thevigilandmore

[thevigilandmore]

May 25 1920

Part one

Salvador had received the letter only that morning. The paper crinkled and worn as though it had gone through numerous hands and carrier bags before it had been delivered to his doorstep. The ink used to write in his address must have been cheap and watery, for the ink had bleed into the paper and had smudged all but the city of Angleshire and his name. It was a small miracle that the letter had found him at all. But he was nevertheless thankful it had. He had spent almost ten minutes knocking on the back door of the harbormaster's office, and another several begging and bribing with half a bottle of exotic whiskey, before he was allowed in to borrow the telephone to call Mr. Shankle’s office in Vermont. Salvador had a telephone in his office, well what passed for an office; however he had never been all that talented when it came to machines and technology. He had broken it in an attempt to extend the mouth piece cable and just never had anyone in to fix it.

  Salvador spoke to Mr. Shankle’s secretary, turning up the charm when she didn’t immediately put him through to Ernie. After a few flirtatious words, the line went quiet and a smooth masculine voice echoed from the other end.

  “Hello, this is Ernie Shankle. I do hope this is important, I am running late for a fundraising presentation.” He sounded annoyed, though more at the prospects of shaking hands and schmoozing over donors than he was about taking a phone call.

“Hello Ernie, May I call you Ernie?” Salvadore didn’t wait for a response, “I just got yer letter today. Yeah, I mean, yes! I will take them. Good Lord! I had forgotten she had kids. Last I heard she had moved back to Vermont with Dan and the twins to be closer to Ma. Hadn’t heard much else since.”

There was a pause on the other end while Sal took in a breath. “Oh, Professor Rubinov? Oh, my yes. Thank you so much for calling back. I sent that letter nearly two weeks ago, I am relieved that it found you. I attempted calling, but the University didn’t seem to have the correct number for your residence.”

Salvador winced, and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Uh, no. That, uh, that is the correct number. I was fiddlin’ with the phone and the thing just isn’t working right. Been meaning to get it fixed, but I just haven’t had the time. But I’ll head over to the station this afternoon and get someone down to the dock to work on it.” In all actuality, be would likely have his handyman Julian take a look at it. Julian had a way with machines and hardware and Salvador wasn’t of the mind to spend more money than he had to. He was already paying the boy to work the shop, why not have him take a look at the phone.

“Of course, Of course.” Mr. Shankle seemed less interested in the whys and how of the “Rubinov’s Emporium for Oddities, Obscura and Strange” and more concerned with the topic of his letter. “I am sure you are rather busy with your research. And that does bring me to my chief concern. Charlotte and Charles. While I believe that they should be with family, I can only send them if I can be sure of their care. Angleshire isn’t the most receptive of places for children, even with the university. I heard that the shipping routes had diverted to Rorick.” Sal heard a muttering and the sound of a door closing from the other end of the line. Ernie’s voice returned, far more hushed and serious than before.

  “Professor, I don’t mean to accuse, or demean your credentials, or imply…well, anything untoward. I have heard many great things about your character, and I would not be reaching out to you if I thought that you were…how to say, “involved” with more, unsavory sorts. However, I have heard many queer tales of Angleshire. I mean the odd rumor or two could be ignored as some fanciful traveler trying to spin threads, but,” and there was another pause as it seemed Mr. Shankle took a steadying breath, “but I have heard things, professor. Awful things. Experiments, wildmen, disappearances, devil worship.” The last was spoken almost reverently, as though he could scarcely say it aloud. “I do wish to entrust the children in your care, as you are the only blood relations that currently have with any means to take them in, however, my position demands I make sure all children in my care are safe and secure. I cannot allow them to venture off into the world without assurances they will be safe.” And then Mr. Shankle’s voice took on a tone that belied more than his words. “I assure you Professor, I do not believe in the supernatural, but I have seen the horror that mankind can inflict on itself.”

