I do."

"What happens if you stop?" she continued to look at Lucian.

"I don't know," he related. "I have never tried."

"Ok, so you and your parents all took this serum and became, for loss of a better word, immortal. I assume since Thomas is still here, at some point he did as well."

"Correct."

"So tell me about Thomas. Why is he still with you?"

"After his mutilation, my parents kept him around as a reminder of my lack of discretion. He was put to work here in the hothouse, since he had some experience helping his father. At night he was kept under lock and key."

"He is still here, but your parents are gone, why is that?"

"After Dagmar prevented me from killing myself, my parents kept me under a light sedation. For years I was paraded in front of twisted friends and investors as an example of my parent's brilliant scientific minds..."

"How did they keep everyone quiet?" she interrupted.

"Bribes of money, as well as some other benefits. Some were given patents on some of the simpler inventions, others were given a version of the serum that allowed them to live longer and healthier. Horace and his wife weren't averse to using blackmail when necessary, or threats to family, whatever it took to keep their secret life a secret."

"So where are they now?" she asked.

"I am afraid I am unaware of their exact location, but they are no longer in the land of the living. If I believed in such a place, I would say they were in Hell."

"So they are dead?" she specified.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I killed them," he simply stated.

"What!"

"After a few years of resigned obedience, they slowly took me off the sedatives. As my mind grew sharper, which is another side effect of the serum, a plan began to take shape. I patiently waited thirty years working behind the scenes to put every piece in place. When everything was arranged, I told my plan to Thomas, who had continued to age and was pretty much as you see him now. I promised him his revenge and asked for his help."

"By this time, my parents had amassed great wealth. Through underhanded dealing, and some perfectly legal and ethical ones as well, they were much more careful here than they had been in Italy. Once they started taking the serum, their already advanced minds were much more enhanced. Most people only use ten percent of their brains, with the serum my father concocted, that percentage is around thirty."

"One of their greatest mistakes was their arrogance. They never dreamed that I would be their demise. A belief that they had broken my will and conformed it to their own, allowed me to fulfill my plans. During a weekend of entertaining, while the house was filled with several guests, I was helping in the kitchen. At that time we had a cook, as well as the mechanical servants. Only a human cook could ever create dishes that were expected. My parents allowed me to experiment in the kitchen as they saw it as a type of science and it was another peculiarity that they could use to entertain their guests."

"With Thomas' help, the food was laced with enough poison from one of the plants in our own hothouse, to kill each one ten times over. The bodies were disposed of by some seedy character that Thomas found, and then he too was disposed of by Thomas himself. Because of the secretive nature of their relationship with my parents, not a single guest had informed anyone of where they were. Those who knew their secrets, but weren't attending that weekend party were slowly tracked down and met with unfortunate accidents. There was one couple who began to see a pattern in the missing people and fled to Europe. Their mistake was booking a passage on the Titanic."

"You sank the Titanic!" she interrupted.

He gave her a stern look, "Of course not, fate intervened."

"I am sorry, go on," she apologized.

"From there I lived alone. Those few servants that were still living as fully human, were given riches and passage home to their original countries. My parents had made it a habit of exclusively hiring immigrants who spoke poor English and who felt indebted to them. Finally there was just me and the mechanical servants, and of course Thomas. After his revenge, he stayed. I don't understand his decision, but at his insistence, he has been taking the serum daily. Are you horrified at my behavior?" he finally inquired.

Olivia shook her head, "How can I be after all they did to so many people. Why do you keep those...mechanical things?"

"What would you have me do with them?"

"I don't know...destroy them?" she stammered.

"They didn't choose to become what they are, I am not sure they are even aware of their beginnings, and they have been here for a hundred years. I see no reason to change anything."

"But it is all so grotesque."

"Yes."

"That's why you built your underground sanctuary," Olivia mused. "Ok, so how do you keep all of this a secret? The fact that you never age?"

"I never leave Oakfield. I am...uncomfortable outside. Over the years I have assumed the identity of my own son. Officially I am Lucian Acerbi the fourth. I have all the legal documentation and all of my business has been done through the same legal firm since the year Horace died."

"I still don't understand. How can you do business with someone who has never even met you?" she puzzled.

"I learned that from Horace. Put enough money in the right hands and you can accomplish just about anything. I do business under several different names. I have invented and discovered various medicines, and money making devices. My net worth is more than any other person on the planet. I have ways to hide and divert funds as needed."

"And you only offered me five hundred?" she observed.

"I didn't want to raise suspicion," Olivia may have been mistaken, but it seemed that he almost smiled when he said that.

"So, you are some kind of super smart, superhuman, super rich, immortal man who hates human contact, lives as a hermit, has no living relatives, only one friend, and has a mechanical heart, correct me if I am wrong."

"I wouldn't exactly call Thomas a friend, but the rest is pretty much correct," he affirmed.

Glancing back at her notes and flipping a few pages she asked, "What happened to your Nanny?"

"She committed suicide."

"I am sorry," Olivia whispered. Lucian's face was a mask of stone and not an ounce of emotion was in his voice.

"Don't be, the alternative was worse."

"If you don't believe in Hell, I guess you don't believe in Heaven either."

"No I do not."

"God?" she asked.

"No."

"Any specific reason?" she pushed.

"After everything you have heard, how can you even ask that question?" this time there was a touch of anger in his voice.

"God had nothing to do with your parent's cruelty, or the suffering that they caused!" Olivia insisted.

"Exactly my point."

"But..."

"Are you done with your questions?" he demanded.

"For now. I think I need to stretch my legs," Olivia stood and turned her back on her host.

"It is getting close to lunch time, would you like to walk the grounds while I prepare us something?"

"Alone? No thank you," she refused. "I may not be a gourmet cook, or know the science of cooking, but I am capable in the kitchen."

"I am not used to having anyone helping..." he began.

"No? Well I'm not used to any part of this. If I can continue to make concessions for you, maybe it is time that you make concessions for me," she didn't allow him to finish his excuse.

"You interrupted again," he pointed out.

"Yes," she answered curtly, mimicking Lucian's own short answers. "So what are we making?"

With a big sigh, Lucian walked her through the hothouse allowing her to choose some fresh vegetables for lunch.

In the kitchen things got interesting. Lucian's gloveless hands kept leaping into Olivia's field of vision. Washing vegetables and chopping them up, his hands were skilled with a knife. Long fingers and strong hands led to lean but muscular arms. With his shirt sleeves rolled up his pale skin was more obvious. The cook was clearly uncomfortable with Olivia invading his space and finally asked her if she could retreat to the table and prepare some lettuce for a salad.

"You don't get out in the sun much do you?" she asked.

"No."

"Why is that? Does it affect the serum?" Olivia wasn't taking a simple 'no' for an answer.

"I sunburn easily," he answered.

She laughed until she realized he wasn't joking.

"So for a hundred years you have pretty much stayed underground...because you sunburn easily?"

"I do prefer to remain inside, but I also don't want anyone to see me," Lucian explained.

"But the grounds are so extensive, there is no way anyone can see you from the wall," she pointed out.

"I guess you would call it a phobia."

"You are agoraphobic?" she asked in surprise.

"That would be the technical name," he answered.

"Then why keep the grounds up?"

"Why not?" Lucian seemed confused by her questioning.

"No one sees them," she pointed out.

"That isn't the only reason for some beauty. I know it's taken care of."

"So, you need to have that sense of control," she stated.

"Yes."

"You must be obsessive compulsive as well?" Olivia mumbled. Things were becoming clearer.

"What do you want on your salad?" Lucian directed her attention to something else.

"What have you got?"

"We can do strawberries with vinaigrette, or vegetables with mustard vinaigrette."

"I've never had berries on a salad. This visit has been all about new experiences for me, so strawberries it is."

"You don't mind change?" he remarked.

"I have to deal with it on a daily basis," she admitted.

"What do you mean?"

Olivia thought of all that she and her husband John had been through and just didn't want to go there, so she told a half truth.

"I teach preschool as my day job," Olivia explained. "Most are three years old and though they love a schedule and structure, you never know what is going to happen."

"You like your job?"

"I'd rather just write full time, but I love kids."

"You don't have any," Lucian wasn't asking a question.

"No."

"Planning on..."

"No."

"Who is uncomfortable now?" he asked as he dressed the salad. "I honor your desire to keep your life private. You aren't here to tell your story."

"Thank you, I am not comfortable talking about that part of my life."

"Should we eat?" he asked as he brought the remaining items of their lunch to the table.

"Can I ask one more question?" Olivia taunted.

"If you must."

"How do you make this dressing? It's delicious."

Lucian actually smiled at her lame joke and took a bite of his own salad.

"Clearly, you aren't a master chef."

