Hamelton (Dr. Paul) Read Free Page A

shelf," Maggie said to Jeff in a soft playful manner.
    The parade skipped the next door and went across the hall. "Chris, I think you may like this. This is the renaissance room." The room was made of mahogany. A suit of armor stood on both sides of the stone fireplace. The heavy bed was high off the ground, about four feet with a small set of stairs leading up to it, I later learned in the days before they had indoor plumbing, it folded out into a toilet pot. The walls were covered with old shields and weapons. I thought what a good judge of character Maggie must be because she was right, I loved this room. For a moment my mind drifted to wonder if this babbling maid had more going for her than I had given her credit for. I came back to thinking about running into the room to play with everything. What is the history of this, of that, who made this, how did they use that? Questions flooded my mind, but I composed myself knowing there would be time for looking around later.
    "And for you," Maggie directed Handy "I have the Master‟s bedroom."
    "I don't think it would be proper to have me sleep in the Simon's room, especially with all these vacant rooms?" Handy questioned.
    Maggie smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "The master of the house prefers to sleep on the first floor close to the kitchen. Easier on the knees to avoid stairs for older people you know. And besides he locks up his room when he is away." She led us to the big double doors at the end of the hall. I caught myself thinking "Of course Handy gets the biggest room." Then I remembered he did invite us, he deserves the best treatment.
    The master bedroom was everything I thought it might be and more. The square footage was three times the size of the previous rooms. The ceiling was two stories tall. Windows were on three sides. The oversized bed was a long walk directly across from the door. Handy was impressed. He walked in with his hands straight out to his sides and spun around. In the corner sat our entire luggage.
"I guess Albert didn't know where to put the cases." We took our perspective suitcases back to our own rooms and waited for Maggie who said she would come back to get us all set up.
    I was enjoying myself just looking around my new room for what seemed to be only minutes, but I know an hour must have gone by when Maggie knocked on the door with clean towels. She was more business minded now. She avoided my probing questions about my room that still clouded my mind. She was talking to me like a mother. She told me that I must take a nap if I'm planning to enjoy the rest of my day. I agreed but had no intention of sleeping. After she left, I laid on the bedspread to think for a moment.
    If you, the reader, have not guessed as of yet, I was then and am now the inquisitive type. I admire the fictional detective Sherlock Homes. The way that he puts facts together to form or eliminate a new fact. In many ways perhaps I'm like him, although I've never had the desire to pursue criminology. I get intrigued, almost addicted to know and understand the unknown equation. Now this boy from California found himself far from home, in an unknown surrounding, meeting people with such different upbringings that I could not stereotype them in any known category. In short I was not in control of my surroundings, a feeling I wasn't used to. I'm Chris Blake, only son of a printer. I am the only known member of the Blake family to attend college. I was raised in a home where my father and his four brothers spent most of their lives. I had the same friends all my life. I did not know that I would find change so uncomfortable. Perhaps this is why I found comfort in learning all I could about my surroundings. I think now if I could have only let things ride then, I would not have had to spend the next 30 years of my life repeating in complete detail over and over that one month of my life. I would have never killed anyone. My dreams would not be haunted with the past.