Chapter 19 - Que Sera Sera or:

Chapter 19 - Que Sera Sera or:
 The Future's Not Ours To See

'It's Crowley House!'
'It's also past midnight.'
Emmeline and Jack found themselves deposited in the yard. Jack was amazed, but not unduely; he dismounted and put a finger to his lips to warn Em to stay quiet.
Too late. Dylan came barking and bounding their way in a flash.
Jack knelt down and called softly to him. 'Dylan! Good boy...good watchpup!' He patted Dylan and calmed him. 'Hopefully...we didn't awaken anyone...' Jack recalled his clandestine escapade and hoped that they could all discuss it in the morning without having too much recrimination heaped upon his head.
After settling the horses and turning them out to pasture with Boreson and Trotsky, the two weary travellers headed into the back door as noiselessly as possible and crept up the stairs to their rooms.
Emmeline had a moment of hesitation...until Jack opened the door to her Indigo Room for her and they entered.
'It's all ready for you, luv...you need a good night's rest, and frankly, so do I. We'll sort it all out in the morning, alright?'
'That's fine, Jack. I'm so tired and confused...I can hardly think...'
'Restup darlin'.' He hugged her and kissed her forehead. 'We're here, we're safe. That's the main thing. Daryl will be fine, I bet you. So, no worries?'
Em smiled up at Jack. 'Thank you, Jack.' He tilted her chin up and kissed her gently.
'I'll see you come morning.' He lit a candle, softly shut her door, and headed downstairs to his 2nd floor bedroom.
Lord and Lady, Em's head was whirling. She was too tired to think about what had just happened or wonder about it. Bed, or rather, futon, was all she could think of now. She fell down in a heap upon it, and barely had time to shimmy off her outer clothes and blow out the candle before she herself was out like a light.
                                . . . . .
With the morning came also a new reality.
Emmeline awoke and slowly opened her eyes. Not easy, she was still grimey with dust from the road. She rubbed them open and dared a look round. Oh, thank all the gods, she WAS actually at Crowley House, and in her Indigo Room. Just this much reassurance was keenly appreciated by her. A bed to sleep on was keenly appreciated...as was a roof over her head and absence of bullets directed her way. Etcetera.
She was, in fact, so bowled over by this sudden return to 'normalcy' that she resolved she'd had enough with anything even remotely otherwise.
Slowly she creakily arose to sitting position. Diosa, but she felt 100 years old...everything felt bruised, pulled, scraped or otherwise misused greatly. She supposed she was lucky to have only this much to reckon with.
She slipped the comforter off and beheld very little blood, so that was a good thing. No fearsome wounds...she didn't think Jack was too badly off either...hadn't really had a chance to check, had they?
Her eyes closed again of their own accord and she wove abit but forced them open again. She was too curious to sleep just now. Her stomach growled. She couldn't recall when she'd eaten much, the gypsy camp perhaps? She discerned muffled noises of people moving about the floors below. She fleetingly wondered how Jack was faring with Yeats...she certainly hadn't asked him to come after her, but, well, how could she fault his devotion? Still, she felt a powerful urge to smack him soundly for causing her such worry.  She smiled...suppose Jack had felt the same way, regarding her safety. But neither she or Daryl had planned their sudden 'departure'.
What could the time be...? She moaned softly as she stood...realizing a futon on a tatami mat was really quite a ways to manage a standing position from, and
shuffled to the windows. Closed her eyes again, goodness it was bright! Squinting at the great outdoors she took in all the lovely greenery. Trees already leafed-out, flowers blooming, and just look at the blossoms on the fruit trees!
Hm. Em was taken aback. But...it was just the winter solstice, mere days ago, wasn't it?
Curiouser and curiouser.
                          . . . . .
'Ah, here she is, our Persephone returned!' Aleister met Emmeline at the kitchen's swinging doors with a hearty greeting and clasped her forearms in his warm grip. 'How are you, my dear? Here, do have a seat! Tea?'
