Chapter 11: Everything Old Is New Again

Chapter 11: Everything Old Is New Again
Change proceeded apace in old Pankhurst.
As Mr. Moore had surmised, a buyer snapped up the Stein's former residence in a trice, and for a rather decent sum.With the future ahead of her shining much brighter, Em was less concerned with the past and what she had lost. Much of what she had decided to keep had been transferred to Crowley place and what she had discarded had gone to charities and friends. She'd thought that she would also see how Macky would do with Frida at the Kahlo's before she'd made her final exit, so that she would be close at hand in case she needed to take him...but Mac seemed happy enough at the neighbor's thus far.
Emmeline surveyed the now nearly empty old home of Alice's. It had been a job, but knowing this, Marta had told her that she needn't begin working for her until next month, and so had given Em the time off needed to attend to the move.
Everything was gone now...except the old woodstove in the kitchen, the icebox, and Em had moved Alice's daybed into the parlor and upon this she slept. She also kept her clothes and personal items with her. She was feeling that Crowley place was
becoming a new possibility for her, but...she didn't quite want to let go of everything just yet...
Just knowing that all the heavy work was done, (much helped by Travel ala Yeats), she felt she wanted just a space of peace here before she absolutely had to leave...a sortof neutral zone.
She had always enjoyed her own company, which was partly why she and Alice had been such good housemates;Al also was a fairly private sort and they were so used to one another, they could sit in the same room busy with their own thoughts, and never speak, yet each enjoy the others' company. If she had wanted to spend the day in her room with the door shut, it wouldn't have bothered Alice one whit.
By comparison...the thought of moving to a house, however large, with three people;three male people...hovered over Emmeline like a cloud of uncertainty...time would tell if it would be a thundercloud or have a silver lining.
Well, it's the best choice I could make, for now, Em sighed to herself. But, in the meantime...she would enjoy her privacy and 'camping out' at Alice's,for another couple of weeks.
She'd been enjoying forays out on her bicycle as well, sortof saying farewell to the old neighborhood. She had even stopped by Druid Central, the old house up Elm street to check in with them as it would soon be the Equinox. Michael and the druids welcomed Em and made her promise she would join them for at least one day of festivities which would be held both there on the property as well as at the Leaping Lizard, where Woody had declared St. Patricks Day through the Equinox, Druid Days. There would even be a horserace, the Druid Derby, out at the old fairgrounds.
And, of course, there would be Keltic music! Emmeline was excited...many  Welsh, Irish, and Scots would be attending, bringing bodhran, irish mandolin, fife, and fiddle...
She knew also, that it would be impossible to keep this local celebration a secret...and that once Jack knew of it, he would be excited as well...and she wondered how to handle all that.
Jack seemed to be healing well enough, the black eye nearly gone, and no problems from the concussion, thank the goddess for his hard head...so, she decided she would talk it over with Yeats first;who had agreed that it would be futile to think that Jack wouldn't know about Druid Days, or to try to keep him away from some festivities at least.
'Some well-chaperoned and well-delineated activity,perhaps,
'Yeats agreed.'We all shall attend ONE days' celebration at Woodys', myself encluded.' Yeats sighed. 'I suppose it will have to be St. Patrick's Day, then.Jack shall not be let out of our sight for a moment! Aleister or myself shall even accompany him to the gents! 'Beg pardon, Miss Page...'
Emmeline waved away propriety with a hand.'If we are to live together as sister and brother, no pardon needed, Mr. Yeats!'
Em dared a surmise then. 'I, I might be thinking that you have
rather a bit of Irish blood yourself Mr. Yeats, if I may be so bold...?'
Yeats seemed to glower beneath dark brows from above for a moment, then a small smile hovered about one corner of his mouth.'A-hmmm. The whole Yeats clan, from County Sligo, so we were...I am not an unfamiliar hand with poetry, if I do say so myself...!' And Yeats stared off into the distance over the hills, now gone emerald green from the new rains.
'Oh, indeed!' Em was pleased to view this undiscovered side of Mr. Yeats. 'There will be poetry readings as well as music, if I know my druids! Michael is a right old bard, so he is.'
Yeats looked at her then. 'Perhaps I shall join them in a bit of verse-slinging.' And then off he'd gone, to whatever duties and now dreams, Em realized, that old Yeats deigned to pursue.
                         . . . .
That evening, after supper, Jack was informed of the upcoming Druid Days, as he, Aleister and Yeats sat warming by the fireside.
'We shall all be attending. And, only because it is a special local celebration, and would be considered somewhat of an insult were we not to make an appearance.'Yeats told him, glowering over all from on high as he stood by the mantlepiece.'You will not be allowed a moment alone, and I will not accept anything for an answer other than 'yes sir!''
'Ah! Yes, sir, it is, then!' Jack was surprised, and pleasantly, to actually be able to head back to Woody's so soon. The Head had already chewed his ass to mulch after the...altercation, and
Jack had been so roundly tongue-lashed it had pained him as much as his injuries. He knew Yeats felt personally responsible for their safety, and as his sensei, felt it reflected upon his teaching.Jack had failed in this test of what he had supposedly, learned.Jack also knew that he had allowed his practice to have fallen by the wayside long ago, and all blame was entirely his. He knew also, that Yeats would not view it as such.
'Once you are healed, your practice WILL recommence, in earnest,' Yeats had told him. 'You have your room. I think, too,
that perhaps Miss Page would benefit by learning some basics as well...'
Jack had thought this an excellent idea...he and Em could practice together...and this would get them used to being around
one another on a completely different level. He understood why she wished to stay as long as she could at Alice's still...
saying 'goodbye to all that'...time enough for her to descend upon them all later. But, Jack was impatient. So much they could be working on...
As if he knew Jacks' fevered thoughts, Yeats admonished,'UNTIL then, you will rest and recuperate!' He then took his leave, and Jack felt it incumbent upon himself to get to work resting forthwith.
                        . . . .
He was feeling rather chipper the next day, in fact. And, he had a meeting with Mr. Moore the attorney that morning.
As he was hitching Trotsky to the trap, Aleister strode up, patting Trots on the neck.'I'll ride in with you, Jack...could use a few more items from the hardware store, if you don't mind!'
Jack grinned slightly, and glanced sideways at Al. 'Sure, Al.' He straightened up and buckled the bay into his rigging. 'I know that if Yeats is busy, you'll be my watchdog! It's okay...'Jack sighed.
Aleister stood, hands in pockets. 'Well, yes...but I do need some pipe and other bits...'he admitted.He had also brought a small derringer in his coat pocket,just in case... 'Suppose we'll be seeing Homer and Jethro at Woody's on St. Paddy's day!I'd like to go over some things with those lads.'
Jack nodded to Al and they took their seats in the cart. 'I'm betting they'll be there!' He clicked Trots into a walk, then shook his head slowly. 'Can't believe, really, that Yeats is even allowing me back at Woody's so soon.But, question not the reason why! I'd sure hate to miss it!'
Al was grinning. 'From what Emmeline has said, it's quite a week long celebration!'
'Oh?' Jack asked.
'Ah, well, yes...ran into her as she was out cycling the other day,' Al admitted. 'Anyway...yes. There's St. Paddy's at Woody's, with poetry and music. Quite a few folk from out of town will be coming for Druid Days. A lot of Welsh here who came to work the mines,and Cornishmen, and women--'Cousin Jacks and Jennys'.'
'Indeed?' Jack raised a brow and smiled at that. 'I like it.'
'Any Cornish in your mix, there, Cousin Jack?' Al enquired with a grin.
'None that I know...'Jack sighed. 'After the dust-up with Junior I feel I have a target on my back with a sign reading: 'Great Big Yid--Have A Go!''
'Ach, Jack...' Al clapped a hand on his shoulder, then frowned. 'I doubt if Junior would be showing up at Woody's again, even for this...'He peered ahead of him as they were nearing town. 'Say, isn't that Leon Guevara up the road, headed this way?'
It was indeed. Leon was riding one of his fine Andalusians, hard to tell which; such a well-matched pair he owned. Jack slowed the cart and stopped as he hailed Leon with a wave.'Leon! Good to see you.'
Leon smiled and pulled up before the men. 'Ah, Jack, and Dr. Parsons!'
'--Just 'Aleister', Leon, please!' Parsons enjoined, smiling.
Leon nodded, patting his horse's neck.
'Which are you riding, I can never tell them apart? Is this
Generalisimo or El Capitan?' Jack enquired.
'Ah. This is El Capitan!' Leon pointed to a hind leg. 'Do you see that small, infinitessimal white patch above his left hoof? That is the only way for others to tell them apart. Myself, I know my boys like my own children!'He sat back and regarded Al and Jack. 'So! Although the General would like to make a showing, I will be riding El Capitan in the race!'
'Race?'Jack asked, flicking a glance at Parsons, who looked down, studying horse hooves intently.
'Of course,'Leon continued,'The Druid Derby! You haven't heard?
It's to be Sunday the 18th, it's always the day after St. Patrick's Day. A nice cash purse for the winner!'He patted El Capitan, who tossed his fine head and snorted, as if impatient to claim it.'Also, perhaps to get the ladies not to object to a race on Sunday this year,'he winked, 'There's to be a'Bonnet and Pie' prize as well. Each lady who wishes to enter her pie as prize, will stow her hat upon the poles at the end of the racecourse and whoever takes the bonnet, will receive that good lady's prize pie!' The big Andalusian stamped his hoof and shook his reins. 'El Capitan cannot wait to be made the winner!'Leon laughed. 'But, we must be off! Good to see you both! And, I'll see you at the upcoming celebrations!'
After Leon took his leave, Jack and Al continued on into town.
'You didn't tell me there's to be a horserace!' Jack said to the doctor.
Al began to whistle then, and seemed to be concerned only with passing scenery. Jack recognized the tune;the Pogue's 'A Pistol For Paddy Garcia.'
                            . . . . .
'Oh, I lather'd him w'me shillelagh, for he trod on the hem o'me coat..! Mush, mush mush tural-i-ay!' Aleister sang as he exited the house onto the veranda with a mug of coffee in hand, and took a look about at the fresh wet March morning and the verdant hills about, the trees just beginning to bud, so they were, thought he...ah, a lovely spring day brings thoughts of fresh steaming horse pies to a man's mind. Al was thinking fertile thoughts of biodeisel and imagining he was just the man to spread the...miracle of merde throughout le monde...hadn't seen Homer & Jethro in awhile, not since their dinner here, he thought. He shook his head, taking a sip of hot french roast. He had blamed himself for Jack's sore head, not having accompanied Jack that night...well, Jack was just trying to do his job, really, to be fair.
As was Al. Their assignment wasn't all wine and roses...Al had enough wounds and scars of his own to know that, of all sorts...
He turned at a noise behind him and noted Jack up and joining him on the porch, mug in hand as well. Jack sat in one of the
wooden porch chairs. 'Morning, Al!'
'Hail and well met, Jack!' Parsons regarded him. Jack seemed nearly his old self again. Hoping that wasn't all bad, he decided it was at least an improvement over his more recent appearance.
'Well met, indeed Al,'Jack took a sip of java and closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet fresh morning air. 'It's good to have all this legal business behind us...the house sale, and now, to have Moore's award already from the library! He worked a miracle to have gotten us satisfaction so soon!To Moore and to Mr. Nader! Cheers!'
'Cheers, Jack!' Al drank off the rest of his brew. 'Sooo...what will you be doing with it then?'
'Give half to Em, of course. You know I only ponied up the cash to keep archives going for her job...which they bolloxed up good! Bastards...'Jack frowned at the floor. He sighed, 'Anyway,
she deserves something to start anew with.Least I can do...'
'Ah Jack,' Al surveyed the old place, 'You have done well by her, I think.'
'Yeats could argue with you on that one, Al...' Jack stood then and ambled off to the stables.
                           . . . . .
Emmeline awoke wondering where she was for a moment. She'd been in a deep dream before waking and surfaced into  unfamiliar
surroundings...then she recalled she'd moved Alice's bed to the parlor. And no Macky, no Frida. She leaned back against her pillows, trying to recall her dreamscape...someone was desperately trying to impart something to her...Alice maybe? She didn't think so...the harder she concentrated, the more fleeting the snatches of dream-leaves that now scattered and fled,dissolving into the light of new morning.
Ah, well...so it goes. The parlor was dark, and cold, she realized. And so quiet without MacGregor. She smiled, suddenly.
Here she was living in an empty house like a vagrant. She actually rather relished it.
She eschewed the woodstove in the kitchen, and opened the parlor curtains and built up the fire in the fireplace, swinging the old iron teakettle over the fire to heat, which didn't take long, really. She enjoyed camping in the parlor, and loved the simplicity of it all, and having only what was a basic necessity about her. Goddess, but she was relieved to be free of all the clutter that had grown up about her like mushrooms! As she set the tea to brew, she gazed out the windows and thought of her New Life...to be able to travel at long last! No longer harnessed to the clock and to be out from  under the constant
strain and stress of trying to do one's best at a job one could enjoy if only management wasn't so bent upon making one as miserable as possible while one was at it...
She poured her tea, taking a grateful sip. Nice and strong, good old iron pot! Well, times were hard. Management wanted to be rid of workers and save money. Pressuring people with stress and
pain hadn't worked, so they just gave up and gave many of us the boot at last. So be it. She was well out of it with that chapter closed then.
At last she had wings.
And a bicycle!
Em thought then of the Indigo Room at Crowley place and how it could be hers...the whole third floor. Hm. It both appealed and appalled. Naturally, she would love a turret room in an old mansion. That it was Jack's place, offered her by Jack, with Jack living there...that was appalling. She sighed, feeling the old creeping chains tightening about her, whilst she determined she would fly free of any and all such restraints.
Still, the room itself appealled, as if beyond reach of Jack or time and space itself. It seemed, to her, a world apart.
She thought of his wood floor in his turret room. Wonderful, that! The sheer beauty of the pale wood that showed through...what a wonder it would be, after sanding smooth, to laquer that and bring out the grain in all it's natural art.
It'd be well worth it, she thought. And, after all, it would be her world and her escape, when she wasn't out and about with Marta herb-gathering.Hmmm...I wonder how long I'd be gone, to begin? Would I have time to work on my room first?
Em took her cup and wandered about the empty, echoing parlor, and stopped by the windows to look out at the new spring shoots and buds. Equinox soon. 'Moon turns the tides' and a time of new beginnings. So it was with Em's life of late, truly.
She had a notion then. She wanted to work on the wood floor of the Indigo Room, and ready it for herself, for her retreat. Now, while she had time to do it.
She stole a glance at Lil Blue leaning against the wall in the hallway. 'Okay, Blue! Let's get to gettin'!'
                             . . . .
Mid-morning found her careening 'round the corner down Crowley Lane and up the drive to Crowley House. She heard the bang! Bang! Bang! of someone working on pounding metal with metal out behind the stables. Figuring it was Aleister probably working on some gadget or other, she leaned Blue against the porch and went up the stairs to the front door, not wishing to disturb the Man At Work...
She knocked. No answer. She tried the door then. It was open. 'Hello the house!' Em called.
'Em!'It was Jack. 'Up here!' He called to her from the second floor landing.
'Hullo, Jack! Am I interrupting anything?' She began to head upstairs, anxious now to see 'her' room.
'Not at all! In fact, I was thinking of stopping by your place later. Have a wee bit of news to share, is all...'He was smiling, wiping his hands on his large red bandana.
'Ah. Good news, I hope...' Em joined him in the foyer.
'It is.Mr. Moore was able to secure the monies the library owed us for closing the archives.'
'That's justice for a change! Congratulations, Jack! Well done!'
Em was relieved.
Jack thought he'd wait to tell her what he would do with the settlement. Plenty of time, now. 'So, what brings you here this fine morning?'
'Well, as you did mention something about staying in the Indigo Room?' Jack nodded, and motioned her up to third floor, 'Well, I wished to take a look at it, now, while I have a wee break between jobs! Perhaps, even get a start on the floor...'Em felt rather awkward still, to be appropriating Jack's property for herself...
Jack, however, had no such qualms. 'That's fine, Em! Probably be good to have it all ready for you by month's end. You'll be needing a place to relax and sleep in, when you're back to work.'He opened the Indigo Room door, and handed the key to her. 'Here. We have skeleton keys for all the rooms, but you needn't worry about that. Your private space is inviolable. So! You want to start with the floor then?'
Em took the key and stared about the room. It had a good feel to it.'I do.'She looked around at the walls.' And I love the color Jack, it's so subtle...'
'I tried to keep it nearly achromatic...so that it reflects color rather than projects...'
'Pearlescent...' It glided and slipped from her tongue. 'Ah... Yes, if I may, I wanted to get started sanding it down...'Em took off her coat and tied her hair back with a bandana of her own;stick to business, she coached.
'You know, Em...if you don't mind, that is--I could help. If we both were to work on it, we could have it sanded down by days' end...'
'Oh, Jack, really? '
'Not a big room, Em. And I'd enjoy the work. I would be working on it myself now, even if you weren't here to help you know!'
'Alright, Jack.' Em smiled at him and they got to work.
                              . . . .
Sunset found Jack and Em sharing sandwiches on the veranda, watching the westering sky turn red at the horizon. The bucolic idyll was interrupted by a battledore of chaos erupting from beyond the stables,climaxing with a great plume of smoke.
'S'alright, Em!' Jack assured her. 'It's just Al working on his steam-tractor!'
'Ah!'Em wondered about that. 'He...doesn't work into the evening on such...eh, projects, does he?'
'Sometimes...'Jack then realized what she meant. 'But, no, not making such a din! Not at night, don't worry. But, you must know that we all keep odd hours here. But we do like it quiet nights, even when we are up and about.'
That was good at least, Em decided.'Well! We did good work today, Jack, what do you think...?' she took a sip of her iced tea with lemon.
'That we did,'he agreed. 'Just needs some fine refinishing...and be ready to laquer up perhaps tomorrow.' He took a bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully awhile. 'It looks fine, Em. Nice wood under all that, eh?'
Emmeline was well pleased with the effect uncovered by hours of sanding away the dirt and rough bits. She sighed contentedly and stretched, taking the bandana out of her hair and shaking it free. 'It's coming together.'
Jack regarded her then, in the growing twilight. 'Would you like to stay in your room tonight, Em? Just thought you might want to...before laquering, just to, you know, get the feel of it! The laquer will take a couple of coats, and days drying. This would be a good time for it. You'll not get the chance again til after it's finished. That will be some days yet... We could just move a futon and tatami up to your room for tonight.'

