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...
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