She reached into her purse to pull out a digital watch. “I got this in the future too. It’s called a quantum chronometer. It helps me keep track of the time. According to it, I turned twenty-seven yesterday.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks. You’re probably wondering why I’m here, aren’t you?”
“It had crossed my mind.”
“I wanted to thank you. And to apologize. I put you through so much. I already paid Sylvia a visit. I let her do my hair before I went back to the Twenties. You think it makes me look more grown up?”
“I guess so.”
“Anyway, I know I can just say I’m sorry, but I had a better idea. I’d like you to take my hand, Emma. Don’t worry, I won’t make you an old lady again. I don’t want to hurt you, not anymore.”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“Of course you do. Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just trying to make amends. That’s one of the twelve steps. I’m not an addict, but I remember people at the halfway house talking about it and it seemed like a good idea. I want to do something for you, Emma, to make amends for what I did.”
“Like what? Are you going to bring my parents back to life?”
“No, I know better than that. Now, I mean. It took a while, but I finally realized you and Mrs. Chiostro were right. It was wrong to try to save Veronica. It was selfish of me.”
“Can you tell me who killed them?”
“I could, but do you really want me to? After what happened with French and Estima, you know it wouldn’t matter.”
“No, I guess it wouldn’t.”
Marie reached into her purse again. Though it seemed impossible for such a tiny purse, she pulled an entire dress out of it. Emma recognized the dress as the red-and-gold one she’d worn to the opera with Dan Dreyfus. “You’re going to need this. We’re going to the opera house.”
***
Emma gasped as she looked around her. From the cars, the clothes, and hairstyles, she knew Marie had taken her back in time about fifteen years. She gasped again when she saw herself as a little girl. Her father held her hand as they mounted the steps to the opera house. “Come on, kiddo,” her father said.
Emma turned to Marie, who stood next to her. “I thought you said—”
“They aren’t going to die for about a year yet. You could try to warn them, but it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Don’t you remember this night?”
When Emma didn’t answer, Marie pointed to a sign by the front doors. There was a poster for a charity concert that benefited famine relief efforts in Africa. Now Emma remembered this night. It was one of her mother’s last performances with the symphony before she died.
“Why did you bring me here? To remind me they’re dead? So I can feel that pain again?”
She wanted to call for the armor, but Marie put a hand to her lips. “Don’t be silly. I know how much you miss them. I know you especially miss hearing your mother play the cello. I thought, what better way to apologize than to let you hear her one last time?”
Marie pulled her finger back so Emma could whisper, “Oh, Marie, I’m sorry.”
From her seemingly bottomless purse, Marie took out a recording device. “And we’ll make sure to get this one on MP3 for you.”
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Marie.”
“It’s no problem. Now come on, we don’t want to miss it.”
Emma had changed into the formal dress—Marie had also produced shoes to go with it—and with Marie’s help put her hair up. She didn’t look too out of place among everyone else from this time. Marie looked far more out of place in her flapper dress, but no one seemed to mind. “They can’t see me,” Marie said. “Not unless I want them to.”
“What about me?”
“I could make you a ghost if that would make you feel better.”
“No, this is fine.”
“Good, because you need to be in reality to use the recorder.” Marie passed the device to Emma to keep in her purse.
They had seats two rows back from where young Emma sat with her father. She heard herself ask, “Daddy, where’s Mom?”
“She’s backstage, kiddo. We’ll see her later.”
“OK.”
“You were so sweet,” Marie said. Though she apparently didn’t really exist, no one sat in the chair she occupied. “You still are, which is I guess why you’re the Scarlet Knight.”
Emma shot her a dirty look. Marie shrugged. “No one can hear me. Even if they did, there’s no Scarlet Knight right now. And if I said your name they’d think I meant a seven-year-old kid. They’d probably send me back to the institution.”
“I suppose you’re right. Have you…have you done anything like this with yourself?”
“You mean drop in on myself? Not really. That would be depressing. I see Veronica sometimes, when I want to remember her.”
“Isn’t it lonely to live like this?”
“It’s always been lonely. Now I’ve learned to have a little fun with it. I’ve seen all kinds of things. Not that long ago—for me anyway—I talked to Clarissa Robinson. She really is like how everyone says. Such a classy lady.”
The curtain went up on the stage. The first performance was by the entire orchestra. Her mother was in the back row, hunched over the cello as she played. Though she couldn’t tell from here, Emma knew Mom had her eyes closed while she played. She always had the music memorized so she didn’t need the sheets in front of her.
After the orchestra did Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the orchestra returned backstage. The first solo performance was by the lead violinist. Both Emmas craned their necks to look for Mom, but she was still backstage. It would be four more solos before she would come on stage.
When Mom finally did come out, both Emmas applauded louder than anyone. Ahead of her, Daddy put little Emma on his shoulders so Mom could see her. She gave them a little wave before she took her seat.