'Hm.'Em thought a moment, warming to the idea. 'A futon?'
'It's a Japanese mattress, quite comfortable. A tatami is a woven straw mat, a floor covering, just large enough to fit under the futon and then some. You're just off the floor then.'
It sounded exactly like what Emmeline wanted. To be near her 'new' floor! 'It...does sound intriguing, Jack!'She bit her lower lip, thinking. Well, I needn't be at Alice's now to attend to Macky, even! So...she could stay, she realized. Perhaps I'll be able to capture that fleeting dream...
'Why not, Jack!'She smiled at him. 'I'd be delighted!'
                       . . . .
Later that evening, Emmeline helped Jack haul up the futon, as he called it. It was more like a huge sack of buckwheat, ungainly and hard to manage, especially upstairs.
'Ulf!'Jack let his end flop upon the mat, the tatami. 'Wrestling with these is like hefting about a large, drunken fat lady...ah, no offense Em...'
'That's ok, Jack. I agree with you! Heavy, aren't they?' But as Em surveyed the room, with the new paint relecting the moon outside, and her pale, newly sanded floor with only the sweet-grass smell of the tatami and the futon as the only furniture therein, she felt right at home. 'I like it. Just like this,' she announced.
'I know just what you mean, Em. It frees your mind, somehow, to live uncluttered.' Jack gazed at the effect of all the recent changes in the room. 'It's lookin' good.'
'We've done some good work, Jack. Thank you for your help.'
'Em, thank YOU. I didn't think I would have any help fixing up this place! Well...' He handed her the lantern. 'Until we get electric lighting in here, these will do. Al is working on some Tesla wireless notions. Just you wait, it'll be fine.'
'I like it just like this...the moon, and a low lamp.' Em stood at the window gazing out. 'It'd seem a shame to put up curtains, it's like making a window wear a futzy frock!'
Jack smiled. He liked his Em. 'I feel exactly the same.Bamboo blinds are nice. Of course, downstairs, the parlor is outfitted to pass for whatever is the style in the 19th century, for visitors' sake. But I prefer a more minimalist, Japanese sort of style, myself. Plain woods, mostly natural and unadorned. Space. That's the thing.'
Emmeline smiled, and turned to him. 'Exactly.'
'Well!, I'll leave it to you then, Em!' He went to the door. 'Sweet dreams.'
'Goodnight, Jack.'
                  
