Chapter 4- Attractiveness
T he farmhouse reminded Helen of the home Bad Apple had purchased in Wisconsin, only Lemon’s house was in much better condition. There were four bedrooms upstairs where the girls slept and two bedrooms downstairs, one being the master, which held an en suite occupied by Lemon, and the other, a converted closet where Helen would be staying. It reminded Helen of a nun's cell with a simple twin bed, a nightstand with lamp, a chest of five drawers, and a narrow chifforobe. It worked fine for all intents and purposes since she wouldn't be staying permanently.
The man, Jared, remained scarce for the remainder of the day, accepting a sandwich and a bottle of water for lunch as he cleared away the debris in the yard. After dinner, he invited everyone to join him behind the barn where he'd dug a small grave as a resting place for Larry and Frank, giving Lemon an opportunity to say farewell. The girls stayed close at her side, and when it was over, Jared began assessing the damage to his truck. He had nothing more to say. Helen checked outside the window for him after the sun began to go down, but he wasn't there. A light was on in the barn as he called it a night.
“Interesting,” she said, before preparing herself for bed.
*****
T HE MORNING BEGAN SLOWLY and by dinnertime, interesting wasn't the word anyone would use to describe the shift in the day's energy. Jared arrived for coffee when Helen stood in the back door calling for him like a mother would for her kids playing outside. Breakfast burritos were on the menu for a peaceful Saturday morning, but the workload would not wait for anyone. The girls began the day by doing chores and leaving at noon for the movies with friends.
Helen was provided a brief tour of the lab. Uncertain what Lemon did as a Technician; she asked for clarification.
“I am a chemist,” Lemon said. “It is my profession as well as being a full-time tenured professor and department chair of chemistry and biochemistry at the university teaching the same.”
“Okay, and how does that factor in being a Technician?” Helen asked.
“I make all forms of concoctions including bullets made of ice, or in recent cases, bullets made of materials which melt when contact is made with liquids at 98.6 degrees,” Lemon said, “or compounds which can break down a human body, bones, teeth, and more in less than 24 hours. I also perfected a tea when I worked with another chemical technician which allows a body to ease into sleep and never wake up.”
“So, you're a chemical assassin,” Helen said.
“Ouch,” Lemon replied, turning to look at her, “that almost hurt my feelings. I do other things as well, like truth serums, wound sealers, and stuff.”
“Have you ever made a love potion?”
“I have, with horrific results,” Lemon said, laughing. “The damn man was a like a puppy with a new stuffed pillow. I had to create an antidote so my vagina could get a break.”
Helen's mind went to the Mustang. She wouldn't mind being his new stuffed pillow on any day of the week. Smiling, she inquired, “What happened to the relationship, if I may ask?”
“You may not,” Lemon stated, “but the love potion was to put some pizzazz into the relationship. It didn't change the dullard that he was or the control freak he eased his way into being or his jealous nature regarding my research.”
“Fair enough,” Helen said, walking about the small lab. “What will you teach me?”
“While you are here, I shall teach you to use natural herbs and what should be growing in your garden to make the basic toxins, antidotes, and materials to mix in a tight situation to create a distraction or save a life,” Lemon told her.
Helen grinned from ear to ear, “Ooh, cool!”
“Yeah, science is cool,” Lemon replied, taking a moment. “May I ask, how you know the Archangel?”
“How does anyone know that man? He shows up, talks to you about anger, and then a gun is in your hand and you're squeezing off rounds,” Helen said.
“Or poisoning a son-of-a-whore that kidnaps young girls to victimize,” Lemon replied.
They stood side by side for a moment, both wanting to share, but the connection between them was yet to be established. Helen had three months with the lady and in time, they would find a groove, or at least an understanding. Lemon led Helen out the back door of the lab where a greenhouse stood nestled in the direct path of the sun. She opened the door to allowing them both inside.
“On the left side of the greenhouse is every plant known that can kill a human or a pet,” she said. “Yes, there are times when we have to put down Fido. The right side is plants with medicinal values. Here is the watering and feeding schedule for each.”
“Feeding schedule?”
“Yes, plants need nutrition as well,” she told her. “This will be your responsibility while you're here.”
“And if I kill all the plants in your greenhouse by over or under watering?”
“Then your pathto being a Technician ends with me,” Lemon said. “In the meantime, get a notebook. I want you to create a binder listing every plant in this greenhouse, the benefits, the drawbacks, and values. If you can sketch, make a drawing. If you can't doodle, take a pic, go get yourself an inkless printer. The binder needs to be done by the end of the month.”
“Will there be an exam, Professor?”
“Yes, I am going to ask you to make compounds, cold remedies, and natural teas for the flu season and runny noses,” Lemon replied.
“May I ask for you to teach me how to make a love potion as well?”
“If you want, but use the skills you learn for good,” Lemon said as if it were a precursor for what came next.