"Nope, I am lucky if I can get some mac-n-cheese on the stove at the end of the day," she laughed.

"Your poor husband," Lucian continued shaking his head in mock disgust.

"He's an easy keeper. John never complains, ever."

"Maybe he doesn't see the point," suggested Lucian. "Complaining never changes our circumstances."

"No, he is just a strong man, like you."

Lucian put down his fork in disgust.

"You don't really know me. I am not strong. I am weak."

"How can you say that? After all you have been through?" she demanded.

"I have only begun to tell my story, save your judgment for later," insisted her host.

"I don't intend to judge at all," she countered.

"Haven't you already judged Horace and Theodosia?" he demanded.

Olivia looked at his cold eyes, "Yes, I have. They were the monsters, not the little boy who was tortured in more ways than one."

"When monsters have children they produce monsters. You best remember that."

Lucian rose from the table and took his plate to the sink.

"We are going to be cooped up together in this underground...house of yours; we aren't going to be able to run away from one another when we get irritated."

"That is what is most irritating," he said through clenched teeth, his back to Olivia.

"I can always leave."

Lucian took a deep breath before turning to face her.

"There is something I have to show you," he said.

"Ok."

"You won't like it," he insisted.

"Is it dangerous? Or does it involve your father's mechanical servants?" she asked.

"No."

"Then show me," Olivia stood.

Lucian led her through the other door. It led down a long well lit hallway. At the end he opened a steel door into a large work space. Part of the room looked like a monitoring center for a huge security system, and part looked like a laboratory. There were several steel doors off of the main room, but Lucian led her to the medical side.

"This is where I do most of my work."

"What kind of work?" Olivia eyed the test tubes, medical instruments, and equipment you would see at a hospital with nervous eyes.

"I do medical research here."

"On who..." she began to back away.

Lucian made as if to reach out and stop her, but let his hand fall back to his side. "Myself."

"Why?"

"I have been able to improve upon my artificial heart, the serum, and have also discovered several treatments for different ailments through my experimentation. Minor illnesses, diseases, and conditions are always healed by the serum, so I can subject myself to many different things and find a way to treat them."

"How do you know what is the serum, and what is the treatment?" she asked.

"I can slowly withdraw from the serum for short periods of time."

"What do you do with your findings?" Olivia was feeling much more comfortable now.

"I sell them."

"That's how you got your money?" snapped. "Why not just use this knowledge and your super brain to help others?"

"I told you that you wouldn't like it."

"That isn't an answer," she replied.

"I have to keep it very simple and I always use different names. Any big discovery would mean fame, and recognition. I can't allow that to happen," he stated.

"Whatever," she walked away and began looking around. "So you work on yourself, even your heart."

"Yes."

Suddenly Olivia turned and faced him.

"I want to see it," she demanded.

"You are. I do all the work right here," he answered.

"No, I want to see your heart. You said it was in a glass case. That's how Horace faked out the police, right? Thomas didn't have the glass case..."

Lucian turned away from Olivia. "You don't know what you are asking of me."

"Do you even begin to understand what you have been asking of me?" she countered.

Lucian spun around and saw the look on her face. He searched her eyes for just a second.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Lucian began to unbutton his shirt. Olivia kept her eyes on the ever widening opening until she could see the gleam of glass and then she collapsed. When she came to, she was lying on Lucian's couch. He was standing at one end of the couch facing one of the large paintings with his back to her. Hearing her gasp, he turned but couldn't look her in the eye.

"What happened?" she asked as she groggily sat up.

"You fainted."

"I am sorry...how did I...you carried me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"But you hate human contact," she stated.

"Yes."

"I am so embarrassed," she groaned.

"Why should you be embarrassed? Fainting is a normal reaction to a sight like this," he said indicating his chest which was completely covered and buttoned up once again.

"No," Olivia chuckled. "You don't understand. I didn't see anything. I'm such a baby when it comes to hospitals and blood. I guess I just expected to see...I don't know, your guts or something that I passed out."

Lucian gave her a cold stare, hating pity above all things. "You don't have to make up excuses."

"If you would give me my cell phone," she sighed, making up her mind. "I'd like to show you some pictures."

Wordlessly Lucian went to his suit coat and brought Olivia her phone.

She turned it on and quickly went to her photo gallery. Choosing a picture of her and John, she handed the phone back to Lucian, and watched his face for some reaction.

"Who is this?" he asked stoned faced.

"That is me and my husband John," she answered. "We were married right out of high school; we began dating our freshman year. He had been in ROTC all during school, had finished his boot camp. When we found out he was going to be shipped over to do a combat tour, we decided to get married before he left. He was only there for a few months when his humvee was blown up by an IEV. He was burnt over eighty percent of his body. He lost his ears, his nose, all of his hair, and most of the fingers on his left hand. That was just some of the outside damage. He has had more treatments, surgeries, and physical therapy than I can even begin to recount. Every since the explosion he has had issues with his lungs, infection, and has spent countless hours in treatment."

"I don't handle it all very well. I have had to, but...you can see it's not an excuse."

"So you have been married for..." he began.

"Eight years," Olivia filled in.

"And in all that time your husband has been...like this?"

"Yes," she affirmed.

"You must really love him."

"I do, that's why no matter how much I hate it, or how queasy I get, I still change bandages, suction out his esophagus, do the feeding tubes when needed, and haul him back and forth to doctor's appointments. He is wheel chair bound at the best of times and bed ridden at the worst," she explained. "Now that you understand my aversion..."

"To 'blood, and guts'?" he actually smiled.

"Yes. I would like to see. I'll sit right here just in case, but I shouldn't faint again."

"Are you sure?" he hesitated.

"Yes."

Lucian walked around and sat next to her on the couch. He self-consciously unbuttoned his shirt, and then pulled it open to reveal his full chest.

Olivia inhaled at the sight.

"It's...amazing," she whispered. "It looks like the inside of an old timepiece. The gears and all the intricate parts."

Lucian held his breath and looked at the top of her head.

"May I?" she asked as she tentatively reached out her hand keeping her eyes on his mechanical heart. Lucian visibly stiffened. When he didn't give her an answer she continued to gradually reach out until, suddenly, he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. When she looked up into his face she saw something in his eyes that made her jerk her hand away.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed. First you had to carry me in here and now I am getting all touchy and feely," Olivia apologized.

Lucian stood up and re-buttoned his shirt while putting some distance between them.

"If you were only married right before your husband left, how have you been able...how can you..." Lucian was clearly trying to find a delicate way to ask a personal question.

"Are you asking me if we are still intimate?"

"Yes."

"We aren't. Basically he is untouchable. It's too painful for him. Not that it would really matter since that part of his body doesn't function anymore due to his injuries," Olivia stated simply.

"You never had children?"

"Not in our cards. For a while we talked about adopting, but with all the work and stress taking care of John, and having to work part time to pay for all of our bills, well, let's just say we finally admitted that we aren't going to have kids. A few times when things got hairy and we weren't sure he was going to make it, he mentioned me re-marrying after he is gone, but I don't let him talk that way anymore," Olivia never realized that she spoke just as unemotionally about her life as Lucian had about his.

"Why?" he inquired.

"What do you mean?" she retorted.

"Why does it bother you to talk about the future?" he clarified.

"Because part of me is terrified of losing him, and part of me is looking forward to the day that I will be free from all of it!" No sooner had the words left her mouth and Olivia clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "I can't believe I just said that."

"You are just being honest."

"But it's so selfish!" she exclaimed.

"No, Horace and Theodosia were selfish, I am selfish, you, you are just being honest."

"Still..."

"Your life is hard."

"It is, but I do love him and I am thankful that he didn't die that day," she said.

"So, you think your God saved him, just to let him suffer that way?" Lucian asked with a frown.

"No, well, I guess that is one of the things I have been struggling with. As long as I am being honest here, I might as well admit that my faith has wavered over the past few years. But I do know that God is good and he has plan in all of this."

"You mean it was his plan to ruin your husband's body? That his plan is for you to never be a mother? Do you think his plan for me was to be raised by inhuman monsters and to survive the torture that I did?" Lucian's voice was cold and caused her to shiver.

"I am not saying he caused any of this, no. We live in a fallen world, there is evil..."

"Don't preach to me about evil. I have lived it," he interrupted. "If there is a God, he is cruel and twisted."

"I'm not the best person to be explaining God to you," she sadly shook her head. "But I do know that without the little faith I do have, I would have given up a long time ago."

"Whatever makes you feel better," he replied as he turned his back to her again.

"What have you done that makes you feel better? Murder, becoming a hermit, refusing to help people?" Olivia was getting angry.

"I think that it is best if we talk about something else. The day is still young and we have work to do."

Lucian still held her phone in his hand. He returned it to his coat pocket hanging from the coat tree by the door.

