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 He became rather withdrawn after that and had disappeared along with Al, Jethro and Homer, and she had left with Marco soon after.She sighed and peered into her teacup trying to read the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
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.
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