The Brain and The Beauty

Certainly nothing about him fit her image of a super-genius, though even as that thought registered, she realized how narrow-minded it was. How many people had unthinkingly said the same thing about Robbie, as if brain function was somehow related to hair color and weak vision?

She supposed it was just some misguided attempt to explain her unusual physical reaction to him. Her palms were sweating and her heart was beating a little faster, and her reaction had nothing to do with the visual daggers Dr. Waters was throwing at her. Although she wouldn’t have admitted it, her response to Dr. Waters the other day was the real reason she’d run away rather than confronting him about his identity. She was sure he’d be amused by her reaction if he knew, but she had no intention of letting him in on the secret. She couldn’t afford the contempt that was sure to follow her foolishness. She had to convince this man to help her.

“Dr. Waters, I have to talk to you about my son, Robbie. As I wrote to you in my letters, he’s a certified child genius. His IQ is off the charts. When he started preschool, his teachers thought he had a learning disability until they figured out that he was so far advanced. They gave him a slew of tests and each one came back with more startling results than the last.”

“Mrs. Melrose…”

Abby didn’t give him a chance to continue with the brush-off she knew was coming. “Toward the end of the school year, I got called in to a meeting with the principal of the elementary school Robbie was supposed to attend next year. I figured they might want to have him skip a few grades since he’s pretty much mastered the alphabet and counting to ten.” She could tell the sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. “Instead he told me that Robbie might be better off if he looked elsewhere for his education.”

She knew she was babbling, but she couldn’t stop herself now that the words had begun to flow. “The school said that according to his scores, he might be able to skip elementary or even high school all together if he passed a few tests. Can you imagine him in college? He’s not even allowed to go to the store by himself.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of sympathy through his gruff exterior.

“They suggested home schooling as an alternative.” She laughed harshly at the thought of trying to teach Robbie herself, then paused for breath and to control the tears that threatened. “Although they used all these fancy words to explain their decision, the bottom line is that they don’t have any programs challenging enough for him. I haven’t told Robbie. He’d be crushed if he knew. He’s been looking forward to going to a real school since he could walk.”

She barely caught the wince he tried to hide. “There’s nothing I can do for him here, either.”

“That’s not true. Most of the higher level schools I’ve contacted have policies against taking students as young as Robbie and the lower level ones are worried that he’d be smarter than most of their teachers, not to mention the students. Then I read an article about your school and I knew you’d faced this kind of situation before.”

“What did it say?” he snapped, his eyes blazing.

“It was a story about Still Waters and the kind of kids who went there. I think it was written right after you’d opened.” He seemed to relax and she wondered at the cause, but didn’t pause to consider the reason. She had to make him understand. “Robbie would have fit right in. He is different from other children. He has different needs, a different future ahead of him.”

His face hardened before her eyes and she’d been so sure it had already been formed out of granite. “How terrible for you to have to deal with such a burden.”

She gasped, horrified that he’d gotten the wrong idea. “It’s not a burden.” Or if, secretly, it was occasionally almost too much to handle, it was a burden she carried with pride. “I’ll do whatever I can to help Robbie. He’s such an amazing child. He’s brilliant, yes, but he’s also got this wonderful sense of adventure and mischief. He’s a sensitive kid, worried about the future of everyone on the entire planet, and he asks the most thoughtful questions. Unfortunately I don’t have the answers for him.”

“What makes you think I do?”

“There are a lot of similarities between you and Robbie. You were both very young when your…gift was discovered.” Although she was certain both of them would sometimes consider it a curse. “You both have extremely high IQs.” She paused, searching for the right words. “You know what it’s like to be different from everybody else.”

At her words, he froze and she wondered what she’d said to put that look on his face. Then he smiled with malicious satisfaction as if she’d stepped into a trap. “Let me put this in a way you can understand,” he said, speaking slowly. “Go back to Pittsburgh. I can’t help you.”