"Can I check to see if there are any messages? I haven't kept in touch like I promised, and now that we aren't in the house I won't know if he has called."

"The calls are forwarded here," he indicated a wooden case sitting on one of the tables. "You can call him before we retire."

"Speaking of which, are you sure you are ok with me sleeping in your room?" she asked as she stood.

"I am fine on the couch."

"I know it must be hard for you since you are used to being alone," Olivia was trying to make up for her angry outburst.

"We just need to finish up and you can go home to your husband."

"Right," she said as she grabbed the notebook and pen.

6

Day Four

Olivia woke early. They had worked late in the hothouse. Lucian was more open about growing up and his childhood. It wasn't just the tales of abuse and torture, but the little mean spirited things as well that tore at Olivia's heart. A child without friends, not even a pet to love. A young man deprived of any socialization apart from his parents lavish, and twisted parties, where he was paraded out as some kind of miracle of science. He was humiliated, made fun of, ridiculed, and neglected. A life that explained his cold demeanor and lack of social grace.

They were both so involved in the story that they hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Completely forgetting dinner, the sky was dark when she had finally put down her pen and closed the notebook. Lucian had checked his pocket watch and rushed Olivia back to the garage, but not before she saw several mechanicals coming out of one of the sheds and going out to tend to the landscaping.

At the sight of the first one, she was horrified, yet couldn't help staring at what used to be a human being. She stood watching as they wheeled out until for the third time that day, Lucian touched her. Grabbing her arm, he had propelled her into the garage and into the train. By the time they had returned to his underground sanctuary, she had lost any appetite.

"How can you abide knowing those things are on the property?" she demanded.

"Again, what would you have me do? Dispose of them?"

"I think that would be an act of mercy," she pointed out.

"I never understood mercy."

"Clearly not," she agreed wearily as she voiced her intent to retire early.

After her host had retrieved some clothing from his room, she had gone straight to bed. She had finally fallen asleep to Lucian playing the piano. The song was sweet yet, sad, and stirred something in Olivia that she didn't want to look at too closely.

Now, it was morning and the false light was brighter than the replicated moonlight of her subterranean night. She found herself once again waking to her stomach protesting its lack of food the night before. As she made herself presentable she chastised herself for again forgetting to call and check on John. All that talk the day before about how much she loved him, and she couldn't even remember to give him a call. Totally disgusted with herself she walked into the great room already irritated.

When she saw a thermos of coffee and a note on the table, her irritation grew. So much for breakfast, she thought. Picking up the note she read: I was needed at the house. Make yourself comfortable.

Looking at the clock as she sipped her coffee it was only seven. She decided to take him at his word and started searching through the kitchen to find something to eat. Before long she had an egg and some toast sitting before her. She took her time over breakfast and drank her coffee expecting Lucian to be returning soon. After she finished eating she took a quick look for her cell phone, but didn't see the phone or his suit coat anywhere. Finally she went to the wooden case that housed his phone. It was almost identical to the one in the house and sure enough, when she picked it up there was no dial tone. Setting the receiver back on the main piece, she felt herself getting more and more agitated. Neither the coffee nor the food seemed to have helped calm her agitation.

Thinking about her conversation about her lack of faith with Lucian the day before, she cleaned up her mess and decided to use her time alone to pray. True to her nature she began to walk around the open space and pray, though this time she kept her voice just above a whisper, self-consciously remembering Lucian barging into her room. After a few trips around the room, she decided that she wouldn't be able to settle down until she talked to John, her guilt at seemingly forgetting all about him the past few days too distracting to even allow herself to pray.

Finally she made up her mind, put on her shoes and left the living quarters. She was determined to either get her phone from Lucian or to insist he show her how to operate one of the house phones. He could stand right next to her if he still didn't trust her, but come hell or high water, she was calling home. It wasn't until she got to the underground garage that the one flaw in her plan was realized. Lucian had the train and even had it been here, she didn't know how to operate it.

Glad for her tennis shoes, she decided the walk would be good for her. The sliding garage doors were easily opened at the push of a button and soon she was following the tracks toward the mansion. It took quite some time to get to the end of the tracks, the train was much faster. Reaching the dead end, she again realized she had no way of getting above ground. The controls had been in the vehicle.

She was just ready to leave in disgust when she noticed a small door to what looked like a closet, or...an elevator. Sure enough when she opened the door, she found a lift. Two simple buttons were clearly marked with an arrow pointing up and an arrow pointing down. Hitting the appropriate one, she immediately felt it begin to rise. Quite pleased with herself she soon found herself exiting in the carriage house.

In the full daylight, she found herself again captured by the beauty of Oakfield and couldn't help wishing that this had really been a vacation and that she had never learned of the evil that had taken place here. Squaring her shoulders, shaking off the wishful thinking, she reminded herself that the servants only came out at night and marched up the stairs to the back entrance.

The door was unlocked and she walked in the same way she had come just a few nights ago. Hoping to be able to locate Lucian quickly, she listened for some sign of life, but the house was completely silent. First, she checked the library, then the kitchen. After that she went to the second story, only to find that every door was closed including the one to the room she had stayed in. Peeking inside revealed it clean and empty. Nobody would ever know that she had been there. Finally she called out for Lucian. When she didn't receive an answer, she reluctantly chose to search the third floor.

The stairway was at the end of a hall and was clearly used by servants as it was narrow and dark. Calling several times as she climbed, with no answer, she decided to take a look even though she was convinced that Lucian was probably not in that part of the house. The stairway came out in a narrow landing with three doors. The floor was covered with dust and looked like it hadn't been disturbed since before she was born. Cobwebs graced the corners of the ceiling and some of the door frames. The only window was so dirty that barely any light came into the forlorn area.

Letting her curiosity lead her, she opened the first door she came to. Inside was a simple room with a tarnished brass bed, a wardrobe, and a straight backed chair. The curtains and bedding had disintegrated and the mattress was a misshaped lump under the shredded comforter. Obviously she was standing in a servant's room. Lucian had said the nursery was on this floor, could she be standing in Dagmar's room? With a shiver, she hurriedly left and tried the second door. A dilapidated, antiquated bathroom greeted her. With no window in the room, it was hard to even make out the big tub.

The last door she opened was the nursery. More light came into this room due to the fact that there were more windows, even if they were as equally dirty as the others. A crib with moldy bedding sat in one corner, a rocking chair in another. There was a fireplace between two of the windows and a decomposing rag rug on the floor. Not a single picture, piece of wallpaper, or child's toy was to be seen, just the basic essential furniture to caring for a baby a century ago.

Olivia stood in the doorway of the room and felt the tears coming. Her throat ached and her eyes burned. Thinking of a baby deprived of love tore at her heart. She allowed the tears to come unchecked and stood and cried for that little one. As she wiped her eyes with her sleeve she noticed an old rope hanging from the chandelier. Time had taken its toll here as well. Frayed and frazzled it hung towards the floor. Olivia could only imagine why it had been left there, most likely a reminder to Lucian and his Nanny, of his attempt to free himself from his wretched life.

Suddenly, she felt the need to get out of this tomb, from the shadows of the past and get back into the light of day. She practically ran down the steep stairs and down the hallway of the second floor. She slowed down on the grand stairway and again called out for Lucian. When she didn't receive an answer, she stopped to listen. Silence was all that greeted her. She had been through the whole house accept the basement. Knowing that was where Lucian's father had his laboratory, she could not muster up the courage to venture down there. With pictures of Lucian working on one of the servants creeping into her mind, she ran out the back and into the carriage house.

Bursting through the door, she ran right into Thomas. Instinctively she grabbed onto his arms to keep from falling backwards, but when she glanced up to see the frown on his face, her imagination again ran wild. She turned and bolted back out to the sound of his grunting loudly behind her. This only brought up the picture of Horace cutting out that little boys tongue and caused the tears to come once again. Finding herself in the hothouse, she leaned against the door and tried to calm herself. She was breathing fast and was feeling a tad hysterical.

Slowly she allowed herself to slump to the floor and concentrated on breathing. She felt safe and separated from all the horror that was Oakfield while sitting amidst the greenery and flowers. Even though she had heard the lion's share of the story right here, she assumed it must be just the fact that Lucian felt more comfortable here that she did as well. After regaining some composer, she still couldn't force herself out to try and make her way back to Lucian's safe haven. So she sat until her legs began complaining and then began walking through the plants and trees.

She had gone to the farthest glass wall, when she heard someone call her name. Knowing it had to be Lucian, but not wanting to face him, she called back to let him know where she was, and then waited for him to find her. Sure enough, soon he was standing behind her. She could hear him breathing and felt his presence. Still she stood in silence looking out at the distorted vision of the mansion.

"Thomas said you were here," the silence was finally broken by Lucian.

