The Stone Garden

Stones come in all sizes and shapes. Stones are the only real link humans have to understanding what the word "eternity" means. Depending on each stones specific properties, some stones become dust just like humans do after they die and other stones are so old, it isn't possible to guess their age.

And like all humanity, stones have only a bare perceptive explanation of their origins.

One child, Devon Morthan loved stones since he was old enough to set his tiny feet to earth. His parents always summoned him by his formal first name. His schoolmates called him, "Dev." He had no preference for any, but stones he could add to his already burgeoning collection.

He had the first stone he ever found, a tiny greyish ink pebble he discovered when his governess took him for a day in the park.

The Morthan family was typical of upper class society people who lavished many luxuries on their only child. No matter. Stones were the only thing that ever really caught their son's eye.

One might think that as a young man in his teens his fascination for stones would be replaced by the female of the species.

Not that he didn't have girls admiring him. His deep dark eyes were always the first thing girls noticed. They were like two ebony stones surrounded by white quartz.

His hair was as black as coal and equally shiny. He made quite an entrance wherever he appeared with his long, thin body and bony shoulders.

Devon grew into a solitary man, preferring to be off by himself, rather than engage in what he believed was pointless small talk.

He grew more reclusive when his mother and father were killed in an auto accident shortly after his college graduation.

Of course, his major in college was geology, as anyone who had observed him would have guessed easily. And, although he preferred not to work on geological projects as part of a team, he knew if he didn't he would have no source of income.

He didn't wish to stray far from the Morthan family home, which, having no siblings, he inherited upon his parents'death.

Devon was quite fond of the Morthan home. It was a modified Tudor style set on well wooded ten acres of land. The home was set in the direct center and was surrounded by large, leafy oak trees and two rather old chestnut trees.

In summer Devon's parents liked to sit on the front veranda at twilight and point out the various aspects of nature to their son. His dark eyes were always on the lookout for stones he could add to his childhood collection.

His parents loved the scent of roses in their formal rose garden adjacent to the veranda. They took special care to propagate their roses to award winning perfection. Not that they ever entered them in any contests. While they tended their roses, Devon searched for stones.

The Morthans lived a relatively quiet life and Devon learned to maintain a somewhat silent demeanor so as not to break the quiet atmosphere his parents treasured. Most of the time, Charles and Bethany Morthan read from the books in the huge first floor library, a feature of the interior especially prized by Charles.

Bethany spent her time, when not also deep into reading, on embroidery and sketching. Devon spent his time with his nose to the ground looking for unusual stones.

The loss of his parents left a huge hole in the fabric of Devon's life. He had never been sure how his father earned an income or how his parents met and married as young adults. Neither Charles or Bethany were inclined toward "nostalgia" or "family photos." Neither did they encourage visits from Devon's aunts, uncles and cousins.

Devon found a job at the university of Mount St. Simon's, a Methodist  college for girls. It was the first offer he accepted.

Mount St. Simon's or MSS as students often referred to it, was funded solely by the wealthy father of a former student, Ann Simeon.

From what information Devon had gathered upon his arrival, Ann Simeon passed away shortly after she received her college degree. She had been the victim of a fatal auto accident.

Devon's job at MSS was basically to introduce freshman and sophomore girls to the importance of geology. For junior, senior and undergraduates, he was to provide geological projects that focused on student involvement.

It was when he began to set up projects for his undergraduate class of girls that he first saw his future wife, Rosamund Solara, a young woman of twenty four who was working toward a doctorate in hydrogeology.

Devon had not chosen a specialty in geology. That allowed him a wider choice of jobs...until he met Rosamund two years after he first joined MSS.

She was impossible to divert attention from. She had lovely pink skin, chestnut brown hair and green eyes that peered down inquisitively from the student gallery in which Devon taught his classes. Above the green eyes were two perfectly arched sable eyebrows and a thick fringe of almost ebony lashes.

The first project Devon arranged for her and her fellow students was a visit to a large facility where groundwater studies were taking place. Rosamund and fellow students were given the job of mapping groundwater in the surrounding regions.

Devon would oversee their work and provide consultations and advice when needed. That was how he first came to meet one to one with Rosamund. She was having difficulty with a part of the mapping project and left a note on Devon's desk that requested some assistance.

MSS was adverse to students and professors having personal relationships. Devon didn't reject Rosamund's subtle advances. He knew if MSS discovered their relationship, he had enough money from his inheritance and savings to take care of his needs, if necessary.

Rosamund was so smitten with Devon Morthan that she took every possible opportunity to be in his path.

As soon as she completed her PhD, Devon proposed marriage. Rosamund fit perfectly into Devon Morthan's life. She was classically beautiful and equally intelligent. She was thrilled to be offered a job soon after their marriage.

