Chapter 16 - Of Fate and Fortune

Chapter 16 - Of Fate and Fortune
It was nearing sundown when Emmeline and Daryl arrived at the gypsy camp. It was where
Daryl had said it would be. They could still see the mountain of course, but it didn't
loom quite so near. Emmeline had yet to figure Daryl's adversion to it. Perhaps it was
just too far inland and opposite of their chosen course.
Dogs began to bark as they approached the campfires. Daryl and Em dismounted and led
their horse into camp. 'Diego!' A voice called from a wagon. Others began to gather
round then. A lithe figure in a scarlet skirt, long dark hair streaming behind, ran
out to meet them.
  'Diego! It has been long and long!' The woman ran up to Daryl, throwing her arms
about him and hugged him close. A young boy and girl followed with a shepherd dog
which Em patted absently, while Daryl was enclosed in a homecoming embrace.
'Ah, Emmelina, this is Carmen--' he kept one arm about the woman's shoulders, as she
smiled and looked Em over carefully, '...and this is Angelica and Apolinario...'
'Emmelina. Mucho gustas,' Emmelina replied. 'And, who is this?' She patted the waggy-
tailed dog.
'This is Pancho. He will be El Presidente someday, so they say...' Apolinario informed
her.
Carmen laughed. 'That is a different Pancho, nino!' Carmen took Emmeline's hand.
'Come. You both must be hungry...' Keeping arms about one another, Daryl and Carmen
led Em into camp proper.
By now, most of the tribe had been alerted to their arrival and gathered about the
central cookfires. While Daryl was greeted by his gypsy friends, Carmen took Emmelina
aside. 'Back here you can wash up and refresh yourself from the trail.
There is a small stream behind the camp. I'll go with you...'
When Em and Carmen returned to the fires, they found Daryl surrounded by his gypsy kin
and tucking into a bowl of hot stew. An older women served Em a bowlful of the same
and handed her an earthenware mug and showed her the cider
barrel. Ah, just like her own gypsies, Em felt more at home after sipping her cider;
she took a seat on the bench near Daryl.
All were engrossed in the latest news of the battles being fought all around them. It
seemed that after so many long years of the Diaz dictatorship, at last the tide
appeared to be turning in the people's favor. From what Emmeline had been able to
piece together, she wasn't so sure about Villa, he seemed to have
just as much to recommend him as she heard said against him. But he got the job done,
as it were. Zapata, though, she decided she liked very much indeed. His influence was
mostly known south.  But Fiero--the Butcher--she hoped they would never meet. It
wasn't for nothing he'd earned that name.
As exciting as it was to be back in a gypsy camp, though, Emmelina felt the exhaustion
of the trail overtake her after just her one bowlful of stew and cider. 'Emmelina?' It
was Carmen, bending over her. 'You are falling asleep where you sit, nena!  Come, you
can share our wagon; this way now.'
She was led to the rear of camp, back again by the creek, and could hear it's
murmuring in the arroyo behind the wagons. Carmen showed her a corner to herself in a
large wagon where an older woman and a child were already asleep. Em was so tired, she
curled up the blankets, sheepskins and serapes and seemed to be asleep before she was
supine.
Daryl, though, stayed up late into the evening, talking with his old friends and
bloodbrothers, thinking how to best plan their movements beyond here. He was tired,
also, but ever uneasy with Popo looming over him. For Daryl, sleep would not come
without some struggle this night.
                                  . . . .
Emmelina slept well however, waking with a headfull of busy dreams from the evening
before. She was alone in the wagon now, and could hear sounds of the camp all about
her: women washing clothes, dishes, children in the creek, men chopping wood,
hoofbeats all around...well, best get at the new day and see where it would take them.
'Ah, here you are! Awake at last, eh?' Carmen poked her head in the wagon door. 'Come.
There is coffee made and corncakes. Diego is wanting to be on the road soon, I think.'
Em wasn't surprised, but as she rose and hobbled about, she was not looking forward to
another day on the trail. She was still stiff and sore from yesterday's ride. Oh, if
only the darned artefact would decide that California is the place they ought to be...
Carmen was sitting outside laying large cards upon an overturned wooden crate with a
shawl spread over it. Em watched, entranced. 'Tarot cards. They appear to be quite
old.'
'Si.' Carmen lay a keltic sort of spread; significator in the middle, flanked by two,
surrounded by four, followed by another four, or more, depending upon if a major
arcana card was present or not. 'Have you any questions on your mind?'
Em had a few.
She took a seat next to Carmen. 'I do.' Carmen gazed up at her, dark eyes enquiring.
Em sighed. Where to begin? 'Tell me...how fares...my fiance', back home?'
Carmen shuffled, then had Emmelina cut the cards thrice, toward her left. 'Toward the
heart.' She then gathered the cards and lay her spread. 'Hm...a Knight of Cups.
Your...fiance' perhaps?'
Em nodded. 'Ah. Not good.'
'What is it?'
'He is flanked by swords. Opposition. He may be...in a position of...hm, immobility.'
'Is he, is he...alright, though?' Em was holding her skirts in a tight grip, hardly
daring to breathe.
'At the moment,' Carmen glanced at Em seriously. She lay the remainder of the cards
and studied them. 'He is not physically threatened. But that could change.' Carmen
shook her head. 'He is not in a safe place.' She looked at Em.
Oh, no...
'Oh, Carmen!' Em knew then what had transpired. 'I fear he has come after me, here.
Something has happened to him...'
Carmen gazed at the cards, her brow knotted in concentration. 'Ayyy...that would
explain it...si...he seems to be oddly protected at the moment, but he is surrounded
by adversity. He is, in the eye of the hurricane, yes? Anything could happen, nena...'
Em could sense it. Her hand went to her necklace and she held onto her Herkimer
tightly, hoping Jack knew she was thinking of him. 'Thank you, Carmen. Oh, if only I
knew where he was!' She stood. 'We must be on our way. Perhaps friends of ours back
home can help...' Em didn't know though, really. She felt rather helpless, not knowing
where Jack could be.
She followed Carmen back to the central cookfires and after eating, took her cup of
coffee to a table where Daryl sat with a group of men, and she and Carmen joined them.
'Emmelina...this is the tribal leader, Felipe. And his brother,
Maximo. And this, is my brother, Raphael.' Daryl introduced her to his friends, and
she assumed, his blood brother. 'It is his brother, Genaro, who lives in the village
to the north.' Emmelina smiled and shook hands all around, trying to recall the names.
'Ah, have you any news of how it goes with Sonora?' she asked Raphael.
Raphael sighed, 'Quien sabe?...it is hard to say. One day you hear that battles are
raging. The next day, all is quiet. One day the Federals have the upper hand, the
next, the Constitutionalists. People fight both sides, and fight for both
sides...whoever is winning at the time! Who knows how it will go. It is too early yet
to tell. But, as for travel there...I do not advise it now.'
Daryl looked down, he was drawing in the dirt with a stick. 'Well, we won't be
travelling north. But west, or try to...'he looked at Em. 'We have to try. We can't
remain here, not in the heat of so much battle all around us.' He drew a line up and
to the left.  'We will head north of Mexico City though, and back over to the coast
that way.'
'Alright, Diego if you insist,' Raphael spoke. 'But, let us get you ready for the road
first, yes? You will need some supplies. And you can take a horse for Emmelina...come,
let us look over the herd...' The party stood then and they all wandered over to the
open fields where the horses were kept.
Emmelina liked the look of a handsome paint gelding, not too tall for her. She put him
through his paces and decided that 'Pancho' would do well for her. 'Are all the
animals here named Pancho?' she asked of Carmen, who laughed, 'It's a small
joke...that has gotten out of hand, by now. Come on, I think I can find a coat for you
to wear. You'll be needing it on the road.'
Em thanked Carmen for all her help and generosity when she'd loaded Em up with a coat
and sheepskin and a hat and gloves for riding. 'The dress, is or was, lovely, but
ayee, nena...it won't last on the trail!' She kitted Emmelina out in culottes which
would come in handy riding, and a long-sleeved shirt. 'The sun can be unforgiving.
Vaya con diosa, Emmelina. Take care of each other,' and Carmen kissed Em on both
cheeks, as Josephina would have done. Em returned the sentiment and wondered, not for
the last time, how she had gotten here.
Finally, Daryl strapped more bags to their saddles, along with their sleeping  and
cooking gear, such as could be spared from camp, and they bid farewell to Raphael,
Felipe, Maximo, Carmen, Angelica, Apolonario, and everyone, encluding, of course,
Pancho, and headed, once again, into the sunset.
Would they make it any further, this time, in their quest for the coast?
Quien sabe...?
                           . . . .
'Andele, andele! Buenos dias! Trabajo, muchachos! Andele!'
Jack awoke to the ringing of a club on the bars of his cell as the jailer pounded on
the bars to awaken the men. It was barely dawn he saw as he groped for wakefulness.
'Work detail today! Those naughty rebels have managed to undo some of the train track.
You will be part of the repair crew.
Up! Up! Time is wasting! Vamanos!' His cell door opened and Jack was handcuffed and
hustled outside into a wagon where other equally bleary-eyed men waited, also cuffed
or tied, and looking as miserable as Jack felt.
Well, at least he was out of the jail. That was a step in the right direction. Now he
could only wait and see what the day would bring.
                         . . . .
The sun crept slowly westward, and two figures on horseback did the same, angling
slightly northwest.
'I'd hoped to reach Pachuca by tonight...'Daryl sighed. 'I can see we aren't going to
make it that far. We're just going to have to resign ourselves to a long trip; at
least a couple of weeks, unless we can travel by other means...which I'm still working
on...'
Em said nothing. What else could they do? She was anxious about Jack, and Carmen's
reading, but hesitant to bring it up with Daryl; for one thing it was a rather
nebulous warning, considering the source. But if Daryl gave such things credence, it
could just add to the worries he shouldered already.  At least she'd her own steed and
was no longer plastered against Daryl. That was a mercy. Pancho was a good horse, he
didn't wear her out with nonsense like spooking at shadows and the trip thus far had
been almost enjoyable for her.
'And tonight?' Em asked.
Daryl pulled up and gazed westward. 'Those low hills over there. I think we'll make
them in good time. We'll be camping out tonight, and possibly for many nights to come,
I fear,' he glanced her way. 'But at least we have more of what's needed for the road
now. It won't be so bad. C'mon...another hour and we'll be there...'
Em thought though that she was probably feeling more at ease about their situation
