Séance at the Lemp
By L. Lee Starr
Copyright 2012 L. Lee Starr
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 3- Packing up Memories
Chapter 4- Remembering Lillian
Chapter 5- The Wedding Photo and The Piano
Chapter 6- Restoration of the Estate
Chapter 7- “Physician, Heal Thyself”
Chapter 8- The Sale of the Elsa’s Estate
Chapter 11- The Meeting with Priya
Chapter 12- The Birth of Project Séance
Chapter 13- The Building of Project Séance
Chapter 15- A Renewed Enthusiasm
Chapter 16- Welcome to www.projectseance.com
Chapter 17- The Ghostly Sitting Room
Chapter 19- Doctor Russell’s New Job
Chapter 20- The Email from Marta
Chapter 22- Tunisha’s Journals
Chapter 25- “The Canary Lives”
Chapter 26- Donation for the Homeless
Chapter 27- Joanna’s Discovery
Chapter 28- Revisiting the Brewery
Chapter 30- Trying to Buy Time
Chapter 32- Dance Me to the End of Love
Chapter 33- The Illegal Acquisition of Combustibles
Chapter 34- Assembly of the Bomb
As the midmorning sun smuggled beams of light through an inconspicuous crack behind his blackout curtains, Dr. Joel Russell woke from the slumber on his living room couch. He had done this for the last seven years, spending the night there with no blanket and dressed in the previous day’s attire. In fact, he thought, he may have worn the same suit the day prior to that. He had not really kept track. And, as he did every morning for the past seven years, he awoke on his own accord, without the aid of an alarm clock, wake-up call, or the soothing sound of a female voice to gently nudge him into consciousness. It was time to get up, simply because he had slept too long already. He couldn’t think of anything he really wanted to do or needed to do that day, but he felt that he should—at the very least—get up and move around.
He was the sole inhabitant of a large estate he had inherited from his wife, the last of a privileged Saint Louis bloodline, now long since dead. In his efforts to cut costs in the operating of this vast estate, (and to also minimize having to inhabit rooms which managed only to help stir up unpleasant memories), Dr. Russell had relocated all his possessions to just three rooms in the home: the living room, where he slept; the bathroom, where he brushed himself off and took an infrequent shower; and the vast kitchen, where he accessed certain staples of survival such as cold cereal, instant coffee, and Ramen noodles. He had initially abandoned the eating of Ramen after college, but since the death of his wife, Elsa, he returned to the tasty noodles out of necessity. He now considered them a form of comfort food—a sort of chicken soup for the lonely and destitute.
Despite appearances, Dr. Joel Russell was far from being a pauper. He had etched out a successful living during the years practicing psychiatry in one of St. Louis’s wealthiest neighborhoods. In addition, he had chosen to marry one of Saint Louis’s richest socialites. After the passing of Elsa’s mother, Joel’s mother-in-law, Elsa inherited one of the wealthiest estates in Missouri. After his wife Elsa died, Joel was left with not only the family estate, but the proceeds from a very generous life insurance policy.
This life insurance policy—even after seven years—was still mostly intact. The estate had long been purchased in full, and Joel needed very little to manage its day-to-day operations. He had blocked off unnecessary rooms by means of a Visqueen curtain suspended between the kitchen and the dining area, and he no longer used any of the five bedrooms or numerous baths on the upstairs floor.
Joel rose from the sofa and made his way to the bath. He ran cold water into the antique basin and splashed it on his face with his bare hands. He looked into the mirror to see his worn visage beneath long, gray, and unkempt hair staring back at him.
Dr. Russell was a tall, slender man with a thick brow and sincere, gray eyes separated by a slightly crooked, but very pronounced Roman nose. His lips were thin. On the few occasions when he did smile, he pursed his lips, never allowing his teeth to show. He had a very prominent lower chin. He had neglected his personal hygiene in recent years. Although he was now fifty-five years old, he was still somewhat attractive. But even during his youth, his extreme modesty would always prevent him from ever acknowledging his good looks.
Joel ran his fingers along his chin as he examined himself in the mirror. He decided that he would not shave today. He would settle for the stubble growing on his face, justifying his laziness to himself by believing his growing beard would serve to hide his emerging wrinkles.
He opened the door to his medicine cabinet to expose a bottle of antidepressants. He opened the bottle. There was one pill left. He poured the pill into his hand and swallowed it without water. He threw the empty bottle in the small pool of cold water at the bottom of the basin. He brushed off the lapel to his tweed suit coat, turned, and made his way to the kitchen.
Dr. Russell’s cell phone had been charging on the kitchen counter, which was bare, except for a glass bowl of rotten fruit he never managed to get around to eating. I’d better check my messages, he thought. Picking up the phone, he accessed his voice mail messages. As he scrunched up his right shoulder to hold the phone, he rinsed a dirty coffee cup in the sink and opened the microwave to heat up water for instant coffee. He then realized that there was already a cup of water in the microwave still there from the previous day. He closed the door and set the microwave timer for one minute.
He wrestled the phone off his shoulder and punched in his pin code to access his private messages.
“Hey, Joel…. It’s Joanna. I wonder if you might have time to stop by the office. There are a few things I need to talk to you about. Listen, I have sessions all day, but I had a cancellation at 2 P.M. this afternoon. Could you come by? If you can’t, call me. Thanks.”
Dr. Russell hadn’t really planned on stopping by the office. In fact, he had not made an appearance at his former practice for about three months. After Elsa died, he had whittled his patient load down to two patients, whom he then managed to unload onto other psychiatrists who had recently joined the practice. Joanna Watson, the psychologist who left the phone message, was his very first addition to the growing psychiatric practice that he and Elsa had established in Chesterfield, a wealthy suburb of Saint Louis. Oh well, he thought. I guess I don’t really have anything planned for the day. I might as well stop by and see how things are going.
