Ch. 13 - Prepare, and Beware...
Emmeline and Manuel managed to unload, at last, the final boxes of gowns, petticoats, gloves, stockings, jackets, shoes, a hat, bells, whistles, all of which Madame Yvanna insisted Em would be needing; as it was all on Daryl's nickle, Emmeline didn't debate the issue...even though she did not think she would be needing so many...things.
Howsomever, she did need a new wardrobe, by now. For one thing, she had lost some weight. Other items had been left in Mexico--which was entirely Daryl's fault. And what of his horse? She suppposed that he had simply left him in trade, for Emmeline...
Recalling that night, Em decided perhaps she ought to have purchased more...
She shook out and hung up her new gladrags, folded lingerie and gloves in the drawer with lavender, and saved the Big Box for last...
Em bent over her bed, upon which it sat, and raised the black and white striped lid... A mound of dark scarlet in satin lay within, the fabric nearly black inside the depths of the folds... Em drew it out of the box, slowly, watching it unfurl itself into a waterfall of crimson silk and satin...
It was a dream come to life. No fairy tale princess ever graced a ballroom enshrined in a more mythical gown...Em surveyed the jet beading across the bodice with satisfaction; it wasn't too ostentatious really,( aside from the red!) It had a lowish curving neckline, but modest, compared with most ballgowns of the day; a slope; just off the shoulder, with a catch of folds in puff sleeves which tightened and tapered to just below the elbow. The bodice dipped to just below the waist in a V-shape and draped below in clever folds accenting her trim figure with just a hint of bustle; she knew that the bustle was long out of fashion, but she still rather found them fetching, as well as affording the occasional comfortable cushion.
She was glad to be going now, and glad to be seeing Jack there as well.
She hoped she was doing the right thing...a thing which, staying here with Daryl certainly was not... She gazed at her reflection, holding the scarlet to her mirror image. Why not, Emmeline? She asked herself. It's hardly the craziest thing you've done...it seems practically sane, by comparison...
She smiled then, holding her head to the side, assessing the girl in the mirror. Girl, no longer. Em noted her sunken cheeks. She sighed. She was closing in on the heels of thirty, and recent years had ridden her hard.
Surely life with Jack would be a welcome change...she wondered.
In some ways...she almost loved him too much. Too much to stay with him. She feared he would tire of her, and then where would she be? Best stay one step ahead, had been ever her motto. She regarded the Emmeline in the mirror. What was Josephina doing now? Her blood sister. What had they thought happened the evening she disappeared? Daryl...he had some explaining to do. His family, was it? Gypsy family, in the village. They could get word to Esperanza and Carlos at least.
Ultimatum time, Daryl. Em was emboldened now that she was soon to escape.
. . . . .
She found Daryl in the parlor.
'What did you do with your horse?' It wasn't what she wanted to ask, but somehow it just happened.
'Horse? Which horse?' Daryl was measuring his mantlepiece with a yardstick.
'The horse you left in Mexico. The horse you ride when you kidnap people.'
Daryl paused a moment, wrote down his measurements in a small book.
'Ah, that horse.'
Em sighed and flounced upon the sofa. Waiting.
'I left him there.'
'Yes, I know, WE left him there! It isn't as though I wasn't aware of exactly what was happening! You abducted me!' Em exclaimed feeling bullish now. 'One doesn't simply forget these things, like yesterday's news...'
Daryl stood back, surveyed the fireplace. Scratched his head with the yardstick. Held it up against the wall, tilting his head sideways.
He turned and paced from the fireplace to the wall opposite. Turned again.
Took a sip from his cold teacup.
'The horse...Toranado, is well known in the village. Everyone knew it belonged to the brother of my gypsy blood brother...'he flicked a glance at Em. 'When your friends returned home, and found Toranado, they knew that you were with me.'
Em considered this.'Just like that: I was with you. So, no problema?'
'Exactly.'
Somehow...Emmeline wondered about that.
But, best just let that 'float', as Daryl would say, regarding unfortunate truths.
'Madame Yvanna sends her greetings...'
'Were you successful in your shopping?' Daryl eyed his mantle from across the room.
'Yes. Very.' Emmeline relaxed against the sofa back. 'Thank you.'
'Da nada, filla...' Daryl finally took his tea and sat in the armchair across from her. 'I hope you got all you may be needing.'
Shopping for her trousseau, no doubt, as well. Daryl was gripped with conflicting emotions; he felt loss at Emmeline's leaving, but he also felt warm inside, knowing that he had helped her and Jack to find one another again. He softly sighed...gods it all made him feel so old, suddenly...
Em looked down, embarassed by all his largesse. 'Yes. I'm afraid Madame was quite adamant about...it all...'
Daryl smiled, on one side of his face at least. 'I can imagine.'He sighed again. 'She is an old friend. I do have the odd friend in odd places, you know.' He paused. 'I'm sure Carlos, Esperanza and yes, Josephina all know you are here, and reasonably safe.'
Em didn't know what to say to that. That still didn't make it alright. But, how to gripe about someone who has just spent a small fortune on your wardrobe...? Well, he was here and not adverse to talking, so...
'Diego...you knew my parents you said.'
Daryl eyed his empty cup. 'Care for some tea?' He stood.
Oh, no you don't, you're not getting away from it all that easily.
'Yes. I'll come to the kitchen with you.'
He gestured her to please proceed, and followed, tapping his cup.
He rinsed it, refilled the kettle, put tea leaves in a new pot, set the kettle on to boil. Looked about, rather lost; and at last took a seat on a stool across from Em. He gazed into his own cup, looking for clues...'I didn't know them well. Actually only met your mother once or twice. The photo you saw...was taken at a sort of private convention here in the city, way back when...when this house,' he gazed about him, 'belonged to a society of, inventors I suppose you could say.'
'Not a private residence?'
'It was, but it was also used as a meeting place. I have remodeled much, since then. 'He stood and answered the kettle's whistle, and poured. 'It was here, then, that I first saw your artefact.' He looked intently at her.
'Indeed?' Em was most interested now. 'What do you know about it?'
Daryl blinked, cleared his throat. 'Not much, really. Truly, I don't think anyone, even your father knew much about it. It was rather an enigma to everyone. But--' Daryl poured for them, 'I later found out where it probably originated, and that gave me a clue, about it, and about...your father.' Both of them, he thought, but didn't voice it.
Em stirred her tea, entranced. At last, some real news she could use! 'Yes?' she prodded. 'What did you find?'
Daryl sighed again, staring into his cup. 'I found...do you recall that when I explained about the gene splicing, that Others had been using that method before our scientists here began experimenting with it...?'
'Yes. But you declined to mention who those Others were...'
'Right.'Not ready for this, either one of us, thought Daryl. Well, if not now, when? The girl will be off soon...cowboy up, pilgrim, he told himself. 'Right...well, these same Others, who had perfected the gene splicing to a science, and who gave our scientists the knowledge of the techniques used...it was through them,indirectly, that the artefact was delivered to your father.' There. If I'd known I'd be tap-dancing about the truth, I'd have worn the shoes to fit the occasion, thought Daryl, hoping she wouldn't pry too deeply.
'Hmm,' Em thought about that. It wasn't really an answer, was it...?
She thought she'd try another tack: 'And, the man I saw in the cauldron, you say you knew him, also?'
Damn. His feet would get sore now with all the dancing about. 'Not, as such...I, had some dealings with...his people.'
Em waited. And waited. 'And, so, his people then? Are they all a race of such tall beings?'
'Not entirely. As I understand it, the older peoples, are the Tall Ones. From an ancient timeline in their history. Contemporary people there, are more our size.' He took a sip, mouth dry. 'But...the man selected as your father, was rather small for their size. They thought it would be best that way.'
'They. Who, Daryl?' And he noted she called him 'Daryl' when she meant business...'Diego' when she was trying to be nice. 'Who are these Others? And what was my father, here, doing with them?'
Daryl grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Leaned his chin on his hand, finally. 'There is much I don't understand, Emmelina...I don't have all the answers, believe me--I've tried to track them down myself...'
'Then tell me what you do know, please!?'Em pleaded.
He leaned back then, his head against the wall, and stared at the ceiling. Closed his eyes. 'Emmelina...if only you knew how opposed I am to abduction.' Em was tempted to snort in derision, but checked the impulse. He opened his eyes, gazed at his tea. 'I have been abducted, myself. Many times.'
Emmeline waited. This was unexpected news. Sipped her tea.
'The...Others, who were working on the gene splicing with our scientists, were also working in concert with two different people, ah, aliens, you might say. One type of people were the Tall Ones.
From them, I believe, came the artefact. I found out later, that not all of their people are working with the Others by choice. This had come about due to a schism...their people split into many different groups. Some abided by the laws of their high council, and others, went renegade.These renegades were working with the Others, and different groups.'
Oh, this sounded rather too 'court intrigue' for a California girl . It was nearly the 20th Century after all...'There were, are revolutions...when people become oppressed...'
'"...six tumbrells roll along in the streets...six tumbrells carry the day's wine to La Guillotine. All the devouring and insatiate monsters imagined since imagination could record itself, are fused in the one realization: Guillotine. And yet there is not in France, with it's rich variety of soil and climate, a blade a leaf a root a sprig, a peppercorn which will grow to maturity under conditions more certain than those which have produced this horror. Crush humanity out of shape once more, under similar hammers, and it will twist itself into the same tortured forms. Sow the same seed of rapacious license and oppression ever again and it will surely yield the same fruit according to it's kind..."'
Daryl eyed her darkly. 'Yes, there are revolutions,' he gazed down and sighed softly. 'Needed, definately when change is due, but, bloody always, and nearly always replaced with perhaps only a different form of oppressive governing.'
Em stared before her, past Daryl, out the window at the hills and bay beyond. A Tale of Two Cities...and of two men, close enough in looks to be kin, and one who sacrifices all for the other...Sydney Carton. Emmeline always did love him best; he was the true hero/antihero of the tale, never mind Darnay...he was no Sydney Carton. Not to Em.
Oh,truly, Carton was no good, the bad boy brilliant Byronic barrister wastrel who wrapped his head about in a towel evenings, side by side with old Stryver hammering out the next case's defense, matching one another bottle for bottle til the wee hours...oh, how she adored Carton above all. And he gave his life for the woman he loved;one whom he never could have. She gazed at Daryl. He looked away, finally.
Emmelina felt confused.
'You were on the stage. I would have liked to have seen you, in one of your plays.' Why was she saying this? It was practically flattery. More confusion. She looked about for her tea, took a sip. 'I, we, saw Morgana, you know. Here, in the city...'
Daryl's gaze adapted that frozen look. 'When.'
'Oh, it was...long ago. Actually, last New Year's!'
Daryl's head slowly moved toward her. 'Morgana. Carlysle.'
'Yes. In "Opheus", 'direct from Paris!'--she goes by a new moniker now, Margueritte Carrington, Jack saw her there as well...Aleister, he recognized her, and she, him; well...' Em flustered. She could feel a change in the air but only noted that Daryl was oddly ominously quiet. 'Actually she, she took Jack for you...at first.'
Daryl regarded her narrowly. 'Yes?'
'She soon, realized otherwise.' Em wished she hadn't said so much already.
Daryl looked at her as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing but still did not like it a bit.
'Do not, ever, trust her, see her, let her see you, and above all, do not talk to her! Ever! Capice'?' Daryl looked like a bad thunderstorm suddenly.
Best humor all that. 'Right.'
'Ever.' Daryl stood, and stormed out.
Discussion's end.
. . . .
In the days that followed, winter's chill gripped the city; the wind from the bay was like ice, and when there was no wind, a cold fog
settled in and seeped into one's very bones.
Emmelina, Rosa and Manuel hid out in the kitchen, baking their blues away. Keeping the wood cookstove going helped cheer them through the cold. Em had taken some time off work over the holiday season...
work at the library had been so slow that she wasn't missed. People were visiting family and friends out of town this time of year and patronage had dwindled.
'My bones are cold...'Rosa shook her head, rubbing her arms and drew her shawl about her, tying it tightly. 'This city of Saint Francis is a chill one indeed. That poor saint, with his bald head exposed like that, ayee...he would be happier in Mehico, I do believe...'
Em smiled, altogether sympathetique'... 'I know the feeling, Rosa...although I wasn't in Mexico long...(Em actually couldn't recall how many weeks, months she had been there, come to think of it), even when it rained it didn't seem as icy as here. It does seem much colder...' she wished only now to bake and bake and take tea until spring. And hibernate, like a bear.
'I'd like to have a nice solstice dinner before the ball later, here at the house, with everyone...perhaps invite Madame Yvanna...I really don't know of any of Dar...don Diego's acquaintances here...'
Em wished to patch things up between them. She didn't want to simply
flounce off to the ball to have fun out with Jack,in her finery, paid for by Diego,and leave him alone and Byronic stewing in his attic by himself...
And he would too, she just knew it.
Odd how she had come to know so much about Daryl. They sensed one anothers' moods and thoughts. She had gotten to where she could almost read his mind as well... She wondered about his outburst regarding Morgana. It had been obvious that Morgana was obsessed with Daryl, she had chosen her leading men to fit his specifications in overall appearance. Daryl, however, did not share her feelings. He seemed, in fact, to find her utterly abhorrent, perhaps dangerous, for Emmeline at least.
'Do you have a menu yet?' Rosa inquired.
'No. Perhaps I should go over it first with Madame. She knows good food! Manuel? Could we perhaps, this afternoon...?'
'Yes.' He never looked more dour. 'If we must.' He looked down, sadly.
Emmelina wasn't letting it get to her. Not much time left to prepare everything. 'Excellent. I'll just make certain that our plans don't interfere with Daryl's...' She headed down the hall to his study, whilst Manuel sighed lugubriously and Rosa smilingly patted his back as he left, taking his hat and coat from the hallway and went in back to the stable.
. . . .
It was nearing dusk, and with carriage laden from Madame's restaurant, as well as various markets about town, menu secured in hand, Emmeline returned triumphant and she and Rosa began planning tomorrow's dinner. For tonight was solstice eve.
Solstice tomorrow already! Rosa assured Emmelina that she preferred to bake items fresh in the morning and everything else was either stored in the icebox, or awaiting preparation just prior to dinner.
And so tonight was a small, casual meal just the three of them then, Daryl still shut up in his study or elsewhere.
After their meal, Em went up to her room, and made her final preparations for the ball...She would wear her Herkimer of course, it was such an odd piece of jewelery it would be sure to cause a stir, she thought smiling. Although it would not quite match, she would also wear the cameo, pinned to a black velvet choker about her neck. She felt that Daryl's and Jack's gifts both deserved to be seen...
She glanced about, noting that all seemed to be in order...her gaze went to the drawer in her night table. She opened it. The artefact
still rested there, wrapped in it's silken cocoon. It seemed peaceful enough.
It had come in handy, before, she had to admit. She took her small sewing kit from her closet, a gift from Rosa, and found thread color
to match her new gown. Close enough, she decided. She hated to alter the perfection of such a creation, but...she thought that with all the folds of cloth, she could secret a small pocket therein, no one the wiser...she gently cut and pulled the threads apart at the seam. Well, it's done now...and Em began to sew her Secret Pocket into her solstice gown. Whatever impetus drove her to do this, she wasn't sure, but...she felt it best to err on the side of caution.
It had been such a handy Thing.
. . . .
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Chapter 12: Days of Remembrance, Nights of Ecstasy
Chapter 12: Days of Remembrance, Nights of Ecstasy
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
Emmeline lay abed, rereading her favorite Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities appealed to her for it's bold depictions of such an era;the (ongoing)war of attrition upon the poor, as in all times, she had to admit. But Dickens' turn of phrase made it palatable and enjoyable without; she wept in sorrow with the Manettes, she laughed at Mr. Cruncher, admonishing his wife for "flopping herself down and praying...", against this dire action he set his son,("a grisley urchin of twelve"), to keep watch upon her:("You're going to flop, mother!--Halloa, father!")...
Following that, Em mused, might one conceivably refer to a church as a 'flop-house...?'Bloody Jerry, a Resurrection Man.
At last she marked the page and set down her book with regret...another work day. She sat up and endeavored to arise...thinking she felt 'rickety as a hackney coach and sleepy as laudanum...'indeed... Damnable Uncle Daryl again. She sighed, casting a squint at the new day. Well, she supposed he thought he was doing the right thing.
Like the Old Baily, did Daryl's actions enforce the old truism, "'Whatever is, is right', an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence that nothing that ever was, was wrong. "
However much she wished to lie abed with Dickens awhile, she forced herself upward and began her ablutions...recalling yesterday. She'd forgotten that it had been Nov. 2nd and the Day of the Dead. When she had returned from Crowley Place, she went with Rosa and Manuel from the mercado to Mission Dolores, bringing bread for the dead, pan de calaveras, and other items for the altars there, and again she thought of her heritage and the mystery surrounding.
It had been, indeed, a season of remembrance.
. . . .
Daryl woke rather later than Emmeline, and did not accompany her on this day. He took his coffee back to his study and endeavored to make sense of his business correspondence and bills to pay, orders to be delivered...he ran a hand across his forehead and grimaced at the over-bright day without.
He rose and let down the blue shades covering the bay windows, allowing but a scant space at the bottom open for illumination.
Daryl put a hand over his eyes.
"Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!"
For the past, like Henry, was dead and never shall revive...
Sighing, he regarded the empty brandy glass from the night before.
Madness... He really must stick to opium and forget the cognac.
He'd enough headaches as it was...
He took his coffee to the armchair and sank down, putting his feet up on the ottoman. Well, this tangled web he'd woven had at last warped and woofed itself into a reasonably accurate rug of revelations, he supposed... Perhaps his mission was coming to an end; he'd had his say, and 'worn his heart upon his sleeve', he'd brought Emmeline and Jack back together, and, hopefully, he'd set events upon a new and altogether different Timeline now.
Although, his efforts to 'undo' the past had had some decidedly, if inadvertently, disasterous conclusions before now;still, he knew that in the worst case, he'd had nothing to lose--the verdict had been destruction, in every timeline he'd walked. He no longer pondered or worried over his decision then;sometimes, Fate played it's hand, however it would, despite the petty strivings of the pawns upon it's chessboard.
Still...did Shakespeare have the last word on that?--
'It's divinity that shapes our ends', or was it Bitter Bierce: '(Destiny)--a tyrant's authority for crime, and fool's excuse for failure.'
Indeed. Bierce it is!
Fool he may be, Daryl granted, but at least he'd been a fool for love. He had loved Drake, his brother, of course, and Sarah, sweet Sarah, who was only the innocent victim in all this, and he'd labored like Hercules to change the outcome for them all. In the end, though, he had to admit to failure, at least for Drake and Sarah. Jack, though, he'd been able to deliver from fate's heaviest hand and the Massachusetts house and grounds would be inviolable and irrevocably a place of refuge and sanctuary for them all, any whom Jack wished to spare from the ravages without. The ravages of Time.
'"As if you could kill Time, without injuring eternity"', he pronounced at last, quoting Thoreau.
Daryl wondered about that.
He did well to wonder.
. . . .