After her hard work that day, Emmeline had no problem sleeping.
As heavy as the futon was, it was still comfortable and most welcome to sleep upon. She loved the scent of the tatami, like new-mown hay, and also slept with her window open a wee crack.
Listening to the  sound of breezes outside and the odd stirrings of the men below, still moving about the house, she felt a languidness descend upon her and before she knew it, she had drifted off...
                           . . . .
Ocean waves crashed against the shore. Here, too, it was night. But that was all this place held in common with the point of origin where Emmeline still dozed in the Indigo Room...
'Is she with us yet?' Yeats's voice.
'I believe so...' Thelene answered. 'Anara?' No answer from the sleeping woman they had gathered about.
'Emmeline is with Anara now. We can let them be. They both need this...recharging of batteries...'She smiled and held a hand out to Yeats, who took it and followed her out of the room where pale light lay upon the womans' slumbering form.
Walking down the hallway, they went outdoors onto a balcony which  rose over the water in a semi-circle. Yeats was looking at Thelene as she gazed out over the water reflecting moonlight with a 'pearlescent' glow.
'It's good to see you, Thelene.' He said in a low rich voice.
Thelene's gaze never left the water. 'And you.' She sighed. 'Had your work cut out for you lately, I suppose...'
Yeats turned and clasping his hands, leaned against the railing and looked out over the bay. 'Oh, yes. As usual.'
Thelene held her head up and narrowed her gaze. 'I know that it is merely a temporary  port in a storm, having Emmeline stay at...that place, with you and with...Jack.' The way she mentioned Jack's name left no question about her less-than-warm feelings about that particular housemate of Em's.'However...'
She sighed. 'That young man is truly beyond redemption, I feel.
Especially after this last incident.'
Instead of objecting, Yeats merely stared at the waves crashing upon the shore below. 'Do you truly think so, Thelene?'
She rounded upon him then. 'He is ALL ego! Can you deny it? Even when he offers aid, it is only because it will reflect well upon him. He uses it as leverage.Would he ever consider an anonymous donation? Oh, do not get me started upon...Jack.' She nearly spat the name.She breathed in, closed her eyes and exhaled, waiting some minutes.'You know his background.'
'I do.' Yeats appeared unmoved.
Thelene was quiet, her stormy outburst now vented. She grasped the railing and closed her eyes, feeling the ocean breezes stir her hair. 'I know why you still believe in him, Shane.'
Yeats sighed and turned to her at last. 'I was a wild colonial boy like himself once upon a time, in a land, far, far away...'
'And don't be giving me your well-practiced blarney, Shane Devin Rowland Yeats!' She flashed dark eyes at him, full of fire.'You know that girl in there was nearly lost...'
'I do. And I accept full blame for that, Thelene. He thought he
was protecting her, and Alice.'
'That's all past. We cannot lose sight of why we're here, now.'
Thelene gripped the railing, he knuckles showing white. 'We are coming close now. We cannot let this chance pass us by.'
'Yes, I know. The world cannot stand to go on as it has much longer.' Yeats sighed then, a weary sound.
'Well, it is the equinox soon.'Thelene sounded hopeful again.
'Perhaps we'll be favored with grace at last.'
Yeats smiled. 'I never thought I would hear you speak of grace, my Thelene. You who believe that one gains only though one's own effort.'
She looked down at the sea-washed rocks far below. 'That is what I teach. How will these wayward children learn if not by their own efforts? Granting of boons by the goddess? True, the world no longer believes in what it cannot see, and touch, and tear apart. Blind, deaf and dumb folk, stumbling through their short and ever-worsening lives...how are they any better off than those who listened for a whisper on the wind that would tell them of their hearts' desire?'She shook her head. 'And now that people are so severed from nature, the earth, and from themselves...they have no respect for the very planet that gives them life, for water they can drink, for air that is fit to breathe...where there is no respect for women, there is none for the planet.'
'And so, they wither, and die.' Yeats proclaimed.
'Perhaps. If it is to be that cycle again so soon. The planet will live. But these blind ones, so full of greed, ego and violence will be gone. And, a new cycle shall begin.' She looked at him. 'That is certainly possible,' she conceded.
'Unless things change. Drastically.' Yeats looked at her in turn.

Thelene took Yeats by the hand again. 'That young woman in there, is not looking for the Nexus, my love.'
'She is not?'
'No, Shane. She IS the Nexus.'
                               . . . . .

THE WILD COLONIAL BOY
There was a wild colonial boy, Jack Duggan was his name
He was born and raised in Ireland in a place called Castlemaine
He was his father's only son, his mother's pride and joy
And dearly did his parents love the wild colonial boy

At the early age of sixteen years, he left his native home
And to Australia's sunny shore he was inclined to roam
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor, he shot James McAvoy
A terror to Australia was the wild colonial boy

One morning on the prairie as Jack he rode along
A listening to the mockingbird a singing a cheerful song
Out stepped a band of troopers, Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him, the wild colonial boy

"Surrender now Jack Duggan for you see we're three to one
Surrender in the Queen's high name for you're a plundering son"
Jack pulled two pistols from his belt and he proudly waved them high
"I'll fight, but not surrender," said the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly, which brought him to the ground
And turning 'round to Davis, he received a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him, the wild colonial boy

Ch. 10 Winter Lady, 'stay awhile...'

