Chapter 2 - When All Things Being Equal -- Are Not
'...it IS the Equinox,' he said.
Emmelina turned to face Daryl; bold as brass, his face tanned as a new copper penny, smiling and welcoming as a devil's bargain on a cold night.
He looked down and regarded the paper he held. '...As to your letter...' A glance up at her, one eyebrow cocked, '...it seems you have plans to visit the South?'
Em tried to recover herself quickly, tired from a busy day already. 'Ah, yes, well...um, do let us take a seat Daryl?' Em flustered, feeling odd to be offering a chair to the man who owned it, and in his own home. One of them.
Daryl seemed to know what she was feeling and smiled to himself as he leaned up from the door jamb and sauntered into his parlor, taking a seat in the armchair near the fireplace.
'May I offer a tisane? I just brewed up some mint with catnip, hops and camomile...'
'Sounds perfect.' Daryl smiled at her, crossing his long legs at the knee and sitting back with a sortof satisfaction.
Em bustled off to pour tea, smoothing back stray locks and attempting to fix her braid. Diosa, but she hadn't been expecting this! ...Suppose she'd have to get used to it, hadn't she? Bloody Daryl seemed to be enjoying the discomfiture his sudden appearance had given her. Yvanna and Rosa had both assured her he was hale and whole and indeed he seemed to be so...
Armed with a tea tray Em returned to the parlor and set it down upon the table. When she poured for Daryl, she found him staring at Anara's portrait, transfixed. What was he thinking?
'The luff of hiz life,' Yvanna had dubbed Anara...well, if true, what else could he be thinking except, how long until they would be together again? She set his tea quietly upon the end table beside him.
'Gracias,' he softly acknowledged the gesture as Em took her seat upon the sofa across from him. She decided to approach Daryl with her enquiries, taking the offensive early in the game.
'Daryl...I dreamed, recently, that you and I were back there, on the beach...you were with Anara, while I was with my father...the tall man, Axelis, and another woman, my...sensei?
I mean, my teacher. Or, is she Anara's teacher...?' Em sighed frustrated, 'It's all so confusing...' She paused, took a sip of tea. 'It was a dream, wasn't it?'
Daryl turned away from the portrait and regarded Em.
'No. No dream.'
Well. There it was, then. Not a dream. So...'Well, what was it then? Another timewalk, within a timewalk?'
Daryl looked away, and picked up his tea. 'Rather, something beyond that.' Took a sip. 'Within the timewalk we were in, we...traveled, to another, ah, dimension, for lack of a better designation.'
'It is still confusing. How does one differentiate? How did you come to tell...what's what?'
He glanced out the windows, the light turning to gold with long shadows of afternoon. Another eyebrow rose in answer, 'Long, frustrating experience, my dear Josephina...'
Em blushed and looked down at her tea, hearing the appellation.
'However,' Daryl regarded her letter once more, 'This particular trip, down South, I would caution against it.'
This caught her attention. Straightening, Em set down her tea.
'Why ever not?'
Daryl uncrossed his legs and plunked his well-worn boots out before him, crossing his ankles, and leaned his head back upon the chair. Gazing once more at the portrait, he ventured, 'You recall I once mentioned I knew who your enemies were, Josephina?'
Why was it that her blood sister's name made Em blush? It seemed to imply an intimacy of sorts...between her guardian and herself. But what was this about enemies? 'I...think I recall that you briefly mentioned something about that, long ago. You never did state who they were.'
Daryl fixed Em with a stare. 'They were, and still are, the same enemies that your mother had.'
'What do you know of her?' Em was emerging from frustration and verging on anger now. 'Daryl, first you say you 'knew them well', my parents, then you claimed that you only met them here, briefly! What am I to believe?
--Anything?'
Daryl hid a small smile as he rose and began to stroll over to the window. Pulling back the curtain he regarded the street outside. 'Your mother left her family home and went to stay with the Pages when young, did she not?'
'Yes. It's one of the things I wished to investigate whilst visiting there...'
He turned to look at her then, sharply. 'Don't.'
Emmelina began to reply, then closed her mouth, cocking her head to the side as she heard someone approaching up the front steps. 'Someone's here.'
Daryl said nothing but only turned his head toward the door. They heard the doorknob turn, steps within the hallway. Daryl looked at Emmelina.
'Hola! Ah, buenos tardes, don Diego!' It was Rosa! Emmelina exhaled, relieved, as she heard Manuel follow into the hallway, 'Good evening,' he nodded a greeting into the parlor, arms full of baskets of produce. Daryl smiled as they both headed into the kitchen. 'Dinner in an hour or so! Curry tonight! And artichokes!' Rosa called.
Daryl smiled. 'Gracias, Rosa!' He was gazing at Emmelina, looking both domestic and feral, relaxed and aware. She hadn't really noticed til now, with the late afternoon sun shining through the parlor, how different Daryl looked. His hair, for one, was longer, shoulder length and seemed freshly washed, showing more gold streaks throughout; with the sun behind him, his appearance seemed rather leonine. And yes, he looked quite tan and fit, slimmer than she remembered...dressed in sand colored pants with several wide pockets for handy packing, and a white shirt, open rather low at the neck, and black braces. He must have just showered and changed before she arrived...Em detected the faint scent of bay rum.
'You were saying...?'
Daryl drank his tea and blinked slowly, appearing relaxed to the point of
somnolence. 'Forgive me, it has been some time since I last slept...'
'Diego!' Em stood. 'Are you alright?' What had they been speaking of all this time? Here was Daryl, whom she had last seen riding off into the midst of battle with the revolutionaries... Em approached his side and put a tentative hand on his arm. 'I, we, were so worried for you!'