Joel’s former Chesterfield office was located in a newly built office complex in the Chesterfield Valley in West Saint Louis County. After the Missouri River flooded the entire Chesterfield Valley during the flood of ’93, most of the businesses located there were razed, the levees were reinforced, and the City gave permission for new development to begin. Within ten years, the valley was fully developed, complete with four and five story medical office buildings, chain and specialty restaurants, and strip malls stretching end to end across the entire length of the valley. The lobby of Joel’s former office had a centrally located fountain at the entrance of the building. All floors were tiled in expensive granite. Lush, tropical greenery lined the monstrous windows, granting the plants seemingly unlimited access to the enormous amounts of Missouri sunshine beaming down on the building’s southern face.
Joel’s former office was located on the third floor. As he entered, he encountered the familiar face of Ariel, seated at the reception desk. Although she acknowledged his presence immediately, Joel noticed that she was setting an appointment with a patient on the phone. He had also noticed that the traditional handset phones had been replaced by a headset, which Ariel had now wrapped around her head. She spoke politely into the microphone wrapped around her chin, smiling at Joel while she spoke.
“So, Doctor Ormond will see you at 11 A.M. on Friday, the twelfth. Please be sure to bring your insurance card at the time of your visit. See you then.” She pressed the button to hang up the call, removed her headset, got up, and almost skipped over to greet Joel. She gave him a big hug.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in!”
Joel responded, smiling also. “Well, how the heck are you, little girl?” He pulled back and looked into her face. He picked up a small lock of her, now shoulder length, hair between his thumb and forefinger. “No more pink?”
“No,” she looked down, shyly. “You know, I’ll be twenty-nine next June. I’m back to my natural color. And I’m kinda growing it out.”
“Maybe Joanna has gotten to you after all these years, huh? What are you doing with yourself these days?”
“Got a new boyfriend. He’s a drummer in our band. You know, we’re really doing well these days. We’re starting to get more gigs out of town, and we just released our second CD.”
“Anything I’ve heard?”
“Probably not. We get some local airplay, but not a lot just yet. We have practice space at the old Lemp Brewery. I’ll give you a tour sometime.”
“Sounds like fun. I love new musical experiences. Will I need to turn down my hearing aid?”
“Oh, stop….” She fake slapped his arm. “You’re pretty cool for an old guy.” At that moment, Joanna came out of her office and made her way over to Joel and Ariel. Ariel whispered as an aside to Joel, not moving her lips. “You’re not nearly as stuffy as some other people around here.” She hinted to Joanna, who moved toward them.
Joanna looked at Joel, “So you got my message? Have a moment?”
Joel nodded and followed her to her office. On his way, he passed the door to his old office, noticing a new name plate on the door—Dr. Michael Ormond, M.D. There was a young man, standing behind Joel’s old mahogany desk, unpacking a box. There’s the younger model, Joel thought to himself. He walked on.
The two made their way into Joanna’s office. Everything was, as he remembered, meticulously set in place. Her Stanford diploma, along with her licenses and graduation photo, were leveled and carefully spaced on her back office wall in coordinated document frames. She had some more feminine objects d’art dotting the credenza and the end table next to the couch by the window. But all in all, it was a fairly unobtrusive décor. Joanna had taken great pains to make her office appear that way for the benefit of her patients—a neutral environment in which to confide their intimate secrets.
Joanna motioned for Joel to be seated before her desk. As she sat also, Joel peered out Joanna’s open office door down the hallway toward Ariel, also seated behind the reception counter. Joanna excused herself for a moment to check on some voice mail messages and picked up her phone. Joel sat patiently, watching Ariel, recalling how different she had become from the girl Elsa had initially hired ten years before.
<-> <-> <-> <->
After years of working downtown in Barnes-Jewish Hospital’s psychiatric ward, Joel’s wife, Elsa, convinced him to open a private practice in 1998 in West Saint Louis County. In addition, he took on a position in the behavioral health wing at St. John’s Mercy Medical Center Hospital in Creve Coeur. He made patient rounds in the morning and saw his private patients at his new office in the afternoons. In the beginning, Elsa managed the patient load at the private practice, acting as office manager. But after two years, his practice had blossomed to the point where Elsa was soon overwhelmed by the tasks of setting appointments, and handling and filing countless insurance forms and patient records.
He remembered meeting Ariel for the first time. Elsa sat behind the reception desk, attempting to handle multiple appointments simultaneously, buried behind mountains of patient files. Joel stood behind her, trying to find one particular file, with no luck. Ariel had just turned nineteen. She had short, bright, bubble-gum pink hair spiked into an asymmetric, Victoria Beckham-ish bob. She dressed entirely in black. A snug black sweater and short skirt accentuated her curvy, petite frame. She had intense, huge, dark-brown eyes, thickly lined with black eyeliner, and almost doll-like lips, which were exaggerated by deep red lipstick. She also sported a long black overcoat, black fish net stockings, and black stiletto boots. She had a few visible tattoos (Joel only assumed that there were plenty of other tattoos obscured beneath her dark outfit), and several piercings, which included a dainty diamond in her nose, two holes and rings in her right ear, and a series of holes and silver earrings lining the entire outer edge of her left ear.
“I hear you’re looking for some part-time office help,” Ariel stated.
Joel and Elsa looked out beyond the mountain of files. Even though Dr. Russell had encountered some unique individuals during the course of his practice, he sat speechless. Elsa, on the other hand, never lost her composure, even in the strangest of company. If she was shocked by Ariel’s appearance in the least, she failed to show it.
“Well,” Elsa responded, “We were looking for someone with a little experience to help out in front here.” She answered.
“I used to work for Doctor Goldstein two floors down,” Ariel replied.
“I see. Why did you leave?” Joel asked.
“Well,” Ariel hesitated. “He fired me.”
“Is that so?” Elsa inquired calmly. “Why is that?”
“He said that I wore too much black, and it depressed his patients.”