Winter Lady, Stay Awhile...
Morning arrived all too soon, Emmeline thought.She leaned forward in bed, clearing her brain. So. A whole day off, and...everything to do.
She headed downstairs and got the fire going for tea, after feeding her furry friends first.She rather missed having the paper delivered, but then again, it was all just sour news lately...
She took her tea to the table and sat, thumping her pencil upon paper she had gathered for a 'To Do' list.
l. Find a job and some money. 2. Find a place to live.
OK...
Sighing, Em leaned back and sipped her tea. As kind as her Lost Boys were, she shied away from the idea of going to Crowley House to 'do' for them. That would be quite an adjustment for them all...to say the least. And Jack's...declaration of last night. Lord and Lady....What to make of that?! Em decided to shelve it for now. She had more immediate concerns...
Well, get to gettin', girl, she told herself. She thought she would first talk things over with Ernestine and Marta, that would be a good place to start.
She headed out on Lil Blue, although the ground was still wet, it had cleared off by morning and was only rather misty now. The Guevaras lived en route to town and it didn't take her long to arrive. A good thing Pankhurst wasn't a very hilly town, being riverside and lowland, it was good for bicycling, Em discovered.
Ernestine would probably be at the hospital, but Em thought she'd see who else might be at home, knocking on the door hopefully. 'Em!' She heard a voice call from around the side of the house.
'Marta!Buenos dias!' She waved and joined Marta in the back yard where she had been planting, Em saw.'Looks like tomatoes!'
'Ah, si! At last we finally have rain!' Marta hugged Em hello. 'It's good to see you! Marco told us that you were at Woody's the other night!'
That seemed so long ago now, so much had happened...
'Yes. He plays so beautifully! It was fun, singing with him and the band.'Em sighed.
'Hm.' Marta took in Em's slumped form and resigned air with a look. She handed Emmeline a hoe. 'Dig the next hole for this little plant--there!' She pointed her toe at the spot indicated.Em smiled and began digging. 'That's good.' Marta gently placed the little plant inside, adding water. 'Now this little one will give us sweet and lovely fruit, yes?'She stood and pointed to the next spot. 'Now, tell me what is on your mind. Your spirit is heavy, nina...'
Em dug her hoe into the rich black soil.'Ahhh...Marta...
so much has happened recently. Alice's house will be
sold soon. And, I am out of a job as well.' She stood leaning against the hoe.
Marta touched her arm gently. 'Is that so? Oh, my!'She shook her head, 'Many changes to happen all at once!'She bent down to deposit the next plant in the hole.'Have you any ideas?'
'Well...I'd considered South America...'Em gazed across the yard and to the hills beyond. 'But, I guess that would be more of a dream than a plan.'
Marta looked surprised. 'To follow Lev, I suppose?'She tsked.'No, nina. I don't think that would be best now.But,'she paused,'You like to travel?'
'Well,' Em dug the next hole, 'Yes! I've always loved it Marta! Just never have the time for it...gosh, I've been in harness at work so long, I don't know how to act! Nearly 10 years, you know...well, eight, actually.'
'Ocho, there you go again! It's a cycle, see?'Marta patted dirt around the tomato plant. 'There now! Soon we'll cage them up and let them grow tall. Grow tall and sweet my beauties!'She told her new plants, smiling.
'That's enough for now, Em,'She told her, taking the hoe.'Come, let's sit together awhile...'
They sat on benches at a wooden table and Marta poured from a pitcher of water with lemon for them. Em felt something brush against her leg. 'Oh!' Marta's big Maine Coon Cat, Carmen, was snaking her way around their legs.
'Carmen, hola!'Em bent to stroke her big blue-grey head,tall as a young German Shepherd..
'Oh, that Carmen! She is a brazen one...' Marta patted her.'And she fears nothing and no one! She eats dogs for breakfast!'
'I bet she does!'Em smiled watching the big cat curl up into a massive furball on the bench next to her. 'I wish I could be more like her...'
'I don't think so. Dogs just don't taste good at all, Em, muy malo!' Marta laughed and winked at Em, who smiled. 'There, you see...as long as you can still find humor in things, you'll be alright.'She regarded her young friend seriously then. 'We'll put our heads together, Em. There's always a way to be found. Have you any ideas?' She sipped her lemon water.
'Hmmm, well, I was going to ask you and Tina, if perhaps you knew of any live-in situations here in town ...cook, governess...seamstress...'Em trailed off.
'Yes, I can tell that idea thrills you.'Marta looked at her. 'No, offhand, I don't know of any openings.' She gazed out over her garden area. 'There may be something you can help me with, however.
If...you're interested, and don't mind travel,'
Emmeline was intrigued. 'Oh, Marta? Do tell me!'
'Well, Em...you do know something about medicine plants and herbs! And you know I gather them and travel around to find the right ones. I have rather a good business, gathering and drying these little plants! And, when they are ready, I sell at the farmers markets, all over.People are clamoring for herbal medicines! It's become so successful, I'm having a time just trying to keep what I need in stock!' She looked at Em.
Emmeline knew about Marta's herbal medicines and her local business. 'I didn't know you had expanded operations, Marta! That's wonderful!'
 'So far, so good.' Marta nodded. 'I could use help with all that! The gathering, the drying, the packaging, the travel, market sales...Tina is of course too busy with work, as is Leon, but he helps me when he can. I had been thinking about hiring a helper. What do you think, Em?'
'Oh, Marta, truly?'Em was excited. 'It sounds like something I would love to do!'
'Now it isn't easy work, Em!'She looked at her and touched her arm again. 'The digging, the travel. It can be hot, or cold and wet, backbreaking toil especially seeking mountain plants up steep trails, and desert plants in the hot sun!'
'I'm young and strong, so far!'Emmeline was...still, she thought that a change in the type of work done would be a good idea ...she felt like a factory girl sometimes when they had a big backlog to check in...just go, go, go...!
'And I'm very willing!Also...'Em considered,'I won't have Alice's place to keep up. I'm free as a bird! No family ties, either.'... Well, nothing to keep her from travelling...she adored her sister but, she was far away and she had her own family. After...the accident, Amelie being so much younger, had gone to live with aunts, since passed on, so it had been, in effect, just Em and the professor then.,,
Marta smiled. 'You are family, here with us, la familia, Em!Well! Yes, I believe it would suit you! But, let us discuss details later, and meanwhile, you think about it before giving a final answer! I won't look for another helper until I hear from you!'
Em felt her load much lightened. 'Marta. I can't thank you enough, for thinking of me! I'm sure I'll decide it's just what I need. But, yes, I'll consider it...'Em sighed. 'Now...I just have to find somewhere I can stay when I'm not on the road...somewhere I could easily come and go...' She considered Crowley Place then...mayyyybe, just maybe, if she wasn't there all the time, it could be doable.'Possibly...'she said aloud.
'You have a place in mind?' Marta enquired.
'Well...' Em decided to discuss the whole option before her.'I have friends who have offered rooms,in exchange for doing some household chores...'
'That sounds just the thing, Emmeline!'
'Well...yes...possibly...'
Marta intuited there was a 'but' somewhere.
....possibly?'
Em sighed. 'Oh, Marta...it's just that...my friends
...mean well, but--they're men.'
'So? Do they bite?' Marta grinned.
'Not usually.'
'Men who don't bite. That's good, for men.' Marta laughed. 'Ah, Em. You haven't lived with men since
your papa, no?'
Em shook her head. 'Just Alice. And MacGregor...and he
never bites!'
'I'm sure these men are housebroken, as well! Who are
they,  these Men Who Don't Bite?'
'You have met, and danced with! One of them, at the hoe-down on your birthday--Jack Van Horn?'
'Ah! Mr. Blue Suede Shoes!'Marta smiled and nodded.'I remember.'She winked. 'Even a small nip from him would not be so bad, no?'
'Marta, no! I mean, yes! It would be!'Em got flustered when she thought of Jack nipping...at things...'You see,
we are still friends but...well, I just wonder, you know, how wise it would be to be living under the same roof. Although he has sworn he and Aleister and Mr. Yeats would all act as brothers and amigos while I'm there...'
'Then they shall.'Marta decided that quickly. 'Emmeline, men are not all headblind bulls! They do have a brain and the brain can control the body. I'll keep you busy enough, you won't even be there but 1/2 the time anyway.
I don't see a problem with these men.'
'What about, you know, what people in town would think?'
Em asked.
'What do you care?'Marta frowned at her. 'Do you think I care about what these people think of me? Those who know me, love me! Those who don't know me, who cares! It's simple, Em. Besides, what would they think of you in partnership with me, an old Mexican bruja, eh? Traipsing all about the country, digging in the dirt and getting your pretty fingernails all dirty!'Marta tilted her nose in the air, wiggling her fingers in a flighty manner.
Em laughed. She knew she didn't have any fingernails and working at the library was somehow such dirty work her hands looked like a miner's by days' end sometimes.'I know you're right, Marta. Working downtown with 'society folk' I have allowed their mad notions to affect me more than I should.'She sighed. 'How good it would be, to simply forget about them all and their fabricated ideas of propriety!'
'That, Em,'Marta nodded, 'Is the BEST medicine!'
                             . . . . .
Yeats and Jack also had business in town. At Mr. Moore's law firm, they had a couple of issues to discuss with the attorney. As well as the sale of Alice's house, which was given the green light, Jack had made it clear that the endowment he had given the library was not being used according to their agreement wherein it was clearly stipulated the monies awarded were to be used to keep the archives building going and in fact, improved upon.
'Breach of contract, at the very least,'Jack said. He had spoken more strongly when discussing it with Yeats at the house earlier, but his sensei had cautioned against going head-to-head with the city, hired guns a-blazing. They didn't want to make enemies, and preferred their presence to remain fairly invisible to the community at large. Em had impressed upon Jack just how questionable the local politicians motives could be,  Be a shame if he couldn't cause some heads to roll who really deserved it...
Moore had listened intently, and agreed. 'I think it could be easily decided in our favor...soon as I call one in, I believe!' Moore leaned back then. 'These people here...don't really care about right or wrong, or even the letter of the law, so called.' He rocked slightly in his chair, hands clasped over his ample girth. 'What WILL impress them however, is a name, and what it portends...'
'You know someone.'Yeats stated it as a given.
Moore smiled slowly.'Oh yes. San Francisco attorney...he owes me one, and I think he'd enjoy this case. All we have to do, is serve papers bearing HIS name upon them as your  legal representative, and they would fall over themselves agreeing to anything you would care to name...first-born sons, pounds of flesh, etcetera...'
Jack and Yeats looked at one another. 'And this all-powerful being would be whom?'
'Name of Eugene V. Nader...'Moore opened a good-sized black leather-bound address book. 'Oh, yes. They'll know who he is, and that's all we'll need!I'll have my clerk,
 contact him by wire, and send him copies of your paperwork ASAP.
And,I don't think we'll have any problems selling Alice's place, for a tidy sum, as well.That, at least, is fairly straight forward! I would venture to say that we'll have a buyer by the end of the month!'
                             . . . . .
After paying a cursory call to the library administration to inform them of their intentions, (which, as they'd guessed, had been duly ignored,)Jack and Yeats headed home listening to the clip-clop of Trotsky's metronome beat.
'Do you think that'll work for Em?'Jack asked Yeats. 'Less than a month to leave. She's not sure about, anything, really, as yet...'
Even old Yeats sighed at that. 'We'll speak with her.'
Jack spied a blue blur on the side of the road. 'Is that she?'
'She what, has a bicycle now?' Yeats reined in the bay to a slow walk, pulling far over.
The cart soon caught up with her. 'Em!' Jack yelled and waved. Em stole a glance behind her and grinned, stopping Lil Blue, and waited for them.'Out and about, eh, Em?'
'Oh, yes Jack, Mr. Yeats! My new bike!' She regarded Yeats then.
'Very nice.'
'So! Em!...ah...been to town, then?' Jack wished very much to talk with her and just, well, get everything out on the table, but...discretion and all that...is the better part of a 50/50 split.
'Yes!' Em seemed very keen about something at present.
'Do stop by when you can, we shall talk it over then.'
'Well...'Jack looked at Yeats, who sighed and nodded. 'Why not add bike to cart, and we'll drive you back, then, Em?'
Emmeline agreed to this, so Jack helped her load Lil Blue, and she sat with Jack on the rear seat.Em noted his eye looked slightly better, not such a dark bruise, and the swelling was down. 'Oh, I've just come from Marta's with some more herbs for you, Jack.' She handed him a cloth pouch which smelled of something fresh, green and wild.
'Thanks, Em. How is Marta?'
'Oh,Jack--just wait til I tell you! You and Mr. Yeats may stop in for a moment, yes?'Her sparkling gaze took him in and won him over.
'Just for a moment, Em, alright Mr. Yeats?' Jack asked.
'Umm.' Was Yeats's excuse for an answer.
'That'll do for 'yes.''Jack assurred her. They rode to Alice's in companionable silence...Jack was glad to have business over with early...he had hardly slept.He was concerned about the sale, and Em. Last evening,he had kept playing Dylan's 'Basement Tapes' over and over. Somehow, it was hard to feel completely beaten when hearing all these guys...and what a great cover! Jack recalled many years ago when he had first heard this mix...he'd just gotten a mandolin, and discovered it had the same tuning as a violin. He mused about playing it ala Jimmy Page with a violin bow...then, he found his uncle's copy of the Basement Tapes, with Dylan on the cover, with what appeared to be a mandolin or lute under his chin, and he posed as if to play the violinist...amidst the strongman and fireaters, ballerinas and belly dancers, nuns and dwarves and men in straight jackets and sad clowns and sangrimancers...and Jack had thought it all very serendipidous indeed...
                     . . . . .
'And here we are!' Em announced. It was good to see her looking more upbeat, Jack noticed, as he took the bike from the cart and wheeled it up on the porch and Em unlocked the gate and rounded up her canines.
'Do make yourselves comfortable!'Emmeline told them as they filed into the kitchen and she got the old woodstove started and fed Mac and Frida.
'Frida is looking...well.'Yeats noted.
'You see? Yes, she is doing well indeed. The Kahlos are
pleased.'Em sighed,as she put the kettle on. 'I'm not sure what we'll do though, I would hate to break up the team...I don't know how Macky will take the move! The Kahlos have been apprised of the sale, and offered to keep Mac and Frida at their place, until I am settled elsewhere...'
'Of course, Mac is welcome at Crowley Place!' Jack announced. 'Before 'Alice' showed up, I'd been telling Aleister we needed a watchdog! I've been kidding him ever since about the one he found!' Jack added, grinning.
Em took the tea to the breakfast nook and set cups and saucers 'round, adding some newly baked gingerbread slices to the table as well, 'He is the best watchdog!' Em assented, pouring tea,'He may be ready to adjust to a different place, after Frida's attention has turned to her pups.'
At last, Emmeline sat beside Jack and joined them. 'Well,'she began, 'I have news! I have found a job--more than that--a vocation!'
'Emmeline, truly!' Jack's face brightened. 'Cheers, then, Em!' He held his teacup up to her, as did Yeats.'Cheers, Emmeline!'
'Iachyd da!'Em toasted in Welsh, clinking cups.Taking a sip, she continued, 'So this morning I went to see the Guevaras and spoke with Marta, who is doing quite well, especially with her herbal medicines business. She has been thinking of hiring a helper, to work with her gathering, drying, and selling at markets. Since I know abit about herbs, and she has been teaching me...we've gone on local herb-gathering forays together; she offered me the job!''
'That sounds just the thing for you, Emmeline,'Yeats commented. 'You would enjoy the work, I think.'
'Oh, yes, Mr. Yeats! Especially compared to the horrors I was feeling when I thought I'd have to resign myself to ironing linens for society folk...'Em shuddered.
Jack had been rather quiet however.'So...will you be staying with the Guevara's then?'
'Oh, no, Jack. Marta doesn't spend much time at home herself, even.I would have to stay somewhere I could come and go easily, and be free to travel. I would be out in the field and at markets quite often...'She looked at him.'
Yeats spoke up,'It would seem Crowley House would fit that bill, Emmeline.'
'Well,'Em looked at them both, searchingly,'I had been considering it...IF it would be well with you, and Dr. Parsons, if I'd only be there, part-time! When I am there, I'd be more than willing to help in whatever capacity! Including restoration, Jack!'
Jack considered Em then. 'Are you saying, that you will come stay with us, then? Part-time?'He smiled at last.
'Yes, Jack, I would be so pleased.'Em answered.
'Then so would we. Welcome to Crowley House, Emmeline! Mi casa es su casa, whenever you are ready!' Jack sighed and grinned as Em put her arm through his and lay her head on his shoulder a moment in a brief hug.
'Thank you, Jack.'
                         . . . . .
Travelin' Lady, stay awhile
until the night is over
I'm just a station on your way
I know I'm not your lover...
Well I lived with a child of snow
when I was a soldier
And I fought every man for her
Until the nights grew colder
She used to wear her hair
Like you, except when she was sleeping
And then she'd weave it on a loom
Of smoke and gold and breathing
And why are you so quiet now,
standing there in the doorway
You chose your journey long before
you came upon this highway
Traveling lady, stay awhile
until the night is over
I'm just a station on your way
I know I'm not your lover...
--Leonard Cohen.