Daryl patted her hand and grinned sideways. 'I'm fine, now. We hit some rough patches with the Federals...but, so far, the battle goes well.' He looked down at Em. 'Gracias, Josephina.'
Emmelina looked at his hand upon her own. 'I, I should apologize, Dar...Diego. What was I thinking offering tea? Are you certain you shouldn't see a doctor? When did you arrive here anyway?'
Daryl kissed her hand briefly, chastely, and headed into the kitchen himself, 'Just hours ago. Stay there! I'm bringing wine.'
Merciful goddess what a day! What a life, Em, face it... Emmelina plunked herself down upon the sofa. Yes, a nice glas vina would do well, she admitted, bending over and unlacing her boots. Well, they had been bivouacking in the rough together. Old war buddies, practically.
Daryl entered, a bottle of riesling and two glasses in hand, to find Em seated lengthwise upon the sofa, her feet up. He smiled slightly as he resumed his seat across from her and poured. 'That's more like it, eh?' He handed her a glass. 'Salud!'
Clink of glasses...hm, the clink of crystal Em thought, that was certainly different from their campout with canteens and gourds.
'Working again, eh?'
'How did you know?' The wine was delicious. Em believed she recognized it from Yvanna's cellar.
'I see all, know all... You are forgetting my gypsy connections.' Daryl nosed the wine and drank. 'Ahh...one misses this...back where duty calls...' Another sip.
Rosa brought in some fruit and cheeses and nut meats, exiting then as quietly as she'd come.
Em felt hungy suddenly. She took some fruit slices and cheese. 'You said you hadn't slept. How are things, Daryl, really? Don't spare the details. I wish to honestly know...and I, well, we both, Jack and I, are concerned...'
Daryl gazed about him. 'Ah. And...where is Jack?'
Emmelina coughed on a nut. Sipped her wine hurriedly. 'He, he is back in Pankhurst... And, actually, he may be on his way to your place in Massachusetts.'She hoped to distract him from further inquiry regarding Jack, and their...relationship.Whatever it now was...
'Indeed.' Daryl narrowed his gaze.
'Yes. I do wish you would speak with him, Daryl! He so wishes for you to resume running that big estate of yours!'
'Sorry, that isn't possible. It must remain Jack's. You both, must always have access. It is of primary importance! Do you understand, Emmelina?' Daryl glanced briefly her way. 'It is not up for debate.' He ran a hand across his forehead. 'What is he doing there?'
'He wants to investigate further into these 'timebursts'as he calls them: we don't know where they come from, what is causing these odd...pops in and out of different timelines...' Em yawned, she couldn't help it.
Despite himself, Daryl followed suit, running a hand over his face and rubbing his eyes. 'I doubt we'll stay awake long enough to eat...' He smiled wryly and yawned once more.
'ARTICHOKES ARE READY!!' Came the call from the kitchen then.
Daryl blinked awake, and stood, holding a hand out to Em. 'Come, Josephina! Artichokes!'
. . . .
For whatever reason Emmelina found herself and Daryl dining al fresco
in the backyard near the garden; Daryl claimed he needed the fresh air to keep awake long enough to eat something. A wooden picnic table served their needs well enough and with tablecloth and lanterns about, it was indeed a welcome change to dine out of doors watching the sunset.
Dipping his choke leaf into a creamy garlic butter sauce, Daryl savored the rich taste and closed his eyes in appreciation. 'Umm...one misses eating well while on campaign...' He poured more wine for them and switched subjects abruptly, 'Did you know that Manuel is Chilean?'
Trying to catch the drips of sauce from her own artichoke, Em eyed him over her plate. 'I, ah, no, I didn't know he was.'
'You know of the massacre here in San Francisco of Chileans some decades ago when the city was just struggling into some semblance of itself out of the gold rush madness...' Em nodded. She knew of it of course; however such things as gang wars of the Sydney Ducks and various other racist hate crimes waged against the Californios and Mexican, Central and South American immigrants were not taught to school children in history books. Young boys would play shoot-em-up games involving the romanticized version of the story of the outlaw Joaquin Murietta, and that was about the only tale told widely in society even hinting that such things actually were of note. Of course, racism was alive and well nowadays; as Jack had experienced rather too personally.
'...Yes, well, Manuel's ancestors and relatives were victims of that dark bloody stain on the city's history. Rosa, is herself a Californio; her people were well settled here, down the coast toward Los Angeles, for many long years prior to California's statehood.'
Emmelina chewed on this information with her curry...this was some interesting news on the background of her friends here. And, knowing now that such tragedy haunted Manuel, it was no wonder he seemed so dour.
'I'd no idea...how awful for Manuel.'
'Yes.' Daryl nailed Em's gaze with a hard look. 'One's past, one's history and family connections are something that one must come to terms with at some point. There is no escaping one's very...blood.'
Em let the word hang above them; the sky colored with a red haze from the setting sun just above the hills now. As genteel as San Francisco was now, it's bloody past was not far behind it. Although the old Barbary Coast dens of iniquity were mostly gone or tamed by now, still parts of the city were far from safe and certainly Em would never attempt them alone or in the dark. But, in the main now, the City by the Bay was rather improved from it's astronomically high homicide rate set during gold rush days.
'It would seem...' Em began, '...that my mother had as much mystery and intrigue surrounding her as my father. Perhaps before they even met?'
Daryl sighed, drinking off his wine and setting the glass down. 'Or, perhaps they met because of it.'
That was certainly a possibility Emmelina should ponder...
......
'Bye Bye Love!
Bye bye happiness!
Hello EM-ptiness!
I feel like I could cry...
Bye bye my love, goodbye...
I'm through with romance,
I'm through with love,
I'm done with counting
The stars above...