overall, than was Daryl...at least judging by the many times she'd noticed him
glancing over his shoulder and frowning at Mt. Popo behind them. She rather liked the
mountain, it reminded her of the Sierra Nevada.
                        . . . .
Fire made, and water heated, Em was drinking tea and inhaling the delicioso scent of
rabbit roasting, which Daryl had caught and skinned, while they relaxed around camp
and watched the moon come up, a thin crescent like a sky scythe for harvesting
stars...
'This isn't so bad...I could enjoy outdoor life, I think, if I wasn't always on the
run to or from someplace...'Emmeline mused aloud.
Daryl checked his rabbit and poured more hot water for them both.
'Yes, it's alright. Until it rains.'
Em recalled the days of downpour with the Guevaras and her bronchitis souvenier from
it all. 'True enough.How long have you known Felipe's band?'
'Oooh...well, hard to say...in real time.' For Daryl, keeping track of time was
problematic to say the least. 'But, yes, I did travel with them for some time. I
became used to gypsy life.'
'It does have it's attractions...'Em recalled Josephina's band of gypsies and the
night of song and dance and spiced cider and scent of exotic oils on the wind...
'That it does,' Daryl agreed, adding some twigs to the fire. 'Especially for those who
know what they're missing.' Em eyed him questioningly. 'People like Jack and
myself...well, once you have lived in our time, this looks like paradise...'
'Tell me.' Emmeline  had heard only vague hints from Jack and Al regarding the
future;in fact it seemed so ominous that she'd recoiled from knowing too much. But
perhaps she should arm herself with all the knowledge she could.
Where to begin? thought Daryl. Naturally he couldn't tell a young woman that
overpopulation had ravaged the earth like locusts decimating a cabbage field; no
drinkable water, rampant famine, no clean air to breathe...that was the real bugger.
People were heading underground to escape the noxious fumes caused by pollution,
cities choking in their own waste and garbage. Climate change and rising sea levels
had salienated ground water and aquifers causing people to flee coastlines and so
crowd out more farmland...there was simply so much chaos, and all brought about by the
greedy powers that be. As always.
Daryl sighed, drawing in the sand with a stick. 'You like Dickens...'he pondered, 'Do
you recall, when Scrooge returns with the spirits to his own past, how nostalgic he
became for what had been, as he called out to his old friends, or reached for a glass
of cider only to have his hand pass through it, for he wasn't there,not really, not
physically...' Em made a 'um-humm' noise, leaning on her elbow, the firelight dancing
across her features.
  'But, in the story, at the end, he gets a chance to make things better, and to still
be a part of that good life he'd lost; to
reach out to others, to dance again, and sing and share a cup of cheer with
friends...' Em waited. Daryl rolled over onto his back then, and stared at the stars.
'Well, in my time, there is no going back. There will never be a way to 'make things
better'...
the damage is irreparable. We succeded in destroying our only home...'
Em wasn't sure what to say. She simply couldn't fathom. How? Were people so addlepated
in the future they would rather make profits now rather than ensure there is a future
to be had? Perhaps their
minds had been affected by some disease, malfunction or brainrot.
Daryl continued:'...but, even aside from the pollution, destruction, the big evils
done...the small things, one notices intently as well. People became drones. Children
no longer played together, they don't know how! They became utterly passive, and
inured to living in a virtual reality rather than...well, what they had lost. True, it
was helpful to learn to do without sunshine, or green grass or fresh air or
birdsong...to have to live underground with only electronic devices for companionship
or interaction...not knowing what one has missed, is a mercy, comparitively. But,
ultimately...people became machines, and machines began to rule them.'
He rolled onto his side then, facing Emmeline. 'Can you imagine,
what a miracle it seems to us, then, to be here, where one can breathe the air, drink
the water, still see the stars at night?
Ah, Emmelina...' Daryl tossed his stick into the fire. 'It is such a rare and blessed
experience to get together with friends, to dine on real food that has taste, and
nutrition as well, to interact with one another, as people should, face to face, not
Facebook!' (Whatever that was, thought Em. Sounded rather like what happened
when she fell asleep reading.)
'Here and now, people actually celebrate holidays singing together, making music,
dancing with a partner whom one actually touches!'
'People don't dance anymore, or they don't touch?' Em was becoming alarmed.
'For awhile, people danced, but very very few would attempt the old style of dancing
while touching.'
'There is music still?'
Daryl closed his eyes, a pained look on his face. 'Music...has a way of reflecting
society as a whole. In Mozart's time...well, you can hear the beauty present in his
works. And his sister's! Ah, if only women had rights back then! But, in our time, the
music, if you could call it that, reflects the mode of the day...which is rage and
despair. It was called, in the beginning, 'rap' music, which was actually based on
reggae, a wonderful style of music from Jamaica...but modern rap did away with melody
and it all became a type of declaiming rants to a beat.'
'No melody. Just rhythm?'
'Yes. And it was exciting at first, and empowering. But then, as things worsened, it
was reflected in the rap, and then all one could hear, blasted throughout the cities,
were curse words and
anger and hate...'
'All over? Everywhere? Even if children and grandmothers can hear?' Em was aghast.
'Oh, yes. It doesn't matter. People do not matter, in my time. People, are a
liability. Collateral damage...' Daryl sat up, disgusted with the topic.  He took the
rabbit and pulled off a leg, handing it to Em. 'Dinner is served.'
Em had nearly lost her appetite with information overload. But, it had been a long
ride and she was famished. The rabbit was delicious. 'Thank you, Daryl. Goddess, who
knew rabbit could taste so remarkable!' She chewed, musing awhile. 'So, is the old
music gone then?'
'Oh, no...people still listen to classical music, and other types. But...with
electronics, the world became much smaller. What became popular in one area, would
soon overrun and engulf the rest of the world, and rap became the world-view. It was
reflected in fashion, speech, manners,
or lack thereof. Only the rich, the privileged
few, had access to anything else. Mass-marketing shoveled whatever was popular down
the throats of the masses. Not that all rap is bad...it served a purpose at the time.
You might even like some of it...'
'I rather doubt it...' Em reached for more rabbit.
'I think you might like an antique rap song by Ice Tea called 'Big Gun'--it's about
women's rights. "She walks softly and carries a big gun...,"'Daryl smiled sideways at
her.
Em's eyebrows lifted but she made no comment. They ate companionably together while
Emmeline thought over all Daryl had told her. She couldn't imagine a world without
water, air, edibles, birdsong, or music. 'Actually, it sounds like hell,'
she decided.
'Yes.' By george, she's got it, Daryl agreed, gazing narrowly at the silhouette of
Popo in the distance, black against a purple sky. This would be their first night out,
alone, here. He wondered about that.
He had good cause to wonder. Reached over, checked his rifle. Then
felt about for his saddlepack.
Sighing heavily, Daryl opened his canteen, took a hefty pull.
'Cider?' he asked, passing to Emmeline.
Em focused her gaze on Daryl, looking as though she needed a wee sommat. 'Ach! It's
hard.' she grimaced, blinked. Took another drink. 'But...good. It's gypsy cider.'
Daryl grinned and shared a bit more. 'That it 'tis, indeed, senorita.'
'Were you up late with your brothers then?' Em stared off into the distance,
ruminating upon Popo's shadow in the dark.
'Si.' Daryl was hand-rolling some sort of cigarillo. He licked the paper and wrapped
it up neatly, put it in his mouth, stared hard at Popo as if in challenge. Then
dropped his gaze. Popo won, apparently. 'Actually, I didn't get much sleep. I never
do, around here...' He took a twig and lighted the tip in the fire, applied it to the
aromatic cigarillo.
'Don't think about it,' Em said.
Daryl blew a roiling cloud of smoke into the vacuum of night. 'Eh? Think about what,
nena?'
'Any of it. About Jack...' she gazed hard into the deepening evening, sighing. 'About
the future...' she flicked a glance quickly his way and back. Shook her head. 'I can't
imagine taking on such a responsibility.'
Daryl passed the canteen. 'Such as?'
Emmelina wiped the mouth with her skirt, drank. Laughed softly. 'Trying to control
Time! Are you mad?' Took another drink, handed it back to Daryl, who, to his credit,
was grinning. 'Do you really think you can rule Chronos, like a minor godling?'
'Ah, but think on the Titans. Sons and daughters of exiled,
 forgotten gods. Godlings, if you prefer...' he nodded, handing her the cigarillo.
'Hmm...' Em regarded it. Jethro smoked these. She took a light puff. 'Maybe they were
exiled for a reason.' She narrowed her gaze, returned it.'Maybe, in fact, they were
overstepping their bounds.'
Daryl took the smoking cigarillo, studied it. 'Bounds. Who is deciding the game? What
celestial referee?'
'I always liked Maat,' declared Em, lying back onto her saddle, her hand behind her
head, staring at the stars. 'The Egyptian goddess who weighs one's heart on the
balance, against the feather. Her diadem held a feather,' she turned, looked at Daryl.
'Yes I know Maat. She is Justice, in the Tarot.'
'She is Libra.' Em rolled back to her stargazing post. She noticed the stars seemed
especially bright tonight. And pulsating.
'So, you simply... Timejumped? Are you a time refugee, Daryl?' Em cast her eyes his
way.
Daryl frowned, looking at his cigarillo, now unlit. 'What a singularly inquisitive
filly you are, Miss Page.' He stoked the fire up once again with new wood. Took
another twig and lighted it.
'Are you referring to moi as some sortof barnyard animal, Senor Rivera?' Emmelina was
feeling rather...light all of a sudden. Interesting cider Daryl's gypsies made...
'Fillies do have long noses that can get them into trouble if they don't keep them
where they belong...' Daryl inhaled deeply.
Ah, so that was it...Emmelina felt she had him now. She snuggled beneath her serape
and coat, and turned toward the fire, lying upon her sheepskin. Daryl was a refugee,
an escapee, it you like. He sought amnesty in another century. Jack as well, no doubt.
Em figured it would probably have been illegal. That would account for some of these
'glitches';a black market time apparatus...but she had the Real Thing. Well, she would
have done the same herself, if it was half as horrendous as Daryl made it out to be.
Hard to fathom. But, like Lewis Carroll Em was beginning to believe 10 impossible
things before breakfast nowadays.
And a good thing too. Things were about to become rather even more impossible.
It helps to stay in practice.