Chapter 9 Orange Blossom Special

Chapter 9 Orange Blossom Special

Jack lay still  against the pillow, eyes closed. He began to breathe deeper.
Asleep.
Em regarded him as he slept on. Sighing.  That Junior! Something had to be done about him! Em stood, slowly. not wishing to wake Jack. Well, let the lad sleep...he needed it.
She went in back to unhitch Trotsky and halter him with a rope so he could graze down the backyard abit. She kept a spare rope and halter for visiting friends. He was a good boy, she thought, giving him a caress...had to be to put up with Jack's demands, no doubt, feeling a kinship with the animal. She figured she'd let Jack sleep awhile then see him off home...didn't really care who saw all the comings and goings anyhow...Alice was selling! Events were moving more quickly than Em could keep up with...
She went into the kitchen to get her tea and the Courier she'd been indulging in before Jack had arrived like Halloween in March, which she suddenly realized it was...no Leap Year this year. A short month, February...
Sparing a glance Jack's way, she sat in an armchair opposite his
lengthy horizontal form...he had one foot on the floor and the other stretched out about a foot off the end of the sofa. He had to have a long bed...Em frowned and shook the paper open. Enough about Jack and beds already. She stole another gaze at him. Gods he looked like death on a cracker...
She turned her attention to the headlines again. Oh just peachy!
The bloody mayor had been beating the drum to the tune of his proposed new ballpark...a luxury for rich males to indulge in, Em knew...so naturally the bloody city council was all for it!
(Being rich, and male.) So some adjustments needed to be made with allocations, etc...where are we going with this shite? thought Em, falling into the Captain's mode of expression momentarily...ah, it seems that fees charged for city services rendered will go to pay for the ball park, etc etc blah blah...right. Directly from tax-payers pockets to enrich the rich;mostly the mayor's cronies and councilmembers.
Em felt like leaving for South America. Now.
She crinkled up the paper and flopped against the back of the chair, gazing at Jack's bruised and rumpled form...
 She could. She had sortof assumed, she would...Alice and Frank and Lev are there...'The song has ended...but the melody lingers on, you and the song have gone, but the melody...'
Em cocked her head sideways at Jack. He looked so lost.She thought of Frank then. To be lost in time...what a horror, Em thought, to be neither here nor there--as Frank had been. But did he experience it as 10 years? May've been just hours for him, in his world. Alice was fierce as a lioness about protecting him. Of course, she would be. They've been so long apart...
Her old Alice...but things have changed now, haven't they? She felt a kinship with MacGregor then...well, at least he had Frida.
And, here, well...she had...Jack.
What to do with him? Hmm.
Em took some tea and uncrinkled the paper. Opening to the Local section, she read (in much smaller print than the 'yippy we're buying rich men a new playground ain't it cool!?' story), an article  outlining and at last spelling out the new budget cuts for the year...schools, of course, Em shook her head...the teachers needed a union. The teachers she knew viewed their profession as a labor of love, most of them. Well isn't that always the way? Women and children last...let's see...
cuts to the trolley system, oh wonderful! Already a simple half hour trip cross town took two hours due to 'cuts' and trolleys running only once an hour...but we really need that new ball park!
Em sighed and thought of South America...the vaqueros, the tango...the Andes...
OK, let's get this over with. Em...what else...cuts to parks and recreational facilities...oh, naturally. Why bother to allow children to exercise when you can pay so very much to rich men to play for other rich mens' amusement...ah, here we go: libraries.
NO more state funding.
So, that's what was up with the recent closures...
Em felt that old one-two punch feeling. She looked over at Jack and felt just like he looked.
                               . . . . .
Later, near sunset. Em was boiling water for coffee. She felt she might be sitting up with a beaten up Jack possibly tonight. She felt someone behind her...
'Jack!' She put a hand to her heart in surprise. 'You're up!'
Jack looked out the window, and went to it, drawing back the curtains. 'Thanks for unhitching Trotsky.' He looked at Em, face still a mess but he looked more...'there'now and less otherwhere.
'What's the time, Em?' he asked, looking down.
'Just gone sixish. How do you feel, Jack?'
'I feel like I look, I imagine...'Jack tried a small grin. The effect was pretty ghastly.
'Oh, my dear...here. Please, have a seat, Jack!' Em took him by the arm and led him to the breakfast nook. 'I'm making coffee. Think you can handle that?'
'Yes. Please.' Jack sat and leaned on the table, carefully holding his head back to keep the blood from rushing forward and pounding in his face. ('Does your face hurt?' -- 'It's killin' me!'--the old playground taunt zinged through Jack's maimed brain then), 'Aaaaghhh! A-aaa-aaaahhhh...thanks, Em...' He said as Em put a cold wet cloth on his head, and placed another at his eye.
'I haven't a cold steak.'
Jack sighed. 'I fell asleep.'
'Yes. You truly didn't know we were closed? I recall telling you...but it doesn't matter. I can take you home, whenever you're up to it.Doctor Parsons needs to examine you, Jack! But, if you can, please do stay for dinner! I think you need something...' Em poured coffee for them both and then brought
fresh cornbread and soup to table. Putting a hand on Jack's shoulder she inquired, 'You up for food, old dear? You can always just lie down again if you'd rather!'
Jack slowly glanced up, and saw genuine concern on her face. She'd called him 'old dear.' That was good, wasn't it? Well, that's one good thing out of all this...'Yes, Em, I'll be fine. I'll try some soup, thank you.'
After coffee and something in his stomach, Jack did feel rather abit better.'I'm sure I can make it home Em. You've been a gracious hostess...'
'Oh, Jack! Enough of that! We're friends!' Em leaned over the table and touched his arm. 'I can drive you home, then Al or Yeats can bring me back here!'
Jack kept his gaze down. He had the crazy notion that if he wasn't looking at her, she wouldn't see him...he certainly didn't want her to see him. Not really at his best just now...'I'm fine. I've driven old Trotsky in worse situations! He's a good horse. A good friend.'Jack sighed. 'Good friends are worth keeping, don't you think, Em?'
Em had a whirlwind of thoughts then. Yes, friends like Alice, and Lev, but also like Jack, and Yeats and Aleister, and Ernestine and Marta...
She felt unsettled. But just now, it was Jack needing reassurance.
'Absolutely. What can I do for you Jack? Now that you're up...I do have herbs that I can brew to take down the swelling...'
'How about I take them with me, Em? I'd rather be on the road before sundown.' Here he was a New York Jewboy in the Olde West with a Crazy Inbred Bigot after his hide. To Jack this gave the word 'SUNDOWN!' special import...
'I'm going with you, Jack.' Em said, 'No arguments.'She got her hat and coat,'I couldn't sleep tonight if I didn't!'
                            . . . . . . .
On the road at last, it was a lovely evening. No hint that within little old Pankhurst lurked rats and other vermin. thought Emmeline as she sat next to Jack who was driving, seemingly well enough to do so.He made sure Em sat to his left, so she didn't see his more Phantom of the Opera side. 'Jack...?About last night...what led up to this whole...altercation? I mean, just out of nowhere...?'
'Well, yes, actually!' Jack answered. 'I was cooking at Woody's--I want him to switch to frying in oils. Even corn oil would be good.
So I was cooking tempura...a Japanese breaded and fried dish...and
very tasty.' Jack paused, looking around. 'Um. Well, yea, Junior had finished a set, then came up to where I was cooking and got all up in my business -- from out of nowhere, as you say.'
'And you drove home last night? Alone? After all that?' Em put her arm through Jack's. 'Foolish. Woody should have taken you home, or put you up there!'Em sighed. 'What to do with you, Jack?...can you stay out of trouble?'
'I don't go looking for it.'
She didn't feel like arguing. 'Jack Van Horn. I just rather assumed you had a Dutch background.'
'My father was Dutch, mostly. On the distaff side...Jewish heritage is matrilinear...my mother was a Bronshtein, her family was from Russia originally.
Em studied him in the fading twilight. 'You're from New York State, Jack?'
'Yes.'
'Where? Sleepy Hollow?' That, and New York City were about all Emmeline knew of Nueva York, or New Amsterdam, being a California girl.
'That's southern NY. I'm from upstate. Adirondak country.'
'It must be lovely.' Em wondered.
Jack sighed, painfully. 'It is that.'
Em looked at the road ahead. Not long until they're there. 'Jack, do me a favor.'
'Anything, Em.'
She kissed his non-swollen left cheek. 'Stay. Out. Of. Trouble!'
                           . . . . .
Tuesday morning then, found Yeats at Em's door. 'Miss Emmeline.'
he nodded to her touching his hat. 'Shall we be away?' He looked rather more grim than usual.
Em sat beside him on the cart as they headed to town. He hadn't said much. 'And how is Jack getting on?' She enquired. When she'd brought Jack in the night before, Yeats had simply taken one look at Jack and after telling him, 'Get inside!',he had grabbed his hat and coat and ushered Em back into the cart and drove her wordlessly home...she hadn't envied Jack then. Em knew that Yeats's valet capacity also encluded acting as a sort of bodyguard for the time-travelers. She didn't envy Yeats, either.
Yeats let her query dangle in the morning mist awhile before answering, 'He will live.'
There was something about Yeats that did not invite further chit-chat. In silence then, they drove on through town and out to the
warehouse district riverside where the fog was thicker.  As they neared the archives building, Emmeline saw something tacked to the door. 'Whata could this be?' She alighted from the cart and hurried up the steps. Yeats tied Trotsky and followed after.
'...CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!' Em looked up at Yeats. 'Mr. Yeats...I, I don't think this bodes well at all. If we may, head downtown to Central? I must speak to the Director.'
'Of course.' Yeats had read the paper, too, though and he hoped that Miss Page was prepared for the worst. It could very well be, that she may soon be out of a place to live, and a job as well.
That's where we come in, Yeats decided. That's what friends are for. He'd become rather fond of Miss Page, and not only because she was Thelene's favorite student. He could see the same sort of energy swirling about Emmeline as he could see around Jack. There was something in the ethers there that only Time would divulge.
Meanwhile...keeping their physical beings together in this space-time continuim, and out of trouble, would be his job. Yeats sighed. A non-enviable task...especially with Jack.
He kept his thoughts to himself however, as they drew up before the Central Library. Here, at least, things seemed to be business-as-usual. They were open. 'I'll wait here, I think, Emmeline.'Yeats told her, as he helped her from the cart. 'I hope not to be long...thank you, Mr. Yeats.'she said and as she went up the steps to the front door however, she noticed a change in the hours the library was open. Down to four days a week now, and less open hours. Em felt her stomach get that sick feeling which was alas, becoming more and more familiar recently...
Entering, she noticed rather less library staff present already. Still a crowd of patrons, however...Up the stairs she went seeking the director. She didn't make it quite that far, however. 'Miss Page!' A voice like a whip at her back made her turn to confront Halfwaffle:wearing a face like an avenging Valkyrie. It just gets better...Em thought.
Tilting her nose up in the air Halfwaffle assumed the air of a drill sergeant. 'This, is for you.' She handed Emmeline a paper, another signature sheet, Em wondered? 'Certain positions have been obviated. Including yours. Your paycheck.' She handed Em an envelope. 'Good day, Miss Page.' With that she turned on her heel and went on her way, spreading more cheer and goodwill, Em thought, noting that she carried several of the same envelopes with her. Heads were rolling...
Em's usual fighting instinct fell to her feet...what with Alice's news, the house for sale, Jack's dust-up with Junior, the mayor
taking over taxpayer's (wage-slaves) money, and now this...she just felt utterly defeated.
She made her way outside, in a daze, not even seeing the world around her. Yeats was leaning against the carriage, staring at the parkway across the street. He noted her return. And he could tell what had happened at a glance.He came to her side and took her elbow. 'My dear Miss Page. I am so very sorry.'
                          . . . . .
Closing the door behind her, Emmeline walked back into Alice's house. Instead of the usual 'home again' feeling after a day's work...things just seemed--empty. Moving on automatic, she fed Mac and Frida, then realized it was only noon. They didn't mind an extra helping.
She dragged herself into the parlor and looked around. Things just looked strange now. Maybe this was how Alice had been viewing it...she flopped onto the sofa, and Mac and Frida joined her on the tartan plaid blanket.
Petting them absently, she tried to wrap her mind around recent events. Yeats had urged her to come back to Crowley place and have dinner, stay awhile. She needed time alone, though.She felt numb.
She wouldn't have been able to even speak with people.He seemed to understand and allowed her this private time.
She gazed out the parlor window, seeing some clouds amassing over the treetops. She felt like rain. It would match her mood. She thought of Saturday last and Woody's...'Catfish John' ran through her head. 'Catfish John, was a river hobo. He lived and died by the river's edge...' Em leaned her head on her hand...people did, she knew...whole camps of immigrants sometimes dug in along the river, and were rousted regularly by the constabulary, only to pop up again at a slightly different location, and so the game went on and on. Em hoped she wouldn't be obliged to join them soon.
Her thoughts trailed off and centered again on Alice and South America. Well, there was that. But the more Em thought of it, she realized that she wasn't a fugitive, like Alice, Frank or Lev. She knew then that her presence there could just put more stress on the situation and she may even jeapordize their safety. Staying away, she'd be one less problem for them to worry about.She knew they were all safe, now. And they should stay that way. 'Of course...'she said aloud to herself. They had only offered out of kindness. And then she hung her head, feeling weary. Somehow, she knew the Captain was also out of the question. She'd piled her problems on his shoulders to take care of as well. And he had.
