| Hybrid 15 Chapter 6 |
She couldn't be the right one, Luke thought as he looked across the Common Room to the tiny wrath of a woman that sat in a beam of sunlight at a large picture window, but the nurse assured him that she was the one that he sought. Lydia Armstrong had been a robust woman ten years ago, full of life and energy. She had been Frederic Jenkins' assistant for many years, taking on a variety of tasks from working in the lab as well as being a personal secretary to Dr. Jenkins. She had always been close at hand whenever Luke had been at the institute to give him a reassuring smile or to shoo him out of the way when his father was concentrating on one experiment or another. Luke remembered her as being fairly daunting, with broad shoulders and a stern look that could turn the most emphatic salesman or administrator away at the door when Dr. Jenkins was not to be disturbed, but this frail wisp of a woman didn't resemble her in the least. He turned his attention back to the young nurse that was at his elbow, realizing belatedly that she had been speaking to him while he was lost in his memories. "She may not understand you," the nurse warned as she gave Luke a helpless look. "Sometimes you can carry on an entire conversation with her, but she usually just babbles. You never know what she's going to be like until you speak to her." "Is she all right?" Luke asked, then shook his head when the nurse gave him a bemused expression. "I mean, does she have an illness of some kind? Is there anything that can be done for her?" The nurse shook her head gravely. "I'm afraid that it's just a simple case of old age. Poor dear," she said to the distant form of the woman. "Some of us just don't handle it as well as others. She'll be happy to see you, though," she told Luke with an encouraging smile. "Lydia doesn't have any family so she doesn't get many visitors except when the local church group comes by here on Thursdays. She likes to have someone to talk to. I can take you over to her, if you like," she offered hopefully. "To introduce you, I mean." "That's all right," he said, then gave the pretty young woman one of his best smiles. "I'm an old friend of Lydia's. I'm sure she'll remember me." But Luke wasn't so confident as he left the nurse by the door and walked across the Common Room to Lydia's side. The chair that she was in looked like it would swallow her up at any moment and her failing eyesight stayed firmly ahead. He looked down at her for several moments to search for any trace of the woman that he had once known. For a few seconds, he pondered the idea of simply leaving. This tiny shadow of a woman didn't look capable of even pushing back a lock of her hair that had tumbled loose from her chignon. How could he even think of asking her any questions? But his need to know won out. He searched around him for a chair and found a molded blue plastic one that he pulled over next to Lydia Armstrong. He lightly put his hand over hers as he sat down. "Lydia?" She blinked herself out of her stupor, her head slowly turning to meet Luke's eye. "Hello." She smiled warmly, but didn't show any sign of recognition. "Lydia," he leaned a little closer when she began to squint at him and began again. "Miss. Armstrong, I don't know if you remember me or not. I'm Luke Jenkins. Frederic Jenkins' son?" "Freddie?" the thin voice cracked as she looked at him and her eyes began to fill with tears. "It's been so long, Freddie, that I thought you had forgotten about me." Luke felt a chill run down his spine when he realized that Lydia Armstrong had mistaken him for his father. He didn't look anything like Dr. Jenkins, a fact that had never concerned him before. He had always assumed that he had received his dark looks from his mother. "Would you like me to get that file for you, Freddie?" she asked, putting her hands on the arms of her chair to rise to do his bidding. "No, that's all right...Lydia," he returned, not feeling quite comfortable with playing along with her delusion, but unsure of what else to do. "What file are you going to get?" She looked a little surprised at his question. "The one that you just asked for," she told him with a note of her old strength in her voice. "Luke's file. Are you sure that you don't want me to get it for you? It won't be any trouble." "I already have it...thank you." He lowered his head as he tried to think of the best way of approaching such complicated questions as genetic research with her. Would Lydia Armstrong still remember the things that Dr. Jenkins had done in his office? Would she have known about them in the first place? Dr. Jenkins was always so non-communicative when it came to his research. He hadn't even shared any of it with his own son, a son that had been part of his research. "You did the right thing." Luke was stunned when she reached out to stroke a withered hand down his cheek and he looked up to see the sympathy in Lydia's eyes. "Right thing?" he asked. "About Luke," she told him with a reassuring smile. "He never would have been happy living his life in a cage. We both know that." Luke tensed as he looked into her eyes. "Are you talking about the files, Lydia? Is that why my fath...why I changed them?" he asked hopefully. "He's such a beautiful boy," she breathed wistfully. "I only wish...." He waited, but she didn't continue her thought. "What do you wish?" he prompted. Lydia turned to gaze out the window once more. "That he really could have been yours and mine," she sighed. Luke started at that. Had there really