Elsa appreciated her candor and snickered. “Well, I surmise that Doctor Goldstein’s patients were probably depressed because they had to see Doctor Goldstein. I think he’s a bit of a stuffed shirt myself. Well, just exactly what is it that you can do?” Elsa asked.
Ariel pointed to the mountains of files at the edge of the reception desk. “For starters, I can help you file that!” she stated confidently.
Without even looking back to consult with Joel, Elsa asked, “Can you start now?”
Ariel immediately set her belongings down and went to work.
<-> <-> <-> <->
Now, Joel noted, Ariel had softened in appearance. Her hair had grown, and she was back to her normal shade of a dark, ash brown. Today, she wore a more muted color of a celadon green dress, with coordinating heels. Her flattering figure had not changed, but she seemed now less intent on making a social statement and more concerned with looking professional. He was grateful to hear, however, that she had not given up her dream of being a successful singer. He sometimes remembered hearing her sing softly to herself in the office, when she thought no one could hear. Her voice sounded sweet and pleasant.
Joel sat patiently in Joanna’s office, waiting for her to check her messages. Then Joanna hung up the phone. “I’m sorry about that, Joel.” She suddenly turned serious. “Listen, Joel. I know you noticed that Doctor Ormond has taken over your office.”
Joel didn’t respond.
She tried to explain. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was floundering over here. We have a successful practice, and we couldn’t keep up anymore. You refused to see patients, and we found Mike to handle new patients and the few patients you had left here.”
She rose and moved toward a box of Joel’s belongings on the back corner floor of her office. She picked up the box and placed it in the chair next to Joel. “I’m sorry, Joel. I know you loved Elsa, but it’s like you’ve been suspended in time for the last—how long?”
“Seven years,” Joel responded.
“—seven years, and you don’t seem to want help. I know you feel bad about her death, and I’m sorry. You need closure, and I’m not sure, in your present state, that you will ever find what you’re looking for. But, in the meantime, you have left me in charge of this thriving practice, and the rest of us living here have got to figure out how to pay the bills. Mike isn’t you, but he’s stable and dependable. That’s what we need right now.” Joanna paused, looking apologetic. She moved back, sitting on the front edge of her desk.
Joel still didn’t respond.
After an additional pause and realizing that Joel was probably not going to answer, Joanna continued, “That’s not all, Joel. I got a call from Sam Fredrickson about Jake Sternen. It seems he escaped from the hospital two days ago, and they wanted me to warn you.”
Joel remained motionless. “Escaped?”
“Yes,” Joanna answered. “I know what you’re thinking, Joel. But when he realized what he had done, he was very remorseful. He never intended to hurt anyone but you. And—you treated him, Joel, you know—he was a diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic with PTSD. After he understood the consequences of his actions and how he had killed an innocent woman, it took the winds out of his delusional sail, so to speak.”
She looked at Joel’s face which was, at this point, expressionless. His silence seemed to make her even more uneasy, so she continued her explanation. “Joel, they don’t think he’s a threat at this point. He’s been compliant with his meds since his sentencing. And Sam tells me it is not likely that they will even publicize the fact that he is missing. The Army would like to keep this all under wraps, because they don’t think it would help the war effort in Afghanistan if word got out that a crazed and murderous ex-Army Sergeant was on the loose.”
“Do they have any idea where he might have gone?”
“I’m not sure he has any living family connections here at all. That would mean there would be no reason for him to stick around here.” She tried to assuage Joel’s apparent doubts. “Really, Joel… I don’t think he has any interest in you at all…”
“I’m sure he doesn’t,” Joel agreed. “He probably wants to move on like the rest of the world. Everyone except me, that is.”
Joanna moved forward and put her hand on his shoulder. For a brief second, Joel remembered a time when she had been willing to touch much more than that. But at this point in his life, and looking the way he did, an assuring touch on the shoulder was as good a relationship with a woman as he would probably ever get again. He couldn’t believe that he once secured the heart of this attractive and intelligent woman. He couldn’t comprehend how a woman like Joanna would ever look up to him as a mentor or confidant or even have ever desired him as a man.
Joel took his box of belongings, which consisted of his Washington University and Yale diplomas, psychiatric books and papers he had published throughout the years, old photos of him and Elsa, an old paperweight he had proudly blown by hand in an undergraduate art class, and files and session tapes he had made during consultations with former patients. Included also in the box was the old tape recorder he used to tape his sessions—a mini tape recorder, probably still functional, but now outdated in today’s digital age. It seemed that everything he had ever accomplished during his lifetime had now been reduced to a simple box of stuff, now largely useless junk.
<-> <-> <-> <->
On the way home, Joel thought more about Joanna. He remembered making the initial decision to hire her. He decided that he needed another associate to offer therapy to his growing number of Chesterfield housewives, who attempted to make better sense of their privileged but seemingly directionless lives. He was barely able to meet the demands of prescribing antidepressants and Xanax for this depressed, substance-addicted, and anxiety-ridden group. Both he and Elsa agreed that he needed someone prepared to listen to the endless drivel about dance camp, book clubs, cheating husbands, SUVs, and thieving housemaids.
Joel had actually made the decision to hire Joanna in 2001, based on her exemplary credentials and a phone interview he conducted with her while she still lived in California. When she actually appeared before him in the office for the first time, he was pleased to see how truly attractive she was. Like Elsa, when he first met her, Joanna was beautiful. She dressed simply, yet she still looked sophisticated and professional. She had auburn hair, ice blue eyes, and had applied makeup meticulously but sparingly, as if to say, “Here, I have taken care to make myself look better, but really, I wake up in the morning looking this beautiful.” Although she was young, she possessed an air of self-confidence, much like the air of self-confidence that Elsa exuded when he first met her.
Joanna pretty much had the job at Joel’s practice before she entered the office for the first time. This decision had already been made by him. When she came to see Joel after she had moved to Chesterfield from California, she dressed in a tan, well-tailored skirt suit. She was also wore pearl earrings—no doubt real pearls. Strands of her auburn hair were pulled back loosely, while the rest of her wavy locks cascaded down her shoulders.