Em took a seat at the breakfast table, gazing out at the pasture beyond where Pancho and Jack's horse were grazing contently with Trotsky and another palimino-colored horse unknown to her. 'Thank you, doctor...Aleister!' she amended, smiling at him as he poured hot tea. 'Ohhh...that smells divine! Oh, for some real strong tea!' She sipped gratefully, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. It had been too long.
 In fact...just how long HAD it been?
'We've some carrot-ginger muffins...'Al opened the oven where they were keeping warm, '...applesauce...' he began hauling out the tucker for her, '...or I could do some eggs, eh?'
'This is all I need, thank you, Aleister!' The muffins smelled divine. Yeats's
cooking, no doubt, it smacked of Alice's touch, Em recalled Yeats and Alice had spent time together cooking. Em sighed...what a long strange trip it had been.
'Has Jack been down yet?' She inquired.
Aleister didn't answer immediately, but poured coffee for himself and joined her at table. 'Ah, yes. He and Yeats are hashing out some things in the study...'he took a sip. 'But, how are you, dear girl? You look well, although you still could use some feeding-up, lass.' Al frowned her way.
Em studied the horses outside and mused upon Al's obvious prevarication.
She wondered what things Jack and Yeats were hashing out. She rather thought that it was Jack's hash that Yeats was settling, rather.
'I'm alright, thank you, Aleister. Just need some rest and sleep. I'll feel like eating something more soon enough...' She smiled. And sighed. 'It has been...rather a whirlwind of late.'
Al regarded her narrowly. 'I'll just give you a quick check-up, then, when you're up for it. Plenty of time. Don't fash yourself now, lass.' He patted her hand tentatively, '...you've much to catch up on.'
They discerned voices approaching from the front of the house and Jack and Yeats found them then. 'Emmeline, my dear, how fare you?' Yeats put a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
Em smiled and reached up, touching his hand. 'I am well, now, thank you! It seems as though I've been away for ages!'
A heavy quiescence suddenly settled about them all. Yeats shot a look at Jack from under his heavy brows that bespoke volumes. Jack looked solemn. Aleister
tried his best to enforce a visage of calm neutrality. Yeats cleared his throat at last. 'Have you breakfasted? Good. Let us take our tea to the veranda, shall we? The morning is fair and mild.'
As they poured more tea and coffee all around, Em and Jack took rather longer to do so and allowed Al and Yeats to preceed them outside.
 'How are you Em? Sleep alright?' Jack was putting a good face on things, but she could tell he was troubled by something.
'Like a stone, for once!' She gazed at him searchingly. 'And you, Jack?'
'Out like a lamp.' He put an arm about her and kissed her forehead. 'We made it Em, we're safe here now, and I believe we'll not be leaving again anytime soon unless it's of our own volition!'
'Oh, Jack,' she shook her head, 'you've no idea how much I wish that were true!' She put her arm about his waist and together they stepped out onto the porch and took a seat upon the wicker settee between Aleister and Yeats.
They all sat together companionably enough, but with a sharp undercurrent of slight edginess made palpable by their quiet. A meadowlark called and Em was aware of the busyness of nature: bees buzzed about, hummingbirds darted, she fancied she could even hear buds blossoming.
'Everything seems so alive!' She exclaimed, setting her tea upon the wicker table next to her. 'So much green! And daffodills already?'
Yeats inhaled forcibly. 'Yes. It is. There are. Such is the way of all nature, come Spring.'
A pause. Jack leaned forward, sighing softly, his elbows on his knees, and hands clasped before him, as if to get a grip on himself. 'Emmeline...ah, apparently, we were gone for some time, actually.'
'Oh.' Em wasn't sure she was ready for this, but...it was only something she
had intuited, known, really...she just hadn't wished to bring it to the forefront of her reality. 'I...see.' She trembled slightly as she clasped her teacup and took a cold sip. 'Just when are we now?'
The men looked at one another. Then Jack answered. 'It's March, Em.'
He nearly said he was sorry, but, well...he was, but was it altogether his fault? Sighing, he had to admit he'd gotten the ball rolling, as it were.
'We...we 'lost' the rest of December, January and February?'
Jack hung his head. 'I'm sorry, Em.'