She was my sweetheart
Til HE stepped in!
Farewell to romance
That might have been...'
Jack sat upon the front porch at Crowley House, half a bottle of wine gone already as he played guitar and sang the old Everleys' song and howled his misery out like a coyote into the night... Taking another swig from the bottle, Jack decided he didn't actually feel so bad, really. I mean, hadn't he expected just this very thing? Deep down? Sure and he was gettin' used to it, so he was...Jack grinned very lopsidedly and strummed a chord and softly sang, 'I'm through with countin'...the starrrs abovvve...'
He gazed upward at the night sky, dotted with it's jewelled array of evening brilliance, regarding the stars he'd ceased to count...say! There went one now! Jack noted a falling star. He frowned as it began to 'fall' sideways, then streaked off into the west.
Toward San Francisco.
. . . . .
LISTEN! Bye bye Love, by the Ditty Bops
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2STbpl6jjU
Monday, April 22, 2013
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Book 4 - Ch. 1 - The Returning
Book Four of The Amazing Adventures of Emmeline Page
Patchwork Girlfriend
I run my fingers
Through her blackish blondish hair
Look into her brown blue eyes
And touch her skin so dark and fair
Because I like
How she encourages and scolds me
How, even as her left hand pushes me away
Her right arm holds me
It's nice to know she's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
I can't tell
If she would rather take or leave me
And I'm not sure what I'm saying
But I'm sure I want her to believe me
So I run my fingers
Through her blackish, blondish
Brownish reddish grayish hair
And tell her I won't mess around
With other girls unless they're her
It's nice to know
She's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Though I'm no more boy scout
Than boyfriend I could see tying the knot
Instead it's my hands that are tied
Because that'd be against the law even in Utah
It's nice to know
She's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
She's anywhere I could ever go
Ain't no false start or dead end
That could take me away from
Couldn't bring me back
To my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Or my big bitter patchwork girlfriend
Or my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
PUNCH BROTHERS - watch!
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=youtube+patchwork+girlfriend&mid=0CF4E8B0A9A23C3810780CF4E8B0A9A23C381078&view=detail&FORM=VIRE1Book Four
Chapter 1 - Chapter One - The Returning
She did it again...
was Jack's only thought as he made his solo return trip back to Pankhurst. The train
seemed to echo his thoughts: 'she-did-it-again-she-did-it-again-'played in his head
in time with the rhythm of the wheels...
Well Em sure knew how to knock a guy off the rails alright...
Jack withdrew a thin silver flask from his breast pocket and took a swig of
brandy...although he rarely carried such except on long or difficult excursions, he
had intuited that it might just come in handy this time and there would be no St.
Bernards about with a cask on their collar, not on Nob Hill. He felt in need of
rescue already though.
Oh heck, why had he even fallen for it again? True, deep down, he knew that Emmeline
hadn't planned it this way. He sighed...things had been going so well, up until the
solstice. Everything had been perfect, it was like his dream come true at long
last...and then--gone, vanished. Like a dream.
He had to ferret out what was causing these time bursts. He really didn't even blame
Daryl anymore. And Flubber was out of the picture now...or was he? Jack had assumed
Morgana would keep him occupied elsewhere. Or elsewhen. He and Em both had their
quests now, it seemed.
Well, they could share information. Work together. Jack had to learn to harden his
heart though. Another tip of the flask meanwhile...
And he could always find solace in Sugar's arms...ah, sweet, uncomplicated, simple
Sugar. She was fun, willing...a goodtime gal. Jack felt nothing but good feelings
toward her. But, she wasn't Em, and never would be. He wasn't just attracted to
Emmeline because of her contumacy of course; it was a real irritant to him, and his
plans. He simply couldn't help that he found her fascinating beyond any other...
Jack pocketed his flask and stared out the windows at the bay as the train rounded
the hills heading eastward. He recalled then the portrait in Daryl's parlor...
Anara, eh? Who was she?
Em had said something about having had a sister in another time. How did she know?
Had she made other timewalks, unbeknownst to Jack? He'd been so distracted by all
the good wine and Yvanna's talk, (what had she meant by seating herself between
them, anyhow?), he hadn't followed up on that lead.
He wondered now if he and Daryl were actually both in the same fix...in love with
two redheads who were, seemingly, out of their reach. Two 'sisters' alike enough to
be twins. This implied a certain familiarity between himself and Daryl which Jack
found galling however. Best not dwell on it...
Still...was Daryl off fighting in Mexico, in a rough rebel camp somewhere longing
for the impossible dream of his titian-haired temptress? Jack groaned and sank into
his seat. Best cut his losses and just deal with something more easily handled.
Such as the mixed-up misfiring mechanics of time travel...
. . . .
Emmelina walked back to Nob Hill. It was quite a meander but
she wanted to walk...walking was always a convenient neutral zone; in-between here
and there. Em had always loved travel for the same reason. One was temporarily
relieved of pressing everyday matters, duties, appointments, etc. No postman or
messenger service or neighbors or employers would be able to find one... One needn't
even prevaricate or conjure excuses for doing just as one wished, for once. One was
simply: unavailable! How marvellous. Em sighed. Why was it so difficult simply to
be?
She slowed her pace and gazed about, down to the bay's edge, noting lamps and
lanterns dotting the dusk. Jack would be aboard the ferry by now, perhaps even on
the train...well, they'd both given it a try or several... Men had it easy still,
they could be free, to do as they would.
Well, moreso than a woman, at least.