Time, meanwhile, marched on, as was it's wont, despite the supplications and machinations of humankind. The autumn days grew shorter and the beauteous golden crowns of the ginko and other deciduous trees eventually yielded their gilt to the wild winds and stripped them down to the barest of silhouettes.
Emmeline had begun to spend her time wisely and sparing not a minute; she knew she wouldn't be living much longer in the city and went to the druids' meets and helped prepare for the solstice to come. She'd spoken with Connor and Bridget there and learned not much more from them regarding Sophie; she was an independent young wraith, here today, disappearing tomorrow...but Emmeline had also spoken with Ms.Greer at the library and asked if she would set the girl up with another tutor there, should she be called away with don Diego unexpectedly.
She'd congratulated herself on this, thinking it would allay suspicion regarding her upcoming absence whilst taking care of practical matters...
She also cast caution to the winds and attended any/all meetings with the Library Ladies;attending lectures from women's suffrage, to socialism, to family planning, freethinking and free love, (in favor of the former, not so sure about the latter...), and unionization of course.
She spent more time with Rosa and Manuel also, getting to know them better and learning new recetas from Rosa's vast repository of herbal knowledge and cookery. She found she'd more in common with them both than she had at first imagined...in fact they were becoming good friends and had given her intimations that they knew more about what was going on behind the scenes than they let on. Rosa, especially had become her close confidant...they spent many evenings together in either her or Emmelina's room, getting to know one another better...
Her ends were becoming well and truly tied-up, she mused. And she
thought about her bold move, and about Jack, daily. If she were to be quite honest, the thought of a permanent love tryst with Jack frightened her out of her wits! But then, they would meet Sundays in the mercado, and she regained her resolve to simply live in the moment and not borrow trouble.
As for Daryl...he'd noticed her new necklace and eyed it narrowly, but made no comment upon it.
After their initial lengthy disclosure, he had seemed to be making himself more scarce. The rascal...just when she'd wanted to continue on with their revelatory discussions, too. She needed to get some things sorted out and Daryl seemed to thwart her attempts to sort him. Bugger-all...
Well, she decided that she wasn't going to allow him to dissuade her from her chosen path. She would clasp her necklace in hand and close her eyes, thrilling to it's cold touch, and slowly warm it with her palm. She recalled reading something about the ancient Romans, how they kept a crystal ball mounted upon a stand to cool their hands upon...knowing the more esoteric properties assigned to crystal balls, however, Em wondered if that's all they were used for.
She regarded her necklace now, and smiled. She fancied, in her quieter moments, that the Herkimer had rather a slight voice, or hum to it. Indeed, it seemed a live thing, as many gemstones appeared to be. Certainly more alive than the likes of Director Dickman and the inhuman mechanical maenads at Pankhurst Public...
Thank the goddess, she was well out of there, indeed.
. . . .
Daryl leaned upon the sill and stared out the dormer window. The room was situated on the topmost floor, just under the attic.
It was his meditation room, and he'd been spending most of his time here when business or duty did not demand his presence elsewhere.
He knew he had to get hold of himself. The truth may set you free, but it can also drive you muy loco... It wasn't like him, truly, to have allowed himself to spin so out of control. But this mission he'd taken upon himself was not an easy one.
He'd thought he'd had his demons subdued if not completely decimated. When he'd been a young man, after his...encounter, it had been all he could do not to go stark raving mad. The gypsy tribe had taken him in and restored him to health, but they couldn't take the knowledge of what he had seen, and felt--the sights, the sounds, the touch...from his memory.
He thought he had been an initiate prior to his experience, that he knew of things beyond the realms of the mundane, but...he'd been wrong.
Daryl rubbed his forehead then, and yawned. He'd cut out the cognac and the laudanum, and stayed awake nights instead of knocking himself out to sleep. Exhaustion would eventually overtake him sometime during the day, and he'd catch the odd wink or two. Not much.
Mostly, though, he stayed away from Emmeline. He knew his limits now, one benefit of maturity...and he had ventured beyond his comfort zone for her sake.But. No more...for awhile.
Back to the mat. He turned and sat upon his chosen zabuton, a cushion really, a drawback of maturity: his active life had left him with physical scars and pains as well as mental and emotional.
'It's not the year, it's the mileage' as the saying went, applied to Daryl, no longer a callow youth. Well, still callow in some ways. Certainly not young.
He endeavored constantly to keep up his practice. Little did he know that his room and diciplines echoed those of Jack's...down to the Japanese decor. It kept him centered, and for the most part, sane. Dicipline, and his gypsy family were to thank for that.
Perhaps, he'd be ready to make an appearance come dinner time.
. . . .
Emmeline returned to Nob Hill House, as she now referred to it, rather late, or perhaps it only seemed so, having become dark now so very early. The solstice was nearing, indeed! She had ventured after work, to the druids' house and helped put the final touches upon the preparations there for the festivities. The old gingerbread early-Victorian house looked fine; bedecked like a matriarch fetched up in her best ballgown...there were fir and juniper boughs,draped as though a high tide had delivered suddenly,Cthulhu-like,a green mask upon nearly every surface, entwined with ribbon and holly blushing with color, candles were placed everywhere that didn't run off quickly enough, the chandelier had been polished and gleamed 'til it fair screamed, crystal prisms depended from every window, and seasonal smells of baking spicebreads and gingersnaps wafted deliciously throughout.
As Manuel and Emmeline left for home afterwards, they took some of the leftover greenery with them to decorate Daryls' place. He hadn't been about, so she decided to take it upon herself to do so, having not had the chance to discuss it with him. She couldn't imagine that he would have any reason to object to a bit of seasonal spirit flung about...she would keep it all very tasteful and sparse.
After helping Rosa in the kitchen awhile and taking notes in her receta notebook, Em went to work greening the house. Rosa rounded up some candles and ribbon for her, and she and Emmelina then began winding it about the balustrade and tying it with red ribbon,amid winks, and setting candles about surrounded by reflecting tinted glass balls and sprigs of holly, and greening up the mantlepiece but only slightly! with juniper, rosemary and fir, a glass ball here and there, holly and mistletoe.
Viola! Not bad, for an old bachelor's residence, thought Em. Cheerful, but not at all fussy.
'The pumpkin spice bread smells wonderful, Rosa!'Em remarked, and Rosa smiled and headed into the kitchen to retrieve it, greatly relieved that this bread contained the last of the cursed calabasas to be cooked up, finally!
. . . .
'Well!'A seldom-heard voice of late then resounded; and Emmeline,on tiptoe, felt she'd been caught in the act of lighting a holly trimmed candle, which also blushed with berries, and looked over her shoulder to see Daryl gazing about His Parlor, now appearing as though elves had gotten to it in his absence. Solstice Elves.
She shook out the match, which burned her fingers with a reminder of what she'd been about, and she put them in her mouth,her fingers,not the matches, which would have been nasty indeed. Lowering herself to the floor, she wondered what Daryl would make of All This. In His Parlor.
Daryl's gaze went from her corner candle to the bannister, and up the stairs and back, as he wandered into the parlor, and walked over to the mantle, blushing guiltily with its' holly berries amongst the greenery. 'Ah, yes. The Solstice soon.' He turned, hands clasped behind him and nodded. 'Aye, elvish work, this, certainly...'
Em relaxed then. 'It's just a little decoration...to mark the solstice, yes, and Midwinter...' she began, uncertain. They hadn't spoken much since the altercation in the garden.
'Midwinter...so soon...'Daryl sounded wistful, his gaze rather fogged with a faraway look.
'Yes! Time has certainly flown lately!'Emmeline attempted safe small talk. 'The shorter days, no doubt...' Goodness, couldn't she finish a scentence? She felt herself blushing. Was she guilty of greening the parlor, then? Suppose she was...surely the punishment would be more pumpkin for dinner...
Daryl smiled at last, regarding the seasonal changes about. 'Spice bread?' he inquired at last, gazing up with a hopeful sniff. Em nodded. He held forth his arm, then. 'Accompany me to table, Miss Page?'
Emmelina smiled and nodded, taking his arm, and her pumpkin bread punishment.
. . . .
After a hearty meal of kale with mushrooms, mushroom, garlic and potato pie,apple, celery, walnut and currant salad with mandarin slices, and the aforementioned pumpkin spice bread, Daryl and Emmeline left Rosa and Manuel to finish their repast and tidy up. One thing Em couldn't fault Daryl for, he usually sat together with his employees at table, or included them in most
of their gatherings, unlike many in the neighboring Nob Hill abodes.
They adjourned to the parlor, Em taking her new mandolin with her, as Daryl stirred up the fire and lighted the remaining candles.
He sat beside Em and perused the evening paper as she noodled about; either one making the odd comment occasionally--Daryl's were punctuated with snorts of derision usually, concerning some local political antics, while Emmeline's were exasperated exclamations of woe regarding her poor,sore,stiff, unyielding left wrist, or slow-growing right nails which she used as picks.
In short, things seemed to be back to what passed for normal at Nob Hill House; Em had left off with the Casa Cabron' since Daryl had opened up to her more. She tolerated him now with an easy wariness, rather like a pet snake which just might decide to return to it's jungle habits and attack from nowhere at any moment, but would otherwise curl up and appear nearly immobile for the most part.
Em reached out for her teacup and sipped, nibbling upon the moist, be-nutmegged pumpkin bread as well. She decided to pause in her torturing the mandolin and shook her wrist out.
'So...the greenery came from the druids' house; it's looking rather grand. They will be hosting the festivities for the Solstice celebration,' Em began.
'Ummmm?' Daryl, head buried in newspaper, managed an inquiring hum.
'Yes.' Good grief, was he even listening? 'I do plan to attend this year. It should be quite the gathering!'
'Um.'
Em sighed. 'Will you be attending, as well, don Diego?'
Newspapers shook. 'Eh? What's that?' A forehead poked over the paper's edge, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye. 'Ah, the solstice, you say?'
'Yes,'Em poured them more tea. 'Are you coming, to the druids' celebration then?'
'Ah.'Daryl frowned. 'You're going, you say?'
Good grief. Men. 'Yes, Diego. On the solstice. It is to be such an occasion! And, they're hosting a Midwinter's Ball!'Emmeline dared a brazen smile. Take that.
'A ball! Indeed?' Daryl folded his paper, took up his cup and sat back crossing his long legs before him.
'Oh, Diego! Surely you've heard of their Annual Solstice Ball? Even in Pankhurst we knew of its' fame as a lodestone for druids this time of year!'
'Oooh...I suppose,' he remarked, casually, sipping tea. 'Not much of a social butterfly, myself...' Daryl didn't wish to be a part of the Nob Hill society set. He was friends with Connor and Bridget, but time didn't permit him much...leisure sport. 'Manuel may take you, of course...'
Emmeline toyed with her Herkimer, which she sometimes wore with her lute-player cameo, sometimes alone, but since Jack had bestowed it upon her, with a promise, she wore it always, near her heart. 'There is...something else...'she began.
Daryl looked up. Set down his tea.
Em cleared her throat. 'I, we...that is, I should like to attend the ball this year, the Solstice Ball, with Jack.' She looked at Daryl, trying to catch his eye.
He gazed at her hard. 'Indeed.' A flat statement.
'Yes.'
Daryl exhaled softly, looked down. Well, this was what he'd wanted wasn't it? The two of them together? That had been The Plan. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Yes. He'd given her the information she needed, well, most of it...damn. Now she'd called his hand. Well, was it to be a bluff, or would Daryl deliver?
His gaze narrowed. His glance went to the kitchen where the muted sounds of Rosa and Manuel cleaning up, talking and laughing occasionally, tea towels snapping and the odd yelps, could be discerned.
'In my study, I think...' he rose and gestured Emmeline to proceed.
He'd never had much luck as a gambler. Something he might have done well to consider in depth, as he blew the candles out and followed.
. . . .
He turned on the lights from just inside the doorway, and the cool blue globes that functioned as lamps therein illumined the study with an altogether different glow than the cheery amber of the candles in the parlor. Cooler.Impartial. A neutral zone.
'Do have a seat...' He fussed around abit, running a hand through his hair, grown rather lengthy of late, and sat finally at his desk whilst Em took the armchair facing the windows, now showing indigo deepening into the black of night.
Alright. So the Time Is Now.
-He'd taken Em from Mexico, disrupted that timeline (he hoped),
-Delivered her back to California, yet not in Jack's lap,
-Keeping her from Jack, would guarantee she would want Jack,
-Daryl had kidnapped/abducted her. She hated that. And him.
All was in place.
May as well dive right in...
'There are accounts, you know, of large mummies found, quite nearby, really, discovered in caves, from the Sierra into portions of Nevada, with long reddish hair who measured up to 11 feet in length.' Which may or may not have anything to do with what Daryl wished to impart, but it was a skating about the perimeter maneuver which would enable him to tip toe, skates and all, back to the Matter At Hand.
'Truly?' Em enquired, wondering how this had anything to do with the Solstice Ball, but she had to admit it was a fascinating, if rather unseemly newsbit. One had to have a strong stomach for after-dinner conversation at Casa Conundrum.
'Ah, yes...' Daryl toyed with his teacup, wishing to fill it to the brim with cognac. And laudanum. He cleared his throat.
'Jack, you say...you wish to attend the ball with him, then.'
Safe topic. Comparitively.
Lord, the man was twitchy tonight! Em endeavored to keep up. 'Yes, Daryl...we have been meeting, as I believe you know.'
Chew on that, uncle.
Daryl heaved a forceful sigh and gave in. He stood and took his teacup to the walnut bar. Just...a tad, for medicinal use. He tipped the decanter. 'Em?' he inquired, not looking up.
'No, Daryl, thank you.'
He set the cup upon his desk and strode about the room, touching a prism here and there, raising a shade, gazing out into the darkness. 'The parlor looks...lovely.' He looked at her then. 'Thank you.'
Em nodded. 'Da nada. Rosa assisted.'
'You and Rosa have become amigas, si?' He deigned to sip his brandy.
'Yes. I shall miss her when I leave.' There. Let him figure that one out. It shouldn't be hard, Daryl...
He seemed to freeze for a moment. Then took a rather large sip from his teacup. He grimaced, set the cup upon his desk, and nodded, finally. 'I see. When?' He stared down at his desktop.
'After the ball, I think.' Em's heart was beating madly as if trying to flee. 'I've, been tying up loose ends these past few weeks, with the library, and my tutoring there...'
Daryl nodded again. He scratched his hair, looking so like Jack, for a moment, it seemed as though he'd superimposed himself upon the scene. Em's hand went to her Herkimer.
Daryl noticed the gesture. 'He gave you that?'He nodded toward her.
'For my birthday, yes. It's a Herkimer diamond, with my birthstones...'
'I know Herkimers.' He advanced then, sat at the windowseat and looked intently at her necklace. 'A fine stone. Jack knows his gemstones...' He only hoped Jack knew the true value of Emmeline.
'Why are we here, Daryl? Why did you take me from the gypsy camp that night?' Em pleaded quietly. 'What was, is, this all about?'
He looked at her then, his grey eyes steely. He gazed away. Went to his desk and retrieved the teacup...refilled it. He began to pace...
'Those...particular mummies, the Tall Ones, as the Indians referred to them, may not have had anything to do with...your father, Emmelina, the man you saw in the cauldron, and in your dream...but perhaps they did...at some time.' He drank. 'However, I do know of the man you now know as your father.' Touche'. Emmelina wasn't the only one dropping newsbombs tonight.
'Yes?' Em was on the edge of her seat. At last!
Daryl was staring out at the night sky. 'Emmelina...the place in your dream, your recurring dream, you say...you know it well?'
'Oh, yes, quite well,'Em looked down, remembering. 'It's a complete world...the smell of the sea, the salt air, the cries of birds, the sound of waterfalls and fountains...the whole feeling of...a sort of oasis, or sanctuary! Yes, that's it, a safe place. And I feel I'm home at last, among those who know and understand me,such as I have never found here...' Em surprised herself with her revelations. But, it was all true.
Daryl sighed, sat again on the window seat and faced Em.
'I have been there as well.'
Emmeline looked up at him. Said nothing. Waited.
'I know, it's hard for you to believe...but it is a real place, a real world. It's just, beyond our own. It...it exists in a different frequency. That's why you have only been able to access it in a dream state.' His eyes searched hers for understanding.
'But, you're saying that it is just a dream...' Em frowned.
'No, Em, I'm saying it is real. That, in dreams, one may access that place. But not only in dreams.' Daryl took his teacup once more, forced himself to pace it.
Em shook her head slowly...she wanted answers, but she seemed to always leave Daryl's study with more questions than anything else. Just now she was so confused, her thoughts faltered, tripped and at last gave up and flopped down defeated.
'Is Jack meeting you there, then--at the ball?' Daryl was off on another tack.
'Ah, he is, he could be, yes...we hadn't planned that far as yet...' Em endeavored to rally. 'Yes, that would be best, I believe. He can journey here with the Pankhurst druids, they are all well acquainted with one another.'
'So. Well then.' Daryl sipped abit of his 'tea'... 'You must have a ball gown...' Emmeline began to wave the suggestion aside, 'No, no--I insist! Let me do this one thing for you, filla, please...' Daryl cast a quick grey glance her way, 'Madame Yvanna was once a ballerina in old St. Petersburg; she knows of fine fashion and excellent tailors here in the city. She would find it utterly entertaining to take you about for a fitting. I shall speak with her when I head into the shop on the morrow.'
Well, this was all very fine of Uncle Daryl. 'Thank you, Daryl...I hardly know what to say!' Em didn't. Her brain had been pummelled into jelly by Daryl's twists and turns and odd bits and flotsam of ideas and revelations.
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He smiled a fleeting grim sortof smile, and went to Emmeline and lay a hand upon her shoulder. Patted it. Then went out.
Em supposed their meeting was at an end then.
. . . .
Daryl went into his meditation chamber, closed the door. He strode to the small window and gazed out from on high, hands in pockets. Atop the Hill, atop the house, it was quite a fine view...a whole miniature holiday scene, dotted with lights about the town, down to the bay far below...yes, Daryl thought, he had wanted this, it had been his grand plan;but Emmelina had orchestrated it at last, or perhaps he would have dragged the 'plan' out for months to come.
He knew why. May aswell admit it...Emmelina was so like...Her.
Yes, Daryl knew of Em's 'sanctuary'--a perfect name for it, as it had been Daryl's also. Knew it well. It was where,in part, for many years, he'd done the Night Shift.
He bit the inside of his cheek, shook his head, and went to a low table, taking out a long handled, thin pipe with a round small bowl on the end, matches, and a small wooden box. He sat cross-legged, Indian style, upon a cushion against the window which functioned as a small windowseat there, opened the box,
and took out a wicked long hat pin and a small, black, knobby ball. Poking this with the pin, he lit it with a match, warmed it, inhaled the blue smoke, put it into the pipe bowl, and drew deeply, closing his eyes.
Exhaling softly, he relit the bowl and drew the smoke in, held it long and exhaled slowly...oh, blessed relief...he had to admit that the physical pain was lessened, and his thoughts were not so tortured now...and was that such a crime?