Emmeline didn't know what to think. Her decision upon waking to have no more wild peregrinations throughout time and space unless she instigated them herself was jolted into a new frantic resolve. However, whatever it took, she was well and truly done with all that!
'I believe I shall have a stroll about the grounds.' She set her teacup down shakily and smoothed her skirts as she stood. The gentlemen arose also.
But no one tried to stop her as she went down the porch steps.
'...I...could, come with, Em?' Jack ventured.
'I think not, Jack.' Em paused, her head turned sideways, but not looking at him. 'Thank you.'
And she took herself off. For a change.
                              . . . . .
She meandered awhile, and yes, it was assuredly spring here now. No longer the bare trees of winter, they were fluffy with new growth; spring green all about and it even smelled like a new season.
Time marches on, it is said, thought Emmeline. She wouldn't even mind a quick march, but oh, not a leap, a rush, an instantaneous fling into spring and  directly after winter solstice--March! It simply wasn't done. At this rate, she would be in her 30's before the year was out...
She'd no idea whither she was wandering  but wound up beside the pasture fence feeding Trotsky and Pancho and the other two equines some mulberry leaves and admonishing them not to fight over them. She was fond of her old Pancho; it hadn't been the time or place before to get to know him, but, though not a gorgeous horse by any means, he was hale and hearty and she rather liked his brown and white patches. 'You're a wild Indian horse, a Gypsy horse, aren't you Panchito?' He recognized his name and raised his head to blow into her nose, as she did with him and he snorted his appreciation of the gesture then returned to his grazing.
Silent tears fell from Em's eyes not for any particular reason. She felt a sense of deep loss, but she was somehow also rather removed from things. Maybe
a part of her simply refused to acknowledge what was happening to her. She felt her life was somehow beyond her control...it wasn't a good feeling. She hated it in fact. She bit her lip and dashed the tears away with her hand, getting horse spit on her face instead.
She turned and leaned against the fence, regarding Crowley House. A houseful of men who treated people like chess pieces and time like a game of darts. What would it take to hit the bullseye? Em wondered about that. What was the bloody point?! She snorted. She supposed they all had their reasons for escaping what was a hellish future but did they have to drag her out of her 'paradise' as Daryl had termed this century? What of no womens' voting rights, or the harassment of unionizing workers...what of racism and crooked politicians right here in this time and place? She chewed her lip, frowning. She had to admit, that even with all that, from the abominable picture Daryl had painted she decided she would rather be here than there.
What would it take to get back the Time she'd lost, though?
                                    . . . .
'She's alright, you think...?' Jack asked Aleister for the third time that day. They were in Al's basement lab working on perfecting their new biodiesel formula.
Aleister sighed as he poured a beakerful of thick fluid into a largish
tin. 'She will be.' He screwed the cap on tightly, set the can into a carrier filled with similar containers and removed his goggles to atop his head. 'Young women are resiliant.' Al sat upon a high stool at last, taking off his gloves. 'However...she is no doubt concerned about losing a certain percentage of her youth, not to be recovered.'
'It's only afew months!'
'Thus far.' Al gave Jack a hard look. Took the goggles off and scratched his head.'Not to mention having had no control over her life, ever since we showed up.'
Jack folded his arms and regarded Aleister. 'You are remarkably
empathetic suddenly, doctor.'
Al just sighed and shook his head. Jack could be a right nob at times. A good friend, a good man, but...obtuse, for a self-styled 'genius'...
A flash of calico fur invaded the space between the two suddenly.
'Alice!' Aleister smiled delightedly, petting the purring Alice who had hopped up on the counter top and rubbed her head beneath his chin.
'That reminds me...where is Dylan?'
'With Emmeline, no doubt...she seems to prefer the company of four-legged creatures.' Couldn't fault her for that, Al opined sagely to himself. 'You could do with a bit of airing yourself.'
'Fine. I can take a hint.'
'Do.'
Jack betook himself off leaving Al and Alice their 'alone' time. He headed up the basement stairs, at a loss still. Aleister had been rather cool to him since his return from his delinquent departure to Mexico. Yeats had given him the impression that he'd like to have Jack beheaded, skull shrunken and nailed to the study wall. Nothing  harsh.