been more between Dr. Jenkins and Lydia Armstrong than just working companions? Luke couldn't remember his father ever talking about any woman, even Lydia, in anything more than general terms. Dr. Jenkins' work had been his only love, or so Luke had thought. Was there an office romance between the two? Somehow the thought made his father appear more human, more reachable than ever before. He knew what it felt like to love a woman, to cherish her with all of his heart. Had his father felt those same feelings for Lydia? Reaching out to take her hand into his so that Lydia would give him her attention once more, Luke searched her drifting gaze. "I need to know more," he told her, unable to suppress the urgency in his voice. "What...was put into the...into Luke?" He felt a small pressure on his hand that might have been a reassuring squeeze from the frail fingers as she turned away once more. "You did what every father wanted to," she answered him. "You only gave him the best and a chance at life that he would have never had." Luke studied the serene smile that had settled on her face and knew that he would get nothing more from Lydia Armstrong. She had slipped away from him once more. Before Luke left the nursing home, he left his name and phone number at the front desk and asked them to call him if Lydia should ever need anything, then stopped past the florist to order a bouquet of flowers to be sent to Lydia on his way back to Crammer. What few memories he still possessed of Lydia were happy ones. She had always been kind to him and he made a mental note to stop in to see her again once he had sorted through the jumble his life was in. Unfortunately, he would never have that chance. Two days later, he received a phone call from the nursing home to inform him that Lydia Armstrong had passed away in her sleep. <*> Les finished flipping through yet another book on genetic research and closed the cover with a snap. She had gotten only two books on the subject from the local library, both unimpressive texts, but they had given her a few basics about genetics. Then she had gone to search the libraries down in Louisville and had been stunned with the huge quantity of material that they possessed. After signing her life away in blood, which was practically the only way that she could get the library cards to take the books home, she had selected four hefty volumes at random, each one bigger than the next. After three trips to the library, she had given up trying to actually read the books. Instead, she skimmed each page swiftly, taking notes only when a name was mentioned or a different line of genetics. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, only hoping that she might stumble across anything that could answer some of Luke's questions for him. Not that she knew what questions he had, she mused sullenly as she glanced up at the alarm clock on the edge of her desk. She hadn't seen Luke for three days, or even spoken to him. The only news that she had of him was from Jeremy and he wasn't in the least hopeful. Jeremy had come to the store the day before with a disgruntled look on his face. "Do you know what's wrong with Coach Jenkins?" he asked. Les looked up bleary eyed from her study of a thick textbook. "What do you mean?" she returned. "He's not acting right," he complained. "Is he sick or something?" "Not that I know of," she answered carefully. Jeremy's one good eye narrowed in a peculiarly adult fashion. "Did you guys have a fight or something?" Les fidgeted nervously at the look he gave her. He looked so much like their father in that instant, she had to remind herself that he was her younger brother and only thirteen. "Of course not! Why would you think that?" He gave a careless shrug, looking his age once again. "I don't know. It's just that Coach hasn't been coming around lately and you've been acting kind of grouchy." "I have not been grouchy!" she challenged him, then had the good sense to look sheepish. "Okay, maybe a little grouchy," she admitted as she leaned back in her chair and studied her younger brother. He definitely was sharp for his age and had assumed that the two most obvious choices where the things that were bothering Luke, but Les knew better. She also knew that it wasn't something that she could tell anyone. "Luke has just hit a bad spot in his life," she explained. "It doesn't have anything to do with you or me or even the team. He'll work it all out for himself," she said encouragingly. "You'll see." Les sighed as she slid another vast tome into position in front of her and started flipping through the pages. She had tried to be optimistic with Jeremy, but she wasn't as sure as she had pretended to be. She had hoped that she could work with Luke in discovering more about his surprising origins, but he had been insistent on needing time alone. He hadn't tried to push her away again so she had agreed reluctantly, but she hadn't been able to simply sit by and do nothing at all. Curious about genetics, she had started her search at the library and quickly discovered that most of the technical lingo left her with a splitting headache, but she had persevered. When the few volumes at the local library hadn't been enough, she had ventured to the larger libraries in Louisville. Her notes consisted mainly of the titles of each book, the author who was usually a geneticist, and any of the list of credits that she thought would be of some use. A few of the names had come up repeatedly as she read and she came to believe that the handful