Elsa and Ariel were filing together when Joanna walked in. “Hello,” She greeted. “I’m here to see Doctor Joel Russell. I’m Joanna Watson.” Unlike the many pharmaceutical reps, who paraded through the office and made at least a hollow effort to get to know the office staff, Joanna made no attempt to get to know Elsa or Ariel. She did not ask their names.
Seeming offended, Elsa walked to Joel’s open door, speaking loud enough for Joanna to hear. Addressing Joel, she called to him, “Your majesty, Doctor Joanna Watson, Ph.D. is here to meet you!” Joel walked out to greet Joanna and invite her into his office. This was their first face-to-face encounter, and Joel was satisfied to discover that Joanna’s appearance was actually even more pleasant than her telephone voice.
Joanna was twenty-five, gorgeous, and very young. Although love and the complexities of sexual relationships were something she studied and knew well in textbooks and in clinic, she had not known much of a serious relationship herself. She had one or two steady boyfriends in college, but she found herself often becoming bored with trying to satisfy the desires and superficial needs of men her own age. She was much more intelligent and mature than they were. She needs someone much older, Joel often thought.
Being committed to Elsa and having to fulfill his duties on staff at St. Johns as well as keeping up with his private practice gave Joel very little time to think about Joanna in anything but a professional way. At times, he would be momentarily distracted by her long, curvy legs or her pouty lips. But this distraction was only short-lived. He soon refocused on the task at hand. For the most part, they did not even work together much, since his job at the practice was primarily to regulate medication, and hers was to provide therapy.
Rarely, Joanna would confide in Joel about her dissatisfaction with having to treat the issues of some of her clients. Often, she would state how unfulfilled she was by the fact that she had worked so hard at university to be able to ultimately help people in need. Yet here she was, wasting her life treating mainly women with no real problems to speak of.
Her patients were primarily housewives of Chesterfield who came to therapy, because it afforded them an opportunity to pay a “professional” once a week to listen for fifty straight minutes while they droned on about their boring lives. They were often housewives of prominent and successful businessmen, wealthy enough to employ their own staff of domestic employees. Several of the luckier ones employed nannies for the few children they had, and the rest tried to occupy their days with combinations of Pilates sessions, shopping, fine dining, hosting an occasional dinner party, volunteering their time to local charitable organizations, and attending a weekly therapy session with Joanna. They often drank too much white wine, and they relied on Joel to prescribe them the antidepressants and benzodiazepines which helped them deal with the anxiety of their suburban housewife lives. Joanna once stated that her typical client was as “obtuse as that door there,” (pointing to her sturdy and very dense office door). Often, if Joel would catch a glimpse of her escorting a patient out after session, she would make eye contact with him and roll her eyes. How she longed for a patient with real problems.
About a year after Joanna began seeing patients at the practice, Joel had learned that a mutual patient of his and Joanna’s had killed herself. She had taken an overdose of Desyrel, an antidepressant, along with a cocktail of several common antipsychotic and benzodiazepine drugs she had hoarded over the course of the year. Although this was not Joel’s first patient lost to suicide, it was Joanna’s. When she heard the news about her patient’s death, Joanna became distraught and shaken. Joel had called her into his office to break the news to her, where she broke out into near hysterics, confessing to Joel that she felt she was to blame for neglecting the needs of the recently deceased patient.
Joel tried to console her by telling her she was not at fault. He assured Joanna that he knew she tried to help, but sometimes, “….you do lose a patient. You can’t save every patient who comes to you for help,” he assured. “You can only hope to help most of them and learn from any mistakes you may have made with the others.”
“No, Joel. You don’t understand,” she cried. “It is my fault she died. See, this patient would constantly threaten to kill herself. I had her hospitalized several times over the last couple of years. Then, it became tedious. I felt she was trying to hollowly threaten me to get me to spend more time with her. First, I did everything I was supposed to do. I began to make contracts and to schedule more frequent sessions with her during the week. When that wasn’t enough, she would call the exchange in the middle of the night. I would encourage her to admit herself to the ER, and once I even called the police! There were several times when I tried to get her to check in to the hospital, but she would refuse to admit herself.
“One night, she called the exchange at 3 A.M. and stated that she planned to kill herself if I didn’t call her back in ten minutes. When I called her, she wasn’t at all suicidal. As a matter of fact, she had been driving herself crazy ruminating about some stupid seating arrangement for her daughter’s upcoming wedding. I lost it. I told her that she had abused our doctor/client relationship, and that she had destroyed my trust in her by continuously crying ‘wolf’ when she had no intention of killing herself. I felt she was manipulating me for attention, and I told her that we would talk about it at our next session. I was just frustrated and tired. I had no idea……” Joanna sobbed.
“Look, Joanna, I know you feel responsible for this. But even though this is our job, we are human, and we do make mistakes. We are not responsible for the happiness or the bad choices others make—even those who are entrusted into our care.”
Joanna continued sobbing, glancing up at her mentor through a veil of tears.
“You are a beautiful, caring human being. You did the best you could. You can’t go through life believing that you are the cause of this woman’s death. You tried to help.”
Joanna’s sobbing continued, and it became clear to Joel that her hysterics were less about her patient and more about herself. “You don’t understand! I have nobody, Joel! All I have is this. I’ve worked so hard during my lifetime, and I am a slave to these women who, in large part, I resent and sometimes even hate! You and Elsa—you are so blessed. You have each other. I’m just going to rot here, wasting my days listening to bored housewives blather on about their meaningless existences. I have nobody who cares about me or needs me or loves me. What’s wrong with me, Joel?”
Joel stared at Joanna in disbelief. “There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Look at you, Joanna. You’re so bright, and you’re absolutely gorgeous. You have a prosperous career, and you have an entire lifetime ahead of you. And—look at me, Joanna—you have me. I care about you….”