Emma made sure the recorder worked as her mother began to play. She recognized the piece as the same Elgar concerto her mother had played at Emma’s wedding. Ahead of her, little Emma snuggled against her father as she listened. Emma could only lean forward in her seat to watch as her mother played. She was tempted to close her eyes, but she wanted to take in everything about these moments, to remember them forever.
The music ended far too soon for Emma’s liking. Her mother bowed to the audience and then left the stage. Marie nudged Emma in the ribs. “You want to meet her?”
“What? I thought you said—”
“There’s no point warning her, but you can talk to her. Just say hi.”
“It seems risky.”
“You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”
Marie was right about that. Emma nodded and then slunk down the row, out of her seat. Marie tapped her shoulder. “I’ll make it so no one can see us. Just walk right backstage.”
They walked down the aisle and then up to the stage. No one seemed to notice them as they darted backstage. Emma saw members of the orchestra as they lounged around. Since this was before anti-smoking laws, some of the orchestra smoked as they waited.
Mom sat away from the others. She tended to her instrument, its case open at her feet. Marie tapped Emma on the shoulder again and then nodded. Emma cleared her throat and then said, “Hi. Can I help you with that?”
Mom looked up at her in surprise. “Oh, hello. I don’t remember seeing you on the stage.”
“I wasn’t. I’m just an admirer. Would you like some help with that? I know it’s heavy.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great.”
Emma helped her mother lift the cello and then set it in its case. Her mother held out a hand to her. “Louise Earl.”
“Um…Marie Marsh,” she said as she looked at Marie.
“That’s a pretty name. And that’s such a pretty dress. I think I remember seeing one like it in a magazine. One of Cla
rissa Robinson’s?”
“A friend made it for me.”
“So you’re a fan of the symphony?”
“I especially like the cello. I always wished I could play it, but my fingers can’t manage it.”
Mom nodded. “My daughter has the same problem. Poor little dear tried her heart out, but it’s not for everyone.”
“No, I guess not.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. There was so much she wanted to say, like not to take Emma to the planetarium that night a year from now, but she knew better. Her mother would think she was a lunatic. “I don’t suppose I could get an autograph?”
“That’s no problem at all, Marie. Let me just get a pencil out of my purse.”
“I’ve got one,” Emma said. She took a pen out of her purse, along with a slip of paper from her address book. Her mother scribbled a message down and then handed it back. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I hope you keep supporting the symphony. Music adds so much beauty to our world.”
“It really does.”
It took every ounce of strength for Emma not to hug her mother. She had to settle for a handshake. As they shook hands, Emma’s mother looked her in the eye. Emma couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if a look of recognition came across her mother’s face. Mom smiled a little and said, “It was good to meet you, young lady.”
“You too, Mrs. Earl.”
“Before you go, what is it you do, Miss Marsh?”
“I work at the museum. The Plaine Museum.”
Mom nodded as if she’d already known this. “I don’t remember seeing you there before. My daughter loves the museum.”
“I work upstairs. I’m a researcher.”
“Oh, I see. She’d really love to meet you then. She wants to be a scientist when she grows up. Do you have any advice for her?”
“Just tell her to keep at it and work hard. Don’t let anything stop her from reaching her dreams.”
“That’s good advice. Maybe next time we’re at the museum we can talk.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
Then they said goodbye. Marie led Emma through a back exit. But instead of an alley, they wound up back at Emma’s motorcycle in the present. Emma looked around and saw the band shelter below. Lieutenant Donovan had already left.
“Did that really just happen?” Emma asked.
“I don’t know, why don’t you check that piece of paper in your hand?”
Emma looked down at the slip of paper in her hand. In her mother’s handwriting was written, “To My Greatest Admirer.” Her signature followed it. Tears came to Emma’s eyes. She leaned forward to hug Marie and was glad Marie allowed herself to exist enough for Emma to hug her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Your mom seemed like a real nice lady.”
“She was the best.”
“I’m sure you’re going to be as good of a mother someday,” Marie said and winked. Then she pried Emma off and took a step back. “I’ve got to go. There’s a wicked Halloween party at Rampart State in 1969 I want to check out. I think I’ve got a pretty good costume, don’t you?”
“It’s great.”
“You want to come with me? You’ve got a decent costume too.”
Emma chuckled at this. “No, I don’t think so. Thanks anyway.”
“Before I go, I want you to know that things aren’t always going to be easy. Sometimes things are going to seem really bleak. It’s important you don’t lose hope. Keep at it and work hard, all right?”
“I will. Thanks.”
As suddenly as she appeared, Marie disappeared. Emma sat on the bike for a few minutes to take everything in. Then she tucked the slip of paper with her mother’s autograph into her purse and called for the armor.
The Scarlet Knight still had plenty of work to do here in the present.
VOLUME III
The Hazards of Love
Prologue
Beneath the sand lay whole other worlds. Many of these worlds were thousands of years old; they had existed before Jesus Christ ever drew his first breath. By sifting through the sands, one could go back in time to a world without cell phones, computers, and automobiles. In some cases it might even be a world without the wheel.