His pains weren't all physical. Gods, how he missed Her...how long had it been? If only he could go to Her...but it was never up to him, was it...? He never knew when he would be transported to Her side...he'd go to sleep at night...and suddenly he'd be sitting in the desert, under the stars...and somehow able to read the book before him, written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, the ebony, the cobalt, the gold glyphs seemed like live things, and he could understand it all, and it was about to reveal
...something, something he'd longed to know, what he'd been seeking his whole life long...and he would look up, and suddenly, there She was, sitting across from him. She looked troubled, compassionate, always; but why wasn't She as happy as he-- Oh, see how amazing all this was! This book, these signs, what all this could mean! He was beside himself with joy to be here, at long last! Just a few more pages, another moment...and he would know...
~ You must return. ~ it was She.
~ You have been out too long.~
~You are cold. You must go back in...~
No, no! It cannot be, don't you see? I'm nearly, it's just...here...
And, invariably, he would awake, cold, at home in his bed. And alone.
Always alone...even when, if he had company...
Daryl had never lacked for female companionship, if, when he wanted. But he never went seeking. They always 'found' him, hunted, seduced him. And it was always well and good, and fun for awhile. But they weren't Her. And it never lasted long.
Nothing, no one, could ever compare, to Her.
Daryl drew his long legs up and hugged them to himself, leaned his head upon his knees and gazed into the darkness. He looked young then, and vulnerable. Perhaps that was how he had appeared to Them, on those nights when They would come for him...it was on such a night, that She came to him, and made it all bearable.
Gods! She had changed him forever then...
He closed his eyes, remembering when...suddenly, he had found himself inside an immaculate sort of lounge...the words 'In Flight Lounge' came to his mind, though he couldn't imagine why. Obviously a room of this size couldn't fit inside a plane, and certainly no private spacecraft, not even the so-called orbiting hotels, even by 2076 standards.
It was colorless, or cream colored, and there seemed to be others milling about nearby, other people, but they weren't important, he had hardly noticed them. But Her, here She was, at last! She, who had come for him! He remembered now, he'd been in a car, and someone had asked him, what was it now? If he was the Timekeeper...? What had that meant? Someone had produced a deck of cards, a Tarot deck...and then such smoke...it seemed like smoke had begun to roil about him obscuring all...then--he found himself here. The In Flight Lounge. With Her...
And they were dancing together, arms about one another, circling slowly...gazing into each other's eyes...he held Her, so close, but oh, She knew how to become ever closer... They actually melted, then, into one another, as they danced, they danced an eternal dance of infinite harmony until they became one another and their physical barriers faded til they shared the same essence of being, and he knew Her and She, him, like no one else,no, no one ever could! It was the ultimate ecstasy! Nothing like it on earth! Only She; She knew him, became him, they shared each other's innermost being, thoughts, feelings, they became as One. Only She could ever complete him, make him whole...forever, only Her...
His Anara...
. . . .
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."
Emmeline lay abed, rereading her favorite Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities appealed to her for it's bold depictions of such an era;the (ongoing)war of attrition upon the poor, as in all times, she had to admit. But Dickens' turn of phrase made it palatable and enjoyable without; she wept in sorrow with the Manettes, she laughed at Mr. Cruncher, admonishing his wife for "flopping herself down and praying...", against this dire action he set his son,("a grisley urchin of twelve"), to keep watch upon her:("You're going to flop, mother!--Halloa, father!")...
Following that, Em mused, might one conceivably refer to a church as a 'flop-house...?'Bloody Jerry, a Resurrection Man.
At last she marked the page and set down her book with regret...another work day. She sat up and endeavored to arise...thinking she felt 'rickety as a hackney coach and sleepy as laudanum...'indeed... Damnable Uncle Daryl again. She sighed, casting a squint at the new day. Well, she supposed he thought he was doing the right thing.
Like the Old Baily, did Daryl's actions enforce the old truism, "'Whatever is, is right', an aphorism that would be as final as it is lazy, did it not include the troublesome consequence that nothing that ever was, was wrong. "
However much she wished to lie abed with Dickens awhile, she forced herself upward and began her ablutions...recalling yesterday. She'd forgotten that it had been Nov. 2nd and the Day of the Dead. When she had returned from Crowley Place, she went with Rosa and Manuel from the mercado to Mission Dolores, bringing bread for the dead, pan de calaveras, and other items for the altars there, and again she thought of her heritage and the mystery surrounding.
It had been, indeed, a season of remembrance.
. . . .
Daryl woke rather later than Emmeline, and did not accompany her on this day. He took his coffee back to his study and endeavored to make sense of his business correspondence and bills to pay, orders to be delivered...he ran a hand across his forehead and grimaced at the over-bright day without.
He rose and let down the blue shades covering the bay windows, allowing but a scant space at the bottom open for illumination.
Daryl put a hand over his eyes.
"Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!"
For the past, like Henry, was dead and never shall revive...
Sighing, he regarded the empty brandy glass from the night before.
Madness... He really must stick to opium and forget the cognac.
He'd enough headaches as it was...
He took his coffee to the armchair and sank down, putting his feet up on the ottoman. Well, this tangled web he'd woven had at last warped and woofed itself into a reasonably accurate rug of revelations, he supposed... Perhaps his mission was coming to an end; he'd had his say, and 'worn his heart upon his sleeve', he'd brought Emmeline and Jack back together, and, hopefully, he'd set events upon a new and altogether different Timeline now.
Although, his efforts to 'undo' the past had had some decidedly, if inadvertently, disasterous conclusions before now;still, he knew that in the worst case, he'd had nothing to lose--the verdict had been destruction, in every timeline he'd walked. He no longer pondered or worried over his decision then;sometimes, Fate played it's hand, however it would, despite the petty strivings of the pawns upon it's chessboard.
Still...did Shakespeare have the last word on that?--
'It's divinity that shapes our ends', or was it Bitter Bierce: '(Destiny)--a tyrant's authority for crime, and fool's excuse for failure.'
Indeed. Bierce it is!
Fool he may be, Daryl granted, but at least he'd been a fool for love. He had loved Drake, his brother, of course, and Sarah, sweet Sarah, who was only the innocent victim in all this, and he'd labored like Hercules to change the outcome for them all. In the end, though, he had to admit to failure, at least for Drake and Sarah. Jack, though, he'd been able to deliver from fate's heaviest hand and the Massachusetts house and grounds would be inviolable and irrevocably a place of refuge and sanctuary for them all, any whom Jack wished to spare from the ravages without. The ravages of Time.
'"As if you could kill Time, without injuring eternity"', he pronounced at last, quoting Thoreau.
Daryl wondered about that.
He did well to wonder.
. . . .
Time, meanwhile, marched on, as was it's wont, despite the supplications and machinations of humankind. The autumn days grew shorter and the beauteous golden crowns of the ginko and other deciduous trees eventually yielded their gilt to the wild winds and stripped them down to the barest of silhouettes.
Emmeline had begun to spend her time wisely and sparing not a minute; she knew she wouldn't be living much longer in the city and went to the druids' meets and helped prepare for the solstice to come. She'd spoken with Connor and Bridget there and learned not much more from them regarding Sophie; she was an independent young wraith, here today, disappearing tomorrow...but Emmeline had also spoken with Ms.Greer at the library and asked if she would set the girl up with another tutor there, should she be called away with don Diego unexpectedly.
She'd congratulated herself on this, thinking it would allay suspicion regarding her upcoming absence whilst taking care of practical matters...
She also cast caution to the winds and attended any/all meetings with the Library Ladies;attending lectures from women's suffrage, to socialism, to family planning, freethinking and free love, (in favor of the former, not so sure about the latter...), and unionization of course.
She spent more time with Rosa and Manuel also, getting to know them better and learning new recetas from Rosa's vast repository of herbal knowledge and cookery. She found she'd more in common with them both than she had at first imagined...in fact they were becoming good friends and had given her intimations that they knew more about what was going on behind the scenes than they let on. Rosa, especially had become her close confidant...they spent many evenings together in either her or Emmelina's room, getting to know one another better...
Her ends were becoming well and truly tied-up, she mused. And she
thought about her bold move, and about Jack, daily. If she were to be quite honest, the thought of a permanent love tryst with Jack frightened her out of her wits! But then, they would meet Sundays in the mercado, and she regained her resolve to simply live in the moment and not borrow trouble.
As for Daryl...he'd noticed her new necklace and eyed it narrowly, but made no comment upon it.
After their initial lengthy disclosure, he had seemed to be making himself more scarce. The rascal...just when she'd wanted to continue on with their revelatory discussions, too. She needed to get some things sorted out and Daryl seemed to thwart her attempts to sort him. Bugger-all...
Well, she decided that she wasn't going to allow him to dissuade her from her chosen path. She would clasp her necklace in hand and close her eyes, thrilling to it's cold touch, and slowly warm it with her palm. She recalled reading something about the ancient Romans, how they kept a crystal ball mounted upon a stand to cool their hands upon...knowing the more esoteric properties assigned to crystal balls, however, Em wondered if that's all they were used for.
She regarded her necklace now, and smiled. She fancied, in her quieter moments, that the Herkimer had rather a slight voice, or hum to it. Indeed, it seemed a live thing, as many gemstones appeared to be. Certainly more alive than the likes of Director Dickman and the inhuman mechanical maenads at Pankhurst Public...
Thank the goddess, she was well out of there, indeed.
. . . .
Daryl leaned upon the sill and stared out the dormer window. The room was situated on the topmost floor, just under the attic.
It was his meditation room, and he'd been spending most of his time here when business or duty did not demand his presence elsewhere.
He knew he had to get hold of himself. The truth may set you free, but it can also drive you muy loco... It wasn't like him, truly, to have allowed himself to spin so out of control. But this mission he'd taken upon himself was not an easy one.
He'd thought he'd had his demons subdued if not completely decimated. When he'd been a young man, after his...encounter, it had been all he could do not to go stark raving mad. The gypsy tribe had taken him in and restored him to health, but they couldn't take the knowledge of what he had seen, and felt--the sights, the sounds, the touch...from his memory.
He thought he had been an initiate prior to his experience, that he knew of things beyond the realms of the mundane, but...he'd been wrong.
Daryl rubbed his forehead then, and yawned. He'd cut out the cognac and the laudanum, and stayed awake nights instead of knocking himself out to sleep. Exhaustion would eventually overtake him sometime during the day, and he'd catch the odd wink or two. Not much.
Mostly, though, he stayed away from Emmeline. He knew his limits now, one benefit of maturity...and he had ventured beyond his comfort zone for her sake.But. No more...for awhile.
Back to the mat. He turned and sat upon his chosen zabuton, a cushion really, a drawback of maturity: his active life had left him with physical scars and pains as well as mental and emotional.
'It's not the year, it's the mileage' as the saying went, applied to Daryl, no longer a callow youth. Well, still callow in some ways. Certainly not young.
He endeavored constantly to keep up his practice. Little did he know that his room and diciplines echoed those of Jack's...down to the Japanese decor. It kept him centered, and for the most part, sane. Dicipline, and his gypsy family were to thank for that.
Perhaps, he'd be ready to make an appearance come dinner time.
. . . .
Emmeline returned to Nob Hill House, as she now referred to it, rather late, or perhaps it only seemed so, having become dark now so very early. The solstice was nearing, indeed! She had ventured after work, to the druids' house and helped put the final touches upon the preparations there for the festivities. The old gingerbread early-Victorian house looked fine; bedecked like a matriarch fetched up in her best ballgown...there were fir and juniper boughs,draped as though a high tide had delivered suddenly,Cthulhu-like,a green mask upon nearly every surface, entwined with ribbon and holly blushing with color, candles were placed everywhere that didn't run off quickly enough, the chandelier had been polished and gleamed 'til it fair screamed, crystal prisms depended from every window, and seasonal smells of baking spicebreads and gingersnaps wafted deliciously throughout.
As Manuel and Emmeline left for home afterwards, they took some of the leftover greenery with them to decorate Daryls' place. He hadn't been about, so she decided to take it upon herself to do so, having not had the chance to discuss it with him. She couldn't imagine that he would have any reason to object to a bit of seasonal spirit flung about...she would keep it all very tasteful and sparse.
After helping Rosa in the kitchen awhile and taking notes in her receta notebook, Em went to work greening the house. Rosa rounded up some candles and ribbon for her, and she and Emmelina then began winding it about the balustrade and tying it with red ribbon,amid winks, and setting candles about surrounded by reflecting tinted glass balls and sprigs of holly, and greening up the mantlepiece but only slightly! with juniper, rosemary and fir, a glass ball here and there, holly and mistletoe.
Viola! Not bad, for an old bachelor's residence, thought Em. Cheerful, but not at all fussy.
'The pumpkin spice bread smells wonderful, Rosa!'Em remarked, and Rosa smiled and headed into the kitchen to retrieve it, greatly relieved that this bread contained the last of the cursed calabasas to be cooked up, finally!
. . . .
'Well!'A seldom-heard voice of late then resounded; and Emmeline,on tiptoe, felt she'd been caught in the act of lighting a holly trimmed candle, which also blushed with berries, and looked over her shoulder to see Daryl gazing about His Parlor, now appearing as though elves had gotten to it in his absence. Solstice Elves.
She shook out the match, which burned her fingers with a reminder of what she'd been about, and she put them in her mouth,her fingers,not the matches, which would have been nasty indeed. Lowering herself to the floor, she wondered what Daryl would make of All This. In His Parlor.
Daryl's gaze went from her corner candle to the bannister, and up the stairs and back, as he wandered into the parlor, and walked over to the mantle, blushing guiltily with its' holly berries amongst the greenery. 'Ah, yes. The Solstice soon.' He turned, hands clasped behind him and nodded. 'Aye, elvish work, this, certainly...'
Em relaxed then. 'It's just a little decoration...to mark the solstice, yes, and Midwinter...' she began, uncertain. They hadn't spoken much since the altercation in the garden.
'Midwinter...so soon...'Daryl sounded wistful, his gaze rather fogged with a faraway look.
'Yes! Time has certainly flown lately!'Emmeline attempted safe small talk. 'The shorter days, no doubt...' Goodness, couldn't she finish a scentence? She felt herself blushing. Was she guilty of greening the parlor, then? Suppose she was...surely the punishment would be more pumpkin for dinner...
Daryl smiled at last, regarding the seasonal changes about. 'Spice bread?' he inquired at last, gazing up with a hopeful sniff. Em nodded. He held forth his arm, then. 'Accompany me to table, Miss Page?'
Emmelina smiled and nodded, taking his arm, and her pumpkin bread punishment.
. . . .
After a hearty meal of kale with mushrooms, mushroom, garlic and potato pie,apple, celery, walnut and currant salad with mandarin slices, and the aforementioned pumpkin spice bread, Daryl and Emmeline left Rosa and Manuel to finish their repast and tidy up. One thing Em couldn't fault Daryl for, he usually sat together with his employees at table, or included them in most
of their gatherings, unlike many in the neighboring Nob Hill abodes.
They adjourned to the parlor, Em taking her new mandolin with her, as Daryl stirred up the fire and lighted the remaining candles.
He sat beside Em and perused the evening paper as she noodled about; either one making the odd comment occasionally--Daryl's were punctuated with snorts of derision usually, concerning some local political antics, while Emmeline's were exasperated exclamations of woe regarding her poor,sore,stiff, unyielding left wrist, or slow-growing right nails which she used as picks.
In short, things seemed to be back to what passed for normal at Nob Hill House; Em had left off with the Casa Cabron' since Daryl had opened up to her more. She tolerated him now with an easy wariness, rather like a pet snake which just might decide to return to it's jungle habits and attack from nowhere at any moment, but would otherwise curl up and appear nearly immobile for the most part.
Em reached out for her teacup and sipped, nibbling upon the moist, be-nutmegged pumpkin bread as well. She decided to pause in her torturing the mandolin and shook her wrist out.
'So...the greenery came from the druids' house; it's looking rather grand. They will be hosting the festivities for the Solstice celebration,' Em began.
'Ummmm?' Daryl, head buried in newspaper, managed an inquiring hum.
'Yes.' Good grief, was he even listening? 'I do plan to attend this year. It should be quite the gathering!'
'Um.'
Em sighed. 'Will you be attending, as well, don Diego?'
Newspapers shook. 'Eh? What's that?' A forehead poked over the paper's edge, a lock of dark hair falling over one eye. 'Ah, the solstice, you say?'
'Yes,'Em poured them more tea. 'Are you coming, to the druids' celebration then?'
'Ah.'Daryl frowned. 'You're going, you say?'
Good grief. Men. 'Yes, Diego. On the solstice. It is to be such an occasion! And, they're hosting a Midwinter's Ball!'Emmeline dared a brazen smile. Take that.
'A ball! Indeed?' Daryl folded his paper, took up his cup and sat back crossing his long legs before him.
'Oh, Diego! Surely you've heard of their Annual Solstice Ball? Even in Pankhurst we knew of its' fame as a lodestone for druids this time of year!'
'Oooh...I suppose,' he remarked, casually, sipping tea. 'Not much of a social butterfly, myself...' Daryl didn't wish to be a part of the Nob Hill society set. He was friends with Connor and Bridget, but time didn't permit him much...leisure sport. 'Manuel may take you, of course...'
Emmeline toyed with her Herkimer, which she sometimes wore with her lute-player cameo, sometimes alone, but since Jack had bestowed it upon her, with a promise, she wore it always, near her heart. 'There is...something else...'she began.
Daryl looked up. Set down his tea.
Em cleared her throat. 'I, we...that is, I should like to attend the ball this year, the Solstice Ball, with Jack.' She looked at Daryl, trying to catch his eye.
He gazed at her hard. 'Indeed.' A flat statement.
'Yes.'
Daryl exhaled softly, looked down. Well, this was what he'd wanted wasn't it? The two of them together? That had been The Plan. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. Yes. He'd given her the information she needed, well, most of it...damn. Now she'd called his hand. Well, was it to be a bluff, or would Daryl deliver?
His gaze narrowed. His glance went to the kitchen where the muted sounds of Rosa and Manuel cleaning up, talking and laughing occasionally, tea towels snapping and the odd yelps, could be discerned.
'In my study, I think...' he rose and gestured Emmeline to proceed.
He'd never had much luck as a gambler. Something he might have done well to consider in depth, as he blew the candles out and followed.
. . . .
He turned on the lights from just inside the doorway, and the cool blue globes that functioned as lamps therein illumined the study with an altogether different glow than the cheery amber of the candles in the parlor. Cooler.Impartial. A neutral zone.
'Do have a seat...' He fussed around abit, running a hand through his hair, grown rather lengthy of late, and sat finally at his desk whilst Em took the armchair facing the windows, now showing indigo deepening into the black of night.
Alright. So the Time Is Now.
-He'd taken Em from Mexico, disrupted that timeline (he hoped),
-Delivered her back to California, yet not in Jack's lap,
-Keeping her from Jack, would guarantee she would want Jack,
-Daryl had kidnapped/abducted her. She hated that. And him.
All was in place.
May as well dive right in...
'There are accounts, you know, of large mummies found, quite nearby, really, discovered in caves, from the Sierra into portions of Nevada, with long reddish hair who measured up to 11 feet in length.' Which may or may not have anything to do with what Daryl wished to impart, but it was a skating about the perimeter maneuver which would enable him to tip toe, skates and all, back to the Matter At Hand.