****
A TAP CAME AT THE BACK door from Jared simultaneously, and the doorbell rang at the front entrance. Helen let Jared in the back door, watching him as he came to the table and took a seat facing the front door. He gave her a side eye and she instinctively went to grab a paring knife from the butcher block. She too took a view of the front door Lemon went to open.
From the device on the wall, Lemon could see the two people at the door. “May I help you?”
“Delivery from Las Tierras ,” the deep male voice said.
“I'm sorry; I don't know what that is,” Lemon replied.
“You ordered a supply of 80 vials,” the male voice said. “I am delivering 8, two of each specimen and to collect payment for the supply in hand.”
Lemon didn't hesitate to open the door wide, providing entry to the two visitors. Helen stood silent as the young man entered after the young woman, who had nearly blocked his body from view. In her opinion, they looked like teens who ran a tourist robbing gang in South Central America, but were well dressed and properly fed. The young man stood at nearly six feet, tan skin, dark hair, combed off his face, with dark eyes. The girl’s demeanor was chilling, and Helen wasn’t scared easily.
The young man's eyes scanned the room, moving first to Jared. “Senor, so there are no misunderstandings between us, please place your hands on the table and have them remain in clear view at all times.”
Jared did as asked. However, the young man’s eyes made contact with Helen’s. He held the gaze until she flinched, and he gave a slight smile at the corner of his lip. “The knife, Senorita...it should return to the block in the next five seconds.”
Helen also did as she was told. His eyes were back to the woman who had opened the door. Lemon's hands were on her hips as she was ready to scold them for not bringing what she ordered.
“Pardon me, but you only brought 8; I ordered 80,” Lemon said.
The young man didn't speak. His eyes went to Jared, then Helen, and back to Lemon. He paused, cocked his head, then maintained eye contact with Jared, who, unlike Helen, didn't flinch. The young man gave a nod of his head.
“Correct,” the young man said. “We will not provide that quantity of toxins to anyone without understanding the intent and usage of the material.”
Lemon appeared offended at his words, “I'm paying for it; why does it concern you how I use it?”
“I would no more wish to sell Sarin gas to a disgruntled employee than I would a maniac desiring to harm a group of people whom he felt wronged him,” the young man said. “ Las Tierras would not want to place such material in the wrong hands; therefore, until I understand your intentions for the product, I shall only provide you with samples.”
Jared spoke, “ Las Tierras , as in the Delgados?”
“Correct,” the young man said.
“Are you a Delgado?”
“ Si , I am Micah,” he replied, looking at Lemon. “Senora, or Senorita, please clarify your intended usage of the materials.”
Lemon, still out of sorts, replied, “It is Doctor, or rather a doctor of letters in chemistry. Hold on, young man, are you implying, that if my use of the materials is for nefarious reasons, you will not sell the venoms to me? Or, so, there are no misunderstandings between us, are you standing before me indicating my life is in harm’s way?”
“Accidents with such toxins are common,” Micah said. “A simple break in the skin and the introduction of the toxin can end a life. This shall be my last request in asking what the materials will be used for, Doctor.”
The young woman in front of Micah Delgado shifted her feet. Helen and Jared both recognized the stance, she having learned it from Mr. Slow, and Jared as a soldier. Helen spoke up, “Please, Lemon, tell him how you plan to use the venom in your research against methamphetamine addiction.”
Micah's eyebrows arched. “You will use venom to aid in addiction care; please explain this process of thought.”
Lemon, the consummate high IQ nerd, didn't for one moment think the young man could understand the complexities of her research. She sighed in frustration at the imposition before providing what she felt was a layman’s understanding of what she was attempting to accomplish. She began with, “I have been using the venom of a cobra and a Gaboon viper to oxidize the barium and bromine in the compounds. Several years ago, a formula using rattlesnake venom was created to aid a patient with severe rheumatoid arthritis, but he'd developed an addiction to opiates. The treatment reduced his desire for the opiates. I am working to create an aerosol similar to Narcan for meth users.”
Micah listened to what she said then asked, “What stabilizers are you using to counteract the coagulation of the hemoglobin when it is introduced into the subject? Are you employing a synthetic congener of oxymorphone as an alkali base between the cardiotoxins?”
Everyone was now looking at the young man, Lemon began to smile. She had a new appreciation for the scientific mind which stood in front of her. He may have been young in years, but the response came from a seasoned researcher.
Lemon happily responded, “I am hoping, with the venoms I have used for the past five years to serve as a control group, that I can use the new venoms to test the strength of the theory as applicable to toxins in the same family?”
“Five years of data collection on the hemotoxins and neurotoxins; why the change?” Micah asked.
“The death of the specimens,” she said, looking over at Jared.
Before another word could be spoken, the oven dinged. Micah and the woman moved as one, shifting their bodies to face the sound, her stance more defensive, his more aware. This made Helen smile.
“Relax, it's only cake,” she said, “I need to take it out of the oven.”