She continued her stroll, feeling knees and back beginning to ache. Well, it would
be good to sit at last, she had to admit, not far now, really. She'd make it in well
before dark...Jack would be coming back to Pankhurst in the dark alone... Her
thoughts returned to him again and again. Darn it but why did things change whenever
they were living together? Before, they would discuss things, and bat ideas about,
work together on projects...but since coming back to Crowley House with him, he
seemed to just hang about like a puppy, waiting to be tossed a toy.
'Whatever-you-like-dear,'-type men never appealed to Emmelina. She had experienced
all that before: men who would assure her that they were oh, so very interested in
This or That, and why yes, let's go together where This or That would be on view,
or, for example, the evening's featured lecture topic, but--! If Em couldn't go and
would enquire after the outcome they would admit to having passed it up, having lost
all interest suddenly in This or That which had formerly inspired such enthusiastic
fascination!
That, she confirmed to herself, was the very thing differentiating the sexes: women
actually enjoyed having something in common with a partner, sharing that interest,
talking, working together, sharing ideas and being creative with someone genuinely
engaged in the same pursuits...
whatever else might develop between two people would simply grow from a mutual
affection, organically, as nature intended...
Men, on the other hand, only pretended to have some interest in something one did
because they Liked Your Looks. Period.
You didn't have to even say a word! In fact, it was usually preferable if one kept
quiet; nodding perhaps, and listening intently, batting one's lashes. Faugh!
Something else Emmelina was, alas, coming to understand was that once men had hold
of the one thing they wanted, (which was usually rather optimistically referred to
as one's 'virtue'), they would suddenly find one rather an albatross about the neck
and would quickly recall some important business requiring immediate attention
elsewhere...a pie left in the oven perhaps, (and hopefully not: A Bun).
This was most certainly true, Em knew, as she had witnessed it again and again: men
whom she had either rejected or attempted to remain friends with all still retained
an interest in her. (Alas!) While, if one maxim rang with the eternal klaxon of
truth it was: 'Familiarity breeds contempt!'
If only Jack could have been her friend! She missed him as such...he had been such a
dear friend! Why would he change so and just sortof lurk about as though he wished
only to pounce upon her, Dylan-like...and not just for a game of catch!
It had to be his youth. Ah, a fine line, Em knew...by the time men got a clue as to
how to behave, they'd genuinely lose interest in anything other than friendship!
Ah well. C'est la vie...!
. . . .
It was decidedly an indigo sky surrounding Emmelina as she returned to Nob Hill
House. She wondered if she should rap upon the door, but, she chanced turning the
knob...and behold! It opened.
Quietly, she inched inside and shut the heavy oak door behind her. 'Rosa?' she
attempted in a small voice, but hearing no answer she walked softly toward the
kitchen, casting a quick glance into the empty parlor en route...but, no, no one in
the kitchen either. As a precaution, Em returned to the front door and leaned upon
it just as Daryl had taught her, setting the locks built within which would
correspond to a certain series of pressure points secreted within the door itself.
Well! Alone at last! Emmelina shut her eyes and leaned her back against the door,
letting her shoulders drop ever so slightly and even allowing an inch or two scootch
down the door floorwards...she felt like dropping...after her long walk and having
an end to such a rushed, mad whirl of demands upon all of her time, energy and
senses for some months...of which she had somehow 'lost' nearly three!
This girl needed some serious catching up time...Em hoisted herself up and entered
the kitchen simply out of old habit...it was the room wherein she had felt most at
home. She decided she could do with a tisane and searched the pantry jars for some
catnip, hops, valerian and camomile tea. That should send some sweet dreams her way;
something uncomplicated for a change.
Hope springs eternal...
. . . .
Taking her tea upstairs to her room, Emmelina set her cup upon her small nightstand
and reclined upon her old narrow bed, sighing long and loudly. It felt soooo good
to be home, alone at last! Reaching over, she opened her window and allowed a bit of
salt-tinged air within. Leaning back upon her pillows, she heard a crackling sound.
Ah! Daryl's note, still inside her pocket...
Where had she left off...? Ah, here it was:
"...should you ever need to contact me, you may do so simply by leaving a missive
upon the study desk, addressed to 'Diego'. I shall refer to you, in turn, as
'Josephina'--I trust this is well with you?
I shan't be here at home long, but I hope to be able to return frequently enough
to keep in touch. Again, my fondest wishes for your safety and well being, and of
course, for Jack's as well. Hopefully he doesn't blame me for taking you from his
side. I'm sure it will only endear me to him further...
Take good care, rica. Adiosa, for now.
Viva la Revolucion!
--Diego
P.S. Should you decide to stay, would you mind working the garden abit? Plant an
artichoke for me. Gracias."
Hmmm. Interesting. So Daryl planned to return 'frequently' eh?
Em hoped not too frequently...ah, if only men would magically appear only when one
wished!--but not at any other time...
Hmmm. A good thing Em liked artichokes, she thought with a wry grin.
Em was oddly disappointed, however, that the note was so short. She did adore
letters...well, it would be good to still be in touch with Daryl, she could enquire
about questions regarding her research. Yes, she had to admit his input did come in
handy.
But, she hoped he wouldn't pop out of a closet here anytime soon...
Emmelina took a sip of tea and rested her head on her hand, gazing out her window at
the darkening sky. Tomorrow perhaps she could go through some closets herself...
She was anxious about her wherewithall however; she really should visit the library
to reapply for work there. Yes, she sighed, that would be prudent. And, she did wish
to see the Library Ladies and find how Sophie was getting on.
She had to remind herself it had been three months ago she was last here.