Right at that moment, Joel realized his true feelings for Joanna. He suddenly understood how desperately he needed to be close to her. He never before allowed himself the luxury of experiencing feelings for her. But having Joanna there in front of him, vulnerable to him, with the opportunity now present, he understood that Joanna had also harbored mutual feelings of attraction for him. He no longer worried where or how her feelings for him were rooted. He no longer cared whether these feelings were wrong or right. He felt a burning need to kiss her. He wanted to be close to her, and he wanted her in his life. He didn’t care that her feelings might be misplaced feelings for him as a mentor or a father figure. He wanted to kiss her, and he knew she wanted it.
Joel leaned forward to wipe Joanna’s tear, and finally gave in to his urge to kiss her. Her lips felt warm, soft, and inviting to him. She responded by reaching out to him, grasping his arm and pulling him toward her. He sensed her soft and sweet tongue pressed between his lips. He felt her searching, and he felt his heart pounding harder than he had felt it pound in many years. He moved to loosen her long auburn hair by unfastening her hair clip. He leaned back to watch her hair, now loose, fall innocently about her shoulders.
Joel kissed Joanna again, only this time, the kiss grew fiercer and more passionate. His heart beat stronger, as did hers. As he moved his left hand to cup her soft, heaving breast from beneath her silk blouse, he could even feel how passionately her heart was beating. His breath grew short, as she fumbled to unbutton his crisp cotton shirt. He pulled at his necktie desperately, and before he knew it, most of his attire had been cast to the floor. She was still partially clothed, but her brassiere was unfastened, and her breasts were now exposed. She leaned back, still seated on the patient chair in front of Joel’s great mahogany desk. Her pink nipples were erect, and he kneeled before her.
Joel reached under Joanna’s skirt and felt his way to her dainty lace panties. Reaching with the other hand, he pulled them down past her supple thighs down her long legs. He tossed them over his shoulder into the growing heap of shed clothing. As he tossed the panties, without looking, he tried to look ludicrously suave, and Joanna giggled.
He stopped for a moment to savor what now lay exposed beneath her skirt. As he delicately touched her moist clitoris with his forefinger, she closed her eyes and leaned back. Soon, she was writhing in ecstasy and on the verge of climax.
He could bear it no longer. He didn’t wait for permission. He wanted to lead. He was in control. He entered her, because he now realized how close he needed to be to her. He took her, not only as if it were their first time together, but as if it was something that they would never share again. They were governed by their desires, and they were connecting in a way they had always desired to, but never realized until this moment. For the first time, he was not being judged, only desired by a beautiful woman as a desirable man.
Although Elsa was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment and during the year Joel carried on this affair, he felt that his relationship with Joanna was very different from what he and Elsa had. Elsa was far from vulnerable. She seldom lost her composure in even the most devastating and precarious of situations. Elsa’s feelings for Joel were that of mutual attraction—a love of equals—at times romantic, at times companionate. Joanna was young and full of life. Joanna looked up to him. And, for the first time in any romantic relationship, Joel was the one who called the shots. Joel was the one in charge. And Joanna was perfectly fine with that.
From then, the moment of their first kiss, and up until the time of Elsa’s death, Joel and Joanna carried on their affair, looking for every opportunity to pursue their forbidden relationship. Their encounters would be spontaneous, but sometimes there might be a meticulously planned rendezvous at a hotel or Joanna’s apartment. Because they shared the same office, each knew the other’s appointment roster. Rarely, their liaisons occurred right there in a deserted office after hours—in his office or hers. Once, Joel recalled, smirking devilishly, he tried plowing her, half-naked, in a fit of passion right on the receptionist’s counter, when they were almost discovered by the housekeeping staff.
Joel chose the field of psychiatry because he understood his personality was unlike most of the men he considered friends and associates. Of course, he was a normal male with normal male desires. Growing up, he experienced the standard male experiences regarding his growing attraction to females and coming to grips with his male sexuality. But, unlike his other male counterparts, he was somewhat of a loner. He never had an interest in watching weekend football with the guys. Although he joined a fraternity, he justified his membership by stating that it was an academic fraternity and not a social one. He often found himself hanging with female friends, most of them platonic, who felt they could open up to him, because he understood and was a good listener. It was not that he wasn’t interested in having a physical relationship with these women. It was just that they almost always considered him as nothing more than a friend.
Joanna truly desired him. And he desired her. But Joanna seemed to perceive Joel differently than other women did, including Elsa. Joanna saw him as powerful, masculine, desirable, and spontaneous. And Joel enjoyed the idea that he could be uninhibited with her. She saw him as strong and powerful. He perceived her to be feminine and vulnerable. They both perceived each other to be, in the bedroom, someone quite the opposite of their public office persona. Perhaps that was the reason they finally chose to have the affair. Joel and Joanna enabled each other to live out their most intimate personal fantasies by seeing each other as someone very different from who they really were.
After thinking about his former affair with Joanna, and after recalling how she worshiped Joel in the beginning, he became sad to think about how she might perceive him now. Did she think he was a mistake she wished she could forget? Even worse, did she perceive him as a horny, pathetic, old man, who deserved nothing but pity? She was still so gorgeous—a little older and wiser, perhaps, but still quite captivating. He didn’t know her anymore, and he wondered how things might have been if they had decided to spend the rest of their lives together.
<-> <-> <-> <->
Despite their many indiscretions and near-misses, Elsa never suspected a thing about Joel’s infidelity—that is, until the very end. But Joel was tired of thinking, and he didn’t want to think about that now.
Chapter 3- Packing up Memories
Ellen Rodriguez was a neighbor and real estate agent, who had the unfortunate habit of often dropping by on neighbors unannounced. She was so bold that she was one of the few individuals in the neighborhood who still had the testicles to drop by Joel’s to check in on him. She was not a particularly caring individual—more nosey than anything else.
