The Myth of Reality

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.: Chapter One :.

'London Bridge is falling down....'

Hazel eyes darkened slightly as Professor Buchanaan sighed again.  She gave a shake of her head and brushed the shoulder-length caramel-brown hair from her shoulders to wrap it around a pencil and secure it against her head. Then she picked up her briefcase and made her way out into the hall of the University, locking the door of her office closed as her slender frame began to tense with less than pleasant feelings of doom and dread. Beth tried to shake it off as she made her way down the hallway of the large University, but it was tenacious.

Beth had studied and taught at George Fox for years and, at the age of twenty-four, she had a hard time believing she would do much else. Once I complete my doctorate... However, that thought was most often finished with a delicate shrug. What good is a second doctorate? It will create the need for more speeches and seminars. It will require your presence at more dinner engagements with men merely interested in gleaning you of what knowledge they can only just understand. Beth sighed and wrinkled her nose. The freckles there danced. A second doctorate will demand that I take on the task of teaching additional classes and offering more lectures at this school that already seems to drain the youth from my very soul. Think of the additional interviews where people will demand answers I don’t have for a future that is becoming harder to see.

The prospect was less than appealing.

"Professor!"

Beth turned and gave the approaching student a reluctant smile. "Hello, Bradley."

The short freshman had been enrolled in one of her many literature classes. He gave her a shy smile as he brushed his medium-length blonde hair from his face. Bradley was a bright young man with an insight into the symbolic meanings of Shakespeare, Sir Philip Sydney, and their contemporaries that often made his fellow classmates envious. He was a good-natured soul, though, and took the teasing and dirty looks in stride. In fact, he could often be found on the grass outside the main dormitories helping his classmates with homework that had proved a trifle too exasperating to complete on their own. His light blue eyes twinkled now as he handed her a manila envelope.

She took it with a raised eyebrow. "What is this, Bradley?  Extra credit?"

He laughed and shook his head, again running a shaky hand through his straight hair. "Nah, Professor. It’s something Granddad told me to give to you. He said it was something he knew you’d be interested in."

"How is Dr. Kauffman doing," she asked as she took the heavy envelope. "Is he enjoying his retirement?"

"Grandpa’s okay, I guess. The only problem is that he always uses his spare time to try and help me with my homework instead of working on his novel like he said he wanted to." Bradley Kauffman sighed and crossed his arms. "Professor, tell me again why he had to retire now?"

Beth tucked the envelope into her briefcase and then locked it once more. "Don’t bother yourself about it, Bradley. Maybe you could spend time with your mother in Virginia this vacation?"

"I guess so. She’s always so busy with her art exhibits that I have to fend for myself." Bradley shrugged and then smiled his easy smile. "I’m not stressing though, Professor. Grandpa’s okay to be around. I’ll just make sure I have lots of things to do with my friends. Hey, maybe I’ll go skiing or something."

Beth nodded absently and adjusted her grip on her briefcase as she looked toward the exit of the university with a longing glance. "That sounds nice, Bradley."

"I’ve got to get going, Professor. See you in class after vacation?"

She nodded and turned for the exit with a sigh once he’d moved away. The taxi she’d ordered had arrived and was patiently waiting to take her to the airport. Her luggage had been sent ahead and was more than likely safely deposited at her parents’ home. Beth slipped inside the taxi with a hushed request of "Canby, please" as she rested her head back with a deep sigh. I need a bit of excitement, not a summer with the parents and brother that never truly understood me. But when a person had a doctorate in English and was working on a second in Archaeology, excitement was hard to find.

Beth’s lips parted in a yawn and she brought up a small hand to hide it. What does the word ‘excitement’ truly mean anyway? Elyzabeth, you’re hardly the type of woman born for a life of parties, clandestine meetings with attractive young men, or midnight raids on the men’s dormitories. You, dear girl, are an Instructor of the arts. A Professor. Of course, persuading the Dean of Students, George Orbach, of that fact had been a challenge. He had taken it upon himself to arrange engagements with a varying assortment of young men. Mostly they'd been a diverse collection of athletic types more interested in their cars and physical appearance than her views on life. Friends of his son, no doubt and nothing had ever come of them. No long-term commitments and definitely no firm friendships.

