Chapter 4 - A Surprise Visit

Chapter 4 - A Surprise Visit
Emmelina had decided to take her small bag with her but she thought she still might hike the short space over Nob Hill for a quick parlay with the druids at the Leek House.
She'd packed some items just in case...it was early yet, by the sun's position, just going noon. She thought, goodness, may as well just head out, eh? And if I can take Pancho, I may just make my trek into the hills tomorrow...  She'd called the library asking if she could begin a regular work schedule next week, as she'd not anticipated being hired on so soon. As Ms. Greer took her call, she was most amenable, knowing she had rather roped Em into work the same day she'd applied.
She'd left a note for Rosa and locked the door behind her, as no one else was about when she came downstairs and was making her exit. All rather sudden, but, actually, now with Daryl gone, she may as well take a trip to satisfy her curiousity before beginning regular work once more.
Coming up the druid's drive, she saw Connor loading their coach with Bridget gliding down the stairway carrying what looked like a picnic basket. Seeing Emmelina, she waved her way.
Em returned her wave, catching up to them. 'I've caught you on the run, apparently!'
'Emmeline! Well, yes, we are heading down to the shore for a picnic...you'd be welcome to join us!'
Em held out her bag. 'Thank you both, but I'm just en route to the ferry, and train to Pankhurst. I had a question or two for you...'
'Hop on in!' Connor offered, opening the coach door. 'We'll drop you off the Embarcadero and continue on to our picnic. We'll have some time to chat on the way!'
                        . . . .
The train ride east was uneventful, so Emmelina stashed her bag and took a cup of tea for the duration, musing upon her lucky break at catching the Leeks and a ride to the ferry terminal.
They had passed along what information they had time to give to her; indeed, many Welsh, and Cornish had settled
in the foothills area. As to train stops, there were not
many, Auburn was mentioned, as well as Colfax.
'I wouldn't recommend heading beyond Colfax,' Connor had warned, 'Too high. Don't need to be on Donnor Pass. Spring weather can still be dangerous up that far. Be sure to get off before Truckee.'
Emmelina had taken all their advice to heart. Although it was nearing the end of April now, with fair weather in the lowlands, she knew she would not wish to risk being caught in a storm in the mountains.
She sipped her tea, gazing out the windows at the low grasslands passing by, thinking of all the train trips she'd made along this route in the past...with Jack and Aleister, and Alice...and their surreptitious contraband cargo of a wanted man, her dear old Lev...Em sighed. Well, at least they were somewhere safe. How long ago and far away now, all of that...another lifetime.
Em fell into a reverie, until the train turned due east and she could now see the Sierra rising above the surrounding hills.
Gorgeous, they were, and the weather still cool enough and clear for a viewing. Em had enough trail and outdoor experience to be cautious when considering her trip. Perhaps Jack or Jethro would come with her? Goodness, wouldn't Jack be surprised to see her so soon? Em bit her lip; she hoped he would not find her unannounced presence an unwelcome shock.
"Surprises are foolish things. The pleasure is not enhanced and the inconvenience is often considerable," Jane Austen had cautioned.
Em set down her tea. Much as she loved dear Jane, she thought her too much of a proper lady to even consider a trail ride through the mountains...much less camping in the Sonoran desert with revolutionaries... Too many years and too many miles apart, she and Jane...
                             . . . .
It had been rather a longer trip than Emmelina had anticipated, and as she trudged bag-in-hand to Crowley House, she noted the sun was nearing the treetops. She took her handkerchief and mopped her brow. A much longer journey than anticipated...hungry and tired, she would be glad to see the place for once...
At last, rounding the bend she beheld the house, and turned onto the drive. No one about for a change...she'd been expecting Dylan at least, to come bounding up excited to see her, (even if no one else was...). Getting rather on toward dusk now, Em couldn't quite make out anything in the pasture...she should be able to see Pancho's white spots and Boreson's blond hide as well. Nada.
Jack had decided during rennovation to keep the iron pike fencing about the place, but the gate had always remained open.
As Emmelina approached she was dismayed to find it shut, and locked. This was certainly unexpected. She set her bag down and extracted her keyring. Perhaps the front door key...? But before trying the lock, she saw the hole was much too small for the door key. Now what?
Pushing back her straying locks, hands on hips, Em surveyed her options. Well, she knew there were a couple of trees with low hanging limbs in back near the fence. Perhaps if she climbed the tree, she could get over the fence that way. That'd have to do for now.