When she didn't answer he came and stood beside of her, looking out the warped glass panes.

"You were at the house."

"Yes."

"Why?" he asked.

"I was looking for you. I wanted to call John. I was feeling guilty for not checking on him," she said shrugging her shoulders.

"What frightened you?" Lucian asked turning to look at her.

"Nothing. Everything," she answered wearily.

"Were you in the basement?" he tried to draw her out.

"No, I didn't make it that far. I searched the other three floors," she explained.

"The nursery?"

"Yes."

"What frightened you?" Lucian repeated the question.

Olivia turned to him and looked at his chin.

"How can someone be so evil."

Lucian didn't answer knowing it wasn't really a question.

"I gave up pondering that before you were ever born," he stated as he turned to the glass again.

"I wish I had never come," she whispered.

Keeping his face averted he asked, "Truly?"

Olivia sighed, a deep weariness in her bones, "I don't know, Lucian. Life was hard enough for me to handle, my faith was already floundering and now I have to face all of this...horror."

"I was selfish to bring you here."

Olivia looked up to see him watching her.

"Yes, you were. But I was selfish to come," she admitted. "I wanted to get away from my life, to just leave it all behind for just a few short days. I had stuffed what I was feeling for so long that I was at the point of exploding. Had I let that happen, I would have hurt John and ruined what little faith I had left."

"You can leave," he said as he looked back out of the hothouse.

"Do you want me to leave," Olivia quietly asked as she searched his profile.

"No."

"Why do you want me to stay?" she pushed.

When he refused to answer and she saw him clench his jaw, she asked, "For the story?"

"No. Damn the story!" he took a step away and turned to leave.

"Why?" she demanded following after him and grabbing his arm long enough to stop him, then letting go.

He spun around and faced her. For the first time Olivia saw emotion registering on his face. So unusual that she couldn't discern what the feeling was.

"I lived a life of hell, was born into it. After years of enduring, I chose to end it. I murdered my own parents and everyone who allowed them to be the monsters they were. Then I chose my own hell. I have lived in a hell of my own design for over half a century. I have never been around a normal human being. Those servants who came to us whole were quickly warped and twisted. Even Thomas is less than human. I have not allowed myself to feel human for so long, I forgot how. I am not even sure I ever did know how."

"All of my humanness was sacrificed on the same altar of science that my parents had built. Then you came here and I find myself feeling again. At first I hated it, I fought against it, but now..."

Tentatively, she reached out and took his hand, gazing into his eyes. This man that she had only known for four days and felt her heart ready to explode with sympathy, sorrow, regret, and yes, love. With tears in her eyes she slowly pulled him towards her and letting go of his hand, she slowly put her head on his chest, over the glass that encased his heart and wrapped her arms around his waist. He stood stiffly, hands to his sides for what seemed like an eternity, until with a heavy sigh, he reached up to hold both of her arms in his gloveless hands. They stood that way for a short time before Lucian pulled away. Looking up into his eyes, she was not surprised to see unshed tears.

"I want to stay," she had made up her mind.

"That is probably not a good idea," noted Lucian.

"I know, but I want to stay."

Lucian took her back on the train and together they prepared a simple meal. Once again he was overly careful not to touch her, and she respected his space. Neither one was sure of what would come of her decision to stay, but both felt a peace that was more than welcome. During their short meal, Lucian asked her questions about her own life growing up. Olivia shared stories of her parents, growing up in small town, and some fond memories of her younger years. She was amazed at the fact that they were almost having a regular conversation, though it was mostly one sided with her answers longer than his questions. He even managed to smile a little at some of her less than perfect antics.

As they cleaned up and put the dishes away, he asked her, "You had a normal childhood, so unlike mine. What is the one thing that you remember the fondest?"

"Sometimes right before bed, when we were all watching TV, I would sit at my mom's knee and lay my head on her lap. She would stroke my head and run her fingers through my hair. I guess being an only child, I got a lot of special attention," she admitted. "But those times when we were quiet and relaxed, I was half asleep, that simple touch made me feel safe, and I guess loved. They told me all the time how much they loved me and we are a touchy feely family, as you have found out," she looked at him with a flush to her cheeks, "But those times seemed to cement it, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"I am sorry, that was a stupid thing to say," she stammered.

"Don't apologize. You don't need to tiptoe around me, say what you feel, be honest."

"Ok," she smiled back at him.

As she hung the towel on a bar next to the sink, she asked, "What was that song you were playing last night?"

"Something I made up."

"You wrote that?" she asked.

"Well, technically no, it's not written down anywhere, just in my head."

"Will you play it for me?"

He looked uncomfortable and she quickly took back her request. But shaking his head, he moved to the piano bench and sat down to play. The song seemed more moving than the night before and Olivia listened with wonder. He played with his eyes closed and she unabashedly watched him play. His long fingers gliding over the keys, his body swaying slightly, and his face lost all of the coldness that she was so used to seeing there.

Caught up in the moment, she moved to stand behind him as he finished the haunting song. As the last note died out she placed her hands on his shoulders and stood behind him. When he didn't stiffen or move, she laid her cheek on the top of his head.

"That was beautiful," she whispered into his hair, then squeezing his shoulders she stepped away and began to sit on the bench next to him.

He quickly scooted over to make room, but the bench was small enough that their thighs touched.

"Did you teach yourself to play," she inquired.

"Yes."

"You like music," Olivia observed. "I can tell by how you play."

"I do."

"What other kind of music do you like?" trying to keep things light and to keep him talking.

"Almost everything before the 1920's, then I have to admit it gets a little trivial for me. How about you?" Lucian was making an effort not to shift or stand. Though the feeling of being so close was disconcerting, it also brought a warmth that was new and appealing.

"Almost everything for me as well, except heavy metal, and techno-pop."

"I don't think I've ever heard either," he admitted.

"You wouldn't like them," she chuckled. "What about dancing?"

"What about it?"

"Do you?" she asked.

"No. Never."

"Never!" she exclaimed.

"What about my life makes you think I would have ever been dancing?" he asked incredulously.

"You said your parents had big parties."

"I was only brought out for show and tell, I was never allowed to participate in any other of the activities," he began to stiffen and she realized her mistake in talking about his past.

"Ok, get up," she commanded with a snort. "Do you have anything that plays music besides your piano?"

"I do."

"Don't just sit there, where is it, or should I say 'what is it?'"

He moved to a wooden case similar to the phone and opened it up to reveal a basic turntable. From the side of the case he extracted a vinyl record and placed it on the record player. Soon some slower classical music began to flow into the room. Not exactly a connoisseur, she had to ask who it was.

"Chopin," Lucian answered as he walked towards the couch.

"Oh, no you don't." Olivia walked forward and took both of his hands. "Luckily for you I had six weeks of dance every year in Gym class in school, though I may be a little rusty. Just watch my feet and do what I do."

She began to count and step out a waltz. Before she got through two squares, he took over and led her through the rest of the song. By the ending she was breathless and laughing.

"You said you didn't know how to dance!"

"No, I said I didn't dance, I did watch my mother and father dance from the top the second floor."

Olivia noted that this was the first time that he hadn't referred to his parents by their given names.

"When I was about five, Dagmar let me stand on her feet once and went through the steps when she was supposed to be putting me to bed."

At the change in his voice, Olivia kept him from slipping back into his cold comfort zone by once again grabbing his hands. The next song was already playing and it was slower than the one they had just danced to.

"Now, this is how we danced at our high school dances."

She took his left hand and placed it on her shoulder, while putting her right hand on his waist. Next she raised her left hand that was still holding his right one and moved in close.

"This is much simpler, you just kind of shuffle side to side."

Soon they were moving with the music. When he has relaxed sufficiently, she let go of his hand and slid both arms up to each of his shoulders. When he didn't know what to do with his free hand, she gently placed it at her waist, before moving her arm back up. He was much taller than her so the top of her head was a little lower than his chin. As he continued to get comfortable and the song continued, she moved closer while shifting her arms to his neck, and moving her cheek to his chest.

They danced like this until the record played out. Then they slowed their swaying until they stood still in the middle of the room. Afraid to move, Olivia breathed in the scent of him, while feeling his warm breath on the top of his head. Sliding her hands down to his waist, she lifted her chin to look into his face. Wanting him to lower his head and kiss her, she closed her eyes and rose up on her toes, offering her lips to his. She felt him inhale, and anticipated his kiss, but instead he pushed her away and stood breathing hard.

One look at him was enough to convince her that his heavy breathing had nothing to do with passion. He looked horrified and disgusted. He turned to leave through the only entrance and she called to his back.

"Lucian, I'm sorry. Please don't go," crying now she put her hand to her mouth to stop the sob.

When he stopped and stood with his back to her, she forced herself to continue.