'Truly?' Em enquired, wondering how this had anything to do with the Solstice Ball, but she had to admit it was a fascinating, if rather unseemly newsbit. One had to have a strong stomach for after-dinner conversation at Casa Conundrum.
'Ah, yes...' Daryl toyed with his teacup, wishing to fill it to the brim with cognac. And laudanum. He cleared his throat.
'Jack, you say...you wish to attend the ball with him, then.'
Safe topic. Comparitively.
Lord, the man was twitchy tonight! Em endeavored to keep up. 'Yes, Daryl...we have been meeting, as I believe you know.'
Chew on that, uncle.
Daryl heaved a forceful sigh and gave in. He stood and took his teacup to the walnut bar. Just...a tad, for medicinal use. He tipped the decanter. 'Em?' he inquired, not looking up.
'No, Daryl, thank you.'
He set the cup upon his desk and strode about the room, touching a prism here and there, raising a shade, gazing out into the darkness. 'The parlor looks...lovely.' He looked at her then. 'Thank you.'
Em nodded. 'Da nada. Rosa assisted.'
'You and Rosa have become amigas, si?' He deigned to sip his brandy.
'Yes. I shall miss her when I leave.' There. Let him figure that one out. It shouldn't be hard, Daryl...
He seemed to freeze for a moment. Then took a rather large sip from his teacup. He grimaced, set the cup upon his desk, and nodded, finally. 'I see. When?' He stared down at his desktop.
'After the ball, I think.' Em's heart was beating madly as if trying to flee. 'I've, been tying up loose ends these past few weeks, with the library, and my tutoring there...'
Daryl nodded again. He scratched his hair, looking so like Jack, for a moment, it seemed as though he'd superimposed himself upon the scene. Em's hand went to her Herkimer.
Daryl noticed the gesture. 'He gave you that?'He nodded toward her.
'For my birthday, yes. It's a Herkimer diamond, with my birthstones...'
'I know Herkimers.' He advanced then, sat at the windowseat and looked intently at her necklace. 'A fine stone. Jack knows his gemstones...' He only hoped Jack knew the true value of Emmeline.
'Why are we here, Daryl? Why did you take me from the gypsy camp that night?' Em pleaded quietly. 'What was, is, this all about?'
He looked at her then, his grey eyes steely. He gazed away. Went to his desk and retrieved the teacup...refilled it. He began to pace...
'Those...particular mummies, the Tall Ones, as the Indians referred to them, may not have had anything to do with...your father, Emmelina, the man you saw in the cauldron, and in your dream...but perhaps they did...at some time.' He drank. 'However, I do know of the man you now know as your father.' Touche'. Emmelina wasn't the only one dropping newsbombs tonight.
'Yes?' Em was on the edge of her seat. At last!
Daryl was staring out at the night sky. 'Emmelina...the place in your dream, your recurring dream, you say...you know it well?'
'Oh, yes, quite well,'Em looked down, remembering. 'It's a complete world...the smell of the sea, the salt air, the cries of birds, the sound of waterfalls and fountains...the whole feeling of...a sort of oasis, or sanctuary! Yes, that's it, a safe place. And I feel I'm home at last, among those who know and understand me,such as I have never found here...' Em surprised herself with her revelations. But, it was all true.
Daryl sighed, sat again on the window seat and faced Em.
'I have been there as well.'
Emmeline looked up at him. Said nothing. Waited.
'I know, it's hard for you to believe...but it is a real place, a real world. It's just, beyond our own. It...it exists in a different frequency. That's why you have only been able to access it in a dream state.' His eyes searched hers for understanding.
'But, you're saying that it is just a dream...' Em frowned.
'No, Em, I'm saying it is real. That, in dreams, one may access that place. But not only in dreams.' Daryl took his teacup once more, forced himself to pace it.
Em shook her head slowly...she wanted answers, but she seemed to always leave Daryl's study with more questions than anything else. Just now she was so confused, her thoughts faltered, tripped and at last gave up and flopped down defeated.
'Is Jack meeting you there, then--at the ball?' Daryl was off on another tack.
'Ah, he is, he could be, yes...we hadn't planned that far as yet...' Em endeavored to rally. 'Yes, that would be best, I believe. He can journey here with the Pankhurst druids, they are all well acquainted with one another.'
'So. Well then.' Daryl sipped abit of his 'tea'... 'You must have a ball gown...' Emmeline began to wave the suggestion aside, 'No, no--I insist! Let me do this one thing for you, filla, please...' Daryl cast a quick grey glance her way, 'Madame Yvanna was once a ballerina in old St. Petersburg; she knows of fine fashion and excellent tailors here in the city. She would find it utterly entertaining to take you about for a fitting. I shall speak with her when I head into the shop on the morrow.'
Well, this was all very fine of Uncle Daryl. 'Thank you, Daryl...I hardly know what to say!' Em didn't. Her brain had been pummelled into jelly by Daryl's twists and turns and odd bits and flotsam of ideas and revelations.
He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. He smiled a fleeting grim sortof smile, and went to Emmeline and lay a hand upon her shoulder. Patted it. Then went out.
Em supposed their meeting was at an end then.
. . . .
Daryl went into his meditation chamber, closed the door. He strode to the small window and gazed out from on high, hands in pockets. Atop the Hill, atop the house, it was quite a fine view...a whole miniature holiday scene, dotted with lights about the town, down to the bay far below...yes, Daryl thought, he had wanted this, it had been his grand plan;but Emmelina had orchestrated it at last, or perhaps he would have dragged the 'plan' out for months to come.
He knew why. May aswell admit it...Emmelina was so like...Her.
Yes, Daryl knew of Em's 'sanctuary'--a perfect name for it, as it had been Daryl's also. Knew it well. It was where,in part, for many years, he'd done the Night Shift.
He bit the inside of his cheek, shook his head, and went to a low table, taking out a long handled, thin pipe with a round small bowl on the end, matches, and a small wooden box. He sat cross-legged, Indian style, upon a cushion against the window which functioned as a small windowseat there, opened the box,
and took out a wicked long hat pin and a small, black, knobby ball. Poking this with the pin, he lit it with a match, warmed it, inhaled the blue smoke, put it into the pipe bowl, and drew deeply, closing his eyes.
Exhaling softly, he relit the bowl and drew the smoke in, held it long and exhaled slowly...oh, blessed relief...he had to admit that the physical pain was lessened, and his thoughts were not so tortured now...and was that such a crime?
His pains weren't all physical. Gods, how he missed Her...how long had it been? If only he could go to Her...but it was never up to him, was it...? He never knew when he would be transported to Her side...he'd go to sleep at night...and suddenly he'd be sitting in the desert, under the stars...and somehow able to read the book before him, written in Egyptian hieroglyphs, the ebony, the cobalt, the gold glyphs seemed like live things, and he could understand it all, and it was about to reveal
...something, something he'd longed to know, what he'd been seeking his whole life long...and he would look up, and suddenly, there She was, sitting across from him. She looked troubled, compassionate, always; but why wasn't She as happy as he-- Oh, see how amazing all this was! This book, these signs, what all this could mean! He was beside himself with joy to be here, at long last! Just a few more pages, another moment...and he would know...
~ You must return. ~ it was She.
~ You have been out too long.~
~You are cold. You must go back in...~
No, no! It cannot be, don't you see? I'm nearly, it's just...here...
And, invariably, he would awake, cold, at home in his bed. And alone.
Always alone...even when, if he had company...
Daryl had never lacked for female companionship, if, when he wanted. But he never went seeking. They always 'found' him, hunted, seduced him. And it was always well and good, and fun for awhile. But they weren't Her. And it never lasted long.
Nothing, no one, could ever compare, to Her.
Daryl drew his long legs up and hugged them to himself, leaned his head upon his knees and gazed into the darkness. He looked young then, and vulnerable. Perhaps that was how he had appeared to Them, on those nights when They would come for him...it was on such a night, that She came to him, and made it all bearable.
Gods! She had changed him forever then...
He closed his eyes, remembering when...suddenly, he had found himself inside an immaculate sort of lounge...the words 'In Flight Lounge' came to his mind, though he couldn't imagine why. Obviously a room of this size couldn't fit inside a plane, and certainly no private spacecraft, not even the so-called orbiting hotels, even by 2076 standards.
It was colorless, or cream colored, and there seemed to be others milling about nearby, other people, but they weren't important, he had hardly noticed them. But Her, here She was, at last! She, who had come for him! He remembered now, he'd been in a car, and someone had asked him, what was it now? If he was the Timekeeper...? What had that meant? Someone had produced a deck of cards, a Tarot deck...and then such smoke...it seemed like smoke had begun to roil about him obscuring all...then--he found himself here. The In Flight Lounge. With Her...
And they were dancing together, arms about one another, circling slowly...gazing into each other's eyes...he held Her, so close, but oh, She knew how to become ever closer... They actually melted, then, into one another, as they danced, they danced an eternal dance of infinite harmony until they became one another and their physical barriers faded til they shared the same essence of being, and he knew Her and She, him, like no one else,no, no one ever could! It was the ultimate ecstasy! Nothing like it on earth! Only She; She knew him, became him, they shared each other's innermost being, thoughts, feelings, they became as One. Only She could ever complete him, make him whole...forever, only Her...
His Anara...
. . . .
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Chapter 11: Diamond Dreams and Starstreams
Chapter 11: Diamond Dreams and Starstreams
Emmeline awoke to the sweet strains of the mandolin concerto by Vivaldi playing background music within her disappearing dream...she was back There again by the sea, wearing a grecian gown and walking along the water's edge...could it be Greece? she wondered, but she had certainly never traveled there in this lifetime. A man was walking toward her, a tall figure which became ever taller; long, straight fair hair glowing reddish in the sun, his skin in fact, had a slight glow from within as well...he grew in size as he approached, a slender, willowy frame but
he was not in proportion to any human she had ever seen. The man must have been nearly eight feet tall.
Definitely not Greece.
She seemed, however, at the time, to be not unduly discomfited by this, and, in fact, knew this being and welcomed him. She held her arms out to him, and he gathered her into an embrace; not so unequal, as she had had the forethought to stand upon a dune and her head reached just below his breastbone, between his ribs.
'How fare you, little one?' The man's deep voice echoed in her mind, though his lips never moved.
She lifted her head, standing away from him and looked into his electric blue gaze, full of compassion for her. Looking into those twin blue pools, Emmeline felt herself falling, as into the waters of a deep tropical lagoon...
And awoke.
. . . .
Still rather dazed by her dream, Em felt she was neither here nor there at present. She endeavored to center herself and breathed deeply...could that have been the man she had glimpsed in the druid's cauldron? Whatever could it all mean?
Feeling slightly dizzy, she thought she would benefit by a bite of breakfast and tea. She dressed quickly and slowly made her way downstairs, touching the sides of the hallway to keep her balance.
She found Daryl in the kitchen instead of Rosa's usual smiling self. 'Oh!' She blinked. 'Buenos dias, Diego,' she attempted civility; everything was 'off' this morning. She groped her way to the table and sat, staring into the foggy morning beyond the kitchen window, her mind feeling just as pea-soupish.
'Buenos dias, Emmelina,' Daryl consented to her Spanish appellation. 'Are you well?' His words echoed that of the strange man in her dream. ('Well...well...well...'echoed her thoughts, as if lost toppling down one.) Her brow knitted together in a slight frown as she tried to muster her faculties.
'Here.' He set a cup of steaming tea before her, regarding her with concern. 'Rosa went to the corner market. She should return soon. Meanwhile, I will be chef this morning. Feel up to a bite?' He still frowned, gazing her way.
'Yes, thank you...'Emmeline's voice was weak and seemed oddly distant to her, as if it came from outside of herself. 'I, had a strange dream, is all.' She sipped her tea. 'Must have slept rather deeply, I seem to be having trouble waking.'
'Ah. I know how that is. I often do the same.' Daryl was whipping something up in a bowl. 'Corncakes should help. Won't be but a moment.' He'd a large iron skillet on the burner and poured the batter out in small rounds. Em inhaled the wholesome homey aroma.
'Jack would often make corn muffins for breakfast...'she mused,leaning her head on her hand.
Daryl said nothing, just flipped his flapjacks.
'Here's the teapot,'he refreshed her cup, and set out honey and syrup, some marmalade and butter. 'Oh, there's also...' he reached within the icebox in the butler's pantry, 'Some yogurt, if you like. I get the Russian yogurt from Yvanna on occasion.'
Em began to rally with her second cup, and as Daryl set a hot plate of corncakes before her, she tucked into them and began to feel more solid. 'Gracias, Diego...I'm feeling more myself now.'
It wasn't often Emmeline called him 'Diego'...it thrilled and disconcerted him. It was a feeling he'd been trying to avoid.
He grimaced slightly and took his own plate, seating himself at the opposite end of the table from her after pouring tea for himself.
'Care to speak of it?' he asked between bites, face a casual blank.
'What? Oh, the dream...' Em mused, wondering, well, why not? Her disclosures may spark his own. 'Well...'she sighed, pouring more tea. 'In a way, it is, in part, a recurring dream.'
'Oh?' He gazed at her, chewing slowly.
'Yes.'Em closed her eyes, trying to summon remembrance. 'It's somewhere familiar to me, although it's also someplace I'm sure I've never been!' She opened her eyes. 'I know that sounds odd.'
'No, not at all. The gypsies speak of it. Nostalgia for something you have not yet experienced. Can't recall their name for it now...'
'Yes! That's it exactly!' Em cleaned her plate and stood, taking it to the sink and refilled the teakettle, setting it on the stove. She gazed out the window over the sink. 'It is a dreamscape by the sea...but not like here, no big trees, not a lot of green. Farther inland there is, but not by the beach. Could it be an island, perhaps?' She wondered. 'Anyway...it's always the same place. But this time...I see someone different. Very different.' She paused. 'Someone I hadn't seen before.' She put a hand on the kettle handle and glanced at Daryl. 'Although...perhaps I had seen him, once, on Samhain night.'
Daryl put his fork down and sat back. He drank his tea and gazed out the window, frowning slightly. 'Indeed? At the druids' gathering?'
'No, not exactly...' The kettle began to boil. Em put fresh tea leaves in the pot and poured. She put a cozy over the pot, and held it with both hands. 'I saw him, in the cauldron.' She looked at Daryl.
His hand went to his forehead, then, he rubbed it and sighed.
'Indeed?'he asked at last.
'Yes.' Em carried the pot to table and set it upon the trivet,
taking her seat. She sighed, gazing down into her cup. 'I was walking along the beach...and a man approached from afar. As he drew closer, I recognized him, the same face and figure I saw in the cauldron.' Daryl looked at her, and waited. 'As he neared, I was happy to see him, and he, me. We embraced. He said to me, 'How do you fare, little one?'And then I awoke. Curious, isn't it?'
'Very.' Daryl poured for them both. 'Did you...see anyone else in the cauldron that night? '
'Yes.' Em paused. 'My mother.'
Daryl closed his eyes, breathed in. 'You did.' It wasn't a question.
'But the strangest thing was, Diego...the strange thing was...'Em found it hard to articulate. She took a sip. '...besides the fact that I felt I knew this man, very well;
we were close in the way that family or dear friends are close, although he seemed to be older, in a sense, but he didn't look at all aged, rather ageless in fact... He felt like a mentor to me, perhaps...anyway, there was something else very odd about our meeting...'
'Yes.' Daryl swallowed.
Em continued, 'Well, I could not possibly have known this person. Because, because...I could only reach this man, in my dream, by standing upon a dune. He was so very tall, and, well, unlike any person I have ever seen before.'She gazed beseechingly at Daryl.
'How so?' he rasped, taking tea.
'He must have stood...possibly eight feet tall.' Em stared. Then she smiled slightly, looked out the window. 'Of course, it was just a dream. All sorts of nonsense in dreams. Rather 'Alice In Wonderland', isn't it?'
Daryl inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but just then Rosa bustled in the back door, carrying sacks of groceries. 'Ah, Rosa, welcome back! Let me help you...' Daryl rose and took the bags of produce from Rosa and set them upon the counters. Em stood and did up the dishes, whilst Rosa and Daryl put the food away. Suddenly life resumed it's normalcy, and the otherworldly spell of her intimate admissions faded into the active bustle of domestic habit.
But Daryl took up the tea pot upon a tray and placed their cups there as well. 'Let's finish our tea in my study, shall we?' His serious gaze brooked no debate.
. . . .
Emmeline drifted naturally to the window seat at the great bay windows, watching tendrils of fog creep slowly from the hillsides like a live thing. The fog seemed never so much a sort of deva or nature spirit of the city, somehow as intrinsic as it was endemic.
Daryl wheeled over a small cart with the tea tray upon it and situated himself at the opposite end of the window seat. Pouring for two, he also gazed outside and let his features grow calm,
perhaps absorbing some of the slow-moving spectral scene without.
'It actually came as rather a shock...'Em began, 'Not... seeing that man, particularly, but, well...I hadn't really expected to see anything in the cauldron, truly.'
'Your Pankhurst Druids never held the ancestoral communion ceremony?'
'Not as such, no. Or maybe I hadn't stayed that long. I know that other rituals went on late into the evening far beyond when I would stay.' Em looked at him. 'You knew of this ceremony then? Had participated before?'
He looked down. 'Knew of it, yes. Participated, no.' His eyes met hers. Emmeline was curious, of course, but she wasn't going to press him for his visions.
Daryl, perhaps sensing her curiousity, took a different tack suddenly. '...Ancestry, heredity, genetics...quite a fascinating science in itself. Study much of genetics in biology at school?'
He asked, drinking his tea and licking his mouth.
Em directed her gaze back outdoors, clearing her throat. 'Nothing much beyond the basics...my friend Jethro back home tried to interest me in animal husbandry. That's my entire knowledge of genetics.'
Daryl inhaled. 'Much experimentation and development in the field of genetic research increased rather more expeditiously than wisely in the 21st century...'he began, flicking a glance her way. 'As did time travel, and along the lines of quantum physics, exploration of interdimensional travel.' He paused. Thankfully, thought Em, trying to keep up. He looked down, biting his lip in thought. 'Genetics, then. Genes.' He regarded her once more, and sighed. 'Gene-splicing. Does that phrase bring anything to mind?'
Actually, it did. Em found that if she just followed the sound of his voice... pictures would form in her mind and unbidden words which she almost, but not quite, knew the meaning of, would burst onto her mindscape.
'That's the Chip, in part.' Daryl nodded. 'As well as your own natual acumen and sensitivity, or rather, receptivity.' He glanced outside. 'A much esteemed scientist of the 20th century, Dr. Einstein, said that genius lies in receptivity.' He regarded her intently. Em realized he had been reading her mind. She supposed she should be used to it.
'Yes. I know some artists, musicians claim that inspiration seems to come to them from without, as it were, when they remain open to it.'
'Exactly.' Daryl continued: 'You have this innate ability as well, Emmelina. As does Jack.' She was surprised to hear him even mention Jack, as he rarely, if ever, did. 'So. Gene-splicing occurs when...'he inhaled again, and paused...'...are you getting any pictures in your mind yet?'Lord and Lady,he flustered, how to explain to a young Victorian woman?