Heading around the back of the house, she was pleased to see the trees' silhouettes still with easy to reach branches. Both hands on satchel, she rounded in an arc with it and released it up and over the fence, ala discus-toss. It landed safely inside. Now to heft herself over and join it... Em groaned to herself. Not exactly the happy ending to the quick trip she'd formerly anticipated.
                            . . . .
At last, scratched and bruised from her climb, Em opened the door (thank goodness the key worked), and entered the old, dark house. 'Jack? Aleister?' she called upstairs. Nada. 'Mr. Yeats? Dylan?' She entered the kitchen and placed a hand on the woodstove. Cold. 'Alice?' she called, half-heartedly. Well, this was a fine howdy-do! Exhaling long and hard, Em saw there was still wood in the bin. Find some candles and make a fire, girl, she told herself sensibly.
It was growing dark out now with very little ambient light from the windows. Em tried the light switch. Nothing. Aleister must have turned off the generator. Well, no matter. Surveying the parlor, Em found her candles still placed about. Tea, and something to eat first, though. Goodness, where was everyone?
Having pumped her water for the tea kettle, and gotten the woodstove going, she repaired to the parlor and  began to make up the fire there. She could hear the wind whistling down the chimney, making ghostlike sounds. She glanced about, noting that, and the old grandfather clock, still ticking, were the only noises she could discern. As the kindling caught, she stood and began lighting the parlor candles, watching their shadows leap about the walls.
Hearing the tea kettle whistle for her, she took a candle and returned to the kitchen, pouring for her tea. At least they'd left some tea in the cannister! She explored the pantry, not finding anything much...cornmeal, at least! She could make cornbread, perhaps? No, no eggs...well, there was cornmeal mush. Some oats, a little flour...not much left.
This was most odd. Perhaps Mr. Yeats had returned and they had all exited for points east already. It was the only explanation for such a clean get-away.
Em decided finally she wasn't all that hungry.
                         . . . .
Seated on the parlor sofa, hot tea in hand, Emmelina pulled the covers up and plumped her pillows. She'd ventured upstairs long enough to drag her bedding back down to the parlor with her, where it was much warmer.
Staring at the fire, Emmelina allowed herself to ponder the situation at last. Things had been so strange, she had rather shied away from consideration of possibilities. Had better face those now. How oddly quiet here...something she'd rarely experienced at Crowley Place with Jack. It seemed either he or Aleister were always about, and Dylan as well, who was able to seem as though he was in several places doing different (usually all the wrong) things at once. 
Em glanced at the firelight's leaping shadows all about her. Would she even be able to sleep tonight? She felt on the alert for--whatever. Alone in this old house at the end of a dead-end road...even Dylan's crazy antics would be a welcome change from all this quiet. Well, that's what she had wanted, was it not? Perhaps not so abruptly, however. Em couldn't help the mad feeling of abandonment. Her eyes drifted to the window, watching the wind play through the trees. Ah, perhaps best to keep curtains shut. Warmer that way, she told herself, not wanting to admit to a certain nervousness. Shutting the heavy drapes, she noticed the brandy decanter, still half full. She drank off her tea and added a dash of cognac. Really, she must stop these crazy thoughts and just get some sleep. Tomorrow she could deal with all this at first light.
Dashed inconvenient, though. Perhaps Miss Austen had the right of things after all, Emmelina grudgingly admitted as she slid down under the comforter and sipped her brandy. Ah, well...tomorrow is another day. Wonder what Jack is doing tonight, wherever he is...? She mused upon this and other painful conjectures as she tried to settle herself and ease into dreamland. Wouldn't he just love to have seen her arrival here, bag-in-hand, and no one about? Her pathetic climb up the tree and over the fence...egad. Em leaned her head on her hand. How humiliating that would have been. Oh, do look before you leap, Em! she admonished herself. Just see what you've gotten yourself into now! Vowing she'd research her trip into the mountains better, she at last drifted off into slumberland.
                      . . . .
Emmelina woke suddenly, hearing a noise. Bleary-eyed, she sat up. Morning already? It was light out, but barely, she could tell that much. She heard something...steps upon the porch. Someone coming! She half-hoped, half-feared who it might be. She pushed her hair back, hurridly combing it with her fingers and made a quick braid, then clutched the bedclothes to her, awaiting a knock.
Which never came. The footsteps, a man's tread, she decided, had stopped at the front door. She heard the jingle of keys, and the doorknob turn. Well, it was someone with a key at least.
Em stood up, wrapping the comforter about her and slowly inched to the parlor entrance, peering about. Just then, a man entered, his back to her: tallish, lanky, wearing a straw hat, and shut the door behind him. As he turned about, he spied Emmelina. 'Aaaagh!' he shouted, the same time as Em let out a yelp, surprised from his exclamation. Then she relaxed. It was Casey!