Emmelina forced herself up and began unpacking her bags...it would certainly look as
though she hadn't gone far. Actually she had--gone very far indeed, only sans
luggage! --to Mexico, the Revolucion...she hoped Daryl/Diego would be safe! -- and
back again. And in between...? Em paused, placing her gloves and stockings back in
her bureau...indeed, where had she gone, 'in-between'? She frowned, trying to
recall...and Daryl had actually come with! How was that? ...Em closed her eyes and
recalled walking along a beach with the ocean nearby, not the bay...arm in arm with
a tall woman, and a much taller man, Axelis, her father, yes...and seeing Daryl in
the distance, with her sister...Anara. Em opened her eyes. It couldn't be just a
dream! Her portrait hung in the parlor downstairs, Anara's! How could she and Daryl
share the same dream?!
Something more was at work here. Perhaps what Jack had intimated, that Someone Else
had a hand in the Timeworks...? That would seem to be quite evident here. Emmelina
needed Time To Think! Constant action and upsets only gave her time to recuperate
somewhat, before the next onslaught... If it was a nefarious conspiracy to keep her
off balance and frustrated, and exhausted!--it was working.
She didn't it think so, necessarily, or at least she hoped not. As Mr. Holmes would
state, eliminate the impossible then work with whatever remains.
Ah, but what, indeed, was 'impossible'? Time Travel, perhaps? One person's
'impossible' was another's daily routine...
Stretching out a hand toward Daryl's note, she re-read it and decided then, to
answer with one of her own. Who knew, exactly, when Daryl, (or Diego), would return?
She pocketed his note and then quietly headed downstairs into his study, took a seat
at the big blond desk, and after finding some parchment from within the drawer, she
took up ink and began to write...
"Don Diego," Emmelina began...
. . . .
Morning dawned upon the city by the bay and Emmelina awoke once more to now-familiar
sounds of ship's horns and trolley bells and cries of seagulls.
She rose and hurridly dressed and took a quick cup of tea and a muffin then headed
out to try and catch the trolley to get an early start upon the day by arriving at
the library upon opening.
No Sophie playing at the side of the building today, and Em entered the lobby along
with the 'civilians' as she thought of the non-employees and simple patrons of the
library. She fervently hoped that she could be reinstated to her former (temporary,
part time), status.
It was work she enjoyed, or used to, until Pankhurst had turned fascist.
Approaching the desk, she spotted Ms. Greer and offered a small wave her way. She
was rewarded with a returned wave and smile from that good lady. 'Ah, and the
prodigal daughter returneth from the outlands!'
Ms. Greer knew not how right she was, thought Em. 'Ms. Greer, how are you? How goes
the battle here?'
'Well enough! So! You have been gone this long while; out of town, were you then?'
'Yes, we were. Don Diego returned a week or so ago, but was recalled to duty.' (True
enough, thought Em). 'I hope to be staying on here now, indefinately.' Emmelina
hoped this would be so.
'Well and good, then,' Ms. Greer leaned sideways, to better peer about the open
doorway into the back room.
'In fact, if you aren't busy, we are terribly backed up in sorting today...'
'Truly?' Oh, this was better than what Em had hoped for.
'Well, yes, actually, I was going to enquire...'
'--Wonderful.' Ms. Greer was on her feet and ushered Emmeline inside. 'You know
what's what. I'll get paperwork down to you by lunchtime. Could you stay til 2
today? Your old schedule!' She smiled and waved an arm toward a towering Great
Pyramid of assorted books, threatening to avalance.'Well, have fun!' She grinned
mischeviously as she exited. 'Great to have you back, Em!'
Em was hoping for work, but hadn't expected this, so immediately. Well! No reason
why not... Unpinning her hat and taking off her jacket she folded it over her
reticule and stuffed all in a handy cubby she'd used before, then turned to the task
at hand. Well, at least she need not fear Arnold here giving her the business.
Hopefully he'd mongered his last flounder in Pankhurst...
. . . .
A tired but satisfied Emmeline rode the trolley back up Nob Hill home in the early
afternoon's faint sunlight.
Em would have to reaclimate to San Francisco's cooler weather. Emmeline wondered if
all this travel from hot to cool climates and back was what was making her so tired
of late. She simply needed more sleep, and rest, not to mention: control over her
bloody life...
Stepping from the trolley, Emmelina bought the Chronicle and the Examiner as well
from a news stand. She hadn't time to read either of them much before, and wished to
compare one to the other. The Library Ladies had much to say about Ambrose Bierce's
'Prattle' column which they had found to be wickedly amusing. Em was glad to be
among such open-minded and forward-thinking people; despite her sudden
extemporaneous conscription back into her preterite status as employee! She had
indeed come to SF Public with job-seeking in mind, but, well, it had been rather a
press-gangish sortof interview...but! All's well as ends well enough...
Emmelina entered the big oak front door, shut and locked it. Her footsteps were
silent on the lush hallway carpet but she noted no other sounds about the place and
found no one in the kitchen, her first stop. Rosa's work was in evidence however in
the form of a cooling walnut spice cake on a rack. Em noted the teakettle was still
warm and full upon the stove and decided to make a tisane. Whilst brewing, she cut a
slice of the cake, humming to herself, as she disengaged from her coat and hat and
began to peruse the news.
Taking her tea with her, she entered the parlor and opened the curtains wide to
better view the portrait over the mantlepiece. As Emmeline approached, she noticed
that all the greenery of the solstice had been removed, and all was nicely polished
to a shine...
The girl's eyes in the portrait drew her, so open and disarming they seemed at first
glance. Emmelina thought indeed she did not resemble Anara so much, in truth: how
could any woman compare with such a vision? Her skin shone with it's own light from
within, like a pearl's shell...true, she had hair near the same color as Em's, but
Anara's thick tresses reached well past her hips. And those eyes...such a deep yet
vivid blue, like cobalt glass in the sunlight...and so many stories and emotions
behind them; innocence, compassion, and a questing soul...they seemed to implore
one, somehow, to ask, 'Where are you? Here am I, and where, oh, where are you?'