Abby bristled at the familiar condescending tone, but strangely it was just the bolster she needed. Just because he was smarter than she was, didn’t mean he should underestimate her.

She’d been acting under the assumption that he hadn’t known about Robbie, but if he recalled where they came from, he must have read the letters she’d sent him. He undoubtedly knew everything. He’d probably known from the beginning. And she’d been wasting her time giving him background information he’d been aware of all along.

“I’m not going back until I figure out what to do with Robbie in the fall,” she told him. “We’re staying here in Wharton for the summer, so you might as well get used to it.”

The brush-off he’d appeared ready to give her halted as he stared at her. She could practically see his mind processing this new information. “You came five hundred miles without a backup plan if I didn’t agree to help you?”

“Five hundred and sixty-three miles,” she corrected, thinking of Robbie’s calculations.

His brows furled as if trying to figure out a particularly perplexing problem.

“We’re staying at the Sunshine Lodge.”

Those same brows lifted with surprise. “Edith Crawley’s place? And you still came back here? You must either be very determined or very stupid.”

The well-aimed jab should have been expected but it still hurt. She tried not to let it get to her. What he thought of her was unimportant.

It was true that when she’d mentioned contacting him, Mrs. Crawley had entertained her with a number of horror stories accusing him of everything from brainwashing babies to running a cult. Abby preferred to make her own decisions, but so far, everything her new landlord said seemed a possibility.

“We are not going back. Robbie’s going to have to make a change anyway, in the fall,” she explained. Even if she hadn’t figured out exactly where they’d be going, one thing was for certain—she wasn’t going to abandon her son. Wherever they went, they’d be together. “I’ve got money saved, enough to hold us for a while.”

He appeared on the verge of arguing with her before he caught himself. “I don’t care what you do. Just as long as you don’t do it here. Now go away.”

“I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

“I don’t care what you have to say,” he growled.

For Robbie’s sake, she couldn’t accept that answer. “But you used to be a teacher. Your school—”

“The school’s closed. I don’t do that anymore.”

If Abby hadn’t been standing close enough to keep him from closing the door on her, she’d have missed the flash of pain in his eyes. She’d never found out why he had closed his school, she realized. After meeting him, she figured he’d simply scared his students away with all his growls and grumblings, but now she wondered if there wasn’t some deeper reason.

From inside the house, a kitchen timer went off. Dr. Waters began to tug his gloves back on and turned to go. Discussion over.

“Wait! You don’t understand…” Without thinking, she grabbed his arm.

Slowly, and with great curiosity, he looked down at her hand, considering it as if deciding whether or not to chew it off. He didn’t pull away, however.

“On the contrary, Mrs. Melrose. I believe it is you who does not completely comprehend the situation.”

She tipped her chin up, refusing to be intimidated. “You haven’t even listened to all the facts before making your decision!” she challenged. “What kind of genius are you?”

To her surprise, he burst out laughing. At first she thought he was laughing at her, but then she realized there was no humor in the sound. “That’s the first time my intellect has been questioned since I was old enough to walk.”

She swallowed and pulled her gaze away from his powerful smile. It was nearly as bright as his mind. “Well, maybe it’s about time.”

He didn’t respond right away, deliberating with great care. For once, Abby remained quiet. She might not have the intelligence to match this man but she’d always been good at reading people. Her best shot now was to let him decide on his own. Then if he made the wrong decision, she’d figure out some other way to push him. It would be no more difficult than budging your average mountain.

“If I listen to what you have to say,” he asked finally, “will you leave me alone?”

“Yes,” she lied.

He stepped back, throwing his face into the shadows and making himself appear even more menacing. “Then by all means, please come in.”

Abby took a deep breath and told herself it was relief humming through her bloodstream. She couldn’t run now, though every ounce of common sense she possessed told her to do just that. She reminded herself that he was just a man. But somehow that made her feel even worse. She pictured her son, trying to understand why the kids his age made fun of him, quietly facing the adjustments that had come after a series of tests, looking to her—to her!—to figure out what happened next.