Em closed her eyes. 'I'm seeing a sortof figure-eight spiral, like a ladder that twists about itself.'
DNA, Daryl thought. Excellent. 'Yes, Em. That's a big part of it. We call it DNA, for deoxyriboneucleic acid. Genetic information via cells, chromosomes...cell-splicing, you could call it.' He swallowed. 'Basically, as in your animal husbandry, for instance, when a fertilized egg begins to form, it's a way of adding yet another, or other, genetic material to the embryo. Creating a three-part or triad-based embryonic nucleus.' He licked his lips again, pouring more tea. His throat had gone quite dry.
Em opened her eyes. 'Interesting. So, you could breed a certain strain of, perhaps, sheep, with a ewe and the genetics of two different rams, say?'
Daryl exhaled. By george, she's got it. Thank the gods it didn't take too much detailed explanation. 'Yes, Em, excellent.'Now for the hard part. 'But, this procedure didn't have to be confined to animal husbandry alone.' Please stay with me on this, Em.
'Oh.' Em had a curious, creeping sensation begin rather like chills up her spine. She wasn't certain she was following, or wanted to.
Daryl stood then, and walked over to his desk, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair, and he slowly paced about the desk. 'Ah, yes. Certain...experiments yielded successful results using human subjects as well.'
Diosa! Lord and Lady, (plus Lord, makes three!) Em thought. Was Daryl trying to tell her what she thought he was trying to tell her...? 'You mean...a child of one mother, could, could have two fathers?'
Daryl ceased pacing and closed his eyes. 'Yes, Em. That is exactly what I mean.'
Diosa...Emmeline was officially in shock now. Her mind went blank. No pictures whatsoever. She wasn't about to allow that!
Daryl intimated her distress. 'Emmelina, it isn't as bad as you are thinking! It's, not, not like that! It's only a very small bit of genetic material taken from the third party! And, it happens after the embryo has begun to form! And, there is no, no congress...no physical relations between the third party and the mother!' He ran a sweaty palm through his hair. Mercy, surely parents who had to explain facts of life to a child never had to jump through such convoluted hoops.
'...I...I...'Em stammered. She didn't know what to think. 'Ohhh...'She shook her head slowly.
Daryl came and sat beside her. 'Em...'He wasn't good at mentoring young women. Or anyone really. Hadn't even been a decent uncle. He tentatively took her hand. 'It's alright, Emmelina. I know it's rather a lot to...digest right off the bat like this...' She looked at him,in dazed stupification. He was nodding. 'It's hard to...think about. Don't. Don't even try.
Just, let what we've discussed sort of...float, for now.' She rolled her eyes and hung her head shaking it slowly. He looked around into her face. 'Em? Would you care for some brandy perhaps? Some strong coffee? ...Opium?'
She looked at him and saw he was smiling. 'Oh, Daryl...'she began to laugh softly. 'I don't know...'
He patted her hand. 'You'll be alright.' He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll be right back!' He held a finger in the air, and exited.
Oh, goddess...she didn't know what to think. What could she think? Could she believe it? But, what would that mean?...how would that explain her father's animosity? If there had been no, nothing physical between the 'third party' as Daryl so delicately put it...then...then...
Emmeline had a sudden epiphany. She hadn't seen her father in the ancestral cauldron. She saw only her mother, and...He...that strange man whom she'd met on the beach...
Daryl re-entered the study, closing the door softly and carried two brandy snifters with him. Emmeline's he had spiked judiciously with a bit of laudanum. 'Here. Universal remedy for sudden shocks to the system.' He held up his glass and raised an eyebrow with a small smile. She blinked slowly and touched her glass to his, and drank a sip. Brandy after breakfast. Wuf! Luckily, it was very smooth.
Daryl said nothing, just sat companionably beside her. They sipped silently awhile, staring out at the city beyond, now clear of fog. How the mist-free scenery echoed her own mind, now swept clear of illusion.
'The man at the beach,' Emmeline began. 'The man I saw in the cauldron...'she looked at Daryl who met her gaze with open countenance. 'He was, is, my father.'
Daryl nodded.
'But...I'm trying to follow all this...why then?...'Her brow knotted together, '...Oh, Daryl, why did I not see my father in the cauldron?'
'You did not?'
'No, just he, the tall fair man, and my mother.'
Daryl looked down, a slight grimace. He tapped his brandy glass with a finger.
'Oh, Daryl...no.' Em began to allow the incredible to sink into her ratiocinations. 'My father...was just the '3rd Party' as you call it;the 3rd Man.'Oh, merciful Isis, Em thought. That explains rather alot... Why he would have held her in such antipathy;'anti-Em-etic'as she would cruelly tease herself...
His wife had had a child, and he'd not been there for the conception. Oh dear.
Daryl only sighed. Then looked at her, somewhat sadly.
'So this...triad, Daryl...can it come about without the 3rd party's knowledge?' She riveted him with her hard gaze.
'Yes, it can. And did. Does.'
Em was incensed. Such unwarranted pain this had caused her, and her family! 'How could people, scientists have allowed this? It's...inhuman!'
Daryl's face went quite pale and he stood then, tossing back his brandy. 'It...was done, rather in secret, Emmelina...that's why they used the 3rd partys' genetics at all...so the child would resemble the father, and, in most cases, no one would be the wiser.' He began to pace again, a hand running through his hair. He seemed quite at a loss.
This mollified Em not at all. 'Unless the parents, the wife and husband had not...been intimate.'
Daryl cleared his throat. 'Quite.'
'Still!' Em stood now, shaking slightly. 'How could this be allowed? Have 21st century people no morals, no ethics? No sense of human decency?'
Not much, thought Daryl somberly. 'Actually, Em, not alot, to tell you the truth of it. However...' Gods, how to say it? 'Ah...although our scientists became involved in this, eventually, they hadn't much to do with it in it's inception.'
'They...?' Em puzzled, feeling the laudanum now, 'What do you mean 'our' scientists? The perpetrators were foreigners, then?'
He looked at her. 'Of a sort.' No, she wasn't ready for this. Neither was he! 'Look, Em, you've had enough of a shock for now, don't you think?' He went to a closet and took a thick folded type of quilt, a comforter he called it, and a pillow.
'The brandy...it will help. Just, have a seat, filla, and try to relax. Let it all sortof gel for abit, and, and give your mind a rest, yes?' He set the bedding down and motioned for her to sit.
'These cushions are quite comfortable, you needn't go anywhere. I'll just be in the parlor. Have, take a little rest, yes?' He flustered, running a hand through his hair, ala Jack.
Apparently, the disclosure was at an end. She sat. Truly, though, she'd had more than enough already. She saw Daryl slip through the door and shut it quietly. So, he'd enough as well, she thought with a wry, small smile. Oh how her head spun with all this mad information declaration...
She drank her cognac like a good little girl.
. . . .
Emmeline awoke in Daryl's study, lying on the window seat, with the pillow at her head and the thick, fluffy comforter over her. No sign of Daryl about.
She tentatively raised her head, then thought better of that.
Ohhh, but her head pounded! That was supposed to be a remedy?
She groaned softly and rubbed between her brows...diosa what a day already...what could the time be?
Eventually, she mustered the wherewithall to rise and carrying her head upon her shoulders like a giant, throbbing calabasa, she shuffled into the kitchen. Rosa was busy with dinner preparations.
'Coffee...' Em muttered, rummaging about the cupboards. Rosa shot her a glance and smiled. 'Just sit, Emmelina...I can make it. Don Diego told me you were feeling not so well.'
Em sat on a kitchen stool, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Rosa set a cup of coffee before her, as well as a small teacup. 'Willow bark tea. Also good for headache!'
Emmeline drank both, and poured more caffeine. She leaned over and took a mandarin orange and began to peel.'Gracias, Rosa,'she croaked.
'Ah, da nada, Em...'She stole a look at her over her mixing bowl. 'Men, you know...they mean well, but sometimes, what is a remedy to them, is a big headache for us females!'
Men in general could be a big headache for us females thought Emmeline grumpily. 'How'd you know?'
'Don Diego brought in two empty brandy glasses. About 11 a.m.!'
Rosa smiled as she put the mix in a casserole dish and set it in the oven to bake.
'Ohhhh...Rosa, please don't think I am prone to taking brandy in the mornings!'
'Of course not, Em!' Rosa put her hands on her hips, then poured a cup of coffee for herself and sat on the stool across from Em.
'Don Diego...ah...he has been a bachelor, always, you know. A man alone. He hasn't lived with many other women, much less children.'She shook her head slowly. 'He has not much experience with taking care of others. Perhaps not even of himself... He would be lost without someone like me!' She looked up at Em. 'He is trying to learn though. Trying, to take care of you, Emmelina. In his own odd way.'
Em considered this novel angle.'Where is he now? Did he leave for the day?' She was beginning to feel somewhat more human.
'Oh, no. He is in his garden, puttering...'
Daryl. A 'putterer'. Hm. This Em had to see...
. . . .
The late autumn sun was heading behind the hills already, Em noted with casual surprise. She had brought her coffee with her, as well as a cup for Daryl.
He was sitting upon an overturned bucket, digging. Em smiled to herself, edging up alongside. She stood watching a moment. Daryl at last looked up, taking note.
Em held out the cup. 'Hello. Brought you coffee.'
He shook the dirt from his gloves. 'Thanks.'
Em took a look at the mostly denuded garden. Some cabbages, lean broccoli plants, peppers of course, still robust. Cherry tomatoes and squash. 'Must have been nice, in season, eh?' She noted tall stalks of where sunflowers must have stood against the house.
He took a sip of java. 'It was alright. For a city plot.'He sat, knees splayed, nearly up to his shoulders. Em thought it must be awkward for a tall person to work close to the ground.She looked about and decided the wood framing the raised beds would hold her petite self, sat down.
He cleaned the clumps of damp earth from his trowel. 'Slept awhile, then?'
Em laughed shortly, took another gulp. 'I should say. No dreams, though.'
'Probably as well, take a break, eh?' He stood and pulled away the weeds he'd been working at, tossed them onto the compost heap framed in the corner.
'Laudanum, Daryl?' Emmeline came to the point. 'Truly?'
He spared a glance her way. 'Thought you could use it. Had a bit of a shock.' He kicked stray rocks away from the beds. 'It's in the bath, just off my study, if you ever have need of it.'
She exhaled forcefully. 'Suppose. Thanks.' He'd meant well. For a kidnapper. 'Are you Jack's father, then?'
Slowly, he raised his head and looked straight before him, his face a bland mask. He began to breathe hard. Emmeline wondered if she had gone rather too far. Must be the opiate talking...
At last, he sighed. 'It's...complicated.'
She snorted a laugh, shaking her head. 'More complicated than my story?'
He spared a hard glance from on high her way. 'Perhaps not. But haven't you rather had enough shocks for one day?' He divested himself of his gloves and slapped them against a post, turned and went back into the house, leaving her wondering.
"'I'm full of melody, but at a loss for words...I can't say anymore, you take my breath away...'"Emmeline softly sang an old favorite of Alice's as she watched the sun lower behind the western hills. The fog would soon return, or perhaps not. Maybe tonight would be clear. Emmeline watched the sky until the first stars appeared. A falling star, headed toward the east bay. That's odd,she thought,seeing it cease it's fall and continue on in a straight line. Enough for one night, indeed, she decided, and followed Daryl inside.
. . . .
Daryl decided to take his supper in his study, locking the door.
He could hear Emmeline practicing her mandolin in the parlor. Good, keep the lass busy awhile...he sighed. He'd had quite enough of disclosure for one day. Had he really believed he could give her all the information she needed without revealing anything of himself? Without revisiting his own dark past? He crossed to the small walnut cabinet and poured himself more cognac. His gaze went to the little brown bottle he'd left out...why not? It had been that sort of day. He tipped several drops within the amber liquid and inhaled. Gods knew he'd plenty he wished to forget. If only for a short while. Sweet liquid lobotomy...
He sat slumped in the red leather armchair and gazed out at another clear evening. Blessed night and soothing darkness, wrap me in your velvet song...he thanked whatever gods had given him this unhoped for escape from the madness and decay of the 21st century. Soft streetlights, the clip-clop of horse and carriage...he knew he was blessed;comparitively. He had escaped, as had Jack. It was the least he could have done for him.
..
And yet, was it his doing, or was it chance? Why...Daryl had asked himself again and again...why had he been so chosen? After
years of careful research, he believed it had to do with genetics; never mind his IQ of 180,give or take... Who knew by what criteria the gods decided one's fate?
'Whom the gods would destroy they first made mad.' Oh, he'd been there, alright. He took a long draw upon the brandy.
Somehow, he'd pulled himself back from the abyss, though. He watched the sky full of the odd points of light, hoping they would burn fairly steady. Another pull off the snifter and his hand reached out, groping for the bottle of French cognac. He splashed it into the glass and congratulated himself on a job well done, adding another drop or two from the smaller bottle. He'd brain cells to spare, hadn't he...?
Lying his head back, he ran a hand through his hair and regarded the night. Closing his eyes, he cast his mind back years...far too many to count. It had been ages, aeons ago, it seemed, and yet he could recall that night so long ago, as if it had been yesterday...
Mexico... Oh, he'd been a grand traveler, indeed. Thought he'd been about everywhere and had seen it all. He laughed, a hard, harsh sound. He now knew he had been but a microbe on the head of a pin. He was about to discover how big the universe was.
Multiverse. Multidimensional, multitudinal multiverse...
Slowly, slowly...he let the brandy course down his throat, savoring the burn...he could have wept for his young, idiot self about to be irrevocably enlightened.
There, in the shadow of Mt.Popocatapetl, that pyramid-shaped volcano, a Mexican Fuji-san silhouette against the purpling sky, young Daryl had camped, warming himself with tequila and wrapped up in his oilskin drover's coat and serapes against the evenings' encroaching chill; letting his campfire burn to coals and finishing off the last of his tamales...he lay against a log and listened to the coyotes' songs, yip yip in the night. Coyotes spoke a universal language, Daryl thought, still learning traveler's Espanol. He'd noticed a gypsy camp a good reach from the mountain and could just make out the dim spikes of their campfire lights in the far distance. He'd crossed their camp en route to the mountain's base and in passing gleaned from them that they wished not to come too close to Mt. Popo. It was haunted they said, or words to that effect. Some of the old women made signs to ward off the evil eye in that direction.
Ah, but he was lucky he wasn't a gypsy, then, he thought, crossing his long legs. He regarded Popo and decided he rather liked the old volcano. He'd always felt an affinity for mountains...each one had it's own personality; some were male, some female, and some were something beyond either. He'd been caught in a thunderstorm on Mt. Tahoma once, up in Washington, and had quickly developed a healthy respect for lightning then, having come within scant feet of nearly being singed to cinders.
Old Tahoma, definately male. Not one to mess with. Beautiful, though. He sighed, contented to be in Mehico, and comparitively warm and dry and safe. So he thought.
Dozing, he watched the stars swirling about Popo...hm, weren't stars supposed to be fairly stationary...? He lifted the tequila bottle. Still plenty left, it wasn't just the cactus juice, then. He sat up and tilted his hat back. He squinted at the mountain's peak, seeing several bright lights dash crazily in zig zags like they were playing a game of tag. This was getting to be truly bizarre, Daryl thought, becoming suddenly sober. He grabbed his canteen, drank and splashed water on his face and rubbed hard. Wiping his eyes with his bandana, he gazed once more, but damn if the light show wasn't still in progress, and even more unsettling--red, blue, amber lights spun about Popo's peak zipping around each other, some diving into the crater itself, and reappearing...making 90 degree turns in a flash instant. Daryl no longer felt as contented with his campsite.
Suddenly, three of the lights aligned themselves in a triangle formation. He couldn't help but stare, awestruck. Then, to his amazement and dread, the lights began to streak toward him, moving almost instantaneously. Above him, they again formed a triad and pulsed red, blue, and amber. He held his arm up as a shield against the brightness, that he may see in better detail, when the three lights appeared to merge into one large whitish-blue blaze of humming energy and then--
*FLASH*
--Daryl found himself engulfed in a sea of radiance.
Had lightning found it's mark after all? was his final thought before he blacked out and knew no more.
. . . .
Daryl smelled smoke. Woodsmoke, the smells of cookfires. He hurt all over. Had he been ill? Where was he?
He tipped his wide hatbrim back and opened a tentative eye.
He was in a camp of sorts, campfires about, he spied a few people, men, women, kids and dogs...wagons. Somewhere in the distance a guitar played softly. Was this the gypsy camp?
He tried to sit and coughed, finding it hard to stop. Deep, wracking coughs... His head felt like lead. Strike that; like a cannonball. An old woman came to his side, smiling, missing a tooth. She handed him a tin cup of hot liquid.
He drank. Diosa, it was bitter! But his body instinctively knew he needed it. He drank the entire cup. 'Gracias, senora...'he managed a croak.
She leaned back, hands on hips. 'Gorgios! Idiota!' She smiled at the Idiot. She pointed to the sky. 'Luz! Peligro!' She shook her head, and walked off, muttering, 'Idiota...'
"Dangerous Lights" Daryl knew. "Idiot" he knew as well. Hm. That about said it all, indeed. He tried to prop himself in a sitting position. He saw the old lady bent over a cookpot, dishing a stew into a wooden bowl. This she brought to him with a wide wooden spoon.
He bowed his head, 'Gracias...muchas gracias...' He was hungry, but, when he tasted the stew...rabbit, probably, with herbs, some root vegetables, greens...it tasted wonderful, but his stomach wasn't easily convinced of it. He had to go very slowly and eat small bites with long pauses. He looked about, found his canteen, and drank. Gods he was thirsty...his head felt on fire...
It was then he noticed his hands. They were bright red. That, in part, was what hurt. How had he gotten a sunburn? At night?
Luz. Peligro.
. . . .
Night. Nob Hill.
Daryl raised his head from where it had fallen to his chest. His brandy glass, empty, had fallen from his hand as well, and lay on the rug. "Memories...are made of this..." he sang, slurring as he laughed low and sardonically... Most of his memories of late, were made bearable by liberal applications of brandy and opium, he had to admit. He rather preferred forgetting to remembering.
"...what potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears
Still losing when I saw myself win!
"What wretched errors hath my heart committed
Whilst it had thought itself so blessed never!
How mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever..."
He heard the parlor clock strike twelve; the house otherwise silent now. Basta, enough for today. He'd traveled far, sitting here.
Daryl roused himself and stumbled off to bed...
Strange, how far one can travel, just sitting in one place.
. . . .
Em awoke to another bright morning. Now that autumn was here, the bay area wore a new sunny outlook. Emmeline herself felt much finer after her long periods of rest. Caramba! Market day today! She'd nearly forgotten with all that she'd been through of late...
She had gotten a missive from Jack, (via the prolific Yeats in the 800s) along with a belated birthday card as well last week, asking her to meet him in the mercado today, for a 'long walk'; with an apology for not contacting her sooner. She intimated what the 'long walk' meant...
. . . .
By now, Rosa knew Emmelina's fondness for the mercado was not solely due to calabasas...and, without actually saying anything, the two women worked together to enable Em to slip away from the usually watchful gaze of Manuel for awhile.