Emmelina set her teacup upon the mantle, and ran her finger gently down the
portrait's frame in consideration.
'See anyone you know?'
Em jumped at the sound of that voice. She knew that voice. She had been thinking of
little else of late.
Still, it was something of a surprise, to turn and find Daryl standing just within
the parlor entrance, a letter in hand.
Her letter...
Oh.
. . . .
Patchwork Girlfriend
I run my fingers
Through her blackish blondish hair
Look into her brown blue eyes
And touch her skin so dark and fair
Because I like
How she encourages and scolds me
How, even as her left hand pushes me away
Her right arm holds me
It's nice to know she's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
I can't tell
If she would rather take or leave me
And I'm not sure what I'm saying
But I'm sure I want her to believe me
So I run my fingers
Through her blackish, blondish
Brownish reddish grayish hair
And tell her I won't mess around
With other girls unless they're her
It's nice to know
She's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Though I'm no more boy scout
Than boyfriend I could see tying the knot
Instead it's my hands that are tied
Because that'd be against the law even in Utah
It's nice to know
She's always waiting for me at the dead ends
Guess I need a little love from every little square
Of my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
She's anywhere I could ever go
Ain't no false start or dead end
That could take me away from
Couldn't bring me back
To my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
Or my big bitter patchwork girlfriend
Or my sweet little patchwork girlfriend
PUNCH BROTHERS - watch!
http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=youtube+patchwork+girlfriend&mid=0CF4E8B0A9A23C3810780CF4E8B0A9A23C381078&view=detail&FORM=VIRE1Book Four
Chapter 1 - Chapter One - The Returning
She did it again...
was Jack's only thought as he made his solo return trip back to Pankhurst. The train
seemed to echo his thoughts: 'she-did-it-again-she-did-it-again-'played in his head
in time with the rhythm of the wheels...
Well Em sure knew how to knock a guy off the rails alright...
Jack withdrew a thin silver flask from his breast pocket and took a swig of
brandy...although he rarely carried such except on long or difficult excursions, he
had intuited that it might just come in handy this time and there would be no St.
Bernards about with a cask on their collar, not on Nob Hill. He felt in need of
rescue already though.
Oh heck, why had he even fallen for it again? True, deep down, he knew that Emmeline
hadn't planned it this way. He sighed...things had been going so well, up until the
solstice. Everything had been perfect, it was like his dream come true at long
last...and then--gone, vanished. Like a dream.
He had to ferret out what was causing these time bursts. He really didn't even blame
Daryl anymore. And Flubber was out of the picture now...or was he? Jack had assumed
Morgana would keep him occupied elsewhere. Or elsewhen. He and Em both had their
quests now, it seemed.
Well, they could share information. Work together. Jack had to learn to harden his
heart though. Another tip of the flask meanwhile...
And he could always find solace in Sugar's arms...ah, sweet, uncomplicated, simple
Sugar. She was fun, willing...a goodtime gal. Jack felt nothing but good feelings
toward her. But, she wasn't Em, and never would be. He wasn't just attracted to
Emmeline because of her contumacy of course; it was a real irritant to him, and his
plans. He simply couldn't help that he found her fascinating beyond any other...
Jack pocketed his flask and stared out the windows at the bay as the train rounded
the hills heading eastward. He recalled then the portrait in Daryl's parlor...
Anara, eh? Who was she?
Em had said something about having had a sister in another time. How did she know?
Had she made other timewalks, unbeknownst to Jack? He'd been so distracted by all
the good wine and Yvanna's talk, (what had she meant by seating herself between
them, anyhow?), he hadn't followed up on that lead.
He wondered now if he and Daryl were actually both in the same fix...in love with
two redheads who were, seemingly, out of their reach. Two 'sisters' alike enough to
be twins. This implied a certain familiarity between himself and Daryl which Jack
found galling however. Best not dwell on it...
Still...was Daryl off fighting in Mexico, in a rough rebel camp somewhere longing
for the impossible dream of his titian-haired temptress? Jack groaned and sank into
his seat. Best cut his losses and just deal with something more easily handled.
Such as the mixed-up misfiring mechanics of time travel...
. . . .
Emmelina walked back to Nob Hill. It was quite a meander but
she wanted to walk...walking was always a convenient neutral zone; in-between here
and there. Em had always loved travel for the same reason. One was temporarily
relieved of pressing everyday matters, duties, appointments, etc. No postman or
messenger service or neighbors or employers would be able to find one... One needn't
even prevaricate or conjure excuses for doing just as one wished, for once. One was
simply: unavailable! How marvellous. Em sighed. Why was it so difficult simply to
be?
She slowed her pace and gazed about, down to the bay's edge, noting lamps and
lanterns dotting the dusk. Jack would be aboard the ferry by now, perhaps even on
the train...well, they'd both given it a try or several... Men had it easy still,
they could be free, to do as they would.
Well, moreso than a woman, at least.
She continued her stroll, feeling knees and back beginning to ache. Well, it would
be good to sit at last, she had to admit, not far now, really. She'd make it in well
before dark...Jack would be coming back to Pankhurst in the dark alone... Her
thoughts returned to him again and again. Darn it but why did things change whenever
they were living together? Before, they would discuss things, and bat ideas about,
work together on projects...but since coming back to Crowley House with him, he
seemed to just hang about like a puppy, waiting to be tossed a toy.
'Whatever-you-like-dear,'-type men never appealed to Emmelina. She had experienced
all that before: men who would assure her that they were oh, so very interested in
This or That, and why yes, let's go together where This or That would be on view,
or, for example, the evening's featured lecture topic, but--! If Em couldn't go and
would enquire after the outcome they would admit to having passed it up, having lost
all interest suddenly in This or That which had formerly inspired such enthusiastic
fascination!