Dan Dreyfus’s job was to uncover these worlds. He had braved the heat in Egypt for three years in search of an ancient civilization. Up to this point he had only turned up a few bits of pottery and simple tools. He was close to something, he knew it. It wouldn’t be long until he made a major discovery.
He told himself this every morning when he woke up and reminded himself again every night before he fell asleep. This answered those other pesky questions, such as why he lived in a tent with no air conditioning, decent food, or a comfortable bed. Back home the mansion he had inherited had central air, a personal chef, and forty-three bedrooms. But it couldn’t provide the adventure that came from a discovery of something no one had seen in thousands of years.
Of course it might not be much longer before he was back in the States even if he didn’t make a discovery. The Plaine Museum, which had funded his work these last three years, was impatient. The last time he checked his Email, he had found a note from the director that politely informed him that due to budget cuts, the museum couldn’t afford to fund his research for more than another three months. The director subtly added that the situation might change if he produced something that might convince more donor support.
Dan ran a hand over the beard he had grown in the last two weeks. Three months wasn’t much time in archaeology, not with the amount of ground they had to cover. He might spend another three years out here and not find more than a few bits of pottery and simple tools. Some scientists had spent their lives out here without a major discovery.
He supposed he had spoiled the Plaine Museum when he found Karlak II’s tomb five years ago. That exhibition had gone on to be one of the museum’s most popular; it had run for a year in Rampart City before it went on the road across the world. It was no surprise the director thought more would come soon after.
There was no point to explain these things to the director. She was a politician, not a scientist. At one time she had been a biologist, but this was a long time ago, when Dan was still a child. Years of galas and photo opportunities had dulled her memory about the difficulty of fieldwork. It was like roulette; you could only put your money down and hope the ball landed on your number.
When he started out three years ago, he had a whole team of assistants, many grad students who wanted experience to help earn their degrees. As time went on and the director cut back on Dan’s budget, the size of his team shrunk, to the point that he had just one assistant: Isis Nazif. Like many of the others she was a grad student, but unlike the others she had stayed because Egypt was her home.
As was usually the case, Isis was already hard at work on their latest site. There was no need to ask the young woman if she had found anything yet. “Get any sleep?” Dan asked instead.
“A little,” Isis said. “How about you?”
“Some,” Dan said. In fact Dan had not gotten more than two hours of sleep any night in Egypt. Whenever he went to bed, he found himself haunted by strange nightmares. They usually involved a black monster with claws for hands and a redheaded woman. The woman was familiar to him, a fellow scientist at the Plaine Museum. Emma, that was her name. Dr. Emma Earl. They had met briefly before Dan left for Egypt. “They say we might get a sandstorm today,” Dan said.
“Should I cover up the equipment?”
“Probably a good idea.” The storms came up with little warning and often covered everything in a thick layer of sand. The last one had popped up so quickly, Dan and Isis had time only to dive into the nearest tent. It had taken two days to find their own simple tools.
While Isis packed up the heavier equipment to move to safety, Dan began to dig about ten feet from where Isis had been. The work was slow and tedious, as he had to sift through each shovelful to make sure t
here was nothing of interest. Most people would have gone insane after a day of it, but Dan had always enjoyed it. Not so much the work as the hope he might make a new discovery.
No sandstorms had come through by one o’clock, when Dan and Isis retreated to a tent for their lunch. As usual they ate cans of beans and soup; canned food worked best since they didn’t have a reliable generator and were fifty miles from the nearest market. As he ate, Dan tried to get the satellite link to work, so they could access the Internet. But the satellite hookup had proven less reliable than the generator; Dan soon gave up with a sigh. “No news today.”
Isis peeked out through the tent flap; her brown eyes widened. “Here it comes!” she said. Dan stuck his head out of the flap in time to see the sky darken from sand.
With most of their equipment already in storage, they didn’t need long to get everything under cover. Dan spread a tarp over his worksite, not that it would be any easier to find after two inches of sand covered it. Isis did likewise and then they ducked into Dan’s tent to wait.
The wind howled as if a pack of wild dogs were outside the tent. Dan and Isis could do nothing more than sit silently and wait for it to stop. It was too dark to read and Dan didn’t want to waste his batteries on the flashlight. He had been through enough of these to know how to survive them.
The winds began to die down, which indicated the storm had nearly blown over. “Looks like we survived another one,” Isis said.
Dan opened the tent and then crawled outside to take a look around. As expected, the storm had rewritten the landscape around them and created dunes that rose higher than the tents. Without a word, they started to clear the sand away from their campsite so they could begin again. The director would have to wait a while longer for any good news.
***
When Dan began this expedition, he had a pair of mercenaries to serve as bodyguards. Despite they were literally in the middle of nowhere, there was also the possibility thieves or wild animals might attack while they slept. With only the two of them now, they took turns on watch. Dan took the first shift, which went until one in the morning.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 54