"I overstepped. Please, forgive me. I shouldn't have...I was wrong..." she stammered as her voice began to choke up and she found herself unable to talk, finally she managed to get out, "I misunderstood your feelings."

He turned and searched her face, then marching back to her he commanded her to sit.

"I haven't finished my story."

She sat and stared at him in shock, could he really expect her to go back to writing his story?

"There is something you need to know."

Lucian began to pace the room, and unlike every other time he related something from his past, emotions played across his face.

"Do you want to do this hear?" she asked in a small voice.

"Olivia," he pleaded. "Just listen."

"When I was sixteen, my father began to force me to help him with his experiments. After one particular gruesome day, about a year later, I found myself back in the nursery. I hadn't been there since I was eight and hadn't had any contact with Dagmar since. I guess I went to the only place I knew that held any sense of comfort. I had bottled everything up for so long, but instead of exploding the way you feared you would, I came apart at the seams. Dagmar found me there and she held me. She was only thirty, still a young woman. She cried with me and held me...I had been craving some kind of...compassion, a human touch for so long...I, I got caught up in the moment. I began kissing her, groping her, and she let me. I think that she couldn't deny me what she knew I needed, what might cement the pieces back together."

"But, when I got more...intimate with her, more demanding, she tried to stop me."

Lucian stood with his hands over his face. Olivia didn't want to hear the rest; she wanted to flee, to go home, anything but to hear what he had to say.

"I raped the only person who ever cared about me," he spoke so quietly that Olivia could hear her heart beating.

"Lucian..."

"She conceived that night. Before too long it was obvious to everyone. They were going to convert her, change her into one of their monstrosities, until I told them the child was mine. You should have seen the look on their faces. It sickened me. From that day, I knew that they couldn't get their hands on my child. My life wouldn't be repeated. With Thomas' help we made arrangements to take my son far away, out of the reach of their demonic science."

Lucian drew his hands roughly across his face and began to pace again.

"We went through so many channels that we didn't know where he ended up. I was afraid they would get the information from me. Dagmar couldn't handle the loss of her second child. She begged me to let her keep him, to let her take him away to safety. But in my fear and my guilt for what I had done, I didn't listen to her. She hung herself in the nursery. They left her body for me to find."

Olivia couldn't see him in such anguish, she preferred the cold heartless man than she thought him to be. Jumping to her feet she went to him.

"It doesn't matter. Lucian, it's over..." she tried to take him in her arms but he pushed her away. "You interrupt again. Sit down and let me finish!"

She stood and stared at him, refusing to sit.

"It took me years to find out where my son went. By the time I found out where he was all that was left of him was his great grandson. I followed the family for years, knowing I would never contact them. Generation after generation, son gave birth to son, each a single child. Until one day, a daughter."

Lucian stood in front of Olivia with so much pain stamped on his once frozen features.

"My son was adopted by Steven Rundstrom."

Olivia thought she couldn't be hearing right.

"My maiden name is Rundstrom."

"Yes."

"You...you're my..."

"There are six generations between us."

"Horace and Theodosia..." she felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her.

"Yes."

Ever so slowly, Olivia buckled and slid in on herself, falling in a heap at his feet.

7

Day Five

Olivia stirred. She felt like she was buried in a heavy fog and couldn't swim her way out of it. Slowly she woke and to realize that she was held tight in a warm embrace. Blinking she tried to clear her mind. As her mind cleared she accepted that she was lying in bed with another. They couldn't have been fitted any closer to one another. As she forced her mind to think, she remembered Lucian's revelation of the night before and groaned.

Instantly he jerked awake. He pulled away and reached up to turn on the light. With concern he looked into her eyes. Not able to face what she saw there she turned away and curled up.

"You fainted. It was too much for you and you were in shock. I couldn't stop the chills...I tried to warm you," he hurriedly explained.

Though he had pulled away, and she had turned her back to him, neither one attempted to get out of the bed.

"What are we going to do," Olivia finally said what was on both of their minds.

"Olivia, I never meant for it to be this way..."

"I know," she said as she turned back to face him.

As she faced the wall and faced her future, she felt him reach out and begin to stroke her hair. The one thing she had told him that made her feel secure and loved, his way of trying to comfort her. The movement of his hand was different than her mother's light touch, timid and unsure, but she appreciated his effort.

"What are we going to do?" she asked again

"You are my flesh..." he began with a shaky voice.

"Six generations, does that really matter?" she asked wearily. "More importantly I am married. John needs me."

"I need you." He stated.

"Yes."

"Do you want to go?" Lucian asked.

"No."

He turned on his side so that they faced one another. Reaching out he brushed her hair away from her face.

"What are we going to do?" she insisted he give an answer.

"You are married and your husband needs you. We are going to finish the story and you will write a best seller. We will enjoy the next few days that we have together."

"And then what. The whole world will know about you and we will be pen pals? Or do I invite great, great, great grandpa over to meet my husband?" she shook her head in frustration.

"Write the book as fiction, no names. No living soul would believe the story anyway."

"I just walk away?" she insisted.

When he didn't answer her, she turned over and got out of the bed.

"Ok, for now we do it your way. I'll listen to the rest of the story. But now that I know who I really am...I want to see it all. The basement, the mechanicals, all of it. You need to show it to me."

"Ok."

They both skipped breakfast that day. Lucian started with a repeat of the mansion tour only this time they went in every room. He had a memory for each one. He began to sweat when he headed towards the stairs to the third floor so Olivia stopped him.

"I've seen it all, there is no need to go through there again. Take me to the basement."

Part dungeon, part laboratory, the basement was just like something out of an old horror movie. There Lucian showed her the mechanicals. They were all still and quiet at their resting places. The dishwasher was there as well as a cleaning and vacuuming mechanical, the sewing machine, floor polisher, window washer, clothes washer and dryer, and some that Olivia couldn't understand.

"Why aren't they moving?" she inquired.

"They are all on timers. They rest during the day and activate at nine pm every evening."

"What happens if they break down?" Olivia moved a little closer to look at the metal and gears.

"I repair them."

"What part is still human?"

"They each still house a brain, some have eyes, or ears, none of them have their hearts or other internal organs," he answered.

"The dishwasher, he?" she looked up at Lucian expectantly.

"Yes, he."

"He has his eyes?" Olivia finished.

"Yes."

"He saw me in the kitchen." She stated. "That's why he made that beeping noise?"

"That had never happened before."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Since the day it has been just me or Thomas in the house, they have not communicated in anyway. I hadn't been aware that you had been in the kitchen. I just heard the beeping and when I investigated, the dishwasher was inactive but making sounding the distress signal."

"Distress signal?" Olivia walked toward the dishwasher.

"They were built with a warning system. If something is malfunctioning, it is supposed to alert us to the need of repair."

"What was wrong with it?" she couldn't bring herself to keep referring to the mechanical as a 'he'.

"I couldn't find anything wrong with it. I shut it down and reactivated it and it has functioned properly every since," he explained.

"But, could it see me?"

"Yes, the same way it sees the dishes," answered Lucian.

"You don't think of them as human anymore."

"No."

"And all the ones we saw going out to do the landscaping, they were all people?"

"Yes."

"You said that they were sacrificed," Olivia was trying to lead him to her point of view.

"They were."

"But in a way they are still alive, just like you. When should their sacrifice, your sacrifice be enough?" She saw that Lucian was having trouble talking about this so she turned and walked toward the stairs.

"I've seen enough."

Instead of heading out to the hothouse, she walked to the library and took a seat where she had before.

"Why here?" Lucian asked.

"I am here to do a job, the hothouse is too distracting. If I am going to write your story, I need to be able to remember who, you...we are."

"Olivia, this has nothing to do with you."

"You really are crazy aren't you!" She demanded. "You talk about all of this like you are talking about someone else, you can't touch another person, you admit you are barely human, and you won't release those poor things in your basement, and, and you want to send me away!"

"I think maybe you should leave now, the story isn't important," he answered slowly.

"Sure, now would be great. Now, while I am sickened by who you have become, and now that I know who I am. Our family must live under some kind of curse. You, then me, and now John."

"You are the one talking crazy now."

"Am I. How do we escape this mess that we are in? Can all of your serum and science and great wealth help us get free!" Olivia put her head in her hands and sobbed.

"No."

"Then what is the use of any of it?" she demanded. "What is the point of your life?"

She stood and stormed out of the house. Knowing that he wouldn't follow and that the outside mechanicals wouldn't activate until late that evening, she roamed the grounds until her legs ached and her tears had dried.

Thomas found her sitting on a stone bench in the middle of an overgrown rose garden. He cleared his throat to let her know he was there. When she looked up, he stood there still as a statue.

"He is worried?"

He nodded his head.