Time to give folks a break, she told herself...
It was good of Alice and Frank to think of her, though, and so she'd have some money from the sale of the house. She knew, though, that without a job that could disappear like dandelion fluff in the wind...at least I have my health, so far. Oh, Em, stop it this instant! No more moping. You have a brain, use it!
She should talk to Ernestine. Maybe...maybe she knew of some postion could take. Well, in a way, it's a good thing the house was going now. She certainly couldn't afford the upkeep without income. And she'd gotten her bike! She could get around on her own, and save trolley fare.
...The city was in such a state now though...budget cuts all over. Who would be hiring now? Em sighed, letting her hand rest on her sleeping canine companions. She felt Frida's tummy then and noted it did seem to have expanded somewhat. Well, that's happy news at least;I'll have to inform the Kahlos. Em thought of the young men and women at the library though, perhaps with families...and she wondered about who else those envelopes of doom were meant for...whatever were they going to do? Em had never felt all that secure in her life;and so, with just herself to worry about, she felt lucky by comparison.
Yeats hadn't spoken about the upcoming sale. Perhaps to spare her more bad news. But she needed to know, and to assure him that she could handle whatever must be done. She knew he had been spending time at Mr. Moore's office, the attorney handling the sale. She looked around at all Alice's things here. Maybe she should start packing...at least pack up her own belongings. She hadn't even opened her pay envelope. But she knew that she had to 'get to gettin' on things.
                            . . . .
Em half-heartedly had made a stab at doing just that, making a pile of things she would take with her and another pile of donations she'd leave elsewhere. She paused in her exertions and gazed out her window. Dark already? No, it was just cloud-cover, making it seem so. Well, if rain were to come at last, that would be some good news...no drops yet, though.
She'd done enough for now. Feeling better at having made a start, she headed downstairs for some tea. Yes, just put dire ruminations behind and take action, Em! She felt more in control then, when she made some headway on what needed to be done. It wasn't easy though when you had no idea where you were headed!
Avanti!, though, still. The kettle was starting to sing, as Mac and Frida suddenly began wuffing and scampered off to the front door. Em followed, and saw Mr. Yeats's dark form standing outside.
'Mr. Yeats! Hello.'
'Miss Page.' He removed his hat. And then smiled, a rare occurrance. 'Emmeline. I have come to take you to dinner.'He raised his hand, 'No buts! I have spent all afternoon preparing
gastronomic delights. I shall not take anything other than your acquiescence for answer!' He took her hand in both of his. 'Even if you're not at all hungry, my dear.'
Em smiled, nearly tearing up at gruff old Yeats's display of comraderie. 'Mr. Yeats...!'She bit her lip, getting hold of herself. She sighed. 'Well, if you insist!'
'I do.'
In a trice, Emmeline bundled herself up in her winter hat, coat and gloves, and patted Mac goodbye. 'You two stay out of trouble and keep watch now!' She let them outside, knowing that if it rained they had comfy digs in their basket on the porch. Mr. Yeats had brought a warm woolen plaid blanket and covered their legs with this as they headed out to Crowley Lane.
The old Crowley place looked inviting, Em had to admit, with  its' windows lighted against the darkened gloom of coming night. 'Do go in, my dear. Jack and Aleister are expecting you. I shall follow momentarily...' and as Yeats took Trotsky to the stable, Emmeline headed on up the stairs to the veranda and was about to knock, when the door was opened by Aleister, wearing an odd sort of fur collar...
'Emmeline! Welcome!' He took her things. 'We haven't had you over for some time...well, come to think of it, have we ever invited you to dinner? No? About time we remedied that, we owe you one I believe!...do come in and warm by the fireside. Jack's there.'
Em stood in the darkened hallway though staring at the doctor. 'What are you wearing...Oh!'
Parson's collar suddenly stood up and mewed. 'A calico kitten! Oh, Aleister! She's so sweet! Wherever did she come from?'
Al smiled and held his arm out for the kitten to crawl down, and took her in his arms. 'Have no idea. A stray we believe. She just showed up yesterday, meowing at our doorstep.' Parsons patted her gently, as he escorted Em to the parlor.  Jack,  seated on the sofa fireside,  started to get up.
'Stay where you are, Jack!' Em came and sat beside him. 'How are you feeling, old thing?'
'I'll live, I suppose,' Jack smiled, or tried to. 'I see you've met Aleister's new watch dog!'
'Yes! Ohhh, a new kitten!' Em looked on as Aleister dangled  some yarn with bow attached before the kitten, smiling as she batted it about. Em noticed then that the parlor rug had been strewn with various small balls, yarn balls, paper airplanes and various other kitty-amusements. Al, you old softie, Em thought...
'So, Doctor! How is our patient here?'Emmeline brushed a lock of hair from Jack's face to better view the damage. Jack just closed his eyes, wishing he could disappear from view.
Al sighed. 'Actually, I have warned Jack now, and Yeats has as well...never to go alone to Woody's again...A bad concussion!' Al frowned, tossing the yarn ball for the calico who scampered off after it...'Not good.But--' He sat down opposite them, 'He'll be alright. Have administered medication to take the swelling down, and, yes, Em! I did brew the herbs you gave him!' Jack held up a wet cloth wrapped around something within that soaked through with a decidedly green tint sitting in a bowl on the table.
'They do help. With some pain killers,and other anti-inflammatory meds...as long as he takes it easy, he'll mend.'Aleister looked hard at Jack.
'Al, don't act as though it's all my fault. I wasn't begging for a confrontation!' Jack leaned his head against the herb-bag.
The yarn ball rolled up against Emmeline's feet,with kitten leaping upon it. 'Oh, aren't you just the cutest thing?' She picked her up, still firmly affixed to the yarn ball. 'Em petted her and the kitten released the ball and stretched her head against Em's hand, purring.
'She doesn't seem traumatized by her abandonment...not skinny...seems healthy enough, will have to worm her...and all that,' Al stated. The kitten leapt from Em's lap and went to Aleister, where she made nesting motions on his thigh with tiny claws, 'Ow, oh, ow, there, now!' Al picked her up and set her on his lap, leaning back, he stroked her parti-colored fur.
'What will you call her, Aleister?' Em asked.
Aleister rubbed the kitten's chin which set her motor running. He gently caressed her back. 'Alice,' he answered, slowly stroking her, 'Her name is Alice.'
'Of course she is...' Em agreed.
Just then Yeats bustled in through the front door, and after a quick run through the kitchen, joined them in the parlor to announce, 'Dinner will be served in 5!
                          . . . . .
The company was again grouped in the parlor after dinner;Jack and Al with coffees, Yeats and Emmeline took Earl Grey, hot. The fire crackled merrily,no sparks this time, and they began to hear rain drops against the windows.
How cozy this place could seem, Em thought, with the robust fire and friends, and a purring kitten on the hearthside in a little basket Al had rustled up for her with a flannel blanket inside.
'Rain. That's good,'Jack noted. 'Though we'll be needing alot more. Rainbarrel's only 1/2 full this year, though we could still get showers over next few months...'
'Same at Alice's' Em admitted. 'I spaded over the garden, but, a good thing I hadn't planted. I was worried about water as well, but now...with the sale and all...'Em let her thoughts drift.
Yeats looked at the other two men and nodded. He took the teapot and poured hot refills for himself and Em. 'Emmeline...things are moving thick and fast here now!' He sat back, sipping his tea.
'Have you made any decision yet regarding Alice's offer to join them?'Obviously, Yeats had since clued in Jack and Al.Well, he knew best, she thought.
Em set her cup down. 'Not...really. I've hardly had time to think! It's just all so much at once!' She sighed.'But I do not think I can join them there...they are safe now. I could be watched. And, I don't wish to lead anyone to them.' Yeats nodded. 'I would just be another worry for them! They have enough on their plate now.'
'So, other than deciding what I won't be doing, I'm still at sea as to what I would do.'Em sat back against the sofa.'I plan to see the Guevaras and speak with Ernestine.Perhaps she or Marta would know of some domestic position I could take...I do sew, and cook.'Em attempted a brave 1/2 smile.'A live-in position would seem the thing.'
The men knew that gainful employment for women in the 19th century offered limited options. Jack spoke up. 'Emmeline, there is another avenue you could consider...'
Yeats added,'You could come work for us.'
Em looked at them astonished. 'Oh, my. I just don't see...how...'
'Why not, Em?' Jack asked,'Why go to live and work for someone you don't really know? How is it any different to come and work for us and stay here? You know we would all love to have you. Work for us,'he added.
Em ignored that faux pas. 'Oh, I don't know! What would I do?'
'Just as you mentioned, Emmeline,'Yeats matter-of-factly rejoined.
'Sewing, helping in the garden, helping me around the house, and in the kitchen...'
'Helping me restore this place, Em!' Jack leaned forward, 'Al's always too busy in his lab, and Yeats has his hands full just running the place! I bet you're a good hand with a hammer and paintbrush! What say, Em?'
Em smiled,'Well, I am a pretty fair carpenter, actually! I do love restoring old furniture! But, oh, I don't know...people would talk...'
'People will, no matter what,'Al gruffly noted. 'If you're going to accept positions offered by a household of women only, you'd probably not find many!'
'True, just considering the nature of the work...'Em thought. 'Well, let me think it over.' She smiled at them. 'Thank you, all, for thinking of me.'
'We always do, Em,'Jack told her,looking her way for once.'C'mon,'he stood and held a hand out to her, 'Let me show you what I've done with the turret rooms!'
                         . . . . .
Jack took a lantern and handed one to Em as well. When they reached the third floor, Em could tell some work had been started. Jack opened the door to the Indigo Room, motioning Em in first.
'Oh, Jack...'Em breathed.'It looks fine!' She turned around the room as he brought his lantern in. 'I love the color!'
'Do you? I had to mix afew to get it like this...'Jack was glad Em approved of his choice.'It's just good and dry now. I'll start on the woodfloor next.'He sat on the old wooden chest and motioned her to do the same.
'What's in this old chest, Jack?'
'Don't know!' He admitted. 'Haven't had time to go through all the stuff here. You could help with that.' He smiled.'There's a ton of old stuff in the attic.'
Emmeline's ears pricked up at that. Oh, how she'd love to go through the old Crowley place's attic! Oh, but...do get a grip Em...these men are being kind, but there's no way...
Jack gazed at the rain out the window. 'This could be your room if you like, Em. The whole floor could be yours. Nice and private. I'd use the other turret room occasionally, just for practice. Might get warm in summer up here though. There's still that room you stayed in last time on the second floor...'
'Two rooms, Jack?'
'Sure! Why not? Plenty room here...' Jack didn't mind sitting in the low lamplight here where his face didn't show so brightly.'You know Em...while you'd be here, we'd all treat you like a sister and a friend, including me.' He looked at her. 'I'm not such a beast, really!'
'Oh, Jack...'Em looked down, embarrased.
'It'd be the only way. I'd insist. It's not like...I couldn't handle it. Not ideal, I mean...you must know how I feel about you, Emmeline.'
She didn't. Not really.'No, Jack, I don't! I mean, I know you have, well, tried to kiss me here and there...'She sighed. 'Actually...I thought you and Aleister were only interested in Alice and myself...because of our connections...'
Jack was stunned. 'Em, you...really?! Lord, girl!...'Jack couldn't believe it. 'Em, if I hadn't just pledged how dedicated I am to being your friend, I'd show you just how deeply I feel about you.' He took a chance and took her hand anyway. 'How I've always felt about you, Emmeline, from the first moment we met.'
She looked at him directly then. 'And how is that, Jack?'
Jack sighed. 'I'm in love with you, Em.'
Em swallowed. She hadn't expected that. 'Do you know what love is, Jack?'
Jack looked out the window again. A fair question. 'I only know that what I feel for you is something I've never known before. I've known afew women. But I've never felt like this for anyone. Ever.'
Em didn't know what to think, now. She wasn't sure she knew what love was. She'd sheilded herself from...feeling too much. That always made one vulnerable. She couldn't bear feeling...out of control. Allowing someone else so much power over one.'I don't know...if I know what love is, Jack.'
Jack wasn't fazed by this. 'Of course you're afraid. You haven't had an easy life, Em. Neither have I. Give it time.'
He stood then, pulling her up with him. 'I want to give us all the time we need. We can work together, as friends. It's the best thing for us both. We can get to know one another that way, and no pressure.It'd keep us honest--not trying to impress each other. Not afraid to say what we mean. Like a family.' He kissed her forehead. 'Come, grab your lamp, I'll show you the other turret room!'
Jack's room was still a pale cream color, but the floor looked amazing. 'It's a lovely wood floor under all that grime and wear, isn't it?'
'Just needs some work. Your room has the same flooring.'
She noted that:'her room' he said. Already...'That's what I love about refinishing old furniture! Seeing that lovely wood grain come to life underneath all that old paint...'Em ran a toe over the floor boards.
'See, Em--you're a natural! This place needs you.'He swung her hand in his, back and forth, playful-like. 'We need you. Come on Em, you can play 'Wendy' to our 'Lost Boys'--or 'Snow White' with her '3 Dwarves!'
Em laughed at that. 'Well, Aleister would be 'Doc' of course!
Maybe Yeats could be 'Grumpy' but he's surely no dwarf!  Who would you be, Jack?--not too dwarvish yourself!'
Jack looked down then. '--'Bashful', maybe?'
Em 'humphed'--'hardly, Jack!' But she was smiling, he saw. Jack thought she might actually be considering it at last.
'Well, let's head on back down, Em.' He shut the doors behind them, and turned to her. 'Think about it.'
'I will, Jack.' She promised.
That's all he needed to hear. For now.
                            . . . . .