Today the three were sauntering about the park and vendor's stalls, and Em was telling Manuel again, how much she liked her birthday gift of the wooden Knight/Horse Head sculpture. 'You have a real talent, Manuel! And don Diego would sell your works in his shop...'
Manuel smiled slightly but said nothing. Then he sighed. 'Ah, Emmelina...that was a special gift. Just for you.' He stole a small glance her way. It was not often Manuel became at all loquacious. 'Do you know its' meaning?'
An odd question, thought Em. 'As a chess piece, you mean?'
He held his head sideways, quizzically. 'Not only that, although in part, certainly. And you have to take into consideration the chessboard as well, the black, and the white.' My, Manuel was waxing philosophical! Even Rosa glanced at him with eyebrows raised. 'But the word: 'horse'--what does it remind you of?--Just the sound of it?'
Em had to become used to constant surprises, it appeared. 'Hmmm...'
'Think, Emmelina..."Que hora es?"
'What is the time?' Em looked at him?
'Si. "hora" -- "horse". And, the horse is transportation, no? A way to get one from there to here. "Hora" meaning "time", si?' Manuel just looked straight ahead, walking along. 'Ah, Rosa, here are our musicians! It is Time, for our Sunday concerta!'
Rosa's eyes went wide as she looked at Emmelina, then taking Manuel's arm, the two walked over to the fountain and settled themselves beside it, to enjoy the music as was becomming their custom.
Em turned to make for the big oak tree and trysting place...horse...to travel, and hora, time. Ah, there is more than meets el ojo to Manuel, indeed, thought Emmeline.
. . . .
There stood Jack, holding a single red rose.
This he presented to her, and Em took it smiling. She knew better than to enquire of him, whence came roses in winter...
'Happy Birthday,' he whispered, kissing her cheek.
'Thank you.' She held it to her nose, and surprisingly for once, it had a luscious scent. 'It's lovely.'
'Lovely,'Jack agreed, gazing at her.
'I've so much to tell you, Jack...it's rather hard for me to believe. I don't know if it clarifies anything or just confuses everything, as yet... But, it is worth knowing.' She looked up at him, inquiringly.
'Of course. Let's just...'he put an arm about her shoulder and steered her behind the oak. Glancing about, to make sure they weren't observed, he smiled and nodded to her, taking her hand.
Darkness.
It was still disconcerting to Emmeline to suddenly feel no ground beneath her feet and see nothing about her, knowing only the touch of Jack's hand, which she gripped tightly, afraid to lose her only hold upon the world...
And then, Crowley House, and the parlor, a small fire burning there. And just the two of them this time, it seemed.
'Alright, Em?' Jack asked, peering into her face.
'Will be, I believe!' Emmeline tried to orient herself.
'Here, take a seat. I'll just bring tea, eh?' He guided her to the sofa and went off into the kitchen and rattled about a moment, reappearing with tea tray in hand.
'I'd anticipated...kept the water on the stove, hot.' He smiled, sitting next to Em. 'Well! So, Yeats and Al are off to town for some time. We can relax and have a chat, eh?' Jack sat back, crossing his long legs.
A chat, Em thought. She exhaled. If only it was just small talk and carefree...diosa, where to begin?
At the beginning, Em supposed. As she related her dream to Jack, as well as the evening's revelations via the druid's cauldron, Jack listened attentively, not saying anything. He poured their tea and Em took a sip of courage and soldiered on...faltering somewhat when she came to disclosure surrounding the genetic tinkering and it's implications.
Em exhaled at last. 'If, any of it's true, at least it would explain why my father was so distant. Although, I must admit, there is much that I really do not understand...'
Throughout it all, Jack said not a word. He was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and holding his tea, staring at it like he didn't know what it was. He set it down.
He stood then and began, like Daryl, to pace, hands on his hips behind him as if to propel himself forward, head down. He wandered rather aimlessly about the parlor and hallway, looking over at Em occasionally, but saying nothing.
At last he stopped at the fireplace and leaned an arm upon the mantlepiece, sighing, looking into the dying fire.
"Yes your parents are dead, Jack," Daryl had told him, emerging from his infernal flames here on that night long past...
And: "Your father lives, and loves you very much."
Jack had wondered at these contradictory statements then.
He gazed slowly over to Emmeline and regarded her, frowning.
'There is...something...in all of this, that could account for some of my own family mysteries.' He paused. 'Somewhat.'
Em waited, not wishing to prod. They had, apparently, Time.
Jack sighed again,softly,and resumed his seat beside Em. 'I have inherited a genetic trait, a marker, that Daryl has as well. My father, however, Drake, does not have this trait. It has never been present in my mother's family.'
He stared into her eyes. She met his gaze steadily, nodding slightly. He frowned again, and looked away. 'It, I suppose, it could be...'he faltered. He hung his head, forelock falling over his eyes, 'It could be...the reason why...Drake hated Daryl so. And why Daryl absented himself. And, why Sarah, my mother,never ceased trying to bring the warring brothers together, knowing neither was at fault...' He looked up, out the windows.
A sharp intake of breath. He ran his hands through his hair. 'I was sent away to schools, always sent off, out of Drake's sight, I suppose. My father wasn't unfeeling as yours was, Em, but, he wished to keep me at a distance. As much as possible...'
'But, surely...'Em began, not knowing quite how to broach such a delicate subject, 'Surely he and your mother were close, yes? And Daryl, only the 3rd Party...?'
'Yes. I believe that's true. However, Em, even in 2076, these things are kept sub rosa...only rumors of this sort of thing are ever mentioned, usually on the fringes of speculative research, and not really taken seriously by many. At least outwardly.' He leaned forward again, clasping his hands together. 'But that marker, that trait...must have given Drake pause. He wasn't a geneticist, or a scientist. He was a businessman, import-export, the diamond trade...' Jack bit his lip. 'Not blood-diamonds! That's the bloody de Beers, the old Dutch robber barons in Africa, with their wretched treatment of people there,starting wars, raping and pillaging the land for riches for only the wealthy few. No, Drake steered clear. In fact...'
Jack stood then and went to the secretary desk, opening the lid and taking a key, unlocked a small drawer. He removed a small black velvet box, and a velvet bag, and closed up, returning to Emmeline's side.
'What my family did, was to deal mostly in various gemstones, and domestic diamonds, from Arkensas, chiefly for industrial use, as well as those from New York State. Have you ever heard of Herkimers, Emmeline?' He stared at the bag he had in hand, smiling distractedly.
'Herkimer diamonds? Perhaps I haven't.' Emmeline was fascinated
with Jacks' revelations regarding his background for once.
Jack opened the bag and looked at Emmeline, smiling still. 'Open your hands, cup them together...' She obeyed. Jack poured the contents out, scattering crystals of various sizes into her palms.
'Oh, Jack! They're lovely!' Em bent closer studying them. 'Are they really diamonds? They're so large, some of them!'
'Of a sort. They're crystals, really. Notice they're double-terminated. That's how you can tell they're genuine; from the Herkimer area of New York, a small cordillera there.'
'Are they expensive?' Em held one up to the light, turning it.
'Not really. Worth a little more than quartz crystals. Some people believe they have special...esoteric powers, though.' He grinned at her.
'Truly?' Em smiled, enchanted. 'I believe it. They grow this way naturally? How wonderful...'
'I'm glad you like them.' Jack had always loved the Herkimers. He felt a kinship with these crystals, native to the same area as he. He took a deep breath. 'In fact...'
He held out the small black velvet box.
'Happy Birthday, Emmeline.'
Em looked at him, then smiled. She opened the little box.
'Ohh...' She lifted out a Herkimer diamond on a delicate silver chain, in a silver setting flanked by two small opals on either side.
Jack pointed out the opals. 'Your birthstones. Didn't think I knew, did you?' He grinned. 'Hope you like it, Em.'
She didn't know what to say. It was a gorgeous gift!
'Oh, Jack...it's incredibly beautiful! Thank you!' She looked at him, her eyes shining. 'Help fasten it for me, would you please?'
He did so, and was pleased with the effect; the opals seemed to reflect the light of her red hair, which she'd left unbound.
Em touched it then looked up at him smiling. She reached up and taking his cheek, planted a soft kiss upon his waiting lips. They smiled at one another. His finger traced her lips, his gaze yearning. She clasped his hand and brought it about her neck, as she put her arms around him and pulled him to her. They fell against the back of the sofa and gave in to their pent-up want, held in check for how long? Was it merely hours, days, or had it been months, really? All that mattered was Now.
They parted after a time, and caught their breath.
'...I think I'm beginning to feel that esoteric power already...'Emmeline grinned, looking up through her lashes at Jack.
'So am I.' He hugged her to him. 'Oh, Em...how I've missed you.
If only we could spend our days together like this! Not always, I know...'he held her apart, gazing into her blue-green eyes,
'I'd never hold you down, hold you back from anything you wished to do, anywhere you wish to go! I love that in you, Em; your free spirit. It's because I'm much the same way myself...'
'Apparently...we've much in common,'Em said, pensively, looking at her necklace, turning it in the light. 'More than we ever knew...'
He knew she was thinking of all the recent disclosures...
'Yes. We've both had to live with secrets, and so much of the same complicated family relations, despite the time difference, we've led nearly parallel lives, Emmeline.'
She looked at him, afraid this was so. She stared at the diamonds on the tea tray, ran her fingers through them...possibly, that's partly what Daryl was trying to tell her; to inform her of their consanguinity and to warn her that their genetics were coveted. 'I know who your enemies are,' Daryl had intimated.
'Jack...'She was serious now. 'I believe Daryl was trying to warn me, by telling me all of this.'
'But why kidnap you, Em? I do not trust Daryl, and you most certainly should not!' Jack was adamant, sitting back and frowning.
'I don't know...there's still much we don't know...' Em frowned as well, trying to think. And what of that photo, of her parents and Daryl? How did all that fit in? 'There are mysteries I would still wish to find out about, Jack.'
Jack was quiet, gazing at the floor.
Emmeline knew what she wanted though. A certain crossroads had been reached and she knew which path to take.
She took his hands in hers. 'But I do wish we had more times like these...just to live, Jack! And enjoy the days, and each other's company...together.' She blushed. Was she propositioning Jack now?
He gathered her in his arms. 'Do you mean that, Em? Don't give me false hope.'
She looked at him earnestly. 'I wouldn't, Jack. Not after all we've both had to go though! I think we deserve a little happiness, for a change, don't you?' She smiled, tentatively.
For an answer, Jack kissed her, deeply....he gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head back, looking into her eyes, trying to read her. He must have liked what he saw there, for he kissed her again, long and hard and they melted together, as if made for one another.
Suddenly, something soft was slinking around her ankles. 'Ah! Oh, my...it's just Alice! ...saying hello...' Em's heart was in her mouth, beating quite the staccato.
'Figures, perfect timing,'growled Jack, not wanting to waste a minute.
'There is one thing, Jack...'
He sighed and sat back, letting the moment go. Cats. He'd have to remember to close off the pet door next time.
'Yes, Em?' He took her loose ringlets in hand, toying with them.
'If...if I come to stay here, with you, perhaps soon...' Em began, 'Well, would that still be alright, then?'
Jack laughed. 'Good night, girl! Must you ask, truly? ...Let me show you...' he leaned in for more...'...just how alright it would be...' He showed her.
Em sighed, taking a breath. 'That's very alright, Jack, dear...'
She called him dear! Finally!...Jack leaned into her hair, breathing in her scent, as Alice joined them on the sofa. 'Three's a crowd, cat!' Jack told her.
'Oh, Alice must learn to share you, now,'Em petted her softly.
'But, seriously, Jack, there are some things that I want answers to first!'
Jack sighed. He looked at her. 'You weren't going to tease, remember?'
'No, not at all! But...I can't just...stay here, just like that! For one thing, what's to keep Daryl from abducting me again? No, we have to come to an understanding. I think we're getting there.
And, well, I must tie up a couple of other loose ends...'Em thought of Sophie...she couldn't just leave the girl, now that she'd reached out to Em and agreed to tutoring. She'd work something out there...
'Alright,' Jack sighed. 'Tie those ends up then, but make it quick, Em?' He touched her cheek, then began to massage her neck, knowing how she loved a good rub. So did he...
'Tell you what. The druids are having their big Solstice Ball in the City. By then, surely I'll have everything sorted, Jack.' This seemed a perfect compromise. She took his hand. 'Come to the ball with me, Jack?'
'I'd love nothing better. And afterwards...?'
'Then we'll come home here, to Crowley House,the two of us, together.'
'No Daryl?'
'He'll be sorted.'
'Good. He needs it.' Jack kissed her, sealing the deal. 'So, a ball you say?'
'Yes. The Solstice Ball. All the druids from far and near attend, or so I've heard...I know the Pankhurst clan would come to the city then. It's a grand gathering...'
'I see... Music, dance, celebration...that sort of thing?' Jack was smiling, holding her close. Ah, at last, Em was to come home to him. He'd wear a powdered wig then, if need be...
'Probably, yes. You've never attended a solstice celebration, other than ours last year?' Em remembered. It seemed years ago, not just one.
'Don't believe I have...need I bring anything special? Wear a wig?'
She looked at him, eyes wide. 'Not unless you want to wear one!' She blinked. 'I'd prefer it if you don't!' He took her hand, kissed it. 'I love your hair, Jack, just as it is...wild and free...'
'Wild is it? Yes, I suppose it can be.'
'We shall bedeck ourselves when we arrive, and weave crowns of holly and ivy, evergreens and ribbon, whatever you like...and join the procession to follow the Sun and sing her back to us, and carol throughout the neighborhood...and then,it's back to the bonfire to
celebrate the Sun's return at long last. And drink hot mulled wine and cider. And, yes, we shall make music and dance...'Em leaned against Jack, he so warm, and closed her eyes, wishing not to stir, not really...she held her Herkimer and warmed it in her palm.
'Sounds marvellous. We'll make it our year, this next one, yes? We shall make it what we will, together.' He lay his head against the top of hers, ebony upon crimson.
'Yes. We've something to look forward to now.'
He kissed the top of her head. 'We do.'At long last, thought Jack.
Finally, they would be together. Til the end of Time.
.....
Emmeline awoke to the sweet strains of the mandolin concerto by Vivaldi playing background music within her disappearing dream...she was back There again by the sea, wearing a grecian gown and walking along the water's edge...could it be Greece? she wondered, but she had certainly never traveled there in this lifetime. A man was walking toward her, a tall figure which became ever taller; long, straight fair hair glowing reddish in the sun, his skin in fact, had a slight glow from within as well...he grew in size as he approached, a slender, willowy frame but
he was not in proportion to any human she had ever seen. The man must have been nearly eight feet tall.
Definitely not Greece.
She seemed, however, at the time, to be not unduly discomfited by this, and, in fact, knew this being and welcomed him. She held her arms out to him, and he gathered her into an embrace; not so unequal, as she had had the forethought to stand upon a dune and her head reached just below his breastbone, between his ribs.
'How fare you, little one?' The man's deep voice echoed in her mind, though his lips never moved.
She lifted her head, standing away from him and looked into his electric blue gaze, full of compassion for her. Looking into those twin blue pools, Emmeline felt herself falling, as into the waters of a deep tropical lagoon...
And awoke.
. . . .
Still rather dazed by her dream, Em felt she was neither here nor there at present. She endeavored to center herself and breathed deeply...could that have been the man she had glimpsed in the druid's cauldron? Whatever could it all mean?
Feeling slightly dizzy, she thought she would benefit by a bite of breakfast and tea. She dressed quickly and slowly made her way downstairs, touching the sides of the hallway to keep her balance.
She found Daryl in the kitchen instead of Rosa's usual smiling self. 'Oh!' She blinked. 'Buenos dias, Diego,' she attempted civility; everything was 'off' this morning. She groped her way to the table and sat, staring into the foggy morning beyond the kitchen window, her mind feeling just as pea-soupish.
'Buenos dias, Emmelina,' Daryl consented to her Spanish appellation. 'Are you well?' His words echoed that of the strange man in her dream. ('Well...well...well...'echoed her thoughts, as if lost toppling down one.) Her brow knitted together in a slight frown as she tried to muster her faculties.
'Here.' He set a cup of steaming tea before her, regarding her with concern. 'Rosa went to the corner market. She should return soon. Meanwhile, I will be chef this morning. Feel up to a bite?' He still frowned, gazing her way.
'Yes, thank you...'Emmeline's voice was weak and seemed oddly distant to her, as if it came from outside of herself. 'I, had a strange dream, is all.' She sipped her tea. 'Must have slept rather deeply, I seem to be having trouble waking.'
'Ah. I know how that is. I often do the same.' Daryl was whipping something up in a bowl. 'Corncakes should help. Won't be but a moment.' He'd a large iron skillet on the burner and poured the batter out in small rounds. Em inhaled the wholesome homey aroma.
'Jack would often make corn muffins for breakfast...'she mused,leaning her head on her hand.
Daryl said nothing, just flipped his flapjacks.
'Here's the teapot,'he refreshed her cup, and set out honey and syrup, some marmalade and butter. 'Oh, there's also...' he reached within the icebox in the butler's pantry, 'Some yogurt, if you like. I get the Russian yogurt from Yvanna on occasion.'
Em began to rally with her second cup, and as Daryl set a hot plate of corncakes before her, she tucked into them and began to feel more solid. 'Gracias, Diego...I'm feeling more myself now.'
It wasn't often Emmeline called him 'Diego'...it thrilled and disconcerted him. It was a feeling he'd been trying to avoid.
He grimaced slightly and took his own plate, seating himself at the opposite end of the table from her after pouring tea for himself.
'Care to speak of it?' he asked between bites, face a casual blank.
'What? Oh, the dream...' Em mused, wondering, well, why not? Her disclosures may spark his own. 'Well...'she sighed, pouring more tea. 'In a way, it is, in part, a recurring dream.'
'Oh?' He gazed at her, chewing slowly.
'Yes.'Em closed her eyes, trying to summon remembrance. 'It's somewhere familiar to me, although it's also someplace I'm sure I've never been!' She opened her eyes. 'I know that sounds odd.'
'No, not at all. The gypsies speak of it. Nostalgia for something you have not yet experienced. Can't recall their name for it now...'
'Yes! That's it exactly!' Em cleaned her plate and stood, taking it to the sink and refilled the teakettle, setting it on the stove. She gazed out the window over the sink. 'It is a dreamscape by the sea...but not like here, no big trees, not a lot of green. Farther inland there is, but not by the beach. Could it be an island, perhaps?' She wondered. 'Anyway...it's always the same place. But this time...I see someone different. Very different.' She paused. 'Someone I hadn't seen before.' She put a hand on the kettle handle and glanced at Daryl. 'Although...perhaps I had seen him, once, on Samhain night.'
Daryl put his fork down and sat back. He drank his tea and gazed out the window, frowning slightly. 'Indeed? At the druids' gathering?'
'No, not exactly...' The kettle began to boil. Em put fresh tea leaves in the pot and poured. She put a cozy over the pot, and held it with both hands. 'I saw him, in the cauldron.' She looked at Daryl.