'Casey, good heavens! You gave me a start!' Em breathed again.
'Miss Page! What are you doing...that is, I, ah, wasn't expecting you!' Casey whipped his hat off and looked confused. 'Aleister, ah, Dr. Parsons, had instructed me to keep an eye on the place...I saw smoke from the chimney...'
'Oh, Casey, it was only me. I'm sorry to have startled you.' She relaxed somewhat; however, she clutched the comforter up to her chin. 'Where has everyone gone?'
'You didn't get Jack's message?' Em shook her head. 'He called your place,' Casey looked about, '...uh, that is, he phoned you in San Francisco to tell you they have all gone to Massachusetts, on business, suddenly...he and Mr. Yeats. Aleister was to follow after taking the horses up yonder to Jethro and Homer's. I went with him, riding Trotsky. Just got back last night, rode in with Jethro.'
'All the horses are gone then?'
Bloody hell...Jack must have phoned after she'd left the house.
'Ah, yes, Miss. Pancho too. They're all up at...'
'--Jethro's place, yes. I see.' Em let herself plop down on the bench in the hallway. 'I returned here to pick up Pancho. I was leaving for a trip up in the foothills soon...'
Casey rubbed the fuzz on his jaw, thinking. 'Well, I've the day off. Could take you up in our wagon, it's outside. I have a couple of errands to run first, was on my way to town when I saw the smoke, see.'
'Oh, Casey, would you? That would be such a great relief to me! I was out it seems when Jack called. Was rather disconcerting, finding everything shut and locked...'
'How'd you get in through the fence?' Casey eyed her narrowly. 'Ah, Miss...no disrespect. Just curious is all...'
Em cleared her throat and stood, trying to look respectable as possible in her bedclothes with scarlet hair sticking out like a harridan's. 'I, ah, climbed over.' She didn't wish to say too much. If she was ever locked out again, she wanted to be sure no one was going to cut the tree limbs!
Casey bit his lip, not saying anything, thinking of the sharp iron pikes atop the fence, but nodded. 'Okay, Miss. Well, anyhow, I'll be back around this afternoon, if that's alright?'
Em assured him it would be more than alright. 'Oh, and Casey, just a moment...' she found her bag and extracted some money, forcing it into his hand and closing his reluctant fist over it. 'Yes, yes, for your trouble, and also...Casey? Could you perhaps bring me a sandwich?'
                     . . . . .
As there was no food to speak of, Em didn't bother lighting the stove, just decided to heat water for tea in the fireplace. Bringing the kettle into the parlor, she opened up the drapes to view the new morning...bit foggy out, she saw. Probably be gone by the afternoon. Well, t'would give her time to get herself together then...  She put the teakettle onto the hook and swung the arm over the fire still burning merrily, then sat herself down and tried to get a comb through her wild hair.
Well, it was a good thing Casey saw the chimney smoke, thought Em. Then paused. Yes, quite the robust fire indeed here. She looked at the log bin, noting it was now empty. There was still wood when she'd gone to sleep. Had she been sleepwalking, feeding the fire then? Not likely.
T'was a puzzlement indeed. Surely she was still the only one in the house...  No, Em; no more absurd notions just to frighten yourself silly. Bad enough at night, but no excuses during bright daylight! She braided her hair and poured some of the warming water in a pan and washed up. A cup of tea, and she would be right as rain.
Em dressed and poured her tea, deciding to take it out on the porch with her. As she opened the door, the clouds blew away from the sun, which hit Emmelina in the face with what appeared to her as a flash of bright light. She nearly dropped her tea then...what was it? Something...
She remembered suddenly.  Last night...she had had another dream...
She put her hand to her forehead and groped for a chair. Seating herself, she leaned her head on her hand and closed her eyes, trying to think. 
She remembered...smoke...or was it fog? Something hazy anyway.
And through the haze, she could make out a figure approaching.
A man. Tallish, not unearthly tall as Axelis. She couldn't make out the features as yet, but she felt an odd sort of apprehension, or excitement, even, as he neared. She felt her heart flutter, as he drew closer, she owned that this was someone she knew very well; or had known. She was nearly beside herself with nervous anticipation. Please, please...her mind begged, don't go...I've waited so long...
And then, she saw...! How could she have forgotten? She knew this person very well! They were...much more than
companions...the words 'soul-mates' came to her then. Many,
many places they had been together, strange and far-away; exotic scenes swam in her mind...deserts, with hidden valleys and odd hieroglyphic markings traced in gigantic proportions upon the valley floor...nights under the spiralling stars together...