Devon was not happy with that prospect.

"Dear, are you sure you want to leave our home for a job?" Devon asked.

"Darling, I really would like to make use of my degree," Rosamund answered.

Devon brooded over this new interruption for the first year of their marriage. He felt he must exercise more control over how his household would be run.

"Rosamund, I've been thinking. I realize we can afford household help, but there really is no one home most of the time to see to its operation. I'd been hoping you would tire of your job and choose to remain at home," Devon said.

"Actually, I may be taking a long leave of absence," she replied.

"Are you unwell?"

"No. I am with child."

A child! Devon could think of nothing he would loathe more than a child running about the house, breaking things and reeking of that odor all babies cannot seem to avoid.

Rosamund noted Devon's displeasure and brushed it off as a momentary shock to her husband's too ordered life.

Whenever Devon was ill at ease, he would go off to his stone garden. After his parents' death, Devon made a point of creating a formal stone garden where he arranged stones in his collection in a circular pattern.

Originally, the stone garden was a way of diverting his feelings of loss of his parents and neutralizing his deeply felt grief and loneliness.

The stone garden rested midway between the rear of the house and the treeline that led to the woods beyond that was like a thick green apron.

Devon even whimsically carved a small plaque and burned the words, "Stone Garden" into square, grey, slate rock.

Rosamund was not as enthusiastic about Devon's stone garden, a fact that dismayed her husband and put a damper on his ardor for her. Such was his love of stones.

"Devon, why do you spend so much time in the stone garden? Our child will be born in a matter of three months. We need to consider outfitting the bedroom nearest our master bedroom into a nursery.

"I use that bedroom for my study!" Devon pouted.

"You can move "your study" to the bedroom at the end of the hall."

"It's too dark in that room."

"Nonsense. It has two windows facing your stone garden. That should please you to know you can always have your treasured stone garden in view."

Grudgingly, Devon asked two college students to relocate his study for a small cost. Devon felt bitter that his study was less important than a nursery for a child he really didn't want.

Darrien Edward Morthan was born on a cold November day with the wind blowing outside wildly and Dr. Chandler in attendance. The experience of childbirth was one Devon planned never to have again.

"Dr. Chandler, is there any way my wife can be made sterile so I do not have another child?"

"Mr. Morthan, your wife would have to make that decision."

"But, I am the one who will pay the cost for any child born to my wife."

"Well, she is a highly educated woman. Why not hire a nanny and she can resume her career?"

Devon didn't want Rosamund to resume her career. For one thing, the projects she worked one brought her to a certain level of notoriety for the innovations she was credited with and the technical papers she produced became of great value to many towns, cities and businesses. Devon felt envious over this.

There had to be another way. For the first few weeks of his son's birth, Devon was aghast at the shrill sound of the infant's cry. He spirited himself away to his stone garden for quiet and solace.

Rosamund was worried her husband still had negative feelings about their son. She kept a close watch on father and son. Devon didn't spend much time with Darrien. In fact, he avoided the child entirely and as he grew to his toddler stage, Devon seemed even more agitated by the sight of his son.

"Can't you keep him still?" Devon bellowed.

"He's just a child. He is learning to be more mobile," Rosamund said.

"I'm thinking maybe it will suit both of us if you resumed your career," Devon said, one evening over dinner bowing to resignation of their situation.

Rosamund was shocked at this change of heart in her husband.

"Do you really want me to return to my job?"

"Yes. I'll arrange for a nanny for Darrien.,"

Devon did as he planned. He hired a Nanny, Margrethe Hisprow, for his son while Rosamund returned to her career.

Margrethe, unlike her light skinned, blonde Scandinavian forebears, reminded Devon of a witch for her unusually long, rather pointy nose, her large feet and maladroit, ungainly body. He could almost envision her on a broomstick. However, she came with above average child care references.

Devon knew nothing less would please Rosamund for their only child. Darrien was not to be their only child. She returned to her career and two years later, bore another child, Clarice Adelaide Morthan.

When she announced their future child to Devon, he went into a rage such as Rosamund never thought him capable of. He began a spate of silence that lasted for the remainder of their marriage.

Nanny Hisprow was not unaware of Devon's loathing of Darrien, and after her birth into the Morthan household, his daughter, Clarice.

To assuage his anger, Devon spent time in his stone garden even as his thoughts grew ever more dark. He imagined himself without a wife or children in the days of his youth before his parents' passing.

He knew the wailing infant and the adventurous, precocious little boy had to result in some measure of satisfaction for himself.

He decided to give Nanny Hisprow a few days off. He would take "care" of the noisy household the only way he knew how: "get rid of them."

It may be considered coincidence that Rosamund was called on a three-day research trip at the same time as Devon made certain his children's Nanny was away from the nursery.