His hand went to his forehead, then, he rubbed it and sighed.
'Indeed?'he asked at last.
'Yes.' Em carried the pot to table and set it upon the trivet,
taking her seat. She sighed, gazing down into her cup. 'I was walking along the beach...and a man approached from afar. As he drew closer, I recognized him, the same face and figure I saw in the cauldron.' Daryl looked at her, and waited. 'As he neared, I was happy to see him, and he, me. We embraced. He said to me, 'How do you fare, little one?'And then I awoke. Curious, isn't it?'
'Very.' Daryl poured for them both. 'Did you...see anyone else in the cauldron that night? '
'Yes.' Em paused. 'My mother.'
Daryl closed his eyes, breathed in. 'You did.' It wasn't a question.
'But the strangest thing was, Diego...the strange thing was...'Em found it hard to articulate. She took a sip. '...besides the fact that I felt I knew this man, very well;
we were close in the way that family or dear friends are close, although he seemed to be older, in a sense, but he didn't look at all aged, rather ageless in fact... He felt like a mentor to me, perhaps...anyway, there was something else very odd about our meeting...'
'Yes.' Daryl swallowed.
Em continued, 'Well, I could not possibly have known this person. Because, because...I could only reach this man, in my dream, by standing upon a dune. He was so very tall, and, well, unlike any person I have ever seen before.'She gazed beseechingly at Daryl.
'How so?' he rasped, taking tea.
'He must have stood...possibly eight feet tall.' Em stared. Then she smiled slightly, looked out the window. 'Of course, it was just a dream. All sorts of nonsense in dreams. Rather 'Alice In Wonderland', isn't it?'
Daryl inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but just then Rosa bustled in the back door, carrying sacks of groceries. 'Ah, Rosa, welcome back! Let me help you...' Daryl rose and took the bags of produce from Rosa and set them upon the counters. Em stood and did up the dishes, whilst Rosa and Daryl put the food away. Suddenly life resumed it's normalcy, and the otherworldly spell of her intimate admissions faded into the active bustle of domestic habit.
But Daryl took up the tea pot upon a tray and placed their cups there as well. 'Let's finish our tea in my study, shall we?' His serious gaze brooked no debate.
. . . .
Emmeline drifted naturally to the window seat at the great bay windows, watching tendrils of fog creep slowly from the hillsides like a live thing. The fog seemed never so much a sort of deva or nature spirit of the city, somehow as intrinsic as it was endemic.
Daryl wheeled over a small cart with the tea tray upon it and situated himself at the opposite end of the window seat. Pouring for two, he also gazed outside and let his features grow calm,
perhaps absorbing some of the slow-moving spectral scene without.
'It actually came as rather a shock...'Em began, 'Not... seeing that man, particularly, but, well...I hadn't really expected to see anything in the cauldron, truly.'
'Your Pankhurst Druids never held the ancestoral communion ceremony?'
'Not as such, no. Or maybe I hadn't stayed that long. I know that other rituals went on late into the evening far beyond when I would stay.' Em looked at him. 'You knew of this ceremony then? Had participated before?'
He looked down. 'Knew of it, yes. Participated, no.' His eyes met hers. Emmeline was curious, of course, but she wasn't going to press him for his visions.
Daryl, perhaps sensing her curiousity, took a different tack suddenly. '...Ancestry, heredity, genetics...quite a fascinating science in itself. Study much of genetics in biology at school?'
He asked, drinking his tea and licking his mouth.
Em directed her gaze back outdoors, clearing her throat. 'Nothing much beyond the basics...my friend Jethro back home tried to interest me in animal husbandry. That's my entire knowledge of genetics.'
Daryl inhaled. 'Much experimentation and development in the field of genetic research increased rather more expeditiously than wisely in the 21st century...'he began, flicking a glance her way. 'As did time travel, and along the lines of quantum physics, exploration of interdimensional travel.' He paused. Thankfully, thought Em, trying to keep up. He looked down, biting his lip in thought. 'Genetics, then. Genes.' He regarded her once more, and sighed. 'Gene-splicing. Does that phrase bring anything to mind?'
Actually, it did. Em found that if she just followed the sound of his voice... pictures would form in her mind and unbidden words which she almost, but not quite, knew the meaning of, would burst onto her mindscape.
'That's the Chip, in part.' Daryl nodded. 'As well as your own natual acumen and sensitivity, or rather, receptivity.' He glanced outside. 'A much esteemed scientist of the 20th century, Dr. Einstein, said that genius lies in receptivity.' He regarded her intently. Em realized he had been reading her mind. She supposed she should be used to it.
'Yes. I know some artists, musicians claim that inspiration seems to come to them from without, as it were, when they remain open to it.'
'Exactly.' Daryl continued: 'You have this innate ability as well, Emmelina. As does Jack.' She was surprised to hear him even mention Jack, as he rarely, if ever, did. 'So. Gene-splicing occurs when...'he inhaled again, and paused...'...are you getting any pictures in your mind yet?'Lord and Lady,he flustered, how to explain to a young Victorian woman?
Em closed her eyes. 'I'm seeing a sortof figure-eight spiral, like a ladder that twists about itself.'
DNA, Daryl thought. Excellent. 'Yes, Em. That's a big part of it. We call it DNA, for deoxyriboneucleic acid. Genetic information via cells, chromosomes...cell-splicing, you could call it.' He swallowed. 'Basically, as in your animal husbandry, for instance, when a fertilized egg begins to form, it's a way of adding yet another, or other, genetic material to the embryo. Creating a three-part or triad-based embryonic nucleus.' He licked his lips again, pouring more tea. His throat had gone quite dry.
Em opened her eyes. 'Interesting. So, you could breed a certain strain of, perhaps, sheep, with a ewe and the genetics of two different rams, say?'
Daryl exhaled. By george, she's got it. Thank the gods it didn't take too much detailed explanation. 'Yes, Em, excellent.'Now for the hard part. 'But, this procedure didn't have to be confined to animal husbandry alone.' Please stay with me on this, Em.
'Oh.' Em had a curious, creeping sensation begin rather like chills up her spine. She wasn't certain she was following, or wanted to.
Daryl stood then, and walked over to his desk, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair, and he slowly paced about the desk. 'Ah, yes. Certain...experiments yielded successful results using human subjects as well.'
Diosa! Lord and Lady, (plus Lord, makes three!) Em thought. Was Daryl trying to tell her what she thought he was trying to tell her...? 'You mean...a child of one mother, could, could have two fathers?'
Daryl ceased pacing and closed his eyes. 'Yes, Em. That is exactly what I mean.'
Diosa...Emmeline was officially in shock now. Her mind went blank. No pictures whatsoever. She wasn't about to allow that!
Daryl intimated her distress. 'Emmelina, it isn't as bad as you are thinking! It's, not, not like that! It's only a very small bit of genetic material taken from the third party! And, it happens after the embryo has begun to form! And, there is no, no congress...no physical relations between the third party and the mother!' He ran a sweaty palm through his hair. Mercy, surely parents who had to explain facts of life to a child never had to jump through such convoluted hoops.
'...I...I...'Em stammered. She didn't know what to think. 'Ohhh...'She shook her head slowly.
Daryl came and sat beside her. 'Em...'He wasn't good at mentoring young women. Or anyone really. Hadn't even been a decent uncle. He tentatively took her hand. 'It's alright, Emmelina. I know it's rather a lot to...digest right off the bat like this...' She looked at him,in dazed stupification. He was nodding. 'It's hard to...think about. Don't. Don't even try.
Just, let what we've discussed sort of...float, for now.' She rolled her eyes and hung her head shaking it slowly. He looked around into her face. 'Em? Would you care for some brandy perhaps? Some strong coffee? ...Opium?'
She looked at him and saw he was smiling. 'Oh, Daryl...'she began to laugh softly. 'I don't know...'
He patted her hand. 'You'll be alright.' He stood, placing a hand on her shoulder. 'I'll be right back!' He held a finger in the air, and exited.
Oh, goddess...she didn't know what to think. What could she think? Could she believe it? But, what would that mean?...how would that explain her father's animosity? If there had been no, nothing physical between the 'third party' as Daryl so delicately put it...then...then...
Emmeline had a sudden epiphany. She hadn't seen her father in the ancestral cauldron. She saw only her mother, and...He...that strange man whom she'd met on the beach...
Daryl re-entered the study, closing the door softly and carried two brandy snifters with him. Emmeline's he had spiked judiciously with a bit of laudanum. 'Here. Universal remedy for sudden shocks to the system.' He held up his glass and raised an eyebrow with a small smile. She blinked slowly and touched her glass to his, and drank a sip. Brandy after breakfast. Wuf! Luckily, it was very smooth.
Daryl said nothing, just sat companionably beside her. They sipped silently awhile, staring out at the city beyond, now clear of fog. How the mist-free scenery echoed her own mind, now swept clear of illusion.
'The man at the beach,' Emmeline began. 'The man I saw in the cauldron...'she looked at Daryl who met her gaze with open countenance. 'He was, is, my father.'
Daryl nodded.
'But...I'm trying to follow all this...why then?...'Her brow knotted together, '...Oh, Daryl, why did I not see my father in the cauldron?'
'You did not?'
'No, just he, the tall fair man, and my mother.'
Daryl looked down, a slight grimace. He tapped his brandy glass with a finger.
'Oh, Daryl...no.' Em began to allow the incredible to sink into her ratiocinations. 'My father...was just the '3rd Party' as you call it;the 3rd Man.'Oh, merciful Isis, Em thought. That explains rather alot... Why he would have held her in such antipathy;'anti-Em-etic'as she would cruelly tease herself...
His wife had had a child, and he'd not been there for the conception. Oh dear.
Daryl only sighed. Then looked at her, somewhat sadly.
'So this...triad, Daryl...can it come about without the 3rd party's knowledge?' She riveted him with her hard gaze.
'Yes, it can. And did. Does.'
Em was incensed. Such unwarranted pain this had caused her, and her family! 'How could people, scientists have allowed this? It's...inhuman!'
Daryl's face went quite pale and he stood then, tossing back his brandy. 'It...was done, rather in secret, Emmelina...that's why they used the 3rd partys' genetics at all...so the child would resemble the father, and, in most cases, no one would be the wiser.' He began to pace again, a hand running through his hair. He seemed quite at a loss.
This mollified Em not at all. 'Unless the parents, the wife and husband had not...been intimate.'
Daryl cleared his throat. 'Quite.'
'Still!' Em stood now, shaking slightly. 'How could this be allowed? Have 21st century people no morals, no ethics? No sense of human decency?'
Not much, thought Daryl somberly. 'Actually, Em, not alot, to tell you the truth of it. However...' Gods, how to say it? 'Ah...although our scientists became involved in this, eventually, they hadn't much to do with it in it's inception.'
'They...?' Em puzzled, feeling the laudanum now, 'What do you mean 'our' scientists? The perpetrators were foreigners, then?'
He looked at her. 'Of a sort.' No, she wasn't ready for this. Neither was he! 'Look, Em, you've had enough of a shock for now, don't you think?' He went to a closet and took a thick folded type of quilt, a comforter he called it, and a pillow.
'The brandy...it will help. Just, have a seat, filla, and try to relax. Let it all sortof gel for abit, and, and give your mind a rest, yes?' He set the bedding down and motioned for her to sit.
'These cushions are quite comfortable, you needn't go anywhere. I'll just be in the parlor. Have, take a little rest, yes?' He flustered, running a hand through his hair, ala Jack.
Apparently, the disclosure was at an end. She sat. Truly, though, she'd had more than enough already. She saw Daryl slip through the door and shut it quietly. So, he'd enough as well, she thought with a wry, small smile. Oh how her head spun with all this mad information declaration...
She drank her cognac like a good little girl.
. . . .
Emmeline awoke in Daryl's study, lying on the window seat, with the pillow at her head and the thick, fluffy comforter over her. No sign of Daryl about.
She tentatively raised her head, then thought better of that.
Ohhh, but her head pounded! That was supposed to be a remedy?
She groaned softly and rubbed between her brows...diosa what a day already...what could the time be?
Eventually, she mustered the wherewithall to rise and carrying her head upon her shoulders like a giant, throbbing calabasa, she shuffled into the kitchen. Rosa was busy with dinner preparations.
'Coffee...' Em muttered, rummaging about the cupboards. Rosa shot her a glance and smiled. 'Just sit, Emmelina...I can make it. Don Diego told me you were feeling not so well.'
Em sat on a kitchen stool, leaning her head against the wall behind her. Rosa set a cup of coffee before her, as well as a small teacup. 'Willow bark tea. Also good for headache!'
Emmeline drank both, and poured more caffeine. She leaned over and took a mandarin orange and began to peel.'Gracias, Rosa,'she croaked.
'Ah, da nada, Em...'She stole a look at her over her mixing bowl. 'Men, you know...they mean well, but sometimes, what is a remedy to them, is a big headache for us females!'
Men in general could be a big headache for us females thought Emmeline grumpily. 'How'd you know?'
'Don Diego brought in two empty brandy glasses. About 11 a.m.!'
Rosa smiled as she put the mix in a casserole dish and set it in the oven to bake.
'Ohhhh...Rosa, please don't think I am prone to taking brandy in the mornings!'
'Of course not, Em!' Rosa put her hands on her hips, then poured a cup of coffee for herself and sat on the stool across from Em.
'Don Diego...ah...he has been a bachelor, always, you know. A man alone. He hasn't lived with many other women, much less children.'She shook her head slowly. 'He has not much experience with taking care of others. Perhaps not even of himself... He would be lost without someone like me!' She looked up at Em. 'He is trying to learn though. Trying, to take care of you, Emmelina. In his own odd way.'
Em considered this novel angle.'Where is he now? Did he leave for the day?' She was beginning to feel somewhat more human.
'Oh, no. He is in his garden, puttering...'
Daryl. A 'putterer'. Hm. This Em had to see...
. . . .
The late autumn sun was heading behind the hills already, Em noted with casual surprise. She had brought her coffee with her, as well as a cup for Daryl.
He was sitting upon an overturned bucket, digging. Em smiled to herself, edging up alongside. She stood watching a moment. Daryl at last looked up, taking note.
Em held out the cup. 'Hello. Brought you coffee.'
He shook the dirt from his gloves. 'Thanks.'
Em took a look at the mostly denuded garden. Some cabbages, lean broccoli plants, peppers of course, still robust. Cherry tomatoes and squash. 'Must have been nice, in season, eh?' She noted tall stalks of where sunflowers must have stood against the house.
He took a sip of java. 'It was alright. For a city plot.'He sat, knees splayed, nearly up to his shoulders. Em thought it must be awkward for a tall person to work close to the ground.She looked about and decided the wood framing the raised beds would hold her petite self, sat down.
He cleaned the clumps of damp earth from his trowel. 'Slept awhile, then?'
Em laughed shortly, took another gulp. 'I should say. No dreams, though.'
'Probably as well, take a break, eh?' He stood and pulled away the weeds he'd been working at, tossed them onto the compost heap framed in the corner.
'Laudanum, Daryl?' Emmeline came to the point. 'Truly?'
He spared a glance her way. 'Thought you could use it. Had a bit of a shock.' He kicked stray rocks away from the beds. 'It's in the bath, just off my study, if you ever have need of it.'
She exhaled forcefully. 'Suppose. Thanks.' He'd meant well. For a kidnapper. 'Are you Jack's father, then?'
Slowly, he raised his head and looked straight before him, his face a bland mask. He began to breathe hard. Emmeline wondered if she had gone rather too far. Must be the opiate talking...
At last, he sighed. 'It's...complicated.'
She snorted a laugh, shaking her head. 'More complicated than my story?'
He spared a hard glance from on high her way. 'Perhaps not. But haven't you rather had enough shocks for one day?' He divested himself of his gloves and slapped them against a post, turned and went back into the house, leaving her wondering.
"'I'm full of melody, but at a loss for words...I can't say anymore, you take my breath away...'"Emmeline softly sang an old favorite of Alice's as she watched the sun lower behind the western hills. The fog would soon return, or perhaps not. Maybe tonight would be clear. Emmeline watched the sky until the first stars appeared. A falling star, headed toward the east bay. That's odd,she thought,seeing it cease it's fall and continue on in a straight line. Enough for one night, indeed, she decided, and followed Daryl inside.
. . . .
Daryl decided to take his supper in his study, locking the door.
He could hear Emmeline practicing her mandolin in the parlor. Good, keep the lass busy awhile...he sighed. He'd had quite enough of disclosure for one day. Had he really believed he could give her all the information she needed without revealing anything of himself? Without revisiting his own dark past? He crossed to the small walnut cabinet and poured himself more cognac. His gaze went to the little brown bottle he'd left out...why not? It had been that sort of day. He tipped several drops within the amber liquid and inhaled. Gods knew he'd plenty he wished to forget. If only for a short while. Sweet liquid lobotomy...
He sat slumped in the red leather armchair and gazed out at another clear evening. Blessed night and soothing darkness, wrap me in your velvet song...he thanked whatever gods had given him this unhoped for escape from the madness and decay of the 21st century. Soft streetlights, the clip-clop of horse and carriage...he knew he was blessed;comparitively. He had escaped, as had Jack. It was the least he could have done for him.
..
And yet, was it his doing, or was it chance? Why...Daryl had asked himself again and again...why had he been so chosen? After
years of careful research, he believed it had to do with genetics; never mind his IQ of 180,give or take... Who knew by what criteria the gods decided one's fate?
'Whom the gods would destroy they first made mad.' Oh, he'd been there, alright. He took a long draw upon the brandy.
Somehow, he'd pulled himself back from the abyss, though. He watched the sky full of the odd points of light, hoping they would burn fairly steady. Another pull off the snifter and his hand reached out, groping for the bottle of French cognac. He splashed it into the glass and congratulated himself on a job well done, adding another drop or two from the smaller bottle. He'd brain cells to spare, hadn't he...?
Lying his head back, he ran a hand through his hair and regarded the night. Closing his eyes, he cast his mind back years...far too many to count. It had been ages, aeons ago, it seemed, and yet he could recall that night so long ago, as if it had been yesterday...
Mexico... Oh, he'd been a grand traveler, indeed. Thought he'd been about everywhere and had seen it all. He laughed, a hard, harsh sound. He now knew he had been but a microbe on the head of a pin. He was about to discover how big the universe was.
Multiverse. Multidimensional, multitudinal multiverse...
Slowly, slowly...he let the brandy course down his throat, savoring the burn...he could have wept for his young, idiot self about to be irrevocably enlightened.
There, in the shadow of Mt.Popocatapetl, that pyramid-shaped volcano, a Mexican Fuji-san silhouette against the purpling sky, young Daryl had camped, warming himself with tequila and wrapped up in his oilskin drover's coat and serapes against the evenings' encroaching chill; letting his campfire burn to coals and finishing off the last of his tamales...he lay against a log and listened to the coyotes' songs, yip yip in the night. Coyotes spoke a universal language, Daryl thought, still learning traveler's Espanol. He'd noticed a gypsy camp a good reach from the mountain and could just make out the dim spikes of their campfire lights in the far distance. He'd crossed their camp en route to the mountain's base and in passing gleaned from them that they wished not to come too close to Mt. Popo. It was haunted they said, or words to that effect. Some of the old women made signs to ward off the evil eye in that direction.