 But now, oh, diosa, at last he is come!
An odd sense of double-ness enveloped Emmeline. She was indeed, beside herself. The Emmelina she knew best thought she was seeing Jack. But the Em that seemed to be her deepest, truest nature, a more eternal Emmelina, was not seeing Jack at all. And in fact, he looked only somewhat like Jack...longish, darkish hair, same general build and height, but...
But not the same at all. This man had much different features...the nose somewhat larger or fuller, somehow hawklike, lips more sensual, hair a lighter brownish color, as was his skin, a sort of golden-brown hue, and his eyes...diosa!
She felt like weeping with joy. Gods, how she had missed him! The most gentle, compassionate look in his eyes mixed with some all-knowing intelligence. He seemed to know and understand her as no one ever could.
He said nothing, just gazed upon her with such a earnest look of tenderness, and gathered her into his arms then, pressing her to him. As he did so, she slipped her arms about his back, resting her head upon his chest,and she suddenly felt something like a warm blanket of velvet softness encloak them in a secret world in which all was silent and safe. Safe at last, home at last...she softly sighed, melting into his gentle mercy...
                                . . . .
'Miss Page?' A hand upon hers. She jumped.
'Sorry, Miss Page!' It was Casey. Back so soon? 'You were asleep. You about ready to head out? Oh, I brought sandwiches...'
Diosa, had she been asleep? 'Oh, thank you, Casey.' She accepted a sandwich. Casey sat next to her, starting in on his own. 'Goodness, what is the time?'
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a timepiece. 'Goin' on about one, now. Took a little longer than I'd thought. But we're good to go, whenever you're ready, Miss.'
'I'm ready as I'll ever be, I guess.' Finishing her sandwich, she stood and headed to the door. 'I'll just get my bag, bank the fire and I'll be ready. Em took a last look 'round; everything seemed the same as she'd found it. Odd about the fire though, she mused, as her gaze passed over the empty wood bin. She frowned slightly, recalling the odd 'dream'...oh, to be able to dream as such every night! Em would never wish to awaken...
Taking her bag, she locked up the old house and went out to the wagon, finding Casey walking in a circle in the yard. As she neared, she saw what he was doing; tracing a rather large, seemingly slightly pressed flat space in the grass in the shape of a perfect circle. 'Was this here yesterday when you got here?' Casey asked.
'I don't think so...' Em wasn't sure. 'It was near dark when I arrived, however. But, no, I don't recall seeing it.' She thought of Flubber's mysterious markings he had confounded them with so long ago. This didn't seem to be of that ilk however. Nothing so intricate. This just looked as if a large pie pan had landed from the heavens.
'Curious.' Casey observed. 'Well, ready then? Away we go!' Locking the gates behind them, he handed Em up alongside him onto the driver's seat and urged his big grey around and back down the drive. 'Should make it there before dark, don't worry.'
Em smiled his way. She wasn't worried, not about that at least. She stole a glance behind her, regarding the strange circle. She couldn't shake the feeling that the odd circle had something to do with her equally weird dream...and don't forget the fire being fed all night while she slept.
Curious, indeed.
                         . . . .
Spring was rather late in coming to Massachusetts...a cold nor'easter blew in off the Atlantic early that morning and howled about the big house, making it seem emptier of life than it was, and lonelier.
Yeats sat before the parlor fire watching the flames dance wildly with the gusts. Jack had since repaired to his lab below with Aleister. The Head of their Order rubbed his chin in silent musing over the possible implications inherent in the unaccustomed phenomenon of the odd time bursts.
An uncomfortable inkling or presentiment had been inflicting disturbing ratiocinations upon his mind of late.
He had met with Thelene of course, and she had nothing to offer in the way of explanation for the off-kilter time bursts....in fact, he had found it rather odd, the way she had actually given the whole business rather short shrift. Thelene was usually all over him about the least thing amiss which might possibly affect Emmeline.
He suspected, naturally, that she knew what it was about, but was held to silence upon the matter due to her position in the High Council; which he respected of course.
But still...something about this entire business did not sit well with Yeats. He and Thelene were close as two intimate companions could be, and had been for lo these many long years. He could tell when she was keeping something from him of which, perhaps, he would not have approved, had he but known. Her cavalier dismissal of his concerns, not meeting his gaze, and hurriedly changing the subject bespoke of his Thelene certainly up to something.
He frowned, bristling brows meeting darkly together, as he decided he might have to take a more round-about route to discerning the heart of this matter.
Much as he disliked to admit it, upon this mysterious enigma, Yeats no longer entirely trusted his beloved Thelene.
                          . . . .