Ellen was a divorcée, who lived just down the road from Joel. She had been divorced for over ten years, and her two boys were now both in college. Her cardiologist ex-husband’s alimony checks still supported most of her flamboyant lifestyle of countless shopping sprees to the Galleria and Plaza Frontenac malls. But she decided to start selling real estate shortly after her divorce to keep her busy with something other than having to be a single mother. She enjoyed adult conversation and interests and didn’t really relate well to children.
She had long, blonde hair, which she always wore down about her shoulders, believing that hairstyle made her look more youthful. Today she wore stilettos and a very short skirt, which showed off her toned thighs and legs. She had luscious, large lips, which she used to blow kisses to friends and colleagues when she bid them goodbye. Joel thought that perhaps she fancied herself a sort of modern day Marilyn Monroe.
“You know, Joel, you should really consider selling this place. I mean, you don’t even use most of the rooms in this house. It’s obviously way too big for you. Granted, you would have to move your stuff out. There is a lot of clutter, here—and dust.” She snobbily wiped dust from the coffee table and clapped her hands together. “I could bring my man, Stan, out here to bring back that beautiful rose garden Lillian had nurtured to give this place a little curb appeal. You could fetch 2.5 million easily in a pinch.”
Joel shrugged.
“Think about it. And you can get those nasty city officials off your back about how you let this place go. Really, Joel. Think about it.”
Joel did think about it. He seemed to do a lot of thinking lately. It almost seemed as if his mind had been empty for the last seven years—like he had lived in an emotional limbo. Everything he touched, everybody whom he met lately, everything that had happened to him recently, seemed to trigger long repressed memories he had tried so hard to forget.
After several days of introspection, Joel decided that it would be best to sell Elsa’s family estate. She had no successors or distant family heir who had an interest in the property, and this home had only served to perpetuate memories and feelings which Joel felt would be better to let go. If he purged his life of this chapter, maybe he could forget all the terrible mistakes of his past and heal from the loss of his beloved Elsa. Yes, he thought. Selling the house might be the answer. Perhaps I can get closure and move forward with my life.
This time, Joel approached Ellen. “I have decided to sell Elsa’s family estate.” He was Elsa’s only living family and the sole heir of her estate, but he never really regarded it as his home. He was never made to feel ill at ease at her mother’s home. On the contrary—he was always treated as an honored guest. Even though he had stayed at the estate for almost thirty years, he had never worn out his welcome.
Ellen placed her realty sign out in Joel’s front yard even before he could finish signing the contract authorizing her to put the house on the market. Immediately, she listed the tasks he would be required to perform to get the home in order. She pointed to his stack of medical and Houdini books scattered about the living room. “We need to put all this stuff in storage. Joel, I need you to help me get this house showplace ready.”
Joel agreed, and he did acknowledge that he had accumulated a sizeable number of possessions over the years. It is time to purge my life of all its unnecessary complications, he thought. I need to start fresh.
For the first time in a long time, Joel pushed his way through the Visqueen curtains blocking his entrance to the rest of the uninhabited portion of the estate. This included the dining room, den, several storage rooms on the first floor, and five bedrooms and two full baths located upstairs. Ellen had provided him with brand new moving boxes, complete with strapping tape, styrofoam peanuts, and bubble wrap for breakables.
First, he started packing the contents of the massive china cabinet and buffet in the dining room. He carefully fingered a delicate tea cup, pulled from the china cabinet and made of fine, bone Noritake china. He recalled the day he and Elsa chose to register for their wedding china, and how they arrived at that selected pattern. Actually, Joel was the one who chose the pattern. Knowing he would be living at Elsa’s home, he felt that pattern would be best suited to the motif of the house.
Joel carefully removed each cup, saucer, plate, and bowl from the cabinet, wrapping every item in bubble wrap. This is the care I should afford each selected item in this home, he thought. He should treat each item which Elsa had once touched as if he were touching Elsa. He should confront the task as if Elsa were present, supervising the whole affair.
Soon, however, Joel felt overwhelmed with the task he had postponed for so many years, when he realized how monumental the task truly was. There is just a lot of shit in this place, he thought. And he did not have the time or the stamina to do this all this carefully with all this crap. He thought of the latest episode he had seen of the show Hoarders. Then, he thought of the many homeless individuals he had treated in the psychiatric hospital over the course of the last thirty years. He thought about how these often mentally ill individuals were unable to maintain any normalcy in their daily existence, having no home to return to at the end of the day. They hauled all their prized belongings with them in trash bags, pushed them in stolen shopping carts, and transported them along by other, more creative means. Your home was where you kept your stuff. The more stuff you carried with you, the sweeter your home was, and the more secure you felt about the nature of your existence. I think I might like to be a hobo someday, Joel thought. He snickered to himself and decided he liked the word “hobo”, despite the fact that it had long been politically incorrect.
Joel moved to Elsa’s office. He sat at her antique, Rococo-style desk, placed his hand on the first framed portrait sitting there, and paused before attempting to pack it into a smaller box. He exercised less care packing now, but he paused more and more to consider all the items that he stored away.
The first picture was of Elsa as a young girl, before they met. In the picture, Elsa was smiling. Perhaps she was seventeen. But she looked much the same as she did the day they first met. She must have been twenty-two at that time.
<-> <-> <-> <->
It was 1981. Elsa had just graduated from college. Joel was twenty-six. He had just begun his residency at Washington University, and both he and his colleagues were attending a gala for Barnes Hospital’s new psychiatric facility, which had just opened in downtown St. Louis.
Joel chose to play the wallflower that evening. His purpose was simply to make an appearance, and he did not feel compelled to network or hobnob in an effort to further his career. He seemed perfectly content to stand next to the bar, nursing his beer.
