Her Thirties Part 56 Marilyn in Danger

I phoned Marilyn later that evening as I promised I would. Her cold sounded much better.

“Have I convinced you to avail yourself of modern medicine?”

“I do feel an improvement,” she confessed.

“I’m keeping tabs on you, Girl—I’ll phone you at lunch tomorrow.”

“Oh, but what about the class?” she wailed.

“Don’t even attempt to go to class tomorrow. I want you to take one more full day of rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Okay. I’ll be good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

When she hung up, I had to smile at myself. Where did that protective urge come from?

And more than that, Marilyn accepted it as readily as if she always deferred to me.

There it was again—that spooky feeling that made my scalp tingle and the hair on my arms stand up.

It was as if two people were taking turns interacting with each other. It was weird.

Thursday the temperature dropped back to thirty-nine degrees. I cursed the weather gods as I put on my winter coat and toque. I prayed Marilyn stayed indoors today and got some needed rest.

All morning my thoughts kept returning to her and I could barely wait till lunch to phone.

The phone kept ringing, but no one picked up. I finished eating and tried again before heading back to my office, but still no answer.

I decided to drop by the bookstore as soon as I could get away, but as fate would have it, Paul Elliot, the Department Chair, wanted to meet with me at three.

I cursed my luck, but resolved to leave as soon as our meeting was over.

As it turned out, the meeting was more social than business and ordinarily I would have been pleased—but not today. I had a sense of foreboding and needed to leave.

Paul droned on about all kinds of irrelevancies—one of which was the possibility of tenure—but even that was just another odious obstacle keeping me from Marilyn.

At long last, he was through and shook my hand as if we were fast friends. I tried my best to reciprocate and not appear distracted—but I was.

As soon as I shut his office door, I fairly flew down the corridor and out to my car which was parked illegally outside the building. Max, the janitor saw me and waved—“Don’t worry, Professor Lennox—I told the campus cops you were here on important business.”

I could have kissed him. I shouted cheery thanks and gunned the car towards the street.

It seemed every streetlight was red and every motorist going in slow motion. Nevertheless, I made good time and arrived at the bookstore by four thirty. The shop was closed of course, and Ella had placed a note in the door, advising customers of the temporary hours.

I rang the bell and like the noon phone calls, there was no answer—just an incessant ringing.

I tried the door. It was open.

It was then I noticed the unmistakable sour smell of natural gas—the stench was overpowering.

My blood froze.

To be continued...


© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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