of doctors were the leading specialists in the field. Perhaps Luke would be able to learn something by talking to one of them? It was the only thing that she had to work with anyway and she simply needed to do something. She had flipped half way through the first chapter when a familiar name leapt out at her, Pascal Institute. She quickly sifted through the pages at the front of the book and then at the back. She tried to discover if the geneticist that had written the tome was still working at the institute to no avail. The only mention of Pascal Institute was a brief note in the author's list of qualifications and past associations. Les looked at the author's name once again. Doctor Roderick Godfrey. It was not a name that she had come across before, but she had high hopes in the fact that he had worked at the institute in the late seventies. Perhaps this man had known Dr. Jenkins? Maybe even worked with him? Leslie's spirits soared even further when she looked up at the gentle tapping on the half wall that surround her desk to give her some privacy. He was standing on the next to last step of the short staircase looking over at her with a tired expression on his face. "Luke!" Les jumped up from her chair behind the desk and hurried over to embrace him. "I've missed you," she whispered as she pulled him away from the stairs and out of sight of the patrons in the shop. He returned her sentiments and settled down on the rickety old vinyl couch that was the only other piece of furniture in the tiny office with Les at his side. Luke told her of his visit to the nursing home in Clarksville and of the call that he had just received of Lydia's death. "It seems like every bit of information that I get just adds more questions," he sighed as he rubbed at his red-rimmed eyes. "It doesn't sound like things are going very well at the moment," she sympathized as she reached out to smooth his wind-tossed hair. "Did Lydia tell you why your dad changed his hybrid files?" He shook his head. "I'm not even certain that was what she was talking about. She just said that she thought that he did the right thing and that he gave me the best." "But the best of what?" Les asked. "Was she talking about the genetic aspects or the consequences of changing the files?" "Both. Neither. I just don't know." He sighed again as his head dropped to the back of the couch. "I wish that I could get just one straight answer out of someone so that at least I'd know what direction to look in." She smiled secretively. "Maybe I can help you," she said, then bounded off the couch. "I've been doing a little research of my own," she told him as she gestured to the books stacked on her desk. "And I might have found something that will be of some use to you." Luke stood slowly, his popping joints and aching muscles making him feel twice his thirty years. He glanced at the titles of the books on her desk, his brow furrowing. "You've been reading those?" "Well," she shrugged guiltily. "Skimming through them would be more accurate." She found a scrap of paper and quickly jotted down a name. "But I did happen to come across a book by this guy that use to work at Pascal Institute." She handed him the paper triumphantly. "Do you recognize the name?" "Dr. Roderick Godfrey," he mumbled. "I don't remember anyone with that name. Did you say that he worked at the institute?" "Yeah, somewhere in the late seventies. Your dad was there at that time, wasn't he?" He nodded, finally understanding where she was leading. "And you think that this Dr. Godfrey might have known Dad." "Well, it is possible," she smiled. "After all, they are both geneticists. Maybe they talked about genetic practicalities over coffee and donuts or something." Luke rounded the desk, taking her face in his hands and firmly kissed her mouth. "You really are something special." <*> "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Dr. Roderick Godfrey said as he walked into his office looking decidedly distracted. "I was just finishing up a test with radioactive isotopes that was particularly puzzling. Neither one of you would happen to be a radiobiologist, would you?" He looked hopefully between Luke and Les, then shook his head when they exchanged a bemused look between them. "Maybe we should introduce ourselves," Luke offered as he watched Dr. Godfrey search absently through the papers on his desk. "This is Leslie Collins and I'm Luke Jenkins. We called yesterday about Dr. Frederic Jenkins?" he supplied helpfully. Dr. Godfrey looked up at Luke over the rims of his glasses as his fingers drummed at his chin restlessly. "Jenkins. Jenkins," he mumbled as he tried to place the name. "Oh, Dr. Jenkins, it's good to see you again sir." He reached out to shake the hand that Luke had offered him as he pushed his glasses up into place. "Now wait a minute," he interrupted Luke when he started to correct him. "You're too young to be Dr. Jenkins." "No sir," Luke tried again. "I'm Luke Jenkins, Dr. Jenkins' son." "His son?" His glasses slipped to the end of his nose once more and he went back to searching his desk. "Oh yes, yes. I notice the resemblance now that you mention it." Luke cast a wary look at Les. At six foot two with the build of an athlete, he didn't even begin to compare to the rather dumpy five foot eight of his late father. Even the color of their eyes and hair had been vastly different. Suddenly, he wasn't sure if Dr. Godfrey would be of any more help than Lydia Armstrong had been. "Dr. Godfrey," Les began when she saw the cynical look on