That is when he noticed Elsa across the room. She was absolutely gorgeous, poised, and demure. She was working the crowd, greeting each physician, administrator, and patron by name—as if she knew them all her life. She was a petite woman. Her medium length, chestnut hair was simply coifed into an elegant French twist. Her full lips conveyed an unusually warm and inviting smile, which was delicately framed by her perfect nose and naturally rosy, high cheekbones. She wore a minimal amount of jewelry—two carat diamond posts in each ear. Her beautiful, hazel eyes were enhanced with very little makeup, and she wore an elegant, tea-length, royal blue beaded gown. Joel knew it was tailored by some sleek designer, but he never paid attention to that. What impressed him about Elsa was that she appeared to move from patron to patron gracefully, never missing a beat. It was almost as if she flitted around the great hall like a rare butterfly.
A skilled, five-piece jazz band played old standards for the crowd. At the center of the great ballroom was a spacious hardwood dance floor, but no one was dancing. The socialites and physicians’ wives were content to mill around, and the administrators were happy simply raising donations for the recently completed project from any potential latecomers who might think to contribute. Joel and his other wallflower colleagues stood apart and simply talked shop. It’s a shame no one is dancing, Joel thought. But then again, these are scientists, and scientists are not usually noted for their dancing skills.
Joel, however, was a skilled ballroom dancer. He actually studied theatre for a time at Yale and danced with both grace and flexibility. In addition, he could sing, act, and played cocktail piano quite well. His creativity, he felt, helped make him as intuitive as he was scientific, which is why he thought he would make a good psychiatrist. None of his colleagues knew of these talents, which he had neglected in recent years. Some would probably have guessed that Joel did not enjoy the limelight, since he seemed to shy away from the public eye. But that night, seeing Elsa across the room, he felt empowered to show her his more cultured side.
Elsa had noticed Joel standing on the sidelines. She would glance at Joel occasionally from across the room, while engaged in conversation. At that time, she stood before a dermatologist, who seemed to be talking incessantly about himself. She listened politely, half-heartedly interested in what he had to say. Occasionally, the dermatologist would make grand gestures with his arms, and Elsa would nod, smile, and glance over at Joel. Joel put down his beer, and walked across the room to approach Elsa.
“Excuse me, Miss. I don’t know if you have noticed, but someone has hired this marvelous jazz band to play for this affair, and not one couple is dancing. Would you care to dance with me?” Joel stretched out his arm to lead her onto the dance floor.
“Yes. I would like that.” Elsa replied. She excused herself and followed Joel to the center of the deserted floor. He reached his right arm around the back of her small waist, and held her right hand in his left. He hadn’t danced with a woman in five years, but he was still quite agile.
“Why, sir. You are a skilled dancer. Imagine that.” She glanced down at his name tag. “—and very handsome, I might add. What kind of medicine do you practice, Doctor Joel Russell, M.D.?”
“I am a psychiatrist—a resident here at the university hospital,” he answered.
“And you? What is it that you do, Miss—”
“Elsa. My name is Elsa. Well, I don’t do much of anything. I am an heiress.”
“An heiress?”
“Why, yes.” They stop dancing for a moment. She turned to point to an older woman at the front of the room, whom Elsa clearly resembled and who stood, conversing with several other doctors. “See that woman? She is my mother. She is worth millions. And when she kicks off, I will be worth millions.” Elsa smiled as she then pointed to herself.
They continued dancing. “Does that make me more attractive to you, Doctor Joel Russell, M.D.?” She exaggerated his name dramatically and humorously.
Joel smiled. “Well, Miss Elsa, I’m not sure any amount of money could make you more beautiful than you are to me at this moment.”
Elsa smiled. “You, sir, are quite the charmer…”
“But having lots of money doesn’t hurt.”
Elsa and Joel both laughed.
Once Joel and Elsa began dancing, several other couples tried to join them on the dance floor. The party had warmed up and was soon in full gear. Joel and Elsa spent most of the evening together, dancing and talking about their lives, their duties, and their dreams and aspirations. Joel had decided that during his short life of twenty-six years, and during his clinical training, he had never met an individual so uniquely compelling as Elsa. She was brilliant, fun, and—most of all—the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Although he would normally be intimidated by her wealth, he didn’t care that she had money. He cared that she took a shine to him. The entire evening she made him feel empowered, important, and engaging. He felt that way, because Elsa made him feel that way. She made everyone feel special.
At the end of the evening, Joel walked Elsa out to valet parking. He held her hand and kissed her cheek goodnight. “Goodnight, Doctor Joel Russell, M.D.,” she said. “I hope we will be seeing each other again.”
Chapter 4- Remembering Lillian
Joel packed Elsa’s graduation photo in the box. The next photo to be placed in the box was that of Elsa’s mother, Lillian, posing with Elsa and Elsa’s father, who had died before Joel met her. Elsa was maybe seven years old. Lillian had a “Jackie Kennedy” look about her. Her expression was a sterner one than Elsa’s, but Joel knew that her sternness was a façade. Elsa soon learned how to break through Lillian’s austerity to expose her marshmallow interior. And, once Lillian realized that Joel and Elsa were truly in love, Lillian treated Joel like a son.
<-> <-> <-> <->
He recalled his first meeting with Lillian.
Joel approached the vast Tudor-style manor, having just parked his tattered Datsun in the center of the large, circular drive at its entrance. He brushed off the lapel of his heavy, tweed jacket and then lifted and slammed the heavy iron door knocker several times. Expecting a servant to answer, Joel was surprised that Elsa answered.
“You look shocked to see me answer the door,” she mocked. “The butler is off-duty today.” She ushered Joel in. “No, actually, I’m kidding. We don’t even have a butler. This house is powered by estrogen.”
She turned to her mother, who suddenly appeared in the doorway—a stately woman, dressed in a lavender tunic and a coordinating floral skirt. She wore several strands of opera-length beads around her neck. Her hair was white, but it was beautifully coifed in an elegant but feminine short style. Joel knew that Elsa had inherited all her good looks from Lillian, along with Lillian’s impeccable sense of style. Her face seemed like an older version of her daughter’s. True, her face sported a few wrinkles, but her high cheekbones and remarkably warm smile were almost identical to Elsa’s. She possessed a larger frame than her daughter’s more petite frame, but she was by no means overweight.