Josephina Rides!

Em and Josephina

Xandor, the Gypsy King

Carlos El Maestro

 It's Just the Gypsy In My Soul

...you bring out the gypsy in me

Viva la Revolucion!

from: La Escondida (The Hidden One)

I have become a Maria Felix fan

 

La Revolucion is alive and well in our corazons...

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 15: Cinderella Disappears

Chapter 15: Cinderella Disappears
Jack spun about, searching.
She couldn't have simply, vanished! No one seemed to have noticed her leaving, the ball continued about him, unconcerned. What had happened here? She simply...faded away, literally. Much like the initial timewalk  when he'd taken her to Daryl's the first time.
Jack realized then that he stood alone on the dance floor. He made for the hallway, in a daze, his gaze still seeking about him.
Daryl. Had to be. Could only be! Jack took his coat, and Emmeline's as well, and headed into the night. Daryl's wasn't far, just over the hill...he needed a cool walk to clear his head and chill his temper before he got there.  Emmeline had better be there. And Daryl had better have some answers. None of which would do him any good.
                     . . . .
Madame Yvanna awoke to sounds of an attack. Something was battering at the front door! She sleepily arose, cast a half-opened eye on the other side of the bed, no Daryl. Had he ever come up to bed, then? She'd fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow...
 
She met Rosa tying her robe about her in the foyer, and together they peeped out the small round window in the front door. 'It is him, her Jack! But where is Emmelina?' Rosa opened the door.
An angry and glowering Jack with a stormy countenance met them on the porch. 'Emmeline. Where is she? Where is Daryl?' Jack pushed past the women and strode into the parlor. 'Daryl!' he yelled, turning about, hands in his hair, he tossed Em's cloak on the sofa, then stood, frozen, as he beheld the portrait above the fireplace.
Yvanna and Rosa were beside him. 'Chack, I presume? Vat is the meanink of zis intrusion!?' Madame drew herself up to her full height and looked Jack in the eye.
'I, I...what is this?' Jack pointed to the portrait. 'It looks like Emmeline!' he accused.
Madame spared a glance at the portrait. Returned to the matter at hand and regarded Jack closely. 'You. Vhy haff you come burstink into ze house, vaking up everyvon?'
Jack realized that he had. 'Emmeline. Is missing. Gone. I figured Daryl had...something to do with it...' he got nothing but puzzled stares. 'Don Diego, my...uncle.'
Yvanna looked about, noted the late hour. 'Diego is not here. Iz odd...I left him here, in ze parlor, not more than an hour ago...'
Just then, Manuel entered the front door. 'Rosa?' he inquired, as he heard voices in the parlor. 'Ah, Jack! There you are! I heard that Emmeline had disappeared, and  you had left! What is going on?'
That seemed to be the question on everyone's mind....
                             . . . .
They had ridden through the night. Emmeline had fallen asleep as they rode, (something in the canteen, perhaps)... until they came upon a village and found a stable for the horse and a room and bed. Daryl put Emmelina to sleep, and took the sheepskin by the fireplace...
Exactly what he had worked so hard to undo, had just been done.
Well, damage control. That's all he had to work with now.
Try to get them back on their own timeline. He'd seen it coming, of course, and that was what had set him on this seemingly mad path...he shook his head.. Who would believe him? Ah, in the future, perhaps...should they ever catch up with it...
Daryl propped his head against his saddle and checked his rifle before laying it within handy reach; finding shelter tonight had been sheer luck. He'd no idea where they'd been until they'd happened upon the village. Apparently they were where they decidedly should not be.
He had to get them out of harm's way...they were now near Quemada, and according to Daryl's calculations, and history, that put them too close to Torreon, and the corazon of la revolucion. They dare not move north, back to Sonora now.
Hopefully, they wouldn't have to travel by any mundane route whatsoever; he should be able to effect a transfer of their molecules back home to San Francisco...only...he hadn't been able to quite make that work as yet.Hence, the port in a storm here, or foxhole in a battlefield, as it were.
He'd come up against such glitches before. One thing at a time, there, man. Get out of the line of fire! and some sleep...and then deal with the next thing...si, it was indeed 'muy peligroso' travelling nowadays, Daryl had agreed with their erstwhile host... One thing at a time.
He tried his best to get comfortable as the fire banked low,and he turned in his serape and sighed, thinking of Yvanna, warming his bed at home...his very comfortable bed.
No, this was not at all how he had planned to end the evening.
                           . . . .
Morning found Daryl and Emmeline back on the trail.
'Where are we headed?' Emmeline had slept somewhat, but her mood had not improved one whit.
Daryl sighed briefly. 'I've been trying to get us back home, back to California, and the correct time frame...but so far...' he turned his head sideways to her, 'no luck.'
'Why? Why not? What's happened, Daryl? I am past simple weariness of this whole business...' I should have gone to South America with Alice and Frank, Em decided.
'I don't know. But, I haven't given up. We have other avenues to try yet.'
'Such as?'
'Well, I can try to contact some...others who may aid us. And, also, different physical places have certain properties, such as a vortex, that may help our situation...'
Em rode silently for awhile. 'Alright, Daryl. Why did you abduct me, from the gypsy camp? --the FIRST time?...'
'Emmelina...as you know, I have been able to access various timelines. In one such timeline...' he sighed,
'In one timeline, I found us both here, now.' He turned, looked at Em behind him.
'What do you mean?'
'I mean...just this. Us, here in Mexico, and in the middle of the revolution.'
'And you don't know how, we got to here? To that, this point?'
'I don't. It was not something I wanted though, and I imagine you didn't either. So I attempted to go back, in time, before that happened, and change things. I took you, OUT of Mexico. Back to San Francisco. Back to Jack.'
Emmeline was beginning to discern a certain vague logic to some things now. 'Alright...so, that didn't work. We're back here. Something keeps pulling us, both, back here...'
Daryl considered this. 'It can't be right though. It's too dangerous here now. Well,' he shifted in the saddle, 'Worse case scenario, we can always travel in real time, back to California. But it's too dangerous on the roads here. Best idea would be to take a ship north.'
'How far are we from the coast?'
'Days and days of riding...I'd try a train, but the Constitutionalist army has been 'liberating' the trains of late. We could get hijacked into action. So, we're headed west,' he nodded toward the lowering sun, 'toward Puerta Vallarta. It's closest.'
Days of riding. Em groaned to herself. How did this happen...? She'd been having a grand time, dancing to Rachmaninoff in her once-fine gown, Jack's arms about her, and then, it didn't matter! She was there one minute and gone the next. Reality was not solid. It was malleable.
What was real, was Emmeline's sore derriere. She then thought of the artefact. Should she try it? Or let Daryl know of it? He seemed to know more about it than did she...
'I may know of something.'
'Yes?' he pulled the horse to a halt.
Em pulled out the artefact from her now somewhat rumpled, torn and dirty ballgown.'This.'
Daryl glanced with an eyebrow raised her way. 'Why didn't you say so?'
'Apparently you aren't the only one with secrets.'
'Apparently.'
                           . . . .