Well I'm goin to California
get some sand in my shoes
Take that Orange Blossom Special
And lose these New York Blues...

Chapter 8. Not All Who Wander Are Lost

Chapter 8. Not All Who Wander Are Lost
Sunday at long last! Emmeline was anxious. She hadn't heard from Yeats as yet, but it was the end of the week. Maybe tonight... and she might see Alice at  last...
Em sat at the breakfast nook, drinking tea and pondering. As she watched Mac and Frida tear around the yard outside, she thought of herself and Jack, and recalled events of last night.
Jack had asked her as the evening was winding down, if she had any plans for Sunday. Well, of course she had been instructed by Yeats not to say a word about their plans for contacting Alice today...Em had prevaricated and equivocated as best she could, but only wound up making Jack suspicious again, and doubtful. He became rather withdrawn after that and had disappeared along with Al, Jethro and Homer, and she had left with Marco soon after.She sighed and peered into her teacup trying to read the future there...
                          . . . .
Jack, meanwhile, had been taking his frustrations out on the woodwork...sanding the floor down and scrubbing the walls of his practice room. Wiping his brow he decided he'd done enough for awhile and headed downstairs.
Surprised to find Yeats in the kitchen, he suggested they both take lunch outside since it had cleared off again and the sun had pretty much dried the downpour from last night.
The two men took their sandwiches, tea and apples out to the picnic table under the big oak tree and Jack thought it would be a good chance to catch up with Yeats who had been keeping to himself of late.
'So! Been working on the turret rooms on the third floor. I decided to make a practice room out of one; for zazen and
judo, karate...you're right sensei, I should focus on my practice more...' Jack told his teacher around a mouthfull of apple.
Yeats had his bench up against the oak and was leaning back against it, munching meditatively. 'Indeed.'
Jack cleared his throat. 'Hai. I need the dicipline, and the focus. I can see that now...having had a space of time to sortof take a look around...' He wasn't sure if Yeats was listening. The man had his head tilted back against the tree and his eyes closed. '...Anyway, I can see now that some actions I'd taken had not come from my center. It's been too long since I've done any serious practice;I've been too long away from my focus. I see that now.' Jack stared off into the distance. 'Funny how the world just catches you up in it and takes you away, if you don't hold to your center.'
Yeats hadn't stirred. 'More tea, sensei?' Jack asked.
His teacher deigned to crack one eye open then. 'Dozo.'
Jack poured for them both from the clay pot.'Haven't seen much of you lately. Or Al, for that matter. He's working on a new project. We're talking with a couple of the local men about methane power. If we can use Travel to transport it, it won't be such a risk, being so volatile... Maybe we can develop it as a viable alternative to oil before the world gets caught in that trap. It's not a cure-all, but a stop-gap;something that would be suited to this time frame.'
'A sabot in the machine, perhaps...' Yeats opined.
'Well, we'll see.' Jack sighed, and gazed about him at the old Crowley estate. 'I like this place. This assignment is
progressing, I think, at last. And, now that Frank has been
retrieved, and we're past the Nexus point, I feel I can breathe a little freer...'
Yeats opened his eyes and looked at Jack then. 'What makes you think that the Nexus point has come at all?' And, having dropped that bat-bomb, Yeats took the tea things inside, closing the door behind him.
                          . . . . .
Jack knew not to badger his teacher. So, the Nexus point was still to come then. He'd have to just wrap his head around that somehow... He decided to talk things over with Aleister.
Heading down to the lab he found the good doctor bent over his microscope. 'How goes the battle, Al?'
Al sighed and leaned back, cracking his joints and shrugging.
'Ah, Jack! That it is! The battle of ecology vs. oil-based
economy! Well...I'm thinking that considering our time-frame here, methanol would be the way to go, producing biodiesel via transesterification reaction. Our boys in the hills can easily relate to 'wood alcohol'and once we establish a common language, we can catch them up to date with our methods. And sharing ideas from their time, they may give us some new views as well.'
'Sounds good Al. Certainly enough used vegetable oil out there at the old Leapin' Lizard, eh? Lord, I just hope he's not frying in lard...we can maybe talk to him about it.' Jack
tossed in his 2-cents.
'We'll have to make it cost-friendly for him, business is business to Woody!'Al stood and stretched. 'That was fun last night, I must admit! Haven't let loose myself like that in quite awhile!'
'Good band,too'Jack nodded. 'There's a jam session on Sundays, Woody was saying. I just might head out there later. Interested, Al?'
Parsons rubbed his neck. 'Ohhh, not tonight I think! I'm in the middle of something here. Must admit to a bit of a headache as well...just thinking about making a pot of java.'
'Yeah, I think we're on friendly enough terms with the locals that we can get away with being lightweights now without offending anyone! Those boys can sure put the stuff away;I'm not going to go drink-for-drink with them that's for sure...'
Jack grinned. 'Well, I'll head on up and start the coffee though...Oh, by the way, Al: Yeats tells me that the Nexus point is yet to be!'
'He,what?...Jack! --What did you just say...?' Aleister blinked about him and was on Jacks' heels in a hot minute then heading upstairs after him...
                        . . . . .
Sunset. Afew clouds, Em noted, pink on the western horizon, but no thunderheads, no real rainclouds. Darn it...she was hoping for more than just one night of real rain. She had been outside spading over the garden and thinking about her seeds she'd gotten when she was at the seed and feed store.
This had always been the time of year when she and Alice would be putting heads together over what to plant...going to take alot of water now from...somewhere. Em had checked the rainbarrel to find not much there. It was usually about full this time of year...
Calling Mac and Frida inside, she took her gloves off and washed up, putting the kettle on for tea. She spared a glance at the clock...after six...'If Yeats is coming I do wish he'd 'get to gettin' as Homer would say!' Em told Mack as she fed her furry friends on the porch.
Em didn't feel like cooking so she put together a sandwich for supper. She was too antsy to be hungry...but the evening's chill was creeping in now that it was sundown. She headed into the parlor to get the fire started, taking her tea with her.
She'd just gotten the fire crackling when:'Whuf!'Mac was on it as was Frida. Her two sentinels sped for the front door then. 'Oh, I do so hope...'Em trotted after them, and opened the door to Yeats's welcome bulk.
'Good evening, Emmeline! I see you are well-guarded!' He looked down at the dognoses busy sniffing him out.
'Do come in, Mr. Yeats! And out with you both, now!' She shooed her guardians out on their rounds. 'I'm so glad to see you!' She took his things, hanging them in the hallway. 'Would you care for tea? I just made a fresh pot.'
Seated comfortably in the parlor, Yeats sipped his tea and regarded Em. 'So. Are you ready for this, then Emmeline?'
'Oh, Mr. Yeats...I have been ready for months!'
'Very well, then.' Yeats stood, and heading to the windows, drew the curtains fast. He gazed about the room, as if trying to detect anything not secure enough for the enterprise to come. 'If I may?' he took one of the large linen napkins and unfolding it, went to the hall mirror and draped it over. 'Have you the artefact?'
Em nodded, and went to the secretary desk and taking a small key from her pocket, opened it. She used another key to open a small drawer inside and removed a wooden box. Taking yet another key, she opened the box, and removed an article wrapped in silk and took it with her to Yeats.
They watched as she unwrapped it and breathed in, as she saw that the oval artefact was glowing slightly. She looked up at Yeats. 'What is it, Mr. Yeats?'
Yeats had the ghost of a smile hovering about his mouth. 'I'm not really sure, Emmeline.' He looked at her with his honest amber gaze. 'It is a handy thing, though, don't you think?'
Recalling how Frank had appeared out of nowhere, Em had to agree. 'Most certainly!'
'Well, then...' Yeats escorted her back to the sofa and they both sat, turned to the artefact she held between them. Yeats consulted his pocket watch, as well as her wall clock. 'Nearly seven here...alright, Emmeline! Just clear your mind and think of Alice. The way she looks, her voice, her scent, times you spent together...'
Em closed her eyes as she held the disc in both hands and let thoughts of Alice fill her mind...Alice laughing, making faces to make her laugh, playing the piano and singing along with her, having tea together in the breakfast nook mornings...Alice's face when she beheld Frank again...
'Em, dear.' Emmeline opened her eyes and there before her, stood her long-lost and much-missed Alice.
Em's chin quivered as she stood, flinging her arms about her friend and laughing as tears ran down her face. 'Oh, Al...it's really you! How I've missed you!' She held Alice from her then, dabbing her eyes with a napkin as she took in this flesh and blood miracle. 'How are you, my dear Al!'
'I'm well, Em! It's good to see you too!' Al looked over at Yeats who stood smiling quietly. 'Mr. Yeats! You're right! This was a very gentle crossing!'
'No flashy fireworks, either,'Yeats remarked. 'Welcome Alice.'
'Oh, Al, so much I want to tell you, ask you...do let us have a seat!' Em held onto Alice's hand as she led her to the sofa. 'Tea?' She asked, laughing, amazed that she could offer her old pal tea once more...
Alice sat, smiling, as she looked over her old parlor. 'It all looks the same.Seems hard to believe, somehow.' She closed her eyes as she heard MacGregor and Frida playing outside. 'My old Macky...as much as I wish to see him, I cannot. We're in a sortof time-bubble just here in the parlor, Em.'
'So.'Em began. 'You're well? And how is Frank?'
Alice assured her they were both safe and getting on very well in fact. As were Lev and Alejandro. John and Morgana had gone their own way,however, to parts unknown. 'An odd couple.'was Alice's only comment on that.'Listen, Em, we haven't much time. I came to see you, to tell you how much I've missed you, and to thank you. But, there is something else I must impart.'
Em looked at Alice, concerned now. 'Tell me, Al.'
Alice looked around the room,then; her gaze falling on Yeats for a moment, who nodded slightly.'Emmeline...I'd like, well, Frank and I both would like, to sell this house.'
Em was truly surprised by this. 'Oh? Are you sure, Al?'
