Chapter 42
A Mermaid’s Message
Claude continued to tell Haley the story of J. Alfred’s life.
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Angela started working for the IMICRON Corporation when Rebecca was two years old. Her introduction of stylish sunglasses in bright colors with sleek contours produced skyrocketing profits for the company. J. Alfred reinvested the earnings into development of soft contact lenses which led to even greater profits. The couple worked together like zealots the first few years of their marriage and rarely left New Haven except for business.
George Wald won a share of the Nobel Prize in 1967 for his study of pigments in the human retina. He was a good friend of J. Alfred who had been conducting comparable research in his commercial laboratories. J. Alfred and Angela celebrated the award as if they had won it themselves. They traveled to Florida before Christmas and stayed until March, spending most of the time at the little cottage in Bayport.
J. Alfred diversified the family’s financial holdings to include pharmaceuticals, medical devices, gold, and even farmland. By 1967, he was one of twelve billionaires listed in Forbes. As Rebecca grew, Angela and J. Alfred decided to spend an entire month each winter with her at their cabin in Bayport.
Angela’s cancer had been in complete remission for over ten years, but she had a relapse in early 1973. J. Alfred hired the best specialists and moved her to Claude and Noreen’s house to breathe the air from the Tree of Life.
The cancer spread and she died later that year. J. Alfred acquired a special permit which gave him authorization to bury her behind the cottage in Bayport.
Claude had warned the effects of the Tree of Life might accelerate the cancer instead of destroying it. J. Alfred was overwrought with guilt. Rebecca was the only thing saving him from hopeless despair. She needed her father, and that gave him a reason to persevere. They returned to New Haven after the funeral, but the cloud of sadness lingered.
J. Alfred delayed the annual Florida trip in an effort to avoid painful memories, but on a cold Connecticut day in January, he and Rebecca packed the car and headed south. It was sunny and warm when they arrived at the cottage in Bayport. They sat on the porch for hours, recalling happy memories of Angela.
“Daddy, I want to go see the mermaids,” Rebecca pleaded.
Some of Rebecca’s sweetest memories were when Angela performed at Weeki Wachee Springs once each year with other former mermaids. J. Alfred and Rebecca were always there to watch and support her, but now the memories were painful for J. Alfred. He didn’t want to go back, but couldn’t say no to Rebecca.
He took Rebecca to the last show of the day and sat on the back row even though the building was almost empty. Rebecca ran to the front of the theater and pressed her hand against the glass. (In her performances, Angela had always pressed her hand to the other side of the glass in a sign of love and connection to Rebecca.)
J. Alfred was relieved when the show ended. He was still wiping tears from his eyes when they walked to the car.
“Daddy? Do you remember when Mom promised me one day we would build a house like my dollhouse?” Rebecca asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
Rebecca smiled. “Mom said it’s time.”
“Time for what sweetheart?”
“It’s time to build my dollhouse. Mom said you need a project. She said you are happy when you have a project to work on.”
“When did Mom tell you this?”
“During the show. She was swimming with the other mermaids.”
J. Alfred was not sure how to react. Was Rebecca’s imagination healthy? Should he explain death to his daughter?
“I will think about it sweetheart,” he said.
Rebecca reached out for J. Alfred’s hand. “Mom told me to say hello to Jalfred. She said you would understand.”
The following day the toilet backed up, the kitchen light switch stopped working, and a heavy leak developed during a rain storm.
“Mom’s trying to tell you something Dad,” Rebecca said.
J. Alfred shook his head at the irony of a billionaire placing a pot on the floor to catch the rain from a leaky roof. “I hear you Angie,” he whispered and contacted a contractor that afternoon.
He flew an architect from New Haven and hired a building contractor from Tampa to design and build Rebecca’s Dollhouse, the most distinctive and beautiful house in the county. He repaired, but didn’t change the original cabin.
J. Alfred lured Elizabeth Shelby away from Richard Archbold and hired her as a live-in au pair for Rebecca. No one would ever replace Angela, but J. Alfred knew Liz Shelby was as close as anyone could get.
He reduced his workload and conducted most of the remaining business from their Bayport home for the next few years. Noreen and Claude visited often and little sister Samantha also stayed for long periods, turning the empty house into a family home filled with laughter and love.
From the day she was born, Rebecca was a gentle creature. Her soft touch and tranquil gestures were a part of her charm, but in the spring of 1980, J. Alfred began to recognize some alarming symptoms. Rebecca had leukemia, a different strain of the same cancer that killed her mother. By the time her illness was diagnosed, it was too late. She died within a month. The disease was probably present for years, but her delicate nature concealed the symptoms until it was too late.
Once again, J. Alfred was tortured with guilt. In hindsight, the warning signs were obvious. Did I let Rebecca die because of my unwillingness to face the truth? His first instinct was to have the house torn down, but it held too many memories of Rebecca. Her last request was to be buried under the old oak tree in the back yard next to her mother.
J. Alfred collected enough strength to ask Liz Shelby to stay and maintain the house. Liz’s love for the community and strong friendship with a local woman named Sarah Naidoo persuaded her to remain in Bayport.