Yeats was pacing the parlor floor, stabbing the air with a finger in punctuation. 'The first thing, we must make certain of Emmeline's whereabouts!' He stopped at the fireplace and turned to Jack and Aleister. 'My sources have confirmed that she is well. And somewhere between Durango and Mexico City.'
Jack had returned to Pankhurst two days ago. Since then they all had been frantically trying to locate Emmeline, and Daryl. Yeats had only just returned from a fact-finding junket.
'She must be heading to Mexico City and the Guevaras.' Jack sat forward on the sofa, since Yeats had claimed the pacing area. 'I can go there and find out.'
Yeats regarded him cooly. 'Well...they wouldn't be heading north into the revolution, I don't think...so yes, that is certainly a possibility. But don't let's go haring off just yet Jack. We need confirmation, or it's time and energy wasted..'
Jack sighed. 'Of course.
The men planned and argued and plotted and discussed the situation for some hours, but Jack knew that if Em was in Mexico, she wouldn't be wanting to travel through heavy fighting north just to get to the village there...not if she was near Mexico City and the Guevaras. They could talk on and on if they liked, but Jack needed to take action.
His mind was made up. He was going after Emmeline.
Down to Mexico.
                        . . . .
Daryl swiftly took note of their surroundings, saw no one.
He urged the horse into the shade of some small trees.
'Alright.' He nodded to Em.
Well, now what? Em hadn't a clue. 'We can't dismount, just for a little while?'
'We're all going together. We'll need a horse. As long as we're all touching, we're all going. So, keep one arm about me at all times.'
Sighing, Emmeline unwrapped the artefact. It looks just as it always had, (or usually did);white, cold, still and silent.
Putting one arm about Daryl's waist, and tightening her grip with her thighs on their mount, Em held the ovoid in her other hand and, well, concentrated...
'...just keep thinking: 'There's No Place Like Home,' over and over...!' Daryl said, with a small sideways smile on his mug.
Would that really work? Well...Em thought it. She thought it hard. Again, and again.
Nothing seemed to be happening. Then she thought she felt a gentle vibration. The goose-egg began to take on a pinkish hue. 'I think something is happening!'
Daryl twisted about in the saddle for a better view. 'Hold tight, Emmelina!' He stared at the object, frowning. Em grasped his waist and heard him 'ulp!'
'It's beginning to vibrate!' It felt warmer to her hand as well. She thought she could detect a humming sound now. The ovoid began to turn rose-colored. Then a deep red.
'Here we go!'--from Daryl.
Blackness. She could hear their horse's deep whinny as the world went dark, but she could still feel him under her, and she felt Daryl next to her as well. She never thought she'd be grateful for that, but she was at the moment.
Then, daylight again.
Emmeline looked up from the pulsating object and gazed about her. The area looked much the same, yet, with some differences. Some rather big differences, really, now that Em turned around and viewed the surroundings. Big, as in, a huge mountain.
'That certainly wasn't there a minute ago!' she remarked, unnecessarily.
Daryl turned around to where Em was pointing, and groaned.
'Nooo...!' He glared back at her, 'What were you thinking?'
'Just what you told me! However silly it seemed! I was thinking 'there's noplace like home!' Really, men, sometimes!
Actually, most of the time, she had to admit, she couldn't fathom the buggers. Was Jack going to be this idiotic as well?
'Well, this isn't it.'
'Truly?' Em had about had it with Daryl.
Their horse began to fidget now, which wasn't so bad, considering  all the poor beast had been through.
'Alright...' Daryl sighed, staring at the ground awhile. 'Well...no use crying about it.'
Who was crying? Honestly...Em's disgust was becoming something she'd soon have to deal with. Like getting off and taking her artefact with her into the wilderness. Let Daryl cry over that...
He looked up then, one arm leaning on the saddle horn, and tipped his hat brim back, looking at the mountain's silhouette behind them. 'Alright,' he said again. And nudged the horse into a walk, away from the mountain.
'Now where are we going?' Em felt like a recalcitrant child
forced into an outing with adults.
'We are off to see the gypsies!' Daryl relaxed into his saddle and seemed to take it all in stride once more.
'Which gypsies? Yours or mine?'
'My gypsies...'he answered softly.
'And this mountain here...what is it?'
'It's name is Mount Popocatapetyl. I know it as Mt. Popo.'
'You know this mountain well?'
'Very well. Too well.'
Emmeline pressed Daryl for more information but he steadfastly refused to speak again. She would turn to gaze behind her at the looming peak, remarkable in its' stark beauty, snow dusting it's crown, and wonder why the artefact interpreted 'home' as this area?
Curiouser and curiouser.
                   . .. . ..
Jack had made it! He assumed that he'd gotten the right time and place. It was definately Mexico City. It was larger than he had supposed it had been, for that time. Now, how to contact the Guevaras? He knew that Marta's husband, former husband, worked as a scientist. Perhaps he should make some inquiries at the embassy...the university...Jack was really working in the dark here.
But, he'd gone 'haring off' anyway, just as Yeats had warned him against. He was going absolutely mad, though, just sitting, waiting. Couldn't take anymore.
By late afternoon, he was beginning to rethink his haste. He'd been everywhere and had gotten no closer to locating Emmelina or the Guevaras. Discouraged,  Jack at last found himself hungry and wandered into a small bistro. Ordering a plate of tamales with beans, a cheese and a cold cerveza, he was wondering if he'd made a grande mistake coming. Well, so he'd worked the tension out of his system anyway...he could always return and take his punishment. Possibly, he hadn't even been missed as yet...
Someone asked for a cigarro. Jack, knowing how popular smokes were, brought some with him for barter, and handed one to the man. Someone else struck up 'The Merry Widow Waltz' on an old piano. 'Are you going to the baile?'the man who asked for the cigarette addressed Jack. He said no, he didn't know how to dance the jota.
'This man doesn't know how to dance the jota!' the local cried, laughing to his companeros. They all began to laugh and the man at the piano began to sing:
 'The Gringos they all are fools,
they've never been to Sonora,
and when they want to say 'Diaz Realez,'
they call it 'dollar an' a quarta'...'
Jack smiled good-naturedly, taking the ribbing, and continued eating placidly. The pianist began a new tune: 'Puentes a Chihuahua'. The men started a small poker game and mostly let him be after that. Although there were some men at the back of the room who seemed to be staring at Jack and speaking in low tones to one another. Perhaps he was just imagining it...
'So, gringo, are you going to fight with us?' Jack's cigarette smoking acquaintance enquired.
Jack had decided to adopt the guise of a U.S. correspondent as a cover for his inquisitiveness. 'I'm just a reporter, for the paper back home. Correspondents aren't allowed to fight.'
'Coward! We need no words printed in a book! We need fighting, and rifles! Liberdad! Our cause is just! Coward!' he spat. 'Huertisia!'
Jack knew things were getting out of hand. He decided it would be a good time to be heading back home about now, indeed. But as he stood, he found the men who had been watching him so closely from the rear of the bistro were suddenly at his side,
revolvers drawn. 'We need for you to accompany us, senor.'
'I knew it!' The Cigarette Smoking Man yelled, 'He's a spy! A dirty gringo spy!'
'Andele,' the men flanked Jack and ushered him out of the room, guns at his back and side. Jack was thinking that this definately was not going the way he had hoped.  He was assured of this when he was ultimately shown to a jail cell and the door firmly locked.
Not what he had hoped for at all.
                           . . . .