She held her hands up as she moved toward the stove to remove the dessert that she promised the girls she'd make. Over her shoulder, she noticed the young woman watching her closely. Micah was as well.
“Is that the cake of the pounds ?” He asked.
“If you’re asking if this is a pound cake, then yes, it is.” Helen replied, “This one is a citrus and sour cream. We plan to make ice cream to go with it. Are you planning to stay awhile? If so, when it cools, I shall happily slice you a piece.”
“Thoughtful,” Micah replied, suddenly alerted to a new sound. Moments earlier, he’d heard the arrival of the vehicle. From his vantage point of the window, he could see the arrival of two heads, but it was not clear who was coming to the home. Straining his ears for the sound of the voices as they approached, he learned they were potentially teenage girls. His attention turned to the sound of young voices, giggling and chattering away.
Ayanna and Bria had returned from the movies. Had she not been looking at Micah and the young lady, Myrtle would not have believed her eyes. In a flash, his hand went to his hair, shifting the style from a well put together man of business to a teen who didn't make an effort to look put together at all. The lightweight jacket he wore was off and tied around his waist and his posture of being a man of means eased into a teenager bored with the world.
The young woman, whose dark hair was pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, loosened the binding, allowing the mass of hair to hang freely now about her shoulders. The stare of move and I'll fuck you up, changed to a girl ready to meet her new besties as Ayanna and Bria entered the kitchen. They stopped short, seeing the two teens with Lemon.
“Hey,” Bria said. “I didn't know we were having company?”
The death stares the young man had provided earlier were replaced with a friendly, ooh look, cute girls gaze. The deep, heavy voice with the South American accent was replaced when he said, “I am Micah, and this is my friend Alita.” The newly provided Texas accent was delivered with perfection as he looked at Helen's approving face and provided a wink.
“Okay then,” Helen said, smiling.
Ayanna said, “A storm is brewing and will hit tonight about 7 o’clock and it’s going to be nasty. Are you guys planning to stay the night or at least for dinner?”
Alita spoke for the first time, “Hopefully! Your Auntie took out that there pound cake and she did mention making ice cream. I'm all for that! A home cooked meal with potential new friends sounds like great evening!”
Micah asked, “The cake has my vote, but what is for dinner?”
He was a chameleon and intentionally changed characters in front of the teen girls. An evening with the two-delivery people would prove interesting since Micah had made an effort to fit in with teens, which meant he was more than likely around the same age.
Ayanna wanted to know, “Are you guys here interviewing to attend the University? Doc over there heads up the chemistry department and we sometimes get visiting scholars who come to the house. Are you guys visiting scholars?”
“No, we are doing some campus visits next week though,” Alita said, still seated in the Texas accent. “Miami University is sort of on the list, but the town, I dunno, seems a little too Americana if you know what I mean.”
“Girl, try living here,” Bria said as they laughed a little. “Are you guys staying the night?”
“If your mom says it's okay,” Alita said. “Sometimes, with just the two of us on the road, people want to try stuff, and it’s frightening. This seems likes a nice home that’s full of love.”
Neither girl corrected Alita on calling Lemon their mother, and neither did Lemon, who offered to allow them to spend the night, especially with a storm coming.
Keeping with the theme of kids being kids,Helen asked, “Any requests for dinner other than pizza?”
They all shook their heads no, but Micah made eye contact with Helen. He wanted something. She was curious what he'd ask her for, which provided an opening.
“Micah, will you come and take a look at this cake,” she said as Alita moved to the side, allowing him to pass. The girl didn't let him get far as she shifted her position between her charge and the young girls who were eyeballing him like a bag of BBQ Doritos.
In the kitchen, he stood next to her, his dark eyes softening to those of a kid wanting another peanut butter cookie before dinner. He lowered his head to smell the cake as Alita engaged the girls.
Helen whispered, “I take it you have a special request for dinner? If we have it, I can make it. If not, I will need to run to the market really fast before the storm begins to get what you want.”
His eyes were nearly sparkling when he spoke. “Do you know how to make the potatoes and the gravy with the meaty bones of the neck of the pig? It is most satisfying with the collage greens and corny bread? it would be amazing,” he said, bending over the cake.
“You want me to make you neck bones, collard greens, and cornbread?” she asked, seeming confused.
“ Si, por favor , I would greatly appreciate this meal,” he said, “but the meat in the collage greens, the culo of the Thanksgiving bird, and not the knuckle of the pig, if you will.”
“You want me to make collard greens with turkey tails instead of ham hocks?”
To her surprise, his eyes were dancing when he replied, “Exacto!”
He waved Alita over, and she opened her jacket to remove her wallet. On the counter she laid 10 one-hundred-dollar bills. Alita pushed the money towards Helen, who pushed the funds to Lemon, who’d also come into the kitchen.
“Time, supplies, room, and board,” Micah said, looking at Lemon. “Doc, may I see this lab of yours?”