Salvador sighed and ran a hand though this greying hair, “Alright, Ernie. I’ll be real wit’ ya. I’m not gonna lie. Yeah, there are some strange stories here. Stranger people. It’s an old fishing port that’s been forgotten about and money is dryin’ up. The university is about the only thing keeping the place going. And me. My shop keeps the braver and adventurous people coming in to spend money. I have a, gonna be honest, a lot of junk that I collected. More than I even remember collecting. And people seem ta be attracted to the weird and spooky, especially if its from a weird and spooky town.”

  Sal cracks his jaw and eyes the harbormaster through the cracked office door. The old man even more grizzled that Sal chugging away at the whiskey he’s been bribed with, despite the early hour. “People are superstitious and jittery. They get like that when you take away their livelihoods and they don’t have a good reason to explain why. Some people start praying, some call it a curse, and some of the crazier folk start believing in sea monsters driving away the ships. Heck if I know what it is, more than likely it was some big whig thinking he could make more money if he sailed a few more miles up the coast. But the people themselves are good people. Sacred and suspicious, but good people once you get to know them. And their only suspicious of older folk. Kids are fine. Heck, the kids here are probably the safest around since they have a whole town lookin’ out for’em. They’ll make friends fer sure, if nothin’ else.”

Ernie held his breath before letting it out in a huff, “Yes, Professor, I am glad to hear the town will be sufficient for the children and that they will not be in any danger, however,” and Mr. Shankle’s voice grew hushed and accusatory, “My chief concern is whether the children will be safe with you.”

  Sal bit his lip, and waited for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t have to wait long. “You are not completely unknown to me, Professor. Thought Daniel is my friend, I was friends with Silvia through him. She spoke often of you. Very proud of her young brother. Of his research into her disease. I believe your findings had you delving into the occult. And I have read your thesis, and any research proposal I could get my hands on.”

  Sal grimaced and turned towards the wall, away from the prying eyes of the harbormaster. He may be old and drunk at Stupid O’clock in the morning, but his eyes were sharp, ears probably sharper.

  “The Dunlapps and the Rubinov’s have always been straightlaced, God-fearing people. I know that being close to their family will do the children good, however,” Sal bit back a retort until he tasted blood, “I cannot in good faith send innocent children to a man who has proposed research into things as curses, bacteria and genetics or witchcraft and voodoo.” Sal could practically hear the smug sneer dripping off Ernie’s face. He grit his teeth and inhaled sharply. “Look, Ernie, I don’t know what you’ve heard, or what twisted stories have made their way over to your neck of the woods. Morality doesn’t do a lick o’good when yer ‘Morality’ keeps you from doin’ something to help. I was desperate. Silvia had the same disease Ma had, and we all watched how she deteriorated towards the end. I wanted nothing more that to spare Silvia from that. I did everything I could think of. I did everything I believed might work. I did everything I believed wouldn’t work. I rubbed elbows with people my folks would have shunned and thought devil worshipers all for the smallest hope that I could save her.” Sal took a breath he didn’t realized he needed. “Wouldn’t you?”

He heard a sigh on the other end and it made the bile rise in his throat. He didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“I can’t say as I don’t understand your plight, Professor. Had it been my own kin I likely would have done the same. More or less. But I must think of the children’s safety first and foremost. I don’t believe the rumor Professor Rubinov, but if there is anything that might….”

“No. It’s all done. I left the university almost ten years ago.” Sal felt his head swim with half forgotten memories of hours spent in the university’s library, burning down candle after candle while he failed to translate old texts. A wave of melancholy washed over him as guilt crept up from his gut to wrap its gooey tendril around his throat. “I have a shop trying to sell off all the junk I collected in the lighthouse keeper’s shack. Man the light house from time to time. I don’t…I don’t do much research these days. Guess now there isn’t much of a point to that anymore.”

  He was reluctant to ask. But some part of him had to know. “How, uh, how did she go?”

“The Cornier said pneumonia. The lesions on her skin flared and started peeling and her lungs seemed to fill up with fluids pulled from her other organs.” Sal felt a stone sink in his stomach. “That don’t sound like pneumonia, Mr Shankle.”