"You have come to fetch me back?"

This time he shook his head in the negative.

"To send me away then?"

Thomas nodded again, no emotion on his face.

"Well, Thomas. I guess I am like you, for I insist on staying, at least until the week is up. So you might as well take me back to him."

The man stood and looked at her for a full minute before turning and walking toward the garage. He never looked back to make sure she was coming. Once she was situated in the train, he returned her to the hallway leading to Lucian's sanctuary. Lucian met her at the door after giving Thomas a glare.

"Don't be mad at Thomas, I insisted. Unless you wanted him to drag me out kicking and screaming."

"Why are you here, Olivia?"

"You invited me, Lucian. Seven days, one week. Today is only the fifth day and your story isn't finished."

"What about all those things you said..." he began.

"You've had a little longer to get used to the whole thing, can you cut me some slack?" she interrupted. "I am hungry and tired. If I promise to stay out of the kitchen can you fix me something nice to eat? And would you happen to have any wine, maybe some hard liquor stashed away somewhere? I would love a glass."

"I cannot drink alcohol, it interferes with the serum, but I can cook you something good to eat."

"Wow, how much easier this would all be if I could have a drink. So, I take it you've never been drunk?" she asked as she sat down at the table.

"No."

"Well you don't know what you are missing," she insisted.

"You don't strike me as a heavy drinker," Lucian said over his shoulder as he began preparing a meal.

"I haven't touched the stuff since John came home all broken and burnt. But before that I drank quiet heavily. I guess you would call it my rebellion against God. I was mad that John had to be deployed before we even had a chance to be a married couple. I was alone in our empty apartment and lonely. I guess you could say I was a closet alcoholic."

"But you reformed?"

"Yep, no drunk can do what I have had to do."

"And now you want to drink?" Though he didn't turn around, Lucian stopped what he was doing waiting for her to answer.

She watched him stand there, so strong, yet so broken, and sighed.

"Not really I guess. I can't run away from what is going on, or who I am. It is what it is. There has to be some way for this to end up different. You need to leave this place."

Once again he resumed his task, "That isn't going to happen, Olivia."

"Why, because you have some irrational fear about leaving? You could start over somewhere else, change your name, take Thomas with you." She challenged him. "Aren't you tired of all this."

Turning, Lucian looked at Olivia, water dripping on the floor from the vegetables he had been washing.

"I am past tired. My life will end here, at Oakfield. That I promise you."

"Fine," she snorted. "But you are at least going to get past your fear of touch, and the fear of going out. Those servants, those mechanicals that tend your grounds have worked hard for over a hundred years! Their sacrifice is not going to be in vain. When we are done eating, we are going out."

"Olivia..."

"I am interrupting any thought or word you have to say to the contrary. You owe me this much," she pleaded.

When he didn't answer, she huffed, "Now would be appropriate."

"For what?" he was truly confused.

"For your typical 'yes'," she answered.

"Let's eat before you ruin our appetites."

"We can always go out first to work one up," she joked.

"You are a demanding woman."

"No," she shook her head wearily. "I am grasping at straws. I want to leave here with some good memories and I want to know that there is hope for better for you."

Lucian turned back to the stove and stood there still for a few beats of her heart. She was just going to get up and go to him, when he began to sauté the vegetables.

"You have time to go wash, it is almost ready," he said without turning.

The meal was eaten in silence. Olivia asked Lucian to play something cheery on the piano while she did up the dishes. Though the music sounded upbeat and light, his countenance was anything but. As soon as the last fork went into the drawer, she headed to the door.

"Are you coming?" she asked with eyebrows raised.

He stopped playing and dropped his hands to his lap. Just when she was ready to give up, he slowly stood and followed her to the door.

They began in the front, where the library looked out over the landscaping.

"I can hold your hand, or would that be a double whammy for you?" she offered.

"A double what?" he asked, not sure what she meant, and fighting the urge to go back on the porch.

"Never mind. So, the porch doesn't bother you?"

"No."

"And walking from the house to the garage, or to the hothouse, is ok?" Olivia was trying to figure out the best way to do this.

"Usually, no."

"They say if you have a fear you should face it head on. People that are afraid to fly, just get on a plane, you know?" she continued to chatter.

"No double whammy," Lucian was behind on the conversation.

"What?" Olivia tried to go back.

"Your hand. Yes."

"Oh," she smiled and grabbed his hand. Instead of tensing up, he gripped harder and stood still.

"Ok, let's try to make it to that bed of lilies over there."

As they walked slowly toward the flowers Olivia began humming the tune that Lucian had just played for her.

"What is the name of this song?" she tried distracting him.

"The Entertainer by Joplin," he responded.

"I liked it. Do you know what kind of lilies these are?"

"They are simple day lilies."

"I especially like the dark ones. They look almost burgundy. But those huge peach colored ones are nice too. Which ones do you like the best?" she asked as they neared the flowers.

"The little orange ones," he amazingly answered her.

"Let's sit for a minute and just look, what do you say?"

Lucian looked around for a bench, but Olivia just pulled him down to the cut grass.

"I love summer, the smell of grass, the flowers, no regular class schedule. In the summer my pre-school class is about half of its size. Mostly kids from homes where both parents work. We do some crafts and play, but not as much structured learning."

"Which child is your favorite?" Lucian had his eyes closed, face turned up to the sun.

"We aren't supposed to have any...but there is this one little girl with the biggest blue eyes and dark curly hair. She is a little stinker. She bosses the other kids around and is always telling stories about her parents that I am sure they would be horrified to hear."

"But you would rather write?"

"Yep, I think so. I could always pop in and visit when I needed a kid fix."

Lucian was still holding her hand, but was more relaxed now.

"Look at those clouds. When I was little I loved playing in the yard and imagining what each cloud looked like. Doesn't that one look like a duck?" she asked.

Lucian opened his eyes and half heartedly glanced at the sky.

"Here lay down."

Olivia pushed him back on the ground and lay beside him, still holding his hand, but arms, shoulders and legs touching.

"That one right there," she pointed across his line of sight.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

He turned and gave her a tight smile, then looked back up at the bright blue sky filled with fluffy clouds.

"It most certainly does look like a duck," he clarified.

"Ok, now it's your turn. What do you see?"

Lucian looked around and finally pointed, "There is a turtle."

"What, where? I don't see a turtle."

"Right there," he gestured to her left.

"Oh...yeah maybe a turtle, laying on its back..." she smiled and poked him in the ribs with her free hand.

"Hey, no poking," he relaxed a little more.

"I can smell something lovely, but I am not sure what flower that would be," mused Olivia. "Can we find them?"

"They are called "four-o'clocks" and they should be pretty close if we can smell them." He stood and pulled her up by her hand. "They are yellow and pink."

"Why don't you lead the way since you know what you are looking for?"

"We could follow your nose," he suggested.

"Wow, did you just tease me," she stopped dead in her tracks.

"I think I might have," he pulled her along.

They found another stone bench close to the four o'-clocks. Lucian finally let go of her hand but sat so that their legs and shoulders were touching. Olivia took a few deep breaths of the fragrant flowers before striking up a conversation.

"Lucian, do you have anything at all from your childhood that you can look back to with any fondness?" she asked.

"You don't have your notebook with you," he stated.

"I can remember, you didn't notice but there was a lot that I didn't get written down, either because I was crying or shocked. Don't worry, I can fill it all in later, I have a good memory. So, is there anything?"

He sat silently for a minute gazing at the yellow and pink flowers.

"No."

"What about your Nanny, Dagmar, you said she was kind to you, at least as much as she was allowed to be. Right?" Olivia pointed out.

"Yes, but I..."

"No, stop right there. We aren't talking about that right now, we are talking about her feelings for you when you were little. Can you agree that she cared for you?"

He closed his eyes and finally gave a weary answer, "Yes."

"Good. And what about Thomas' father and Thomas himself, they tried to help. Even though it didn't work out for them, or for you, can you try to remember the fact that they tried?" she insisted.

"Why?" he questioned.

"It is so easy to dwell on the negative. I have been living there for the past few years. Maybe not outwardly, but on the inside, and it takes away our hope for something better. That's one of the reasons I came here, I was hoping for a change."

"Well, you certainly didn't get what you had hoped for," he sadly replied.

"Maybe not in the exact way I had hoped, but my life is changed. I think that I am growing more confident in myself and in God."

"What does God have to do with it?" he opened his eyes to see her face.

"He is the one who told me to stay."

"I thought you stayed because you wanted to?"

"Originally, after your cold treatment, and especially after seeing the dishwasher, I was going to bale, but God told me to stay," she explained. "I never asked Him this time, I just couldn't bring myself to leave yet."

"But you do have to leave in two days," again stating a fact.

"Yes. That doesn't mean that it has to be the end."