"No intelligent conversation, either," she mumbled now.

So, instead of requesting the dean to leave her to her one bedroom apartment and single life studying her first love, she had let him assume his surrogate father-type roll. She had endured the pampering and "father-daughter" talks regarding how it "isn’t right for you to be living on your own". Perhaps one of these days I’ll actually meet someone who challenges my intellect, she told herself now. She closed her eyes and surrendered to a hopeless sigh. There must to be at least one man out there who is smarter than a fence post.

It was a dream she refused to give up.

* * *

Beth slouched against the door of her parents’ home outside Canby (more toward Aurora than actually in Canby) and released a relieved sigh. They hadn’t returned from their trip to Crater Lake with her older brother. They’d taken Michael camping to celebrate the success he’d had in landing an important job with a major corporation: Vice-President of Operations for some company she’d never heard of.

Darkness pulled at Beth’s brain as she slowly made her way through the rustic log house. She’d been gone a long time. Schooling her mind had become a passion that hadn’t left room for family or friends on anything but an acquaintance level. Her in-depth examination of the living room now reminded her what she’d chosen to disregard.

Beth tightened her grip on the firm leather handle of her briefcase as she gently touched a few family portraits. There were displays of her many degrees and special achievements, all strategically placed on the mantel. There were framed magazine covers, newspaper articles, and assembly photos of when she had lectured at different conventions. There wasn’t a traditional photograph among them. Unexpected pulls of regret and longing darkened Beth’s hazel eyes when she focused on the pictures displayed around the rooms, so carefully arranged and lovingly framed--

Beth’s jaw tightened and she heaved her briefcase onto the dark cherry-wood coffee table as she sat in the deep green love seat. She opened her briefcase and frowned as she pulled out the manila envelope. What Dr. Kauffman could believe so important as to have Bradley track her down on the last working day of the school year she had no idea, but the thought intrigued her. Shaking her head, she opened the large 9x12 envelope and pulled out the contents. It was a manuscript. Its slightly tattered appearance and yellowed pages gave the impression of extreme age.

Slipping on her thin wire-rimmed glasses, Beth frowned. Turn page.  Pale face and parted lips. Turn page. Beth stopped and eased off the glasses with a shake of her head. "Impossible," she dismissed firmly.

Beth stood, setting the manuscript on the coffee table with a deliberate action. A joke. That must be the explanation. If this manuscript were real it would have surfaced years ago. It would be on proper display. Beth passed the manuscript another look as she forced herself to sit down in the couch across from it. What do you do, Professor? You realize, of course, there is no way for you to discover how Dr. Kauffman came by it. That little mystery will have to keep to itself. But she also knew that she’d need to call dean Orbach and have a courier service pick up the manuscript to deliver it to him for safe-keeping over the summer.

Beth leaned forward and touched the manuscript with gentle fingers. Then she pressed her lips together and placed it carefully into the manila envelope, packing it into her briefcase. Tomorrow. It will wait until tomorrow.

There was a clearing of the throat behind her and Beth gave a slight jump. She turned and gave her older brother a forced smile. Michael Andrew Buchanaan stood 6 foot 4 with fiery red hair and green eyes. To her he was a stranger set aside when she’d made the decision to follow a career.

"Hello, Michael. It’s been a long time."

"’Hello’ yourself," he said. He turned away and made his way into the kitchen. "It’s really good to see you," he called over his shoulder. "How long has it been?"

Beth turned to stare at her briefcase. "Not long enough," she whispered. She heard the pop and click of a soda can being opened and then his steps once again approaching from the kitchen. "Three years," she said.

"That’s right. I saw you all of five minutes." He took a long drink of soda and sat in the recliner across from her, kicking his shoes off to stretch his feet out onto the coffee table. "Let’s see... A lecture was it? Or maybe it was a book signing tour for your most recent work? No. No, I think it was the party thrown by some literary figurehead, which you just couldn’t miss. Or so you said."

"Does it matter?" she asked in a weary voice. She stood and headed for the stairs. "You had your business schools and summer workshops for management training. I had my class tours, class schedules, and the like. We both made our choices."

* * *

Beth enjoyed a long stretch before forcing her heavy lids open. She yawned and wiped her eyes as she noticed an odd tenseness in her stomach. Was I supposed to do something today? Beth frowned and pushed her caramel-brown hair from her face before sitting up. After another luxurious stretch, she moaned and slipped out of bed.