  “No, and I don’t think the cornier believed so either, but that is what went on the death certificate. I am sorry, Professor Rubinov. She went peacefully in her sleep, I do know that.” Earnie said.

Sal sighs and rubs his eyes. The tendril of guilt wraps tighter around his throat. Silvia went just like their Ma. Slowly drowning on land until her body just shut down. A gruff voice clears behind him, and Sal turns to see the Harbor Master giving him the stink eye and glancing at the ticking clock. He swallows, mouth suddenly dry and nods. “Thank you. I’m uh…at the harbor master’s station borrowing the phone. So, I’ll have to let you go, but I’ll have that phone at the shop fixed by this afternoon. The number is 274-3958. Can’t guarantee I’ll be the one to answer it, but someone will. Give me a ring when you have an idea when the children will be arriving.” He had a lot of planning to do to get ready to take in two kids. And figure out where he was going to put them. There might be a room in the attic he could clear out?  

“Professor, I am sure that it wont be long. I can arrange for them to depart within the week. I can get them as far as Rorick with the trains. But…” Ernie trails off. “Its fine, I know the old tracks aren’t in use. Its only two miles northeast. I can meet them there. I think Fred has a car I’m sure he would let me borrow.” “Good, good! Alls well then. I’ll make the arrangements. When I have the details, I will try calling you again.” There was a tinny clatter echoing across the line, like someone standing from a chair.

“How are they? The kids, I mean.” Sal muttered.

  “Grieving, Professor. But they are holding up well. They have kept mostly to themselves since they arrived. The estate has been locked up by the constable until Danial arrives home, but I am sure I can arrange for them to travel home and acquire some of their belongings. I do warn you, however, that they are exceedingly brilliant, not unlike yourself and Silvia. They are also prone to practical jokes and pranks. They had switched clothes for almost an entire day before anyone realized hey had switched places.” Ernie hummed. “I do hope you are able to keep the two of them out of trouble. They are likely to go looking for it.”

Sal chuckled, “Sounds familiar. But I’m sure I can keep a handle on things. Besides, the town is full of things to keep children entertained. The Beach especially. What could go wrong?”              

[thevigilandmore]

May 12 1920

Greetings Professor Rubinov,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ernie Shankle, and I work for Saint Joseph Mayberry’s home for youth. It has taken more time than I expected to uncover your whereabouts, so I apologize for the delay in notifying you for your sister’s passing. My sincerest condolences. Silvia Dunlapp passed in January of complications due to her illness. She was attending the sick and injured recruits at Fort Hartmon. Daniel is being called back from the warfront, however it will be several months yet before he will arrive home. 

Silvia and Daniel had two children, now in my care. Your niece and nephew, Charlotte and Charles, both twelve years of age, have been staying at our orphanage for a fortnight now. Though they have been handling the change in stride, I firmly believe that they would do best to be with family during this time. 

As the Rubinov’s have passed, and the Dunlapp’s are not capable of taking in two more children, I am reaching out to you. I understand that, though you are a bachelor, that you are well educated and have taught at the Ranport University in years passed. I ask, if you would, that you take in the children until Daniel arrives home. I wrote to his commanding officer myself; I was assured that it would only be a few months. October at the latest. 

I was a friends of Daniel’s, and of Silvia. Your sister spoke fondly of you. And often. I understand that I am asking for more that you may be prepared to give, especially considering your own grief. Silvia mentioned that you had stopped teaching some years ago, and that you had opened a curio shop of sorts on the docks. Not the ideal home for two young children, I know, however it would be a much better location than a boarding house. 

Do not fret over travel expenses and arrangements. Everything will be taken care of by a portion of the Dunlapp’s estate and my own contributions. You will owe nothing. Please send your response via telegram or telephone. My office number is 158-32376, or the operator an pass you though to our central office. I tried calling you from the number the university gave me, however, it seems Angleshire has not converted to direct dial. The operator was confused when I mentioned your name. 

I eagerly await your response.

Yours, Ernie Shankle