Abby lifted her chin and stepped through the doorway into the world of a genius. Even with every bit of her own intellect on alert, she didn’t have a clue about what to do next.

Jeremy analyzed his decision to allow her even this brief opening into his life. Contemplating it from every facet, he concluded he was simply out of his mind.

Actually that wasn’t far from the truth. Whenever he looked at the tenacious Mrs. Melrose, he seemed to lose his renowned ability to reason.

He glanced over his shoulder to see if she was still following or if she’d run screaming from the house. No such luck. She was peering with curiosity into each of the rooms they passed. What did she expect to see? he wondered. Caged animals prepared for scientific experiments? Food in pouches, served on petri dishes?

“Do you live here all alone?” she asked.

“Yes. There’s no one around for miles.” He leered menacingly but she gave no indication that it had the desired effect.

“It’s a big house for one person. Did you design it purposely to scare people away?” she asked bluntly.

Jeremy was caught so unprepared by her candor that he answered with equal honesty. “That’s just a side benefit. The house was built by an old Hollywood horror film star. It suited my purpose.”

“You mean for your school, Still Waters?”

“The school is not up for discussion.” His angry voice echoed through the empty rooms.

Abby’s eyes widened and he saw a glimmer of fear that she attempted to hide. Still, she continued to follow him. Jeremy didn’t know if it was stubbornness or foolishness that made her do so. Although he couldn’t be sure of her reasons, at least he had managed to figure out his own. He concluded that allowing her into his home, his sanctuary, was a form of self-torture. Having her around made him recall how different he still was.

He could see every emotion that passed through her mind and knew that she saw him as some kind of freak. Her biggest fear was that her son would end up like him, alone and bitter, unable to relate to normal people. Like the rest of the outside world, she looked at him and wondered what kind of weird and twisted thoughts went on in his head.

He didn’t think she’d want to know.

Because despite what she might think, he was a man, capable of reacting to her extraordinary beauty. He’d noticed the shapely figure beneath the simple peach sundress and the way the color of the material made her skin appear even more flawless. He’d seen the beseeching look in those amazing eyes and imagined her looking at him like that for other, much more personal reasons. Yet, he’d also noticed that she hadn’t capitalized on her looks as he might have expected. Though she wanted something from him, she hadn’t done anything to play on her appearance for the purposes of getting what she wanted.

His inquisitive mind still had a few other questions. Such as why she was persisting in this hopeless undertaking? Comprehending the motives of his students’ parents had always been difficult for him. They wanted him to make their kids normal, or worse, to make them even more extraordinary. Abby seemed to want what was best for her son. He was almost certain of that. But if she had rightly concluded that Jeremy was a deviant specimen, unable to live among those society had deemed normal, why would she want to subject her son to his obvious flaws?

“Where’s the boy?” Jeremy asked without turning around. There was no use practicing his social graces. She wouldn’t be around long enough for it to matter.

“Robbie went to camp today. Since we’ll be sticking around, I thought I’d enroll him in the summer program down by the lake.”

He stopped suddenly, almost causing her to plow into him. “That’s not a program for gifted children.”

“I know, but they have swimming and boating. It will be good for him to spend some time outdoors.”

He didn’t comment, preferring to process the information in silence.

Naturally she didn’t allow the omission. “Why? Is there something wrong with the camp? It had a good rating in the travel book of this area.”

He was sure it did. They catered to the wealthy who vacationed in the area and their clients were afforded the best in everything. Several years ago, as part of an enrichment program they’d offered, Jeremy and some of his students had been asked to perform complex mathematic calculations for the group. Perform. It was a good enough word for what they’d been asked to do.

“I spoke to the owner myself. A man named Drew Danforth. He seems very nice. He gave me a huge discount because they happened to have an opening at the last minute.”

When not running his camp in the summer, Danforth, the town’s golden boy, was a three-sport coach at the local high school and the area’s most eligible bachelor. And he’d taken one look at Abby Melrose and discovered a last-minute opening at one of the most exclusive day camps in the area? What a coincidence!