“Mother, I would like to introduce you to Doctor Joel Russell. Joel, this is Mother.”
Lillian took Joel’s hand firmly. “Please call me Lillian. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Lillian smiled. “My daughter has talked a great deal about you. She really seems to be quite smitten with you.”
Joel laughed softly.
“Yes, I do date myself. I suppose ‘smitten’ is a term not often used these days, is it?” Lillian asked this question rhetorically. She was quite aware of her anti-quated vocabulary.
“’In lust’ seems more 1980s, Mother.” Elsa winked, then smiled at Joel.
Embarrassed, Joel began to stutter. “I..I find your daughter exceptionally beautiful and charming, myself. I suppose you could say I’m smitten with her.” He winked back at Elsa.
“Shall we be seated? Dinner is ready.” Lillian motioned Joel to be seated at the dinner table.
The family dinner table was surprisingly modest, compared to the massive chandelier suspended above. It could comfortably seat eight but wasn’t so enormous that three diners could not easily pass serving bowls to one another. Joel sat across the table from Elsa, who was clearly flirting with him. Lillian attempted to engage him in pleasant conversation.
“So Joel, exactly what are you a doctor of?” Lillian inquired.
“Psychiatry. I have just started my residency at Wash U.”
“Is that so? Well, that’s a plus. I believe some of our family ancestors could probably have used a little psychiatric assistance. What caused you to decide on that specialty?”
As Joel took a moment to fashion an intelligent response, he became aware of the fact that Elsa had absolutely no interest in the conversation at hand. Instead, she seemed intent on distracting him. As she smiled devilishly at him, she quietly kicked off her right heel beneath the table and erotically swept the calf beneath his trousered pant leg.
Immediately startled, Joel stuttered again, trying to act cool. “I suppose….I find the human mind more fascinating than the body……Plus, I fainted twice in first year gross anatomy lab.”
Lillian chuckled only once. “I’m sure you’re being modest, Doctor Russell. I know for a fact that my daughter wouldn’t be so taken with you, unless you were as gifted as you are obviously charming.” Without missing a beat, Lillian turned to Elsa, “Dear, stop playing footsie with the boy and pass the soup!”
<-> <-> <-> <->
Chapter 5- The Wedding Photo and The Piano
Joel had almost completely cleared Elsa’s desk of memories and stored them into the box, with the exception of the last framed photo of their wedding. He brushed the dust from the frame and ran his hand over the twenty-eight year old photograph. Then he carefully placed the photo in the box and opened the desk drawer to find a yellowed copy of their wedding invitation. He read the date of the ceremony—May 23, 1982. Unsuccessfully, he tried to read it aloud, but it was almost as if he regarded that date, like Elsa’s name, as if it were something so sacred, it shouldn’t be uttered matter-of-factly. He closed his eyes and vividly recalled their wedding day.
<-> <-> <-> <->
The Japanese irises of the Missouri Botanical Gardens bloomed slightly later than the traditional American variety. And, since Joel and Elsa chose to marry in late May, the flowers were—everything was—perfect that day. Since neither bride nor groom had any serious religious affiliation at this point in their lives, they chose instead a neutral, yet terrifically beautiful scene in which to recite their vows. But, to appease the few elite guests of Saint Louis society, a prominent and willing minister was asked to preside over the affair.
After the ceremony, they held a reception in and around the nearby Linnaean House, located near the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. About 250 guests were in attendance, most of them members of Saint Louis’s elite—prominent physicians, judges, professors, artists, celebrities, and even a few sports figures—all familiar family acquaintances and/or business partners. Joel, Elsa, and Elsa’s mother, along with the small party of bridesmaids and groomsmen, lined up at the front of the reception hall to greet incoming guests.
Robert Gaynor, a young Saint Louis alderman and prominent lawyer slightly older than Joel, greeted Elsa with a kiss on the cheek. “How are you darling? You are simply radiant today!”
Elsa smiled and introduced the family friend to Joel, who acknowledged Robert and shook his hand.
“Tell me, old boy……What is your secret?”
“I’m sorry?” Joel asked. He looked a bit perplexed.
“Yes. Your secret. I’ve known Elsa for years and had a crush on her. How did a regular guy like you manage to snatch up one of Saint Louis’s most eligible bachelorettes?”
Joel only responded with a nod and a smile. He didn’t need any man to remind him of how lucky he was. He knew he was the luckiest man alive.
<-> <-> <-> <->
Joel made his way into the music room. Initially, the room was considered a den, but Lillian turned the room into a conservatory when she learned that Joel was an accomplished pianist. He was classically trained, but he chose to play by ear, improvising jazz tunes and cocktail piano pieces he had heard instead of practicing Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin, as his piano instructor had insisted. As a result, he was a horrible sight reader, and, he surmised, the source of recurrent nightmares for his old German piano teacher, if she were still alive.
He recalled many occasions, when he came to a lesson after having been assigned a new piece the previous week. Often, he would open the music, seeing it for the very first time. He would plod through about twelve measures of sheer hell, all the while hearing his instructor’s sighs of disgust. Eventually, she would beg him to stop, and ask, “Did you practice at all last week?”
Ashamed, Joel would always shake his head, “No.” But, when it came time to practice, he would simply play whatever pleased him. He had a great ear, and upon hearing a song on the radio after just a short time, could pick out whatever tune he fancied to learn, eventually embellishing with chords and arpeggios. Although he couldn’t sight read well, he played so expressively and musically, many considered him an accomplished musician. Indeed, Lillian loved to hear him play.
<-> <-> <-> <->
Joel opened the cover of the Steinway concert grand piano, revealing the eighty-eight neglected black and white keys beneath. As he sat before the piano on the hard piano stool, the bench creaked. He tinkled out a small tune with two fingers, but soon began to play with both hands.