"Yes, Olivia it does."

Lucian stood and began walking towards the hothouse.

"I think we need to get back to work. Time is running out and I need to know that this will be written."

Olivia hurried to catch up to him.

"It's very important to you," she said as she reached for his hand.

He jumped at her touch and put his hands in his pockets.

"Yes."

As they walked back, Olivia had a few questions that weren't crucial to the story.

"How do you get all the supplies you need delivered if no one is allowed in the walls?"

"Some are shipped, others are delivered by local stores, but all of them are dropped off at the entryway. Thomas picks them up and brings them on the train."

"What is your favorite color?"

Lucian turned and gave a lopsided smile, "Blue."

"You should give up some of your black and white clothes and buy something blue. Maybe something from this century, like some nice blue jeans. No? Ok, what is your favorite food?"

"Cherries."

"Really! With all the fancy-smancy meals you can make and you like cherries?"

"They are sweet, juicy, and we have a great tree in the hothouse. It's a rainier," he tried answering the way she liked.

"Are there any ripe right now?"

"Probably."

"Well, here we are. You show me the tree, we will get right to work, then maybe we can pick some for dessert," Olivia suggested.

As Lucian held the door for her, he stopped her by taking hold of her arm. She turned and looked up into his face.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For everything."

"You're welcome," replied Olivia with a smile.

That night while Olivia slept, she dreamt of being strapped onto one of the tables in the basement by Horace. Theodosia was there laughing and pointing to a table right next to her. When she turned to look, there was Lucian, with the glass open on his chest and his mechanical heart had stopped. Screaming, she woke herself up. Before she could discern between dream and reality, Lucian had come in and was there beside the bed. Kneeling, he reached out to hold her hand.

"Sorry, bad dream," she offered as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

"I still have a few," he said softly. "Do you want me to go."

"No."

"Olivia, can I lay here next to you?"

"Yes."

She scooted over and made room for him on the bed. He lay next to her, but remained on top of the blankets. Tentatively she reached one arm out and rested her hand on his arm. He didn't pull away, and soon she was back to sleep. Lucian lay awake for several hours and listened to her breathing, before he too succumbed to sleep.

8

Day six

When Olivia woke up she was on her side and the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was Lucian sleeping. His face was towards hers and he had one arm flung up over his head. He had slept on top of the covers all night. Taking the opportunity to really soak in his features and what he looked like, knowing she would be leaving the next day, she committed it all to memory.

She stayed that way, afraid to move, afraid to wake him up, until finally he stirred. Opening his eyes, he caught her looking into his own.

"Good morning," she whispered.

"Good morning. No more bad dreams?"

"Nope. Thank you for staying."

"It was my pleasure," he gave a small smile.

Reaching out slowly, Lucian again swept her hair off of her face.

"I have to leave tomorrow," she reminded him, searching his face.

"You are here today," he pointed out. "Not dwelling on the negative, isn't that what you said?"

Olivia nodded, but a few fat tears rolled out of her eyes. Blinking them away, she reached out and grabbed his shirt in one fist.

"I don't know if I can do this...just go home and go on with my life."

"You can and you will. You are a strong woman, and your God will help you."

"What about you, alone, here," she sniffed.

"Don't worry about me, I am a survivor."

Lucian wiped a tear away and she caught his hand in hers, pressing it to her cheek.

Leaning in, Lucian slowly brought his lips to hers. The kiss was softer than silk, and yet it stirred her heart in a way that John's never had. It was full of sorrow and joy, no passion, just sweet and innocent, a kiss that could only come from the ashes of their lives. For so long they had both lived in a world of devoid of intimacy, untouched. Their lives had been lived as a sacrifice to greed and to love.

Again, Olivia choked back a sob as she reached for Lucian. Clinging to him like a lifeline she cried, until a noise from the other room intruded.

"It's the phone," Lucian stated. "It is set to ring only for your home number."

"John!"

Lucian steadfastly rose from the bed and walked to the phone. Olivia followed, heart beating. After answering, he handed the phone wordlessly to Olivia and then returned to the bedroom and shut the door.

"Hello?" Came a voice from the receiver.

"Big John?" She asked.

"Olivia, thank God. It's John, he is in the hospital. He isn't doing so well, Honey. I think you need to come."

"What happened?" Olivia felt so guilty for not checking in.

"It started with a cough; he wouldn't let me call you. He said you must be getting a good story and not to worry you. But now, well you need to come. As soon as you can."

"Ok, tell him I am coming."

"I will. I love you, honey. Please hurry."

Olivia rushed back into the bedroom. Lucian was sitting at the desk waiting.

"It's John, he is real bad. I have to go," she said with tears streaming.

She stood and looked at him; he slowly rose from his seat with the cold mask once again in place.

"Of course. I will make the arrangements. Pack your things and I'll have Thomas take you to the main entrance."

"Lucian..."

"Pack."

He strode past her and went to the phone as she began to shove her things in her bag. As she came out into the great room, he handed her the cell phone, keeping his distance. When she moved toward him, he backed up and opened the door for her. Thomas was waiting at the end of the hall. Silently she turned toward him, but he just gave a curt shake of his head backed away from her waiting to close the door.

Olivia set her shoulders and walked to Thomas, never looking back.

9

The End

Olivia had come home and hadn't spoken about her trip, other than to say there wasn't much of a story, but that she stayed to earn her five hundred dollars. He had never questioned her beyond that, as he was fighting for his life. Two months later, John had pulled through. In fact he had improved remarkably after receiving an experimental drug as part of a test group.

One day a brown package came in the mail, marked only with her name, no return address. It was a box filled with several spiral bound notebooks filled with her own writing. Each book was there, but not a single note or letter from the one whose life was contained in the pages. On an impulse, Olivia wrapped up her old bible from high school and sent it off to the return address.

Just when things from Oakfield seemed to be fading, Olivia and John were watching the news. She had just left the room to get some snacks when her husband called her back. They were reporting a huge explosion on the national news.

"Hey isn't that the place you were at?" John asked.

As she walked back into the room, she saw huge flames and what looked like a war zone on the TV.

"Oakfield, isn't that the name of the place you stayed?" her husband repeated.

Olivia saw the name at the bottom of the screen, and as the camera zoomed in she could see what was left of the hothouse, shattered glass everywhere. The carriage house and the mansion were gone. She dropped her bowl of popcorn and followed it as they both crashed to the ground.

In a haze as thick as the smoke on the screen, she heard them say that there were no survivors.

Olivia grieved in secret. She thought often of Oakfield and its tormented resident. John continued to improve and was able to get out of bed more often and even lost some of the sensitivity and his pain was eased. Olivia received a letter from Mr. Montague explaining that Oakfield had been donated to the city as a park and he had invited her to the grand opening. She politely refused.

When a few of her self published books began to sell, they celebrated and thanked God for their change in fortune. When some of their bills came back as paid in full, she began to suspect that Lucian, though gone, had left provisions for her. Before long she began to suspect that the experimental drug had come from Lucian as well.

As the heaviness of her heart became hard to hide, she turned to God for comfort. Her faith grew and her relationship with her heavenly Father did as well. So, by the time John took another turn for the worse, and passed on, she was able to deal with the loss and be thankful for the extra three years of life with him. Life went on.

Shortly after the funeral, all of John's medical bills were paid off, as well as the funeral home, her house mortgage, and all of her credit cards. Finally getting up the courage to call Mr. Montague, he verified that the funding had come from the Oakfield Estate.

"Mr. Acerbi wanted me to help out in any way I could without causing...issues, with your husband."

"That was kind of him," she didn't know exactly how Lucian had explained this request.

He must think I was mistress to an old man, she thought.

"Mr. Acerbi left instructions in the event of your husband's death, to pay off all of your debt and to continue to support you so that you could devote yourself to your writing. He requested that you publish the manuscript you started for him."

"I never finished it," she admitted.

"Life tends to move on, doesn't it? Now that you have more free time since it isn't necessary for you to work, maybe you could do that for him, not that he wanted you to feel obligated in any way."

"Thank you, I will consider it."

"You just call me when you are ready to publish, I can work everything out for you," he offered.

"Mr. Montague, may I ask how the explosion happened? It never really came out in the news."

"No it didn't. It took quite a lot of time, and money, to keep it that way. I am afraid we don't know how it happened; just that it was centered in the mansion. The blast was so hot that it incinerated not only the house, but everything in the basement as well."

"How did they know that Mr. Acerbi didn't survive," she had to ask.

"There were... pieces of human DNA found in... several places, enough to account for Mr. Acerbi and his servants."

Olivia thought of Thomas and those poor souls trapped in their mechanical prisons and couldn't help feeling happy that they had finally found their freedom.