Noreen was concerned for J. Alfred’s mental health and safety after the funeral. She insisted he come stay with them at the house in Highlands County. He reluctantly accepted and went straight to his old bedroom where he slept for two days.
Doctors prescribed heavy doses of antidepressants, and J. Alfred continued to spend most of the next two months in bed.
When his misery became manageable, he took an extensive tour of the property. Claude had transformed the entire two-thousand acres from a thick treacherous wilderness into an inviting park-like setting. He had even added a screened gazebo under the Tree of Life, but that was the one place J. Alfred refused to go.
Claude was preparing to begin a serious excavation of the ancient site. It would require careful screening of all the people involved. J. Alfred was the first person he asked to join the team. Noreen was relieved when J. Alfred accepted the job and threw himself into the work.
A great deal more was accomplished than clearing land and building a gazebo during the previous twenty years. Samantha had discovered a separate cavern under the house containing obscure writings. Claude dedicated himself to studying them.
They included the schematics for the first microprocessor and the microwave oven. He sold the information anonymously to a government contractor for millions of dollars through an underground auction.
Most of Claude’s original inheritance was used to purchase the Highlands County property, but with the sale of new technology and J. Alfred’s substantial backing, he had enough money to privately fund a secret dig of the site with his own hand-picked team of archaeologists.
Samantha was jubilant when she learned more people would be allowed on the property. Spending her entire childhood living on a secret archaeological site had severely limited her personal life. She dreamed of moving to Australia, but was not willing to leave Noreen alone.
Claude was a good husband, but spent long hours working. Now with more visitors and J. Alfred at home, Sam felt free to go.
While attending archaeology seminars over the years, Claude had
developed friendships with many of the preeminent scholars in the field. Two of his favorites were the husband and wife team of Ben and Becky King.
They had recently returned from an overseas excavation searching for the Ark of the Covenant with archaeologist Ron Wyatt and his sons. Claude invited them to dinner.
“You have a beautiful home Noreen,” Becky said as they were preparing to sit down for supper.
“Tell me Claude, what did we do to warrant an invitation to the most enigmatic residence on the planet?” Ben asked with a grin.
“We do enjoy our privacy, but I didn’t realize we had garnered such a reputation,” Claude replied as if a little surprised.
“Oh yes,” Ben chuckled. “Some rumors say you are hiding an alien space ship. Others say you have found the Lost City of Z.
“What do you think?” Claude asked.
“I think you have discovered the Fountain of Youth because your lovely wife never gets any older.”
Claude looked at Noreen and winked. “You are right Ben,” he said and paused before adding, “Noreen looks as beautiful as the day I met her.”
After supper, the four of them sat down for a long philosophical conversation on the balance between sharing information with the public and protecting the integrity of an ancient site.
Claude discussed the situation in hypothetical terms, but was so impressed with Ben and Becky he offered them a job that night. They accepted without conditions and were glad they did when Claude led them to the basement where they witnessed relics unlike anything they had ever seen. The site was clearly ancient, but many of the artifacts were of futuristic or alien design.
Ben and Becky used vacation time and shuffled their schedule to disguise their visits to the site. Before opening the main vault, they helped Claude construct a climate controlled chamber around the main entrance.
In February 1983, a hydraulic tool resembling the Jaws of Life was used to open the door. A sweet gas with a scent like Sandalwood rushed from the chamber. Claude, Noreen, Ben, Becky and J. Alfred were there. They entered an enormous cavern, but it was an unnatural structure. It was filled with what appeared to be technical equipment. The room was dark, but warmer than the outside ambient temperature. Something was generating extra heat.
As they studied and tagged the artifacts, they came across a large crate which looked like a casket. It was different from anything else in the room. When they lifted the lid, they jumped back from fear.
There was a man inside who looked a lot like a vampire except his hair was blonde. His height was over six-feet, he wore a black cape and appeared to be alive but in some form of stasis. They closed the crate and put a hotel room Do Not Disturb sign on it as a joke. More information would be required before anyone would try to resuscitate the mysterious stranger, if it could be done. It was not as much fear of the man as concern he might be harmed or even killed if they tried to revive him.
Claude, Noreen, Ben, Becky and J. Alfred were highly intelligent people, but realized they needed help. People on the outside were becoming more curious about the site, so the question the group needed to answer was, how to bring in additional scholars, scientists, and other experts without raising more suspicions?
J. Alfred suggested the creation of the ORION Institute as a cover. It would be a university with the stated mission: “To seek the most exceptionally qualified students of all backgrounds from around the world and educate them at the highest levels to change the world for the better.”
Noreen laughed at the charter, “It is a cliché, but I guess it serves the purpose.”
The vault had already revealed many innovative architectural discoveries and J. Alfred used the technology along with his immense wealth to build some of the most advanced structures on the planet.
Within a year and with fewer than a dozen students, the institution’s staff grew to over three hundred. It appeared impressive on paper, but there were very few instructors. Most of the staff were archaeologists working in the vault.
The construction of the Institute was progressing smoothly, but some information leaked regarding the archeological site. Most people didn’t take it seriously because the ORION institute was actively encouraging alien spaceship rumors as a distraction. Claude and J. Alfred’s wealth also enabled them to obtain the best security on the planet.
Nine months later when Haley was born, everything changed.