On a cold night in late October, Devon crept silently into the nursery with a pillow in his hand and placed the pillow over Clarice's tiny face first and repeated the suffocation with Darrien. The little boy struggled for a few seconds and then Devon saw his little body go limp.

Devon knew precisely what he would do with the bodies of his two dead children. He waited until dusk of the following day and dug two deep holes in his stone garden and buried them. Then, he placed two stones the size of each child's head at the foot of their graves.

He returned to his study to  plan how he would tell his wife about his children suddenly missing. At first he thought he might claim they were kidnapped. But, he realized Rosamund would call the police. Then, he thought about claiming both children had become ill and succumbed to their illnesses while Nanny Hisprow and Rosamund were away.

Children die all the time of illness, Devon rationalized. 

He had to have an air tight reason for not calling the children's pediatrician and for where they were laid to rest. He realized he could lie and say their pediatrician was away and that the only available doctor to see to them was twenty five miles away.

Yes. Rosamund might accept that. Devon conjectured.

Then, he decided to tell her the children's bodies had to be cremated to avoid the spread of their illness which the "doctor" told Devon was contagious.

He would tell Rosamund he took their childrens' ashes and released them into the wind. She might accept that.

In the meantime, he dispensed with Nanny Hisprow's services in a letter, explaining the same situation he concocted for Rosamund.

When Rosamund returned, Devon was not prepared for the depth of her grief. She was inconsolable for more than three months.

"Devon, both children? Both were ill? But how?"

Devon had to consistently dodge her questions as best he could. By autumn of the following year, Rosamund was again with child. Devon knew he simply could not endure another infant wailing and getting into mischief in his household. This time he planned to get rid of Rosamund the same way he had gotten rid of Darrien and Clarice.

One week before All Hallow's Eve, Devon prepared a fire in the fireplace in their library and offered his wife some tea. Devon decided to prepare her tea himself. Cook had already left for the day so he could easily place a sleeping powder in her tea.

Rosamund stared glumly into the fireplace.

"At least, we will have another child in the early spring," she said.

"Yes. That is so."

"I do hope we will be able to engage Nanny Hisprow again," Rosamund said.

"I am sure that we can."

Rosamund noted with some displeasure that Devon was unusually agreeable. She sipped her tea all too slowly for Devon's pleasure. When she finally drained the last draught of tea from her cup, she announced she was ready to dress for bed. Devon felt relieved.

He remained in the library for about an hour, hearing the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the outer hall ticking away the minutes of his wife's life.

He rose, climbed the stairs to their bedroom and noting his wife was sleeping soundly, he placed a pillow over her face. Unlike his son who had struggled, Rosamund was sleeping too soundly to realize Devon was ending her life and that of his unborn child.

He closed the door to their bedroom and waited until the following day as he had with his children's burial. He carried her lifeless body out to the stone garden as he had done more than a year ago with Darrien and Clarice.

He dug a hole in the cold ground large enough and deep enough to bury Rosamund. Then, he found a stone as large as Rosamund's head and another much smaller one to remind him that there were two bodies lying in Rosamund's grave.

He returned to his home feeling a deep sense of relief that his peaceful, solitary life had been restored.

On Halloween night, Devon kept the lights in the house turned off so any wandering children begging treats would not approach the dark house.

Around nine o'clock in the morning after, on All Saints Day, Devon heard a knock on the front door. He had not slept this late or this soundly since before he married Rosamund.

He opened the door to two tall, burly policemen.

"Mr. Morthan?"

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

"You can explain why there is a woman's body in your stone garden," the official looking policeman said.

"What? There is no such thing!"

"I am just a stone collector and have been adding stones to that garden for years," Devon said.

"Please, come with us. You need to see for yourself," the second policeman said.

The three men walked out to the stone garden. Devon looked down at the now exposed body of his wife.

"How...Who.." Devon began and realized he should not say more lest he incriminate himself.

"I think you better come with us, Mr. Morthan. One of the children who were looking for treats for Halloween had a dog with him. The dog must have dug in this  grave. Can you explain why a body is is buried there?"

Devon knew he could not offer any explanation other than that his wife had fallen ill due to a miscarried pregnancy.

"Who found my wife's grave?" Devon asked.

"The little boy who owned the dog. He went looking for him at twilight last night when the children stopped at your driveway. He found his dog digging and saw what looked like a woman's face. He ran home frightened and told his parents who informed us."

Devon was told the police intended to dig into his stone garden "in case there are more bodies buried there."

Devon watched from his library window as the police tore apart the stone garden. He fell to the floor and wept almost as loudly as his wailing infant daughter, Clarice had done. All that remained of the stone garden after Devon was taken away by police was a large pile of stones.