"Thank you, I couldn't help wondering. Though I didn't know him for very long, I became... invested, so to speak, in his story while I was there."

"All the better reason to finish it don't you think?"

How would she ever be able to write Lucian's story. Unbelievable as it was and so close to her heart, she didn't think she had it in her. Hanging up, she went to the top shelf of her bedroom closet and pulled out the box of notebooks. In the end, he had cared enough to see to her needs, he had sent the medicine that had given her a few more years with John. His goodness had never been shared with another; he had never felt the love that she had shared with John. Not even sure she could open the pages of her notes; she left the box on her dining room table and cried herself to sleep.

10

Oakfield Park

It took two years to finish the book. They had been selling like hot cakes every since. Olivia was thankful that she had assumed a penname when she submitted the book. Only she and Mr. Montague knew that she was the author. Now that it was finished, she found herself at a loss as to what to do. She had given up her job years ago; John Sr. had remarried and moved to Florida, and she seemed to have a huge case of writer's block. On a whim, she decided to take a trip.

She had walked the acres of Oakfield Park. Some of the original landscape and flower gardens were still there, with the walkways and stone benches. She had found the fragrant four o'clocks and the big bed of lilies where they had watched the clouds. Now, here she was standing in front of a statue of herself. The likeness was uncanny. Her hair was down and blowing in a breeze, she wore one of the Oakfield dresses, and was carrying a bunch of lilies in her hand. The plaque at the base had these words inscribed:

Romans 12:12 "Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. 2 Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."

With tears in her eyes she stood and remembered it all. Other park goers walked by, some stopped to gaze at the statue, but they seemed to sense her need to be alone and no one spoke to her. Finally someone came and didn't leave, but stood there a little to her right and just slightly behind. Through the tears she could just make out the blur of another in her peripheral vision.

"Beautiful."

It was a man standing there and he had spoken out loud.

"Yes, it is," Olivia answered without turning.

"Do you come here often?"

"No, it is my first time since it was turned into a park," she admitted.

"Then you were here before?" questioned the curious stranger.

"Yes, years ago."

"A friend of the family?" he inquired.

"You could say that," she smiled to herself.

"It's a shame about the house."

"Is it?" Olivia finally wiped away the last tears.

"No."

At that simple syllable, Olivia quickly turned to see who was there. Suddenly she felt faint.

"Do you need to sit?" asked the man with concern.

"Lucian..." she whispered.

"Actually it's Luke," he answered with a smile. Taking her by the hand he led her to one of the benches set conveniently around the garden.

Olivia couldn't catch her breath or quit staring. Sitting next to her and still holding her hand was a tall, thin man with short cropped dark hair. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a distressed t-shirt.

"How are you, Olivia?" he finally asked her.

"But... I thought you were dead?"

"Lucian Acerbi died in the explosion that day. Luke Anderson is very much alive and well."

"But, how could you let me...I thought..." she pulled her hand away in anger.

"Please, Olivia it's a long story. I have a lot to share and I can promise you that my conversation skills are much improved," he teased. "Will you give me a chance to explain?"

Olivia reached out and touched his chest, only to find that there wasn't any glass under his shirt.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I have a whole new heart; the old mechanical with its glass case was lost in the explosion, along with several vials of blood."

"So it is really you?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I finished the book," she wanted him to know.

"I read it."

"I may have purchased a few copies," Lucian confessed.

"How many?"

"One thousand," he answered sheepishly.

"What did you do with them all!" she exclaimed.

"Donated to libraries, gave some away to random people, you know the usual stuff."

"Did you just say 'stuff'?" she asked in shock.

"Yep, I did."

"No wonder they seemed to fly off the shelves," she shook her head. "Did you like it?"

"It ended differently than I expected."

"Did it?"

"Yes, she loved him."

"Yes, she did," agreed Olivia.

"It wasn't just pity," he stated.

"No, it wasn't just pity," she continued to agree.

"You wrote it as fiction," Lucian said.

"I did, we agreed on that. No one would have believed it as the truth. But I never lied."

"What are you saying?" Lucian looked at her like his life depended on her answer.

"I am saying that I loved you."

"Loved?"

"What about you? You let me think all of these years that your were dead. How am I supposed to think that you cared..." she couldn't finish as the tears came again.

"Things didn't exactly end up the way I had planned. Several years ago, before I even began to search for any living relatives, Thomas came to me with a long note. He was tired of living and wanted to just stop taking the serum. It ended up causing him excruciating pain, but he didn't die. He might have if he could have handled it, but it also might have taken years. No one would have been able to do that. So we came up with another plan."

"My intention was to leave everything to any heirs that were still living. When I found you and read your books, the plan changed again. I wanted to meet you and leave my story behind, before Thomas and I blew the place apart. Our original plan was to die in a blaze of glory, and destroy every speck of the Acerbi legacy, leaving the land and the money to you."

"You were going to kill yourself?" she asked.

"Isn't that what you thought I should do to the servants, to set them free?" he reminded her.

Silently she nodded.

"So they are all gone. In the fire?" she asked.

"Yes, and Thomas. I couldn't talk him out of it."

"What made you change your mind?" she had to know.

"Love."

He put his arm around her and drew her next to him on the bench.

"No one had ever loved me before."

"How did you know?" she questioned.

"I guess I didn't know for sure. I doubted and tried to kill any hope. But when you sent me that Bible, well I guess I started hoping again. At least enough to not commit suicide."

"Why didn't you contact me?"

"At first, I didn't want to come between you and John. I knew that the drugs were helping..."

"That was you?" she interrupted.

He laughed at her habit of interrupting, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, but then he relapsed. If we could have gotten to him earlier things may have been different. The new serum can only do so much."

"What about after he died? You still stayed away. It's been over two years."

"I had some things to work on and to work out. I am not fixed, Olivia, I will always be less than normal."

"Normal is highly overrated," she stated.

"Seriously, I know how much you want children. I can never be a parent."

"I know... she looked away. But, I have finally found peace about that. I am thirty years old. After John died and, well, I thought you were gone, I pretty much decided to live single for the rest of my life."

"Thirty isn't too old to bear a child," Lucian pointed out.

"No, but it isn't important to me anymore. You still haven't answered my question," she reminded him.

"What was the question?" he asked.

"Lucian, I told you I love you..."

"I love you too, Olivia. I am just not sure if I am good for you," he answered.

They sat in silence for a while as she tried to adjust to the fact that Lucian was alive.

"Did you read it?" she finally asked.

"I just said that I did..."

"No, the Bible, did you read it?"

"Yes."

"And?" she probed.

"I am still not sure. I want to believe. It all seems too simple."

"It is simple. We love each other, right?"

"Yes."

"That isn't complicated is it?"

"Bad example!" he shook his head.

"No, think about it. Our lives may have been complicated, horrible, and even unimaginable, but our love, that is simple."

He turned to look into her eyes.

"Yes, I see what you mean. Despite everything, we can still love. You know who I am and where I came from, but you still want me."

"And?"

"God loves me like that?" he asked.

"Yes."

Again they sat in silence.

"How did you know I was going to be here?" she finally asked.

"I didn't. I have been coming here every day since the grand opening."

"No! Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I had to let you come to me. I had to know for sure."

"But I didn't even know you were alive," she stammered.

"But you had healed enough to come, and you wanted to remember. It sounded good when I planned it out. Now it just sounds like I made us both wait."

"No, you are probably right. I too had some things to work out," she agreed. "Now what?"

"I have truly erased Lucian Acerbi and have a brand new life. I am still working with Mr. Montague, as the new me of course, and if you will have me, I plan on marrying soon."

"Then what?"

"Then we start over."

"What about the serum. I am going to get old and you are...not," her heart sank. "I can't take the serum."

"I have modified it, along with my new heart. I still need it, but I am aging now. Not as fast as most people. All the other side effects seem to be lessened as well. I don't heal as fast, and there haven't been any changes in my brain activity. It would be very safe for you to take it. We wouldn't live forever, but we would have a very long life together."

"With no other family and no children, that wouldn't be so bad, and we have lost time to make up for...Ok."

"Ok you will marry me, or Ok you will take the serum?" Lucian asked.

"Both."

"It isn't going to be easy," he cautioned.

"No, but it will be better," insisted Olivia. "And we are going to use your brains and your money to help people."

"I already am. I have shared most of my medical and scientific discoveries and inventions. The only things I have withheld are those that would most assuredly be used for evil. Several living legacies have been started for burn research and for service men and women coming home from war."

Olivia looked into the eyes of the man she loved, the man she thought she had lost, she no longer saw a hurting and tortured little boy, or an angry and cold man, but she saw a kind and healing spirit.

"Today, we start our new life," she said.

"Was it all worth it?" he mused.

"Yes," she insisted. "Every sacrifice."