Her cell phone beeped a greeting. "Good morning," she croaked into the phone.

"Sorry," came a businesslike voice after a slight hesitation. "I was trying to reach Doctor E. A. Buchanaan. I must have the wrong number."

"No." She cleared her throat and tried again. "No, you havereached Dr. Buchanaan. How can I help you?"

The hesitation over the phone was nearly physically tangible. "I need you to meet with me," the nameless voice finally said. "I’ll answer any questions you have then."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "I’m not in the habit of meeting strangers--"

"Just meet me at the old Randalph place. You know it?" He sounded a little irritated.

"Yes," Beth told him in a tight voice.

"Good. Meet me there in an hour."

Beth’s jaw dropped and her eyes flashed. "Meet you there-- Who do you think you are?"

There was a hard click and Beth raised an eyebrow as she stared down at her phone. "Intriguing."

Beth lifted the stub of an antenna to her lips and gave them a tap, tap, tap as her eyebrows rose. She slowly stood and crossed one arm to support the other that continued to tap her lips. While his attitude had been anything but endearing, there was a certain tickle of excitement in the back of her mind that made the demanded meeting an absorbing possibility. Hmm. Beth looked over her shoulder at her closet, and then her brows furrowed as she tossed her cell phone onto her bed and grabbed a cotton T-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Why not? This is my vacation, isn’t it?

There was a knock on the door.

"Moment." Beth slipped into her sweats and T-shirt and opened the bedroom door. She sent him a tight-lipped and only somewhat pleasant smile. "Good morning, Michael."

"Morning." His expression seemed shadowed and uncertain. "Did you want to go anywhere? I thought we could catch a movie or something."

Beth turned away and grabbed her shoes. "Are mom and dad busy with the store?" she asked absently.

"Uh... Yeah." He stepped further into the room. "A new shipment of antiques came in and they have to get it catalogued before the weekend. They said it would go faster if I stayed out of the way."

Beth sat on her bed and pulled on her socks and cross-trainers. "I’m sorry, Michael, but something has come up. I’ll need to take a raincheck on the movie."

"Something always comes up," he said with an irritated voice. "Can’t we forget about our careers just once?"

Beth jerked the laces of her shoes and tied them. "I’ve no control over this one." She stood and moved toward the door. "Perhaps tomorrow."

He took her arm when she tried to pass him. "Then let me come."

Beth pulled her arm from his grasp and met his eyes with a slight frown. "Michael..."

"Come on. What can it hurt? It’s not some top secret project, is it?"

Beth gave in with a shrug. "Fine. I suppose it could be fun."

"Great. So, where are we going?" he asked as he followed her from the room.

She skipped down the stairs and Beth could hear him directly behind her. "The old Randalph place."

"What? Why?"

Beth grabbed her heavy jacket and handed him his. "I don’t have an answer for that question."

"Okay," Michael said slowly as he opened the front door for her, jacket in hand. "A mystery. I can live with that." He chuckled as he followed her onto the verandah of their parents’ home. "I can’t say you don’t know how to tweak a guy’s curiosity."

Beth followed him to his 4x4 and struggled up into it. Then she thought of her briefcase sitting on the coffee table in the living room. She gave herself a nod and slid back down. It would certainly give her something to look over if the mystery-man didn’t show. Which was more than likely.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"I need my briefcase."

He opened his mouth for a question and then shook his head. "Forget it. Just hurry up."

She rushed in, grabbed it, and then hurried out again to scramble back into the truck. "Was that fast enough?" she retorted as she buckled her seat belt.

The truck bounced down their half mile of driveway and then turned left onto Meridian Road. The Randalph farm was only about a mile or so to the left. Beth tapped a quick rhythm on her briefcase with her fingernails. What am I doing? I’m driving to an old ranchhouse to talk with a man who didn’t volunteer his name? I’m meeting a man who felt he had the right to order me as if I were his personal secretary? A man who somehow discovered my unlisted cell phone number? Beth pressed her lips together and adjusted the briefcase on her lap. Quit thinking out every detail, she scolded herself. But it all sounded so ridiculous.

