Jonathan

The basement laboratory stood empty and silent. The few dust motes stirred by the opened door hung sparkling in the sunlight. Miranda paused in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adapt to the dim light. A large workbench dominated the center of the room but the jumble of beakers, funnels and flasks, pipettes and condensers that once held the colorful concoctions of Jonathan's various experiments were now all missing. The same with the shelves - technical manuals, treatises, boxes of chemicals and spare equipment all gone. She ran her hand across the top of the closest shelf and noted her palm was clean, no trace at all of dust or grime. It was as if no one had ever been here.

Last night's altercation had been particularly unsettling. Jonathan had even insinuated that she harbored secret feelings for Charles Winthrop. "I know you fancy him, why shouldn't you? Women always want the strong, handsome ones - doesn't matter what's up here," he seethed, furiously jabbing a finger at his temple. Although she agreed many described Charles as exceptionally handsome her interest in men went no deeper than Jonathan. Admittedly she had spoken with Charles yesterday morning but it was merely to ask for a quote to repair the plaster at the cottage. Despite her protestations Jonathan stormed from the drawing room shouting, "All women want are brutes! And it's a brute you'll have!"

Despite the warm, stale air in the laboratory she shivered and glanced over her shoulder. Through the open doorway she saw the wide sweep of the lawn gracefully sloping down to meet the thick woods surrounding it - she was alone. Quickly scanning the room one last time she saw nothing out of the ordinary other than its complete emptiness. Once outside Miranda slammed the door with a grunt of relief, breathing deeply she realized despite the cleanliness of the room there had been an odor, something putrescent.

Often Miranda would find Jonathan lost in one of the many scientific texts in the basement laboratory. She would put a hand on his shoulder, stirring him from his ruminations with a gentle squeeze. Looking up his large blue eyes blinked curiously at her from behind his round glasses, recognition slowing dawning as if she had woken him from a dream. She envied his research, that his discoveries could bring him such joy and his failures simply renewed determination. When she told him this he insisted that she would always be his greatest joy. She shook her head, "no, I often find you lost in your work but I've never found you lost in my eyes."