That, she confirmed to herself, was the very thing differentiating the sexes: women
actually enjoyed having something in common with a partner, sharing that interest,
talking, working together, sharing ideas and being creative with someone genuinely
engaged in the same pursuits...
whatever else might develop between two people would simply grow from a mutual
affection, organically, as nature intended...
Men, on the other hand, only pretended to have some interest in something one did
because they Liked Your Looks. Period.
You didn't have to even say a word! In fact, it was usually preferable if one kept
quiet; nodding perhaps, and listening intently, batting one's lashes. Faugh!
Something else Emmelina was, alas, coming to understand was that once men had hold
of the one thing they wanted, (which was usually rather optimistically referred to
as one's 'virtue'), they would suddenly find one rather an albatross about the neck
and would quickly recall some important business requiring immediate attention
elsewhere...a pie left in the oven perhaps, (and hopefully not: A Bun).
This was most certainly true, Em knew, as she had witnessed it again and again: men
whom she had either rejected or attempted to remain friends with all still retained
an interest in her. (Alas!) While, if one maxim rang with the eternal klaxon of
truth it was: 'Familiarity breeds contempt!'
If only Jack could have been her friend! She missed him as such...he had been such a
dear friend! Why would he change so and just sortof lurk about as though he wished
only to pounce upon her, Dylan-like...and not just for a game of catch!
It had to be his youth. Ah, a fine line, Em knew...by the time men got a clue as to
how to behave, they'd genuinely lose interest in anything other than friendship!
Ah well. C'est la vie...!
. . . .
It was decidedly an indigo sky surrounding Emmelina as she returned to Nob Hill
House. She wondered if she should rap upon the door, but, she chanced turning the
knob...and behold! It opened.
Quietly, she inched inside and shut the heavy oak door behind her. 'Rosa?' she
attempted in a small voice, but hearing no answer she walked softly toward the
kitchen, casting a quick glance into the empty parlor en route...but, no, no one in
the kitchen either. As a precaution, Em returned to the front door and leaned upon
it just as Daryl had taught her, setting the locks built within which would
correspond to a certain series of pressure points secreted within the door itself.
Well! Alone at last! Emmelina shut her eyes and leaned her back against the door,
letting her shoulders drop ever so slightly and even allowing an inch or two scootch
down the door floorwards...she felt like dropping...after her long walk and having
an end to such a rushed, mad whirl of demands upon all of her time, energy and
senses for some months...of which she had somehow 'lost' nearly three!
This girl needed some serious catching up time...Em hoisted herself up and entered
the kitchen simply out of old habit...it was the room wherein she had felt most at
home. She decided she could do with a tisane and searched the pantry jars for some
catnip, hops, valerian and camomile tea. That should send some sweet dreams her way;
something uncomplicated for a change.
Hope springs eternal...
. . . .
Taking her tea upstairs to her room, Emmelina set her cup upon her small nightstand
and reclined upon her old narrow bed, sighing long and loudly. It felt soooo good
to be home, alone at last! Reaching over, she opened her window and allowed a bit of
salt-tinged air within. Leaning back upon her pillows, she heard a crackling sound.
Ah! Daryl's note, still inside her pocket...
Where had she left off...? Ah, here it was:
"...should you ever need to contact me, you may do so simply by leaving a missive
upon the study desk, addressed to 'Diego'. I shall refer to you, in turn, as
'Josephina'--I trust this is well with you?
I shan't be here at home long, but I hope to be able to return frequently enough
to keep in touch. Again, my fondest wishes for your safety and well being, and of
course, for Jack's as well. Hopefully he doesn't blame me for taking you from his
side. I'm sure it will only endear me to him further...
Take good care, rica. Adiosa, for now.
Viva la Revolucion!
--Diego
P.S. Should you decide to stay, would you mind working the garden abit? Plant an
artichoke for me. Gracias."
Hmmm. Interesting. So Daryl planned to return 'frequently' eh?
Em hoped not too frequently...ah, if only men would magically appear only when one
wished!--but not at any other time...
Hmmm. A good thing Em liked artichokes, she thought with a wry grin.
Em was oddly disappointed, however, that the note was so short. She did adore
letters...well, it would be good to still be in touch with Daryl, she could enquire
about questions regarding her research. Yes, she had to admit his input did come in
handy.
But, she hoped he wouldn't pop out of a closet here anytime soon...
Emmelina took a sip of tea and rested her head on her hand, gazing out her window at
the darkening sky. Tomorrow perhaps she could go through some closets herself...
She was anxious about her wherewithall however; she really should visit the library
to reapply for work there. Yes, she sighed, that would be prudent. And, she did wish
to see the Library Ladies and find how Sophie was getting on.
She had to remind herself it had been three months ago she was last here.
Emmelina forced herself up and began unpacking her bags...it would certainly look as
though she hadn't gone far. Actually she had--gone very far indeed, only sans
luggage! --to Mexico, the Revolucion...she hoped Daryl/Diego would be safe! -- and
back again. And in between...? Em paused, placing her gloves and stockings back in
her bureau...indeed, where had she gone, 'in-between'? She frowned, trying to
recall...and Daryl had actually come with! How was that? ...Em closed her eyes and
recalled walking along a beach with the ocean nearby, not the bay...arm in arm with
a tall woman, and a much taller man, Axelis, her father, yes...and seeing Daryl in
the distance, with her sister...Anara. Em opened her eyes. It couldn't be just a
dream! Her portrait hung in the parlor downstairs, Anara's! How could she and Daryl
share the same dream?!