As he reached the ground floor, he noticed through the windows that it was nearing sunset. Where was Em? Alone time was one thing, but...
He headed out upon the front porch staring off in all directions. Then he saw her, coming from behind the barn, Dylan leaping about her. She was smiling and holding up a stick which he snapped at, twisting himself about with wild acrobatics in his enthusiasm. Her long red curls shown in the golden sunset behind her, adding a halo effect.
Gods she was lovely. Jack looked down. Did she blame him for this...this loss of Time?
He strode out to her, hands in pockets and Dylan gave a short bark his way and rushed toward him. Em glanced at him, biting her lip, but she wasn't joining in with Dylan's excitement to see Jack. As he neared, she turned, in fact, and leaned upon the corral fence, staring at the horses.
'Time to feed the herd,' Jack said standing beside her.
'The stocky palomino...he's new.' Em deigned to notice Jack's presence.
'That's Aleister's new Halflinger, Boreson. He's a good horse, Amish trained. Does well with a cart or saddle. Gentle, good natured. A right palfrey he is.' Jack went to the barn and began pitching hay into the corral, the horses whinnying as they approached.
 Jack returned and stood with the pitchfork next to Em.
'So.' She nodded at Daryl's horse. 'You've a pair of bays now. They're a good match.'
Jack slowly shook his head. 'I don't know what to call him. He seems to be sound. Have to give him a going over, get Al out here to see to them.'
'They're Gypsy horses. We got them from friends of Daryl's.'
'Gypsies know good horseflesh.'
The wind stilled as the sun sank behind the trees and hills and the only sounds were the munching and grinding of horseteeth on hay.
  "'Home is the sailor, home from the sea...and the hunter home from the hill.'" quoth Jack from Stevenson/Housman suddenly.
Em frowned at that as she regarded the peach colored clouds. '"I wasted Time and now Time doth waste me."' She turned around then and looked at Jack, leaning back against the fence.
'Shakespeare. Serious stuff, Em.'
'I should hope so, Jack.'
He leaned the pitchfork against the side of the barn. 'Let's walk?' He put an arm at her back and gestured them forward. She suddenly recalled her old dancing master; he would say the man leading the dance is suggesting a move while the woman may follow or not, as she wishes...
  Did Em still wish to follow Jack in this pas de deux?  As he bent to pick up a stick to toss to Dylan, she eyed the pitchfork and Jack's backside. An evil thought brought a smile to her lips, which she quickly hid as she tossed Dylan pinecones to chase as they walked to the side of the house where Jack had planted last year's garden.
'This is the garden, or will be...not too late for planting yet.' He looked hopefully at Em.
'Have to till it all up, fertilize abit...usually string peas along there,' he pointed along a fenceline, 'and I have poppies planted all along the border...' He called Dylan out of the garden. 'Have to put up chicken wire along the bottom, and dig deep to keep Dylan out.He'll need training. But, it will be extra protection against rabbits...what do you like to plant, Em?'
Em had to admit she was softening abit, thinking about a garden. At last. How she'd missed her old garden at Alice's! Well, Jack had that much in common with his...with Daryl, anyway.
 'Oh, everything! Onions, garlic, carrots, tomatoes of course! And potatoes, artichokes...finiky lot those...' Em sauntered slowly about the garden.
'I've never tried...they don't like it too hot do they? Grow mostly along the coast.'
'Bit hit or miss. Herbs...cilantro, mint, oregano, catnip and rosemary...medicinal herbs. Most herbs are, really.'
'I can smell them already.' Jack strode along behind her, hands in pockets. A low rumble was heard then. Not thunder, but Jack's stomach. 'Ah, haven't eaten since breakfast, I guess! Been down in the lab with Al working on making fuel from vegetable oil.'
'Like you made for Woody's?' Em looked his way at last.
'That's the stuff.' He reached a tentative hand toward her. 'You up for some dinner yet?'
If you can't beat 'em...thought Em...then again, beating them sounded good too.
Oh, why not. Em was tired of going round in circles trying to figure out the future. Stick to the here and now.
'I'm starving, Jack.'
She took his hand.
'Let's eat.'
                              . . . .