Chapter 14 - Solstice Surrealness

Chapter 14 - Solstice Surrealness
The day of the Solstice dawned bright and clear for once. Oh, it was cold, certainly, a north wind had cleared the fog, leaving only the ice blue sky and wan sunshine.
Rosa was up early bustling about the kitchen, setting to work upon the baking and firing the stove up for the day's cooking marathon.
'Actually, it isn't all that much...'she was telling Emmeline over their morning coffee. Em had switched from her usual tea today, wishing to get into high gear for the day ahead. 'Just the yeasted rosemary rolls for dinner with ginger-rum cake for dessert...I've already made the cake, it just needs to be soaked in rum...and then lighted before serving!
 'So then, I need only roast the duck and braise the green beans with almonds...Madame has supplied all the rest we need for tonight!'
Emmelina poked her head into the icebox, noting the
fresh oysters and shelled shrimp, wheels of cheeses,
dates and olives, fresh cream to be whipped for the gingercake and deviled eggs (for Daryl, no doubt, Em mused wickedly).
Yes, that would certainly do nicely...they had fruit and nuts aplenty, and Madame had also sent various wines along with two bottles of champagne. A decent table indeed, for the solstice...
Em realized then that she wouldn't be spending the holiday with her family like last year...such changes! Amelie with with her husband  in Thailand on diplomatic business, with their young son, Aidan. And no Alice this year...Em sighed. Well, she would be seeing Jack later. But, she felt that she should spend some of her last hours here with Daryl, sans Jack.
The whole thing needed closure, somehow. A quiet supper, with just Manuel, Rosa, Madame Yvanna and Daryl and Emmeline...would have the requisite coziness Em was striving for tonight.
Before she made her farewells.
                       . . . .
After Em had helped Rosa (or gotten in the way), in the kitchen, she was sent off elsewhere, and decided she had best pack, shouldn't she? Not that she had that much, but she was to be away from here after tonight.
She'd the foresight to have gotten some luggage during her shopping foray, and now had a decent valise as well as a carpetbag to fill. She had cleared things with Jack earlier and he was, indeed, heading into town with the druids from Pankhurst for the Solstice.
She'd thought about simply disappearing, Cinderella-like, after the ball, (only with the Prince this time),
but, no...that would be too much a slap in the face of her (...kidnapper, she was tempted to think...),of her warden, Uncle Daryl...
 How does he do that? Em shook her head, eyeing her  packing. How does abominable Uncle Daryl manage to make himself a sympathetic figure? Now somehow, she just couldn't leave Daryl without a proper and courteous farewell. (And he'd abducted her!) Honestly, her  sense of manners and decency were a real pain in the bustle sometimes... But she couldn't just leave him, to brood, all alone...Em sighed, gazing at the ceiling briefly. Did he wrap his head up in hot towels ala Sydney Carton nights as well? He certainly made inroads on the cognac like unto that worthy.