Something more was at work here. Perhaps what Jack had intimated, that Someone Else
had a hand in the Timeworks...? That would seem to be quite evident here. Emmelina
needed Time To Think! Constant action and upsets only gave her time to recuperate
somewhat, before the next onslaught... If it was a nefarious conspiracy to keep her
off balance and frustrated, and exhausted!--it was working.
She didn't it think so, necessarily, or at least she hoped not. As Mr. Holmes would
state, eliminate the impossible then work with whatever remains.
Ah, but what, indeed, was 'impossible'? Time Travel, perhaps? One person's
'impossible' was another's daily routine...
Stretching out a hand toward Daryl's note, she re-read it and decided then, to
answer with one of her own. Who knew, exactly, when Daryl, (or Diego), would return?
She pocketed his note and then quietly headed downstairs into his study, took a seat
at the big blond desk, and after finding some parchment from within the drawer, she
took up ink and began to write...
"Don Diego," Emmelina began...
. . . .
Morning dawned upon the city by the bay and Emmelina awoke once more to now-familiar
sounds of ship's horns and trolley bells and cries of seagulls.
She rose and hurridly dressed and took a quick cup of tea and a muffin then headed
out to try and catch the trolley to get an early start upon the day by arriving at
the library upon opening.
No Sophie playing at the side of the building today, and Em entered the lobby along
with the 'civilians' as she thought of the non-employees and simple patrons of the
library. She fervently hoped that she could be reinstated to her former (temporary,
part time), status.
It was work she enjoyed, or used to, until Pankhurst had turned fascist.
Approaching the desk, she spotted Ms. Greer and offered a small wave her way. She
was rewarded with a returned wave and smile from that good lady. 'Ah, and the
prodigal daughter returneth from the outlands!'
Ms. Greer knew not how right she was, thought Em. 'Ms. Greer, how are you? How goes
the battle here?'
'Well enough! So! You have been gone this long while; out of town, were you then?'
'Yes, we were. Don Diego returned a week or so ago, but was recalled to duty.' (True
enough, thought Em). 'I hope to be staying on here now, indefinately.' Emmelina
hoped this would be so.
'Well and good, then,' Ms. Greer leaned sideways, to better peer about the open
doorway into the back room.
'In fact, if you aren't busy, we are terribly backed up in sorting today...'
'Truly?' Oh, this was better than what Em had hoped for.
'Well, yes, actually, I was going to enquire...'
'--Wonderful.' Ms. Greer was on her feet and ushered Emmeline inside. 'You know
what's what. I'll get paperwork down to you by lunchtime. Could you stay til 2
today? Your old schedule!' She smiled and waved an arm toward a towering Great
Pyramid of assorted books, threatening to avalance.'Well, have fun!' She grinned
mischeviously as she exited. 'Great to have you back, Em!'
Em was hoping for work, but hadn't expected this, so immediately. Well! No reason
why not... Unpinning her hat and taking off her jacket she folded it over her
reticule and stuffed all in a handy cubby she'd used before, then turned to the task
at hand. Well, at least she need not fear Arnold here giving her the business.
Hopefully he'd mongered his last flounder in Pankhurst...
. . . .
A tired but satisfied Emmeline rode the trolley back up Nob Hill home in the early
afternoon's faint sunlight.
Em would have to reaclimate to San Francisco's cooler weather. Emmeline wondered if
all this travel from hot to cool climates and back was what was making her so tired
of late. She simply needed more sleep, and rest, not to mention: control over her
bloody life...
Stepping from the trolley, Emmelina bought the Chronicle and the Examiner as well
from a news stand. She hadn't time to read either of them much before, and wished to
compare one to the other. The Library Ladies had much to say about Ambrose Bierce's
'Prattle' column which they had found to be wickedly amusing. Em was glad to be
among such open-minded and forward-thinking people; despite her sudden
extemporaneous conscription back into her preterite status as employee! She had
indeed come to SF Public with job-seeking in mind, but, well, it had been rather a
press-gangish sortof interview...but! All's well as ends well enough...
Emmelina entered the big oak front door, shut and locked it. Her footsteps were
silent on the lush hallway carpet but she noted no other sounds about the place and
found no one in the kitchen, her first stop. Rosa's work was in evidence however in
the form of a cooling walnut spice cake on a rack. Em noted the teakettle was still
warm and full upon the stove and decided to make a tisane. Whilst brewing, she cut a
slice of the cake, humming to herself, as she disengaged from her coat and hat and
began to peruse the news.
Taking her tea with her, she entered the parlor and opened the curtains wide to
better view the portrait over the mantlepiece. As Emmeline approached, she noticed
that all the greenery of the solstice had been removed, and all was nicely polished
to a shine...
The girl's eyes in the portrait drew her, so open and disarming they seemed at first
glance. Emmelina thought indeed she did not resemble Anara so much, in truth: how
could any woman compare with such a vision? Her skin shone with it's own light from
within, like a pearl's shell...true, she had hair near the same color as Em's, but
Anara's thick tresses reached well past her hips. And those eyes...such a deep yet
vivid blue, like cobalt glass in the sunlight...and so many stories and emotions
behind them; innocence, compassion, and a questing soul...they seemed to implore
one, somehow, to ask, 'Where are you? Here am I, and where, oh, where are you?'
Emmelina set her teacup upon the mantle, and ran her finger gently down the
portrait's frame in consideration.
'See anyone you know?'
Em jumped at the sound of that voice. She knew that voice. She had been thinking of
little else of late.
Still, it was something of a surprise, to turn and find Daryl standing just within
the parlor entrance, a letter in hand.
Her letter...
Oh.
. . . .
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