Unfinished (Historical Fiction) - By Harper Alibeck Page 0,10

moved away. You don't love Julia. You want to shunt her off to an institution, but she's not – she just needs more than you're willing to give. Mother wants to give it. So she's taken Julia away where you won't see her every day, and she takes her to doctors to try to make her talk and be normal. You're our father and you don't love us. If I were a boy I think it would be even worse. Any son of yours would be tortured by you. Nothing is ever good enough.”

Stone had stared at her, head cocked to the left as if soaking in her words.

And the next phrase out of her mouth had been what likely landed her in McLean Hospital, on the mental ward, for the final four months of her senior year at Dana Hall and the first semester of what should have been her first year at Radcliffe.

She was wholly unprepared for the education she received, instead, at McLean.

The Unitarian church in Cambridge hosted lectures on intellectual curiosities deemed too prurient or controversial for its neighbor across the road. While Harvard College might sponsor a talk by William James on psychology, a medical doctor with a focus on a more prurient aspect of the human psyche would have to settle for the congregational hall. Lilith quite liked the church, though she was not a member. Joining a church meant choosing a creed or covenant that would not be flexible enough to adapt and reform with new knowledge. She maintained a rigid, no-doctrine stance when it came to religion, refusing to yield.

“On the Understanding of Sexual Inversion” drew a broad crowd, far larger than the last lecture's crowd; “Variations in Mammalian Arousal” had been a cold, unyielding discussion about primates in Africa. Lilith had not been amused, nor particularly enlightened. Dr. Burnham's reputation, however, preceded him. The young Boston sexologist was not only known for his genius, he was also known for his rugged good looks. Still a bachelor in his mid-30s, the rumor mill swirled with tales of sexual deviance. As she studied his slick, sandy hair and warm brown eyes she wondered whether the handful of light brown hairs that peeked out under his cuffs dotted his chest. He carried himself like sporting man, but she had seen his hands. Soft, like her father's. Like a man unaccustomed to using them to better himself.

A large shadow caught her eye across the room and Lilith's mind erased all traces of consideration for Dr. Burnham. James Hillman. A passing circus had once caught Lilith's eye as her family made its way to the wharf for a European voyage, back in her early adolescent years. A freak labeled “The Bear Man” stood by, as tall as a small house and wide as a thick carriage. Hair covered his face, hands, and every exposed piece of skin. She'd found him fascinating but had dared not say a word to her parents.

James reminded her of the bear man, though he was less hirsute and considerably more human like, with keen, alert eyes.

That now gazed directly into hers.

She smiled involuntarily and then swallowed, holding his look. He returned the smile and doffed an imaginary hat; he clutched his hat in his hand and started, then realized his fumble. Widening the smile, he gestured with a small shrug, enough to acknowledge his silliness and yet with no implied apology.

A soundless chuckle escaped her. Quickly, she turned her attention to the lectern, where Dr. Burnham now stood, clearing his throat fruitlessly. No one would quiet down; the rowdy Cambridge crowd was never easily cowed. Manners were not prized here, among indecent company.

And Lilith wondered just how indecent as Maria Escola appeared, red whore's dress and painted face an intended insult to the plain house of worship. Though an open group, the Unitarians were, nonetheless, modest in dress and appearance. As tall and regal as Lilith was diminutive and boyish, the Peruvian beauty was a bit of a mystery in Boston. Her father was a wealthy Andes miner and had sent his daughter to Boston for finishing, yet no one could name the school she had attended. Marco Escola had followed his daughter, establishing residence on a sprawling estate just west of Cambridge, managing affairs for his mining company and shipping issues to funnel raw materials to the steel mills in Pittsburgh. The only metal Maria seemed to care for was precious, her ears, wrists and neck adorned in more jewelry