Alice nodded. 'Yes. You see, we won't be coming back, Em. It's far too dangerous. I won't take a chance on losing Frank again!' Al's face was set in serious lines. 'But, Mr. Yeats has been apprised of this, and he is working together with the attorney, Mr. Moore, to put the sale in motion, soon.'
'How soon, Al?' Em was becomming more anxious now, she had to admit.'And, by not coming back, you don't mean...we won't see each other again?' She looked pained.
'Oh, Em, my dear old Em...' Alice took her in her arms for a hug, 'No, dear! You're free to come with us, whenever you are ready! Oh, sweetie...don't fret about that! You'll not be rid of me so easily!' She held Em away and took her chin in hand.
'You'll have time to consider whatever you would like to do!
Mr. Yeats will keep in touch with us and Mr. Moore's progress with the transactions.But, I'm afraid I'll have to head back now, Em. It was rather a risk just coming here, but I had to see you.'Alice looked intently at Emmeline. 'How are you, Em? I know it hasn't been easy for you!'
'Alice, don't fret about a thing! It's all worthwhile...it's nothing I haven't been able to handle, thanks to good friends!'She looked up at Yeats hovering over all like a dark angel. 'It's just...uff da! So many changes all at once! It's alot to consider, Alice! But whatever you must do, of course I understand completely!'
'Good.' Alice nodded. 'Half the proceeds of the sale will go to you, Em. Frank insisted! And I wouldn't have it any other way!' She stood then. 'I must head back.' She took Emmeline in a fond embrace. 'Take good care, Em. Hug Macky for me!' Alice teared up then, as did Em.  Yeats looked away with a small sniff, himself.'Well! We'll see you again soon, dear!'
'Oh, Alice...it's been so good to see you! Give Frank my best! And, oh, tell Lev hello from me. And...the Captain, where is he now?' So much crowded Emmeline's poor brain she couldn't decide what to think next.
'He's headed back up the coast, north, back to B.C. Alejandro is staying with us for the time being however! He's indispensible to us both! Oh, Em, the Time!'Alice clasped her hands before her, waiting.
Emmeline took up the ovoid disc from the sofa, and held on to it, looking at Yeats for direction. He looked at the clock, his watch, and nodded. Em closed her eyes again. When she opened them a minute later, only she and Yeats remained.
                             . . . . .
The Leaping Lizard on a Sunday still could leap some...not like Saturday night, but better than a snail on crutches. A few dozen diehards were there;musical and otherwise.
Jack was in discourse with Woody about his fry cooking.He'd brought safflower oil with him and was demonstrating with sweet taters and yams...and breading other vegies,'...as you do with the the onion rings;It's called'tempura','Jack told Woody. Woody called it delicious!
Jack had brought his guitar, along with the oil. He kept one eye on the stage whilst playing fry-cook, as locals did their thing, it was a little vaudeville, and carnival;slapschtick comedy teams, ('What do you call a beautiful woman on the arm of a trombone player? --'what!?' 'A tattoo!' badumbum!) jugglers, lone songwriters with just their guitars and hopes,husband-wife serenaders, flamenco dancers and guitarists, fiddlers and banjo pickers... and when Johnny Guitar took the stage, Jack was tempted to add 'freakshow' to tonights' marquee...
Jack suddenly found his cooking much more interesting than what was happening stageside. He served 'em up hot, and the crowd ate 'em up pronto. Maybe just one beer, thought Jack, opening up a Buffalo. He was just about down to his last taters when he found the set had ended and, o joy, here was Johnny Guitar standing before him, smirking like the playground bully who had hid a steaming pile of buffalo chips behind his back that he wanted  Jack to fry 'special, and then eat.
Jack took out the last of the fries and set them to drain. He removed his apron and began to wash up.
'What's the gypsy word for 'dishwasher'?' J. George Jr. asked his cronies. 'Hm. Jackass maybe? Can't rightly recall right now. But, yea, Gypsy Davey, maybe you'd be alot happier hittin' the trail soon...You know how you people love to wander...'
Jack splashed water over his face and shook his head like a dog, spraying Jr. and His Boys. Glancing up at them, he took a rag and dried off. 'Who ARE you?'Jack challenged.
George looked at his pals and grinned. 'He wants to know...Well, it's like this...I'm an Avenging Angel and your worst nightmare.
"I come not to bring peace, but a sword!"
Jack narrowed his gaze at Junior. 'Even the devil can quote scripture.'
Junior tossed a glance at his posse, and shook his head at Jack.
'Ignorance must be a real burden to you, gypsy. Let me put you out of your misery...'Suddenly whirling about, George sucker-punched Jack with a roundhouse, connecting with his right eye. 'Get his boots!' He yelled to the Boys. 'He's packing knives, you know it!'Jr. spat. 'Gypsy!'
The Boys surrounded Jack and one grabbed his arms and held them behind him; Jack head-butted the guy holding him and stomped his toe hard and bashed his knee with his other boot. The guy howled,and let go, not liking it much. J George was bearing down on him now, bottle in one hand. But another of his cronies beat him to it and Jack didn't see it coming as a hefty Buffalo hit him over the head from behind and he fell to the floor.
                             . . . . .
'...Jack?...I think he's comin' round...Whew! man! You were elsewhere for a little while., You okay, now, Jack?' Woody was bending over him, and he saw other faces in a circle above him, but it was all indistinct. It was painful. Jack remembered now...
'Jack, doggone it!Sorry I wasn't around when that coyote Junior and his boys jumped you!' He helped Jack sit up groggily. 'Was out back wrestling with beer kegs...Sundays I let most of my crew off,too. Usually fairly quiet.' He regarded Jack. 'Sure sorry about all this, Jack. You won't be seeing Junior and his crowd here anymore!'
Jack couldn't believe it. Junior! And some crazy cowboys just whupped him good. All because he was caught off guard. Off his center. He touched his face and head experimentally. Gods, that was going to  feel alot worse before it felt better. He was angry at Junior and his band of yahoos but angrier at himself for being so unbalanced. Yeats would be appalled...Jack wasn't looking forward to going home tonight. The Head would have his ass...
                                . . . . .
Monday dawned and Yeats had headed out early to business in town. Neither was Aleister anywhere to be found. As luck had it, all had been in bed when Jack had arrived the night before. Oh, well... no help for it, Jack told himself, as he blearily acknowledged the bright new day...he had to haul himself up and out to take Em to work...He looked at himself in the mirror...and winced. That hurt, too. 'Good thing I don't have a gun...' Jack knew he'd shoot that ugly mug he saw staring back at him...right eye  swollen a deep indigo fanning out onto his cheek in a rainbow of colors,with a nice fat goose-egg topside. His head felt like loose rocks were rolling about inside, banging up against his cranium. He groaned...where was Al? Jack was not against accepting mercy in any form...he entered Al's room and rummaged about looking for  pain meds. These he swallowed and headed down to brew that strong pot of coffee...
Dressed, though too late to shave, Jack headed out into the too-bright glare of a clear brash morning. He managed to get Trotsky into his gear and the cart together. One step at a time, there Jack, you're coming along ok now, he told himself, dizzier than a sack of swirled snakes...
He had just rolled up to Alice's gate, when Em popped out the front door and saw Jack hunched over the reins, weaving slightly.
'Jack...?' she asked. He didn't acknowledge her. Em went 'round and alighting into the cart, sat and put an arm on Jack's shoulder. 'You alright, Jack?'
'Hmmm?' Jack pulled himself up, eyes closed still.
'Oh, Jack!' Em was aghast. 'What happened?'Emmeline was shocked. What could it have been? He'd been in some sort of accident, it seemed!
Jack focused a little then, and leaned her way. 'Em?'
'I'm here, Jack! Let's get you home, or at least inside here! Are you ok? Oh, my!'
'I'm alright, Em.' He frowned at her, 'Don't you have to be at work?'
'We're still closed Jack! I thought you knew!'
Jack couldn't recall knowing.
'Let's get you inside, Jack.Come.' She took Trotsky's reins and drove him behind the house and got out and tied him to the shed in back. 'Here we go Jack! Inside!'
Em put her arm about his waist and Jack held her shoulder as they walked through Alice's kitchen. 'Here, into the parlor, I think!'
And Em sat him down upon the sofa and motioned for him to lie down, putting a pillow behind his head.
'Ow!'Jack sat up again. 'It hurts to lie upon my head. Got bottled, Em...'
Emmeline covered Jack with the afghan and regarded him. 'What happened?'
Jack sighed, then stopped. It hurt to breathe. He groaned. Even groaning hurt... Very quietly he managed, 'George Jr...apparently he doesn't like my face...'
Em frowned. 'Junior! You had a run-in with J. George! Where? Back at Woody's I suppose! Oh, Jack...just stay away from the little
nutball! What brought all this on anyway?'
Jack leaned against one hand, eyes closed. 'Ummm...something about
my lowdown gypsy ways...'
'What is it with Junior and his crazy gypsy notions? Why ever would he call you a gypsy, Jack?' Em held his hand in sympathy biting her lower lip as she took in the Total Wreck which was formerly known as Jack.
Jack leaned his head back, breathing carefully. Just as carefully, he finally looked down at Em and announced: 'Em...I'm not from Massachussettes. I'm no Bah-ston Brahmin. 'Jack sighed and did lean back against the pillow at last. 'You see Em, actually I'm just a 'New York Jewboy'...'
                                . . . .
Bob Dylan's 'Talkin' Hava Negeilah Blues' would be a good theme for this chapter.
And try the tempura...

Jack's Baked Garlic Fries:

Baked Fries!

These are so good! and baked, so lowfat 2.

1 ea: White or Yellow potato, Yam and Sweet Potato

Slice all fry-sized, but not too big. On your baking sheet, rub a thin coat of sesame oil and seasonings:

oregano, pepper, sea salt, bay leaf, paprika, basil, cumin and a little chilie powder...pour your

potatoes over, and rub them around in the oil and seasoning to coat. If desired, and you wish

to make some wonderful garlic baked fries, can heat some olive oil and rough chopped garlic and

add abit to the pan to coat as well. Bake in upper oven rack til done, about 10 min. one side, then

flip as many as u can, and bake 10 min. other side, may also drizzle garlic oil over tops before baking
that side.. Serve w/ketchup, bar-b-que sauce, &/or

tartar sauce: as follows:

Tartar sauce: 1/2 c.Veganaise,to:1 tbsp. Dijon mustard & sweet pickle relish, a little lemon juice, dill weed & maybe a little soy yogurt for that piquant taste.