Michael sent her a few quick glances. "What’s the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Right." He sent her another glance. "Come on. What’s the problem?"

Beth sent him an annoyed look. "Michael, will you just drive. I didn’t have to bring you, you kn--"

Michael swore and skidded to a stop. Beth grabbed the dash with both hands and sucked in a breath. The Randalph place was on fire.

"Oh no," Beth breathed when she saw flames and billowing smoke. She turned sharply to Michael. "Don’t stop. Go! Go!"

The 4x4 roared down the gravel driveway that was more grass than gravel. Michael leaped out once he’d slammed the truck into Park. "911!" Michael shouted at her. "Now! I’m going to see if anyone got out."

Beth gave a nod and fumbled with her phone.

"911 emergency."

"We’ve got a fire here," Beth said. "It’s at the old Randalph place off Route 4. ... Yeah, that’s the one. ... No, I don’t know that anyone got out, but my brother’s going to see ... No, I can’t see him. He went around back. ... I’ll try." She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and made her way toward the rear of the house; her face nearly blistered from the heat. "Michael! Michael, did anyone make it?" There was no answer. "Sorry," she said into the phone. "I don’t know if he can hear me. I’m going to try again. Hold on."

Putting an arm up to block some of the heat from her face, Beth edged along the broken down fence until she’d almost made her way completely behind the house. There was a loud pop and Beth gave a startled jerk as her eyes widened in horror. Then she heard the wood splitting crack. The house was tumbling in on itself.

Beth screamed. "Michael!"

Beth stared at the flames in shocked silence, oblivious to the riot of voices from the people surrounding her. She mutely stumbled toward the fire trucks and ambulances, gently led by faceless hands and voices. Mumbled answers were all their questions received as she stiffly sat on the bumper of an ambulance.

"Dr. Buchanaan, can I ask you some questions?"

Beth looked away from the smoldering remains of the house that served as her brother’s tomb and lifted her eyes to the man’s green ones. She forced herself to speak in a calm voice. "Questions? You want me to answer your questions?"

The man lowered his eyes to the notebook in his hand and the pencil in his fingers that rapidly tapped the lined paper. After another moment, he slipped the pencil into the rings of the small notebook and again lifted his eyes to meet hers. "I guess they can wait," he said softly.

"You’re damn right they can wait! I want some answers, not questions. I want to know why this happened. I want to know why my brother is dead..." Her voice cracked and she hid her face in her hands as the tears surfaced and escaped.

The man rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. "I’m sorry," he said in a quiet voice as he gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. "I’m really sorry."

Beth raised her head and wiped the sooty tears from her cheeks. She sniffed and swallowed back the tears. "Thank you, but it does little good." She changed her burning eyes to the smoldering ruins and felt a hand grip her soul and squeeze so hard more tears flowed. "The fire is nearly out now. How odd to think all that remains of my brother are a few pictures and a memory."

"Isn’t that enough?" the man asked.

"Enough?" Beth moved her incredulous gaze back to the man’s dark green eyes. "Enough? How will a memory be enough when a man named Randalph who’s been dead for years has more to remind people of him than my brother?" Beth sent a dark look to a tall vault and nearly screamed in rage. "That vault that kept Mr. Randalph’s private life secret from outsiders will see to that--"

Beth’s strangled voice broke off as her eyes narrowed. Her eyes grew wide and she leaped to her feet to hit the ground running. Shouts sounded behind her, but all her attention was focused on the vault. She burst through the line of firemen and pushed down the smoldering remains in her path, dodging arms and hands that reached out for her. Her foot caught on some boards and she went down hard, scrambling back to her feet with barely a moment’s pause. The vault. The vault. The vault. She chanted to herself as she ran heedless through the burning embers. She skidded to an unsteady stop and pounded the steaming surface of the door, not noticing the burns and blisters forming on her hands.

"Michael, are you in there?" she screeched.

An arm encircled her waist and jerked her away, ignoring her screams of protest. She flailed and scratched, kicking at anything that came close to her as the man dragged her from the ruins of the house. She finally kicked herself free and took off, back toward the vault. A tight grip latched onto her foot and she hit the ground with a crack, blood draining down her nose and arms from the cuts and scratches of glass and nails. Beth tried to scramble to her feet, but could only inch forward, fighting against the tightening grip.