Abby was beginning to look panicked at the thought of leaving her son someplace that wasn’t safe.

“There’s nothing wrong with the camp,” Jeremy acknowledged and she sighed with relief. He didn’t bother to explain that there would be a much greater danger from himself if he were to help her. He wasn’t going to get involved. No matter how persuasive she tried to be.

They reached the kitchen, where the project he’d been working on before he was interrupted covered the wide expanse of counter. He’d opened the windows, but an odd, pungent odor still hung in the air. At least there was ample room; the kitchen had been designed to allow lavish parties. Jeremy could recall when the school had been open and everyone’s responsibilities had included pitching in to prepare the meals. Occasionally the behavior of some of the smartest young people in the world could have been mistaken for frat house antics.

Ruthlessly he banished the image from his mind.

“Sit over there,” he commanded, pointing to an empty chair halfway across the room. “This substance is caustic if it touches the skin or is inhaled.”

Her eyes widened with alarm and curiosity as she did as he asked. After protecting his own eyes with the oversize goggles and replacing the rubber gloves, he picked up a thermometer hooked on the side of an enamel pot on the stove and checked the temperature of the steaming liquid inside.

Although he didn’t look at her, he knew she watched his every move.

As he took a long, plastic spoon and began to stir the mixture, it occurred to him that he should have used a metal spoon so that he could watch her eyes when it disintegrated. Next, he approached a second container on the counter, this one an ordinary pitcher that might have been used to serve lemonade. The poisonous contents of the scalding liquid were also being monitored. In order for a successful mix of the solutions, the timing had to be exact.

“Where’s Robbie’s father?” Even as he asked the question, Jeremy realized he’d asked it for himself. She hadn’t mentioned a husband in her letters and he didn’t think the omission was accidental, but whether or not Abby had a man in the picture was irrelevant.

Again the chin tipped up. “We’re divorced. He left us when Robbie was little. He couldn’t handle…”

Revealing more than she’d intended to, she stopped herself, but not before Jeremy filled in the blanks. The boy’s father hadn’t been able to deal with the freakish nature of his own son. What a fool.

“Doesn’t he have anything to say about Robbie’s future?” he asked. He would have preferred trying to reason with someone who didn’t stare at him with those remarkable eyes.

“He had opinions about everything, as a matter of fact,” she said, “and as luck would have it, they were always right. I’m sure he’d be the first to agree with you that I’m making a mistake, but he hasn’t been involved with Robbie since the day he left. I’m all Robbie has. There is nobody else.”

As far as he could see, the boy could do worse than having her as a supporter. He was certain that after he disabused her of the notion of gaining his cooperation, she’d soon find a better candidate to help her. Someone who wouldn’t end up hurting her son instead of helping him.

“You see, Dr. Waters, that’s why I need you.”

Jeremy dropped the spoon into the mixture where it hissed and sizzled. “Stop calling me Dr. Waters,” he snapped. “You make me sound like I’m about to operate on you without anesthesia.” Even as he said the words, he wondered why he had removed that barrier. He should be building up walls, not tearing them down.

“The thought occurred to me,” she responded dryly.

Jeremy’s lips twitched, and he turned his back on her. “All right. You’re here. Now tell me what you want so you can leave.”

“Well, at least you’re keeping an open mind,” she mumbled. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “You’ve met Robbie. He’s an exceptional child.”

He brought the pitcher to the stove and poured the contents into the enamel pot. The mixture gurgled satisfactorily. “So what’s the problem, Mrs. Melrose?”

“Abby. You can call me Abby if I’m going to call you…Jeremy?”

Though she attempted a smile, his name sounded awkward on her lips, as if he shouldn’t have such a normal name. He shrugged. It wasn’t going to matter what they called each other.

“If Robbie is such a great kid, what’s wrong?” he prompted, knowing the answer.