Luke's face. "We were wondering if you knew Dr. Jenkins?" "Dr. Jenkins?" He peered up at them once again from behind the paper that he had finally found on his desk. "Oh yes. Kind of my mentor, you could say. Brilliant man. Brilliant. Bit of a crackpot, though. Never knew what he was going to do from one minute to the next." Luke bristled at the term that Dr. Godfrey had applied to his father, not realizing that he was once again wanting to protect the man that he had been so angry with for the last several days. "What do you mean?" Les asked quickly. "Well, he was always changing things," he answered distractedly, then laughed at his own joke. "I guess that's expected with a geneticist," he chuckled, then cleared his throat. "But, what I mean is he kept changing his research data. It was really a shame too because many of his findings were absolutely fascinating! I've never seen anything before or since that could compare. Even my own research was effected by it, but Dr. Jenkins did all of the real groundbreaking work." "You actually saw some of his research?" Luke asked, intent on the conversation for the first time. "Of course, of course. We were both working at the institute at the time and I was dabbling in genetic creation, but my theories didn't even come close to his final results. It's a shame that he had to flip out like that," he said, shaking his head pitifully. "Flip out?" Les quickly cut Luke off when he looked about to launch over the desk at Dr. Godfrey. Les had a feeling that Dr. Godfrey wasn't paying particular attention to the conversation and she wanted to get as much out of him as possible. "How else can you explain destroying records that would have otherwise earned him the Nobel Prize?" he asked logically. "How else indeed," she returned, then leaned toward him conspiratorially. "Could it possibly have been an attempt to circumvent the creation of life itself?" she suggested in a hushed voice, as if to keep from being overheard. "Do you think that's possible?" Dr. Godfrey returned with the same hushed tones accented with a touch of awe. "If anyone could have done it, Frederic Jenkins could." He drummed at his chin again with his fingers for several moments before brushing the thought aside. "But that's just not very likely. Dr. Jenkins' research only lasted for a few years and all of his test subjects died from the genetic manipulation. He didn't even use the conventional method of impregnating a female of the species, but used tanks instead." He shook his head more firmly. "No, I just can't see how Dr. Jenkins' research had progressed that far without someone knowing." <*> Les was practically forced to run to keep up with Luke's long strides as they walked back out to his car. "Muttering old fool," Luke grumbled angrily. "He wouldn't know the end of his nose from a radioactive isotope!" "But Luke..." She tried to stop his tirade by grasping his arm, but he only turned toward her and gestured to the building behind them. "He thinks that he can sit up there playing with his electrons and neurons and judge my fathers work?" he yelled down at her. "My dad could have run genetic circles around that guy!" Les smiled solemnly up at him. "Well, at least you're calling him Dad again instead of Dr. Jenkins." Luke felt a little of his anger dissipate at her words. He was thinking of the man that created him as Dad once again. What had made him change his mind? Hearing Dr. Godfrey belittle his father's work? Belittle him? No, it was more than that. Frederic Jenkins had been a father to him in every way possible. He had raised him, loved him, encouraged him. There wasn't anything about research going on as they shared jokes over dinner or tossed a ball in the back yard. If only he had trusted Luke with his knowledge as well. "Do you see what I've been going through?" he asked her, turning to stalk toward the car once more. "I've talked to Rick, to Lydia Armstrong, I've even called up the old head administrator of Pascal and all of these people can't answer even one of my questions." "But Dr. Godfrey did answer your questions," Les argued as they reached the car. "Don't you see?" She gave him a beseeching look as she rested her hands on the roof of the car gazing across at him on the other side. "Dr. Godfrey said that all of your dad's test subjects died." "That just goes to show what kind of idiot Dr. Godfrey is," Luke snapped. "No. It shows what kind of a father Dr. Jenkins was to you," she countered. "We know for a fact that not all of your dad's test subjects died. Morse and Hy are proof of that. But, instead of standing in the limelight which he so richly deserved, he tried to protect you from the others that would come along after him who would see you as nothing more than a genetic probability." She watched his features soften at her words. "He loved you, Luke. Enough to destroy everything that he had ever worked for just to protect you." He knew in his heart that she was right and he gave her a lopsided grin. "I see you're just as efficient at deflating my anger as you are my ego," he teased, then became serious once more. "I guess the real thing that I should be trying to find out is who else knows the unusual circumstances surrounding my existence." "What do you mean?" Les asked. "I thought that the only people that knew were you, Rick and me?" He shook his head slowly. "There's one other," he told her. "And I intend to find out exactly why he has seen fit to be interfering with my life." |
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