"No," she screamed. "Let me go. He’s in there. I know he is! Don’t make him die in there," she yelled at them through broken and bleeding lips. "Do something!"

A man scooped her over his shoulder and she wriggled and fought, pounding his back with fists bloodied and burned. He set her down hard onto the back of the ambulance and held her down as one of the paramedics filled a syringe. There was a pinprick and Beth locked gazes with green eyes. Her head rolled forward and everything went black.

* * *

"Are you awake? Beth, can you hear me?"

Beth fought the tar-like blackness surrounding the edges of her mind and desperately clung to what sounded like her brother’s voice.

"What happened to her hands, doctor?"

"She couldn’t wait for the place to stop burning before charging in like a rogue elephant," an unfamiliar voice answered. "But it’s all right. She’ll be okay."

"Why didn’t they talk to her? She seemed to be a very intelligent lady. Very calm and controlled," Michael mumbled when the doctor left.

Beth’s eyes fluttered open. "Michael?" Her dry throat struggled with the name as her bandaged hand groped for his. "How did you get out?" she rasped. She tried to swallow, but the motion turned her throat to fire. She cringed with a slight moan.

"Don’t talk, sis." He helped her sip some cool water and then pulled the covers of the hospital bed closer around her. He sat beside her. "I never meant to scare you, but I couldn’t let the place burn when there could have been someone in there."

Beth nodded and tried to hide a yawn. Michael stood, ignoring her eyes that begged him to stay.

"I’ve got to let you get some rest. See you later."

As he stepped out of the room, Beth drifted off to sleep.

Beth’s eyes opened to find the figure of her brother leaning over her briefcase. She yawned and tried to adjust her position in the small hospital bed, giving a sigh of helplessness when her bandaged hands prevented her from doing much movement. The noise caused Michael to straighten sharply.

He looked over at her with a guilty smile. "Hi, sis," he said as he came to sit beside her.

"Hello, Michael," she croaked out. She accepted the offered water and took a few quick sips before trying the sentence again. "Much better." She sent him a slight smile. "How long have you been here?"

"Just a few minutes. I didn’t have the heart to wake you."

"Thanks for the thought, but it wasn’t necessary. I’ve slept enough for the entire vacation." Beth lowered her eyes to the cup and fingered the straw. "How are mom and dad taking all this?"

"Huh? Oh! They’re doing okay. Mom was about to have a conniption, but dad was able to calm her down like usual."

"That doesn’t sound like mom and dad at all." She shrugged, but couldn’t ignore the weird feeling of uncertainty that pricked at her heart. "Hmm." She shrugged again and her eyes glided to her briefcase.  "What were you doing to my case, Michael?"

"I was just wanting to check out what kind of things you’re hiding in there, that’s all. Curious, I guess." He looked over at it and then shrugged. "Sorry. I guess it’s none of my business, but you’re always so secretive about your work whenever we talk."

"That’s due to the fact we almost never talk, Michael. You’re always at lectures for some business venture you’re interested in joining, and I’m usually at school or on tour."

He cleared his throat and looked down at his watch. "Yeah, I know. Look, I promised the parents that I’d pick them up right about now."

"Have them come and visit."

"Yeah, I will. I just don’t know when."

"Have them wake me. All right?"

Michael stood and brushed a hand through his dull red hair. "Sure, sis. Talk to you later."

"Hi, sis. Feeling better?"

Beth turned off the television and sent him a smile, desperately hoping her parents would be with him, but they didn’t round the corner of the doorway. "Hello, Michael. How are mom and dad?"

"About the same as usual. Things are busy at the store and they haven’t been able to pull themselves away. They told me to tell you to get better quick, though."

Beth nodded and handed him a box when he sat down beside her. "I’ve a favor to ask of you, Michael. Could you mail this today?"

Michael took the package and looked at the address. "Sure.  No problem." A beeper sounded at his hip and he looked down at the number with a frown and a curse. "I’m sorry, Beth. I’ve got to call the office."

Beth’s eyebrow rose at the sound of the curse, but she just gave him a nod.

"I’ll be sure to mail this for you."

"Thank you."

She watched him leave the room and carefully crossed her arms.

Next // Chapter Two
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