The Winter Garden (IMD #2)

Chapter Thirteen: Really All Right

Chapter Thirteen:

 

Really All Right

As Adam watched Immanuel’s eyes run over the cases of stuffed birds from Darwin’s adventure in the Galapagos Islands, he finally saw a smile brighten his features. He wasn’t sure if the younger man would enjoy himself after his initial reaction to seeing the natural history museum. At first, he stared up at its nemes-striped bricks and cathedral spires without saying a word as the other visitors bumped past them and entered through the Romanesque, ringed portal that led into the museum. The rain began to patter down when suddenly with a jerk of his head, the spell was broken, and he headed inside. Once within the upturned hull of steel and stone, his companion’s eyes and feet roamed through the parade of skeletons and fossils as if in a trance. The accountant couldn’t be sure if he was miserable or enjoying their trip until that smile appeared.

“I heard you went to Oxford,” Adam began cautiously as Immanuel moved to the next case. “What branch of science did you study?”

His voice came as soft as if he was in a library rather than in a nearly empty hall. “I am studying evolution along with the other sciences.” He was about to keep reading the information tag when he spotted the red-haired man looking at him expectantly and realized the conversation was lapsing back into silence. “What do you do, Mr. Fenice?”

“Nothing as glamorous as science or Oxford. I am an accountant. I also am the co-owner and bookkeeper for my twin sister’s prosthesis and automaton business.” When the German’s eyes flickered with interest, he continued, “I am the odd one out. I have no creative abilities, but I do appreciate the arts. Hadley is the artist and inventor in the family now, but she takes after our father and late-brother. We lost him last winter.”

Immanuel looked up to see Adam’s countenance dim with the shadow of melancholy. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was sick for a long time.” A stifled, dry chuckle escaped his lips as he turned toward another case. “I feel so hardhearted saying this, but it was almost a relief when he died. I hated seeing him ill and knowing he was never going to get any better.”

“I understand, but you shouldn’t feel guilty. Even when you are the one who is ill, you feel the same way. Death often seems like the better option than suffering.”

“You would know better than any of us, wouldn’t you, Mr. Winter?”

They unconsciously caught each other’s gaze, and the unspoken phrases passed between them again. Adam noted the subtle sag of regret at the corner of Immanuel’s eyes as if he had confided too much in the accountant. They fell into silence as they passed specimens and dioramas of beasts in jungles of paint and paper. He watched Immanuel glance at the contents of the cases and move on without the fervent interest that had come with the spark in his smile. As they passed a man with a cigarette pressed between his lips, his companion stumbled.

Immanuel’s heart raced. Something was wrong. His body buckled as the tobacco embers seared into the thin flesh of his spine. With each quickened breath, the glass in the cases around him seemed to grow closer and the air thinner. He tugged his collar away from the flushed skin of his neck as he swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fenice, but I cannot stay here any longer,” he blurted, darting toward the nearest hallway.

The urge to get out was stronger than any instinct he could remember. He would surely suffocate if he couldn’t get out of the museum. The stones would rise up and wall him in, sealing him behind glass for all eternity. Rounding the corner at the end of the hall, he froze as he met the unforgiving mortar and stone of a dead-end. He wheeled around with eyes wide and glistening. When Adam finally reached the corner, the scientist’s breathing was coming in shallow, ragged gasps, and his eyes seemed to take in everything but see nothing.