This time, rather than describing her son according to his test scores, she began to give accounts of Robbie’s childhood. She described the problems he had with other kids, making friends, fitting in. Jeremy rubbed absently at the scar on his chin, the result of a very juvenile disagreement about the gravity of the moon. He knew how the little guy felt. It wasn’t easy being different.

“Because he’s so smart,” she explained, “he tends to want to be around adults, but he doesn’t fit in with them, either.”

Jeremy could have told her that age didn’t help the misfit phenomenon, but he didn’t think it was what she wanted to hear.

As she continued to describe the problems Robbie had faced in his young life, Jeremy’s anger grew. Yes, there were issues that other children didn’t face but there could be joys, too, in seeing things other people missed, in finding the solutions to complex problems. Like most people, all she saw were the differences.

There was no doubt that her son was remarkable. From the information she’d sent him, he knew Robbie had a mind that came along once in a lifetime. There was a time when Jeremy might have wondered what it would be like to help him explore his potential, to aid in his discovery of a universe most people never got to experience. That time had passed.

He looked up to find her watching him intently. He was used to being stared at but there was something about the way she examined him as if she could see into his mind. Then the look vanished and she edged closer to watch him as he measured a combination of herbs and oils and added it to the mixture.

“I’m sure you understand what I’m talking about,” she continued, in a different, almost conversational voice. “What was your childhood like? Was it difficult to be different from everybody else?”

The personal question startled him so much he sloshed the liquid he was stirring. It spattered with a sizzle onto the newspaper-covered counter. Her eyes widened and she stepped back.

Jeremy grinned, pleased with her reaction. “I told you to stay away.”

“I don’t take orders very well.”

“No kidding?” He didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out.

It was unusual for anyone to have the nerve—or the interest—to ask him such personal questions. Usually people saw what they wanted to see. “I don’t think my childhood is any of your business.”

“It is if you’re thinking about helping me with Robbie.”

“I’m not thinking about helping you with Robbie,” he pointed out.

She ignored his point, and continued with her own. “I read an article about when you were eight years old. You had just won a ‘War of the Brains’ competition against people twice your age.”

He remembered the day well. The reporters, the doubting professors, all wanting a look at the freak of nature.

She shook her head. “I couldn’t even understand the question they asked you.”

“Physics isn’t an easy subject.”

“Especially for an eight-year-old.”

He thought he caught a glimpse of sympathy in her eyes.

“I would think it would be difficult to be put on display like that at such a young age.”

“It was fine.” If you considered it fine to be a lab rat.

“I haven’t subjected Robbie to any of that kind of publicity. I’ve tried to keep him out of the public eye as much as possible.”

He could commend her for that, at least. Allowing privacy to be one’s self had been one of the principles his school had been founded on. “So you understand the need for solitude?” As long, he thought, as it didn’t conflict with her own desires.

“Of course,” she agreed. “Especially since others might get the wrong idea about someone with your abilities.”

“The wrong idea?”

“They might find it strange, even weird, I suppose.”

“Is that right?” he managed to say, the rein on his temper straining. “And what about you, Abby? What do you think about me?”

She’d been intently watching his proceedings, but now she looked away, appearing faintly embarrassed. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Her actions and words declared otherwise. She looked at him and saw the freak, the mutant. Her next comment confirmed it.

“I would think that someone who’s lived through the kind of experiences you have would want to give something back instead of just wasting that knowledge.”

Control snapped like the leash on a monster. He dropped the spoon which sank beneath the mixture and ripped the goggles from his eyes to stare at her. “What do you know about it? You couldn’t understand what it’s like!”

She didn’t jump back. Or run screaming from his home. Instead she looked straight at him for the first time since they’d entered the house. He saw satisfaction, not revulsion, in those startling eyes.

“That’s exactly my point,” she said. “How could I? My childhood was filled with dolls and dress-up, not mathematic calculations. It’s impossible for me to understand what it’s like for my son—or for you. That’s why I need your help.”