Em stashed her shoes in the bottom of her valise, folding her recently purchased booty and transfered it within. She would return here this evening. Jack was staying the night at Connor and Bridgets', with their hearty blessings; and would come by to pick her up on the morrow, hopefully, then, with wicked Uncle Daryl's blessing as well.We would see.
From there, Manuel would take them to the ferry depot and thence to the east-bound train...and back home.
Just the two of them. Together. Alone.
Em's stomach felt cold, suddenly, despite the morning's hot coffee and cake.
                        . . . .
Afternoon already. All packed-up...except for her mandolin, leaning in the corner chair. She wouldn't have to worry about forgetting that, she'd take the mandolin first in a fire, then think about a coat, she was sure...
Em sat, gazing about her 'cell'. It hadn't been a bad stay...unconventional, and uncalled-for, and unconscionable, truly...but aside from not having had a say in her life here, it could have been worse.
She wondered, really...for a moment...supposing that Daryl hadn't kidnapped her, taken her here without her consent. What if, for instance, he had actually spoken with her, as if she'd been an adult and not altogether witless, and explained why he wished for her to accompany him to San Francisco. Daryl was not wholly without charm, when he wished.... Em was, or had been, a free agent. She just might have considered it.
And why, exactly, HAD he taken her here? To fill her head with talk of 11 ft. tall mummies, and tales of alchemy and lost Welsh princes and genetic tinkering of the gods, was it? The man was damnably obscure. Frankly, Em didn't see where it all could possibly lead... How would that tell Em where or who her 'enemies' were? She had to collar Uncle Daryl tonight and she would obtain some answers from him this time, even if she had to follow him to his attic and pry him from the rafters where she imagined he hung nights, batlike, upsidedown, wings folded about himself...stewing. Like Dracula. Yes, Emmeline had read Stoker's book. Loved it. Odd, that such a beast could also be viewed as a romantic figure. Again, much like Daryl...
She smiled to herself, imagining the whole scene, and feeling up to the challenge, she decided she would head downstairs and check on the proceedings in the kitchen...
Approaching, she could hear Madame Yvanna; rolling her Russian rrrr's (which actually sounded rather like 'llll's' to Em's ear, as in: 'Lllldrrraaahsshian').
She gave Rosa a run for her 'rrr's' indeed; the kitchen fairly rang with the rumble from the two of them...
'Llldrrrinse the oysters, under cold vater, yes? Good, Diego, dahlink, you can do that outside, I belief, yes?Speciba...now! Vat would you suggest, Rrrrroza, dahlink?
Manuel needn't chip the ice til chust before servink...
Shall ve haf Manuel verk on cracking zum nutz, yes?'
Rosa just smiled and nodded, at ease, mostly, since she had prepared nearly everything earlier. She'd been anticipating Madame commandeering her kitchen. It hadn't been the first time.
'Eeeemelina, dahhhhlink! Here you are, then!' Madame encircled Em in a Russian Bear hug, and held her away to scrutinize her. 'You slept vell last night? Good, beauty sleep, it is the best thing one can do! Ve vill go up later to get you into your gown, and I shall do your hair, then, yes?'
Em thought that would be well, and thanked Madame, who then turned about and began preparing her dates, '...to be szhplit, and zen vees za zoft goat cheeze inzide...yezz...
and zen we add ze nutz on top, like zat!' She popped one in her mouth. 'Mahvellous, dahlink!'
Em and Rosa helped Yvanna with the appetizers whilst Em gazed out the window, noting, to her surprise that the sun was again sinking rather lower than she had anticipated.
Daryl returned from outdoors, smelling of oysters and the sea, flushed with the cold, and headed to the sink, while Yvanna teased him about 'szhmelling like a feesh'; Daryl turned and endeavored to embrace her, fishy-hands and all, sending her screaming from the scene.  It seems it was a good idea, their little dinner party here, Emmeline decided.
                         . . . .
'It will be wonderful, however you can fix it, I'm sure! I'm just thankful you are here and willing to help!' Em was, being rather out of practice regarding dressing for balls of late. During a lull in the kitchen commotion, she and Yvanna headed upstairs to Em's room to corral her coiffure into some semblance of elegance.
Madame nodded, and proceeded to work. 'You are lucky you haff zuch zhick hair...enuv to verk viz...' She began making small braids and pinning them. 'I zink a nize Rrrregency look for you...alvays verrry glazzy...' (Em assumed she meant 'classy'),
'Very zimple, yes? But nize...'
Em was tempted to nap, she felt so relaxed whenever someone had their hands in her hair. But, she was curious about Madame Yvanna and Daryl...'So, how long have you known don Diego?'
'Ah, letzee...' Em saw Madame's reflection in her mirror gaze out the window. 'Nearly two years now, I belief! His zhop you see, it is cloze to my own. He vould come by for lunches quite often. He has good taste in food, you know!' Madame smiled.
Em was learning. Obviously, Yvanna did not know that Em knew Diego rather less well than she. 'He just seems rather...a private sort. He doesn't have people over, at least, not when I've been here...'
'Da. Iz true.' Yvanna stuck more pins into Emmeline's coif. 'He iz not zo...zoziable, usually. But!' She paused, snatching up another lock to braid, 'He lufz za music!' She nodded. 'Oh, my...he does play rather vell, for an American...'( Em mentally rolled her eyes at this), 'Vell, you are a young country, ztill! Da, he vould play viz us eveninks ven ve haff muzizians gazhered zere for ze zinging and danzing! He is friendly enuv zen!'
Emmeline could possibly imagine such a scene. 'And does he dance?'
'Da, da...zum. You know...Sergei and Alexi would teach him LRrrussian danzes, or try to!' She shook her head. 'Nyet, he iz much better at ze playing...'
This wasn't what Emmeline had been wondering. 'But, does he dance, with partners?'
Yvanna leaned back and regarded Em in the mirror. 'You mean, does he danze viz ze vemmin?' She smiled slowly, returning to her hairdressing. 'Da. Zometimez...'
Cryptic and economical information, not very useful. Em wanted some juicy stuff.
'...But, actually, not much.' She turned her head this way and that, eyeing Em from all sides. 'It iz a zhame. A nize young man like zat....going to vaste!' She pursed her lips, musing.
'I zink you haff been good for him...get him outside of his
arctic zone...'
Em laughed softly. 'Arctic zone...it fits him...'
'Ummm, da...iz too bat. Vell, ve shall jeer him up tonight, yez? And, be zure to request some muzic! Zat alvays brightens up hiz mootz...' One more pin... 'Zere! Now, I'll return viz ze curlink iron and ve are nearly ton!' Yvanna bustled out and trotted downstairs.
Em gazed out her window, watching the sun lower ever closer to the hills...this was it; tonight she was about to change her life, perhaps forever.(Again). Jack had assured her that he wasn't going to keep her on a tight lead at all...but, actually, they hadn't really discussed their new...
relationship. They were sort of skating around all talk of it; not even naming it. It was, they were. They were: together. That's simple, isn't it?
Still...Em supposed there were things that needed sorting betwixt the two of them. Time for that later. All the time, in the world...
                              . . . .
'And then, I, very straight-faced, naturally, ask: "What pteradactyl? Where?"' Daryl was very much 'on' tonight.'Because, of course,one never hears them coming...'
 Everyone was beside themselves, laughing.
'B-because the 'p' is silent!' Emmeline shrieked. She couldn't help herself.
 Yvanna smacked her with her fan, but it didn't disguise the
tears of laughter in her own eyes. Rosa and Manuel eyed one another and began to giggle.
 'Az ze only, 'Yvanna accented the 'only', 'Adult in ze crowt here tonight!'She solemnly nodded, 'I must object to zuch vulkarity! Rasputin vould blluhz...'
 Daryl offered Madame some chilled champagne. And a bite of cheese-filled date. Viz nutz. Madame took the bait and bit.
'Madame...'Emmeline leaned upon her crossed hands, elbows on the table, which Madame took due note of, 'I am curious to know your views on the revolutions in the North Country...'Oh, dear.
Em was feeling the champagne and becoming political and pugnacious.
Madame was, if Em had taken half a moment to cogitate, connected with what would soon become known as emigres' blanc, White Russians, and,as such, not a fellow traveler. Fortunately, Daryl was more alert to such subtleties.
'We are here tonight,' he began, refilling everyone's glass with the remains of champagne, 'To celebrate a wonderful new year, and turning of season; thus all is spun and woven unto its' ultimate conclusion; a distillation of destinies desideratum...' and with that mish mash of malapropism, Daryl succesfully steered his solstice ship back to the matters at hand: celebration, sensation and inebriation...
 Everyone clinked glasses together; already they had lost count of toasts proposed,and as another 'Sol Invictus!' rang out, the clock began to chime the hour of nine p.m.
'One hour until the ball!' Emmeline's face lit with a glow that was not all grape-induced. Yvanna noted this as well as Daryl's sudden solemnity and took charge.
'Come, ma chere'! Off ve go, zen-- Ve haf zum verk to do ztill!'
 Madame took Em by the arm and marched her upstairs, as she waved a cheery farevell to all, and propelled by champagne and rum cake, the ladies made some last-minute ministrations to costume. 'Now. Ve tie ziss on, da?' Yvanna tied the black velvet choker with cameo about Emmeline's neck. 'It is a nize pieze...'
'It is from, don Diego...'Em touched it as it settled above her collarbone. She then held up Jack's Herkimer. 'Please?'
'Ah!' Madame regarded this...unique item. 'It iz...a very fine chain...' She diplomatically stated, as she fastened the necklace.
Em smiled, knowing how little regard crystals and other minor gemstones were given...why, quartz and garnets were all but ignored in the mad rush for gold in them thar hills... 'It is...of sentimental value. A certain type of crystal, only found in America--New York State.' Em proudly informed her friend. 'As well as opals, of course.'
'Of courze...'Madame scrutinized the necklace, then. 'It is, most novel.' She smiled bravely. 'You vill zhow efrevyvone, how wery singular and rare you are, my dahlink!' She patted her necklace. 'It iz a zign of convidence!' She nodded adamantly.
'Now. You vill engchant efryvone zere!'
'Oh! I nearly forgot!' Em leaned over her valise, rummaged about. 'Garnets! I have these earrings from Alice...'She held them to her ears. '...an old friend...' Em blinked, putting the earrings in. 'There. Something old, something new...' What had put that in her head? Anyway, the dark red garnets matched her gown perfectly.
Madame nodded. 'Iz good. And, iz time!'
Emmeline took a last look about. Well, onward, Em, avanti! As Alice would say.
It was Time, indeed.
                             . . . .
As the women rounded their way downstairs, they discerned the notes of Daryl's violin in the parlor, while Rosa and Manuel clapped in time...
Em caught Daryl's eye just as they were descending...he had taken note of her; she'd seen the look of recognition, pain, denial and finally compassion in his gaze. All rather odd, that. He wore it well, however.
'Rica...' he paused in his playing, holding bow and violin in either hand, arms out to embrace her. He held her briefly, then away. 'You look, like a princess...' Em blushed. What was all this? 'And, oh...that Jack, is indeed a lucky man...it would hardly do for me to give you away...but surely we are all invited, yes, filla?'
Em shot a panicked look Yvanna's way. Madame's eyebrows arched heavenward. No help there... Best brazen it out, then. Not long now, Em...'Ah, well, we haven't made plans, as such, quite yet, you see...' Daryl's smile switched flat, eyes narrowed. 'Nothing...definate.'
'I...see...'Daryl looked suddenly sober. Ready for action, in fact.
'Oh, Diego, dahhlink!' Oh, thank the goddess, Yvanna to the rescue! 'Vhy don't you dust off zat piano zen! I am not zo bat viz ze wiolin...' She nodded his way, and distracted him, for the time being. Daryl relinquished his violin, somewhat reluctantly, Em thought; moved to the piano bench, and began loosening up with arpeggios.
'I do so love the Russian composers, Yvanna...Rimsky-Korsakov, Rachmaninoff...'
...familiar notes gently insinuated themselves into the room then, filling audio space with magic from another Time...Em recognized Jack's favorite: Rachmaninoff's Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini...ah.. Nikola again...Emmeline felt charged up suddenly; as if she were at a pivotal point on the universal stage, a galactic hub of entrances and exits, wherein were gathered all the major players of her most vivid lifetimes
...Time, she felt, stood still; for a beat...
  She turned, and moved slowly toward Daryl, who sat, dark head bent,playing, swaying a bit, as Jack had done, oh, so much like Jack...it was uncanny. Em recalled the night she had caught him playing this song, at midnight, just before she and Alice had escaped through the looking glass, and left Jack and Aleister behind...
She stood to the side of Daryl and held her head at an angle...absorbing the thrum of the piano as Daryl held down the pedal...not shy about it. Em loved this song, because Jack did, and, it meant something to Daryl as well, Emmeline felt it.
Yvanna meanwhile, lent soft accompaniment and Em glanced at Rosa and Manuel, smiling together and sharing wine and companionship on this chill midwinter's night... Em felt a gentle fondness for her friends here, she realized, Daryl's oddities notwithstanding. At that moment, she genuinely wished them all well. Even Daryl.
Later, she might find cause to pause at that.
                     . . . . .