Ah, but he was lucky he wasn't a gypsy, then, he thought, crossing his long legs. He regarded Popo and decided he rather liked the old volcano. He'd always felt an affinity for mountains...each one had it's own personality; some were male, some female, and some were something beyond either. He'd been caught in a thunderstorm on Mt. Tahoma once, up in Washington, and had quickly developed a healthy respect for lightning then, having come within scant feet of nearly being singed to cinders.
Old Tahoma, definately male. Not one to mess with. Beautiful, though. He sighed, contented to be in Mehico, and comparitively warm and dry and safe. So he thought.
Dozing, he watched the stars swirling about Popo...hm, weren't stars supposed to be fairly stationary...? He lifted the tequila bottle. Still plenty left, it wasn't just the cactus juice, then. He sat up and tilted his hat back. He squinted at the mountain's peak, seeing several bright lights dash crazily in zig zags like they were playing a game of tag. This was getting to be truly bizarre, Daryl thought, becoming suddenly sober. He grabbed his canteen, drank and splashed water on his face and rubbed hard. Wiping his eyes with his bandana, he gazed once more, but damn if the light show wasn't still in progress, and even more unsettling--red, blue, amber lights spun about Popo's peak zipping around each other, some diving into the crater itself, and reappearing...making 90 degree turns in a flash instant. Daryl no longer felt as contented with his campsite.
Suddenly, three of the lights aligned themselves in a triangle formation. He couldn't help but stare, awestruck. Then, to his amazement and dread, the lights began to streak toward him, moving almost instantaneously. Above him, they again formed a triad and pulsed red, blue, and amber. He held his arm up as a shield against the brightness, that he may see in better detail, when the three lights appeared to merge into one large whitish-blue blaze of humming energy and then--
*FLASH*
--Daryl found himself engulfed in a sea of radiance.
Had lightning found it's mark after all? was his final thought before he blacked out and knew no more.
. . . .
Daryl smelled smoke. Woodsmoke, the smells of cookfires. He hurt all over. Had he been ill? Where was he?
He tipped his wide hatbrim back and opened a tentative eye.
He was in a camp of sorts, campfires about, he spied a few people, men, women, kids and dogs...wagons. Somewhere in the distance a guitar played softly. Was this the gypsy camp?
He tried to sit and coughed, finding it hard to stop. Deep, wracking coughs... His head felt like lead. Strike that; like a cannonball. An old woman came to his side, smiling, missing a tooth. She handed him a tin cup of hot liquid.
He drank. Diosa, it was bitter! But his body instinctively knew he needed it. He drank the entire cup. 'Gracias, senora...'he managed a croak.
She leaned back, hands on hips. 'Gorgios! Idiota!' She smiled at the Idiot. She pointed to the sky. 'Luz! Peligro!' She shook her head, and walked off, muttering, 'Idiota...'
"Dangerous Lights" Daryl knew. "Idiot" he knew as well. Hm. That about said it all, indeed. He tried to prop himself in a sitting position. He saw the old lady bent over a cookpot, dishing a stew into a wooden bowl. This she brought to him with a wide wooden spoon.
He bowed his head, 'Gracias...muchas gracias...' He was hungry, but, when he tasted the stew...rabbit, probably, with herbs, some root vegetables, greens...it tasted wonderful, but his stomach wasn't easily convinced of it. He had to go very slowly and eat small bites with long pauses. He looked about, found his canteen, and drank. Gods he was thirsty...his head felt on fire...
It was then he noticed his hands. They were bright red. That, in part, was what hurt. How had he gotten a sunburn? At night?
Luz. Peligro.
. . . .
Night. Nob Hill.
Daryl raised his head from where it had fallen to his chest. His brandy glass, empty, had fallen from his hand as well, and lay on the rug. "Memories...are made of this..." he sang, slurring as he laughed low and sardonically... Most of his memories of late, were made bearable by liberal applications of brandy and opium, he had to admit. He rather preferred forgetting to remembering.
"...what potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears
Still losing when I saw myself win!
"What wretched errors hath my heart committed
Whilst it had thought itself so blessed never!
How mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever..."
He heard the parlor clock strike twelve; the house otherwise silent now. Basta, enough for today. He'd traveled far, sitting here.
Daryl roused himself and stumbled off to bed...
Strange, how far one can travel, just sitting in one place.
. . . .
Em awoke to another bright morning. Now that autumn was here, the bay area wore a new sunny outlook. Emmeline herself felt much finer after her long periods of rest. Caramba! Market day today! She'd nearly forgotten with all that she'd been through of late...
She had gotten a missive from Jack, (via the prolific Yeats in the 800s) along with a belated birthday card as well last week, asking her to meet him in the mercado today, for a 'long walk'; with an apology for not contacting her sooner. She intimated what the 'long walk' meant...
. . . .
By now, Rosa knew Emmelina's fondness for the mercado was not solely due to calabasas...and, without actually saying anything, the two women worked together to enable Em to slip away from the usually watchful gaze of Manuel for awhile.
Today the three were sauntering about the park and vendor's stalls, and Em was telling Manuel again, how much she liked her birthday gift of the wooden Knight/Horse Head sculpture. 'You have a real talent, Manuel! And don Diego would sell your works in his shop...'
Manuel smiled slightly but said nothing. Then he sighed. 'Ah, Emmelina...that was a special gift. Just for you.' He stole a small glance her way. It was not often Manuel became at all loquacious. 'Do you know its' meaning?'
An odd question, thought Em. 'As a chess piece, you mean?'
He held his head sideways, quizzically. 'Not only that, although in part, certainly. And you have to take into consideration the chessboard as well, the black, and the white.' My, Manuel was waxing philosophical! Even Rosa glanced at him with eyebrows raised. 'But the word: 'horse'--what does it remind you of?--Just the sound of it?'
Em had to become used to constant surprises, it appeared. 'Hmmm...'
'Think, Emmelina..."Que hora es?"
'What is the time?' Em looked at him?
'Si. "hora" -- "horse". And, the horse is transportation, no? A way to get one from there to here. "Hora" meaning "time", si?' Manuel just looked straight ahead, walking along. 'Ah, Rosa, here are our musicians! It is Time, for our Sunday concerta!'
Rosa's eyes went wide as she looked at Emmelina, then taking Manuel's arm, the two walked over to the fountain and settled themselves beside it, to enjoy the music as was becomming their custom.
Em turned to make for the big oak tree and trysting place...horse...to travel, and hora, time. Ah, there is more than meets el ojo to Manuel, indeed, thought Emmeline.
. . . .
There stood Jack, holding a single red rose.
This he presented to her, and Em took it smiling. She knew better than to enquire of him, whence came roses in winter...
'Happy Birthday,' he whispered, kissing her cheek.
'Thank you.' She held it to her nose, and surprisingly for once, it had a luscious scent. 'It's lovely.'
'Lovely,'Jack agreed, gazing at her.
'I've so much to tell you, Jack...it's rather hard for me to believe. I don't know if it clarifies anything or just confuses everything, as yet... But, it is worth knowing.' She looked up at him, inquiringly.
'Of course. Let's just...'he put an arm about her shoulder and steered her behind the oak. Glancing about, to make sure they weren't observed, he smiled and nodded to her, taking her hand.
Darkness.
It was still disconcerting to Emmeline to suddenly feel no ground beneath her feet and see nothing about her, knowing only the touch of Jack's hand, which she gripped tightly, afraid to lose her only hold upon the world...
And then, Crowley House, and the parlor, a small fire burning there. And just the two of them this time, it seemed.
'Alright, Em?' Jack asked, peering into her face.
'Will be, I believe!' Emmeline tried to orient herself.
'Here, take a seat. I'll just bring tea, eh?' He guided her to the sofa and went off into the kitchen and rattled about a moment, reappearing with tea tray in hand.
'I'd anticipated...kept the water on the stove, hot.' He smiled, sitting next to Em. 'Well! So, Yeats and Al are off to town for some time. We can relax and have a chat, eh?' Jack sat back, crossing his long legs.
A chat, Em thought. She exhaled. If only it was just small talk and carefree...diosa, where to begin?
At the beginning, Em supposed. As she related her dream to Jack, as well as the evening's revelations via the druid's cauldron, Jack listened attentively, not saying anything. He poured their tea and Em took a sip of courage and soldiered on...faltering somewhat when she came to disclosure surrounding the genetic tinkering and it's implications.
Em exhaled at last. 'If, any of it's true, at least it would explain why my father was so distant. Although, I must admit, there is much that I really do not understand...'
Throughout it all, Jack said not a word. He was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and holding his tea, staring at it like he didn't know what it was. He set it down.
He stood then and began, like Daryl, to pace, hands on his hips behind him as if to propel himself forward, head down. He wandered rather aimlessly about the parlor and hallway, looking over at Em occasionally, but saying nothing.
At last he stopped at the fireplace and leaned an arm upon the mantlepiece, sighing, looking into the dying fire.
"Yes your parents are dead, Jack," Daryl had told him, emerging from his infernal flames here on that night long past...
And: "Your father lives, and loves you very much."
Jack had wondered at these contradictory statements then.
He gazed slowly over to Emmeline and regarded her, frowning.
'There is...something...in all of this, that could account for some of my own family mysteries.' He paused. 'Somewhat.'
Em waited, not wishing to prod. They had, apparently, Time.
Jack sighed again,softly,and resumed his seat beside Em. 'I have inherited a genetic trait, a marker, that Daryl has as well. My father, however, Drake, does not have this trait. It has never been present in my mother's family.'
He stared into her eyes. She met his gaze steadily, nodding slightly. He frowned again, and looked away. 'It, I suppose, it could be...'he faltered. He hung his head, forelock falling over his eyes, 'It could be...the reason why...Drake hated Daryl so. And why Daryl absented himself. And, why Sarah, my mother,never ceased trying to bring the warring brothers together, knowing neither was at fault...' He looked up, out the windows.
A sharp intake of breath. He ran his hands through his hair. 'I was sent away to schools, always sent off, out of Drake's sight, I suppose. My father wasn't unfeeling as yours was, Em, but, he wished to keep me at a distance. As much as possible...'
'But, surely...'Em began, not knowing quite how to broach such a delicate subject, 'Surely he and your mother were close, yes? And Daryl, only the 3rd Party...?'
'Yes. I believe that's true. However, Em, even in 2076, these things are kept sub rosa...only rumors of this sort of thing are ever mentioned, usually on the fringes of speculative research, and not really taken seriously by many. At least outwardly.' He leaned forward again, clasping his hands together. 'But that marker, that trait...must have given Drake pause. He wasn't a geneticist, or a scientist. He was a businessman, import-export, the diamond trade...' Jack bit his lip. 'Not blood-diamonds! That's the bloody de Beers, the old Dutch robber barons in Africa, with their wretched treatment of people there,starting wars, raping and pillaging the land for riches for only the wealthy few. No, Drake steered clear. In fact...'
Jack stood then and went to the secretary desk, opening the lid and taking a key, unlocked a small drawer. He removed a small black velvet box, and a velvet bag, and closed up, returning to Emmeline's side.
'What my family did, was to deal mostly in various gemstones, and domestic diamonds, from Arkensas, chiefly for industrial use, as well as those from New York State. Have you ever heard of Herkimers, Emmeline?' He stared at the bag he had in hand, smiling distractedly.
'Herkimer diamonds? Perhaps I haven't.' Emmeline was fascinated
with Jacks' revelations regarding his background for once.
Jack opened the bag and looked at Emmeline, smiling still. 'Open your hands, cup them together...' She obeyed. Jack poured the contents out, scattering crystals of various sizes into her palms.
'Oh, Jack! They're lovely!' Em bent closer studying them. 'Are they really diamonds? They're so large, some of them!'
'Of a sort. They're crystals, really. Notice they're double-terminated. That's how you can tell they're genuine; from the Herkimer area of New York, a small cordillera there.'
'Are they expensive?' Em held one up to the light, turning it.
'Not really. Worth a little more than quartz crystals. Some people believe they have special...esoteric powers, though.' He grinned at her.
'Truly?' Em smiled, enchanted. 'I believe it. They grow this way naturally? How wonderful...'
'I'm glad you like them.' Jack had always loved the Herkimers. He felt a kinship with these crystals, native to the same area as he. He took a deep breath. 'In fact...'
He held out the small black velvet box.
'Happy Birthday, Emmeline.'
Em looked at him, then smiled. She opened the little box.
'Ohh...' She lifted out a Herkimer diamond on a delicate silver chain, in a silver setting flanked by two small opals on either side.
Jack pointed out the opals. 'Your birthstones. Didn't think I knew, did you?' He grinned. 'Hope you like it, Em.'
She didn't know what to say. It was a gorgeous gift!
'Oh, Jack...it's incredibly beautiful! Thank you!' She looked at him, her eyes shining. 'Help fasten it for me, would you please?'
He did so, and was pleased with the effect; the opals seemed to reflect the light of her red hair, which she'd left unbound.
Em touched it then looked up at him smiling. She reached up and taking his cheek, planted a soft kiss upon his waiting lips. They smiled at one another. His finger traced her lips, his gaze yearning. She clasped his hand and brought it about her neck, as she put her arms around him and pulled him to her. They fell against the back of the sofa and gave in to their pent-up want, held in check for how long? Was it merely hours, days, or had it been months, really? All that mattered was Now.
They parted after a time, and caught their breath.
'...I think I'm beginning to feel that esoteric power already...'Emmeline grinned, looking up through her lashes at Jack.
'So am I.' He hugged her to him. 'Oh, Em...how I've missed you.
If only we could spend our days together like this! Not always, I know...'he held her apart, gazing into her blue-green eyes,
'I'd never hold you down, hold you back from anything you wished to do, anywhere you wish to go! I love that in you, Em; your free spirit. It's because I'm much the same way myself...'
'Apparently...we've much in common,'Em said, pensively, looking at her necklace, turning it in the light. 'More than we ever knew...'
He knew she was thinking of all the recent disclosures...
'Yes. We've both had to live with secrets, and so much of the same complicated family relations, despite the time difference, we've led nearly parallel lives, Emmeline.'
She looked at him, afraid this was so. She stared at the diamonds on the tea tray, ran her fingers through them...possibly, that's partly what Daryl was trying to tell her; to inform her of their consanguinity and to warn her that their genetics were coveted. 'I know who your enemies are,' Daryl had intimated.
'Jack...'She was serious now. 'I believe Daryl was trying to warn me, by telling me all of this.'
'But why kidnap you, Em? I do not trust Daryl, and you most certainly should not!' Jack was adamant, sitting back and frowning.
'I don't know...there's still much we don't know...' Em frowned as well, trying to think. And what of that photo, of her parents and Daryl? How did all that fit in? 'There are mysteries I would still wish to find out about, Jack.'
Jack was quiet, gazing at the floor.
Emmeline knew what she wanted though. A certain crossroads had been reached and she knew which path to take.
She took his hands in hers. 'But I do wish we had more times like these...just to live, Jack! And enjoy the days, and each other's company...together.' She blushed. Was she propositioning Jack now?
He gathered her in his arms. 'Do you mean that, Em? Don't give me false hope.'
She looked at him earnestly. 'I wouldn't, Jack. Not after all we've both had to go though! I think we deserve a little happiness, for a change, don't you?' She smiled, tentatively.
For an answer, Jack kissed her, deeply....he gathered her hair in his hand and pulled her head back, looking into her eyes, trying to read her. He must have liked what he saw there, for he kissed her again, long and hard and they melted together, as if made for one another.
Suddenly, something soft was slinking around her ankles. 'Ah! Oh, my...it's just Alice! ...saying hello...' Em's heart was in her mouth, beating quite the staccato.
'Figures, perfect timing,'growled Jack, not wanting to waste a minute.
'There is one thing, Jack...'
He sighed and sat back, letting the moment go. Cats. He'd have to remember to close off the pet door next time.
'Yes, Em?' He took her loose ringlets in hand, toying with them.
'If...if I come to stay here, with you, perhaps soon...' Em began, 'Well, would that still be alright, then?'
Jack laughed. 'Good night, girl! Must you ask, truly? ...Let me show you...' he leaned in for more...'...just how alright it would be...' He showed her.
Em sighed, taking a breath. 'That's very alright, Jack, dear...'
She called him dear! Finally!...Jack leaned into her hair, breathing in her scent, as Alice joined them on the sofa. 'Three's a crowd, cat!' Jack told her.
'Oh, Alice must learn to share you, now,'Em petted her softly.
'But, seriously, Jack, there are some things that I want answers to first!'
Jack sighed. He looked at her. 'You weren't going to tease, remember?'
'No, not at all! But...I can't just...stay here, just like that! For one thing, what's to keep Daryl from abducting me again? No, we have to come to an understanding. I think we're getting there.
And, well, I must tie up a couple of other loose ends...'Em thought of Sophie...she couldn't just leave the girl, now that she'd reached out to Em and agreed to tutoring. She'd work something out there...
'Alright,' Jack sighed. 'Tie those ends up then, but make it quick, Em?' He touched her cheek, then began to massage her neck, knowing how she loved a good rub. So did he...
'Tell you what. The druids are having their big Solstice Ball in the City. By then, surely I'll have everything sorted, Jack.' This seemed a perfect compromise. She took his hand. 'Come to the ball with me, Jack?'
'I'd love nothing better. And afterwards...?'
'Then we'll come home here, to Crowley House,the two of us, together.'
'No Daryl?'
'He'll be sorted.'
'Good. He needs it.' Jack kissed her, sealing the deal. 'So, a ball you say?'
'Yes. The Solstice Ball. All the druids from far and near attend, or so I've heard...I know the Pankhurst clan would come to the city then. It's a grand gathering...'
'I see... Music, dance, celebration...that sort of thing?' Jack was smiling, holding her close. Ah, at last, Em was to come home to him. He'd wear a powdered wig then, if need be...
'Probably, yes. You've never attended a solstice celebration, other than ours last year?' Em remembered. It seemed years ago, not just one.
'Don't believe I have...need I bring anything special? Wear a wig?'
She looked at him, eyes wide. 'Not unless you want to wear one!' She blinked. 'I'd prefer it if you don't!' He took her hand, kissed it. 'I love your hair, Jack, just as it is...wild and free...'
'Wild is it? Yes, I suppose it can be.'
'We shall bedeck ourselves when we arrive, and weave crowns of holly and ivy, evergreens and ribbon, whatever you like...and join the procession to follow the Sun and sing her back to us, and carol throughout the neighborhood...and then,it's back to the bonfire to
celebrate the Sun's return at long last. And drink hot mulled wine and cider. And, yes, we shall make music and dance...'Em leaned against Jack, he so warm, and closed her eyes, wishing not to stir, not really...she held her Herkimer and warmed it in her palm.
'Sounds marvellous. We'll make it our year, this next one, yes? We shall make it what we will, together.' He lay his head against the top of hers, ebony upon crimson.
'Yes. We've something to look forward to now.'
He kissed the top of her head. 'We do.'At long last, thought Jack.
Finally, they would be together. Til the end of Time.
.....
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