But, as Emmeline waved to everyone from the carriage as she and Manuel headed off into the night, her thoughts were centered only upon the future ahead of her. Just think, your last night in the city...after all these months of being practically held captive here, she told herself sternly. No need to spare sentiment for a despot such as Daryl. Focus, Em!
Across the Hill and round the other side the carriage soon took them to the Leek's mansion house, again lit with flaming torches lining the driveway...but O, so many more carriages here tonight.  Manuel waited in the que, then helped Emmeline alight from on high, and nodded, as she turned and ascended the stairway to the portico, stepping carefully to avoid treading upon her new gown...
Emmeline recognized some familiar faces at the door, druids and friends of the Leeks' who took her warm woolen cape and showed her within...
Such a gathering, indeed! Em began to wonder if she would be able to find Jack in all of this...celebration. Everywhere men, women, musicians, even some folk in costume with masques, were dressed to impress and velveted shoulders pressed silken sleeves, jewels glittered neath the candelabras everywhere,ladies' elaborate hairstyles bedecked with rainbow hues of ribbons and beads, were nearly outshone by the men who sported rather more colorful dress than most; in deep green or dark blue velvet suits,  odd cadet uniforms of foreign service in gold braid and epaulettes, men wearing tall boots like unto pirates, ears a-glint with gold, flashing eyes and smiles...as soft music wafted throughout the room, Em espied a string quartet near the balcony, and as she drifted in their direction, a stealthy gentleman with a tray of champagne happened at her side, and Em found herself with a glass...
Soon, Emmeline noted Connor and Bridget standing before the musicians and waving to the crowd. 'Ladies and Gentlemen! The Solstice approaches!' Cheers from all... Connor nodded. 'And, so without further ado, let us welcome the sun's return once more! Sol Invictus!' A hearty 'Sol Invictus!' answered the throng. 'Music, maestro!' called Connor, and he held his arms out to Bridget, who joined him on the dancefloor; all watched as they made the first swooping circle about the room. Then other couples began to join in...

A muffled cough sounded at Em's ear: 'Would you honor me with a dance, senorita?' It was Jack! At last...
Em smiled and set her glass down, holding her arms out to him.
'I see you left off the wig.'
'Indeed.' He swept her up in a waltz. 'And I see you are the most beauteous woman here tonight...' His gaze swept over her from head to toe, dark with brilliant lights in his eyes. 'I like your gown...'
'Thank you. It's new.' Enough information on that. 'I wore my favorite necklace,' Em hoped to distract him positively.
'I can guarantee it is the only one like it...'Jack spun her about, looking handsome in his black string tie and tails.
He'd let his hair grow out somewhat and he'd combed it back, curling over his ears and ending just below his collar. He looked like a classical pianist, she mused, in his black and white, like a keyboard... Briefly, the image of Daryl glowering from his piano whilst he played Rachmaninoff swam into Em's mind. But only briefly.
'What are you thinking?' Jack whispered in her ear, just wanting to get closer.
She looked up at him, 'Oh, I was just remembering hearing you play piano for the first time, back in Massachusetts...and you were playing Rachmaninoff.'
'Ah. Odd you would remember that.'
'I remember thinking as I watched you play, that the music was so haunting, full of longing...and it pained me to think of leaving you then.'
He looked at her, solemn. 'It did?'
Em nodded. 'I nearly changed my mind about leaving, even though I despised being abducted.' She glanced at him, '...I was fond of you, in spite of myself.'
'I hope you still are...' Jack held her closer. '...fond of me.' He kissed her hair. '...in spite of yourself...'
Emmeline smiled and allowed her eyes to close, and to simply feel herself in Jack's arms, being swayed to the music...imagining that their life together would be like this, always. Imagining so...for a moment.
Time and tunes played on, and Emmeline and Jack held the dance floor together, each taking a turn with their host and hostess; after which, begging off in search of air, the young couple sought each others' company on the side balcony awhile.
'Ah, quieter here,'Jack mused, leaning on the railing, regarding the torches burning along the garden paths below.
'And cooler...' Em grasped her hands about her shoulders, Jack, ever-ready, had his jacket about her smartly. 'Thank you, Jack. Let's move here, it's warmer...'Em found a cove just inside the balcony, shell-shaped in a cozy nave about a bench. They sat, Em put Jack's jacket about one of his shoulders and they shared it, leaning in close together.
Emmeline began to laugh softly. 'What is it?' Jack smiled down at her.
'Ohhh, you know...I did try to simply host a light and casual dinner party with just the household, and Madame Yvanna, I told you about her...' Jack nodded. 'And all went well...til dessert, and the end of the champagne...and, well...it seems...'Em stole a glance up at Jack briefly, '...that is, I got the impression from Daryl that, he, ah, rather assumed...'
Em paused...
'...Yes?' Jack asked.
 'Oh...it was rather amusing really...Daryl thought that we were...to be married, soon...'
'He did?' Jack's eyebrows went up. 'What did he say?'
Em clutched Jack's jacket, scrunching up close to him. 'Oh, things like, 'Well, I don't suppose I'll be the one giving you away,' he said, then he added, 'I do hope you will be inviting us all, filla!'...he calls me 'filla', at times...it means 'daughter'.'
Jack was gobsmacked. 'Yes, I know what it means...' This was news...in a way, it was well that Daryl was taking him seriously...that he thought of their relationship as something worthy of respect... It gave him an odd feeling, rather as though he, himself, wasn't taking it seriously enough. But Daryl was. Jack did not care for that feeling.
'We...could always have Yeats give you away...and yes, of course, everyone is invited...' Jack leaned over and spoke low in her ear.
Em's eyes went wide. Oh, she hadn't expected that! She'd only wished to prepare Jack for a glowering, sullen, perhaps combative Daryl tomorrow when he came to claim her. So to speak.
She leaned away then, staring at him. 'Jack. What are you saying?' '
'Well, Emmeline...no reason we couldn't...do whatever we wish.
It's your call, every bit of it. But, just for the record,' Jack took her hand, 'I couldn't be happier or want anything more on earth, than to hear you consent to be my bride...' He looked frankly into her eyes.
Oh, my.
Emmeline flushed. She was suddenly not at all cold. But, as dear as Jack was to her, she simply panicked. 'Jack, I, I...hadn't anticipated this, at all!'
Oh, please, let's just return to the easy comraderie we had earlier, Em thought desperately...
He looked down. 'Of course, Em...I know that. But,' he glanced up from under his fallen forelock, 'I still had to let you know how I feel.' He kissed her hand. 'There's no pressure, ever, Em. Not from me, or Daryl. We can sort him later...' Jack smiled then. Emmeline bit her lip. Jack 'ummm'd' and eyed her lips, bending low, and kissed her. 'No pressure...' he whispered again.
'Alright, Jack...let's do just as we wish, then...not what others would like us to do!' Em blinked at him, challenging.
Jack took her in his arms. 'Right now, can you guess what it is I would wish to do?'He smiled, sideways.
'Hmmm...let me see...' Em lowered her lashes and bent close, forgetting they were not quite in their own universe, as yet; and putting heads together, they did as they wished...
                      . . . .
  
Back at Nob Hill House, the kitchen was alight with activity, but not the towel-popping sort, for once.
Daryl and Yvanna had given Rosa the evening off whilst they cleared the dishes. As Manuel was having, in between driving duty, his own wee celebration downstairs at the Leek's, it was only fair to let Rosa put her feet up awhile as well.
Daryl had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was elbow-deep in suds, and if scowls could scour, the pans would sparkle with a glance. 'Jack, you understand, is family. And, as head of what is left of our family now, I simply feel that he should be doing the right thing by Emmelina, whom I care for as a daughter...!'
Yvanna rolled her heavily kohled eyes heavenward as she dried a pan distractedly. 'Da, da...but my dahlink Diego...you are not taking into conzideration von wery important zing! Mu-ey Eem-por-tan-tay!' Madame studied her reflection in the pan before stowing it.
'Yes, and what is that, my dear Yvanna...' Daryl plotzed a large iron skillet before her. 'Don't dry it too well. I should add a little oil...'
'I know vot to do viz ze iron panz! I haff a restauran' mon cher!' Madame huffed. 'But you! You do not know vimmen! Zat, zat iz ze important zing you forget so conweniently, nyet? --Emmelina! Zhe is callink all ze zhotz in ziss, O, si, si, mon ami!' Madame nodded, lightly dusting the pan with her tea towel. 'As iv your Chack haz anyzing to zay about anyzing...'
She verged on another huff, but thought she'd save it for later.
Daryl scrubbed something fiercely to within an inch of it's life down there below the suds...he knew she was right. He always wanted to fault Jack somehow. It made up for never being around...he smiled lopsidedly at his cockeyed logic. 'You are right, as always, my pearl...' he bussed her one on the cheek, easily, as Yvanna was nearly his height.
'Of courze...'she agreed. 'I am tired already, Diego. Lezzus do the rest manana...let us plotz ourselfs...come my little onion...' She took him by the arm, handed him the towel. Which he finally agreed to take and dried off, taking her arm and conducting her to the parlor.
'Do take a well-deserved break, my dear dish dryer...cognac?' he asked, taking two snifters before she answered. Daryl splashed afew drops in each and sat beside Yvanna on the sofa.
'To us. To our surviving another year!' Daryl clinked her glass.
'To us. Again! And to the return of the zun...ah, I did not leave St. Petersburg to come to California and freeze here in ze dark!' Yvanna flashed a wide smile.
The two friends, (and former lovers), sat companionably together awhile, sighing, sipping brandy. Yvanna leaned back, putting her feet in Daryl's lap. He knew what to do...
'Ah, you haf a good touch! Not too rough...'Yvanna rested her head on the pillows and relaxed for a change. 'You must let these two adults decide how to liv zier own lives, si, Diego?
Emmeline would like to have your blezzink. And so vould Chack. Do not divide your house...'
'Again, you are so very wise, dear Yvanna. And you have a good touch, too.' Daryl leaned back, kicked off his boots, and hauled his big feet up beside Yvanna, wiggling his toes hopefully.
Yvanna smiled and took his feet in her lap as well, and distractedly began to massage here and there. 'Zoooo...'she began, nodding toward the mantlepiece, 'Ven did you haf zis done?'
Daryl held her big toe as he took his brandy and drank. 'Awhile back. It's from a sketch I did...of Her. Anara. I actually made several, after every...encounter. I have one of Anara with Thelene. I had the impression that Thelene does not like me. Or Jack, either...' he smiled wryly, as he set his glass upon the carpet, reached under the sofa, and brought forth a sketchbook from underneath. Daryl leafed through the pages until he came to a rendering in dark soft pencil, of a tall, dark-haired woman with her hair piled up grecian-style, beautiful, but the steel within her was evident. This lady would not suffer fools gladly...
 Next to her was a more petite female, younger, also with the upswept hair style, although hers was of a crimson hue; and she had a searching gaze of greenish-blue. The resemblance to Emmeline was obvious. But, there was much about her that was very different, and that is what shone through in the oil portrait that now hung over the fireplace. Her eyes were wider, yet there was something haunting in them, as if she was ever seeking something just beyond her reach...her face also evinced a fine compassion that seemed far beyond her years; in this, she was most unlike Emmeline in appearance, who seemed much younger, and at the same time, Em's character showed a more guarded aspect.
Daryl handed Yvanna the sketch.
'Ah...I see.' She looked at the portrait and back to the drawing.
'It is wery like your sketch, da...but, I can certainly tell, that neither this drawing or the painting is Emmelina...'
'I wonder what she, or Jack, would think...' Daryl mused, rubbing Yvanna's feet with both hands. 'Perhaps it would be best if they do not see it...but! I wanted it to be done, and placed here, before Emmelina left...' he looked down, distracted, '...we still have some things to discuss.'
'Vell, she vill be back here tonight, at zum time. You can both haff a nize chat zen...' Yvanna had it all sorted. 'Zo...I am staying the night here, da?' she asked, her eyes becoming heavy already.
'Da. You are.' Daryl took his pad and stashed it back under the sofa. 'And you are velcome to varm my bed for me first, if you like...'
'I vould like.'
                         . . . .
The solstice was approaching. Dancers spun round the ballroom and mirrored the night stars which turned in the heavens...
Em and Jack were rousted out of their trysting place, (at least, they thought, once they were together back home, they could have a little space for themselves at last!), and called back to the dance...
Bridget and Connor seemed to favor waltzes mostly, and their tastes ranged wildly; Em seemed to even detect some gypsyish music especially in the Hungarian dances...
'One last dance before midnight, and at the Solstice, the goddess Gaia turns her face to the sun once again! Let us celebrate! Come, all, into the dance! None will be spared!' Connor and Bridget, seemingly tireless, took to the floor once again.
'One last dance, senorita?' Jack smiled, offering his arm to Emmelina.
'One more, gracias, senor!' Em answered, 'But, I will be ready to take that pumpkin coach home to bed after the last chimes of midnight have struck! It has been a long day, my dear...'
Jack leaned into her hair and inhaled her scent, 'Not long now, luv, and we'll be on our own time...no more stealing minutes here and there...Oh, Em...I've waited long for this!' He smiled, taking her by her slim waist with one hand.
'I am anxious as well, dahlink!' Em smiled at her 'Yvanna-ism', 'This has been a wonderful evening though! I can't think of a better way to bid the city adieu, and begin our new life together!' Em took his hand and they swung onto the floor and into the dance...
'Ah, I love this music!' Em tossed her head and drank in it's haunting notes. 'It seems so free, and yet...ah, Jack!'
'...Yes,'Jack smiled. 'Quite a night for Rachmaninoff!'
'Yes!...and Paganini...' Em looked at him, as they spun around with the other couples. 'What is it about this melody...it's so full of longing, somehow...which variation is this...?'
' ...It's Variation XVIII...'Jack looked down at Emmeline, his brows knotted. He pulled her closer to him as they turned. 'Don't let me go, Em.' His mood turned  suddenly serious. She stared wondering, up at him, smiled to reassure him.
As the dance and dancers gave homage to the turn of the seasons, Jack and Emmeline spun around the checkered ballroom floor;black and white, Em noted to herself...where had she heard that? Ah, from Manuel, carver of the Knight.
Polarities, dualitease...
 Em could hear the clock beginning to strike, as the music slowly wound down, to midnight...then...
 As the music seemed to slowly fade into the background, she noticed Jack seemed to be fading as well...! Things were strangely quiet, as though a glass bell had suddenly come over her, trapping her. Jack was...there, and then not there! Why? What was happening?
 She looked about, gaze sharp. All was befogged...as the music became more muffled...they turned, the room swirled about her, and she seemed to be seeing it through a lense suddenly, as though the room, or she, was retreating, Jack moving farther away from her; she seemed to be hearing loud booming sounds...somewhere behind the dim music...she tried to hold on...
'...Jack....?'

                          . . . .

 

 

 She heard gunshots then, loud booming cannon. What was this?
Smoke, or was it fog? Smoke.Couldn't see, in the dark...all the haze... She could smell burning though...and hear what sounded like cannon fire close by.
 Zzzzzzewwwwttt! Something exploded next to her, much too close; she was thrown back and heard, and saw, popping all around her,bullets pocking the dust.
'...Josephinaaaa! JOSEPHINA....!!!' Em turned about at the sound of her/blood sister's name.
  Thunder of hooves. Out of the smoke, a man, a wide hat covering his forehead, and a large bandana over his nose and chin, bending low over his horse, slowed next to Emmelina, scooped her up behind him, and away they tore, out of the smoke and explosions, and the bursts of gunfire, lighting up the night.
This feels like Sonora...
 Emmelina holds onto a man on a horse. They're riding amongst the scrub brush lining the low hills, dodging the skirmish. It seems almost familiar...until she looks down at herself, still wearing a scarlet ballgown. That brings her back to where she should be. Where she was.
 At the Solstice Ball. In San Francisco. With Jack.
Emmelina felt a chill then. She'd never get used to these...
abductions.
Surely it could only be that.
They came to a low outcropping and the man pulled his horse up, gazing out over the battle below. He turned his head sideways, not really looking at her.
He lowered his kerchief, licked his lips, offered Em his canteen.
She took it, with a shaking hand.
Managed a drink, returned it.
The man took a long slug. Capped it. Flicked her a glance.
A familiar voice said,
'This is what I tried to save you from. Believe it or not.
I tried to get you out of Mexico, and home, to Jack. So that this, may never happen.
 ...But it did. I'm sorry.'
Her abductor turned about in the saddle, and they beheld each other at last, face to face. She might have known...
 --Daryl.
                            . . . .

Variation 18: listen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4E7XHOotTX0