TDTLBU Chapter Nine

Emma swung idly back and forth on the tire swing, dangling her legs over the side. She never wore shoes in the summer and she trailed her bare feet in the grass as she pored intently over her book. It was a new one she had just discovered… a rather recently-written book with an odd title… “The Scarlet Pimpernel”. She wasn’t sure whether she had picked it up that morning at the library because of the strange title or because of the intriguing picture of a scarlet flower and crossed sabers on the cover. But it was one of the most fascinating books she had ever read and she couldn’t bring herself to drag her eyes from the page… not if all the ghosts of the Civil War had reenacted a dramatic presentation of the Battle of Bull Run right there in the backyard.

The first paragraph had been enough. She had fallen head over heels in love and would never be the same person again.

“A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The hour, some little time before sunset, and the place, the West Barricade, at the very spot where, a decade later, a proud tyrant raised an undying monument to the nation’s glory and his own vanity.”

Words of such power! They set fire to her soul and imagination. And the story of the death-defying gallant… the hero to end all heroes… she had at last found a character to rival Robin Hood and she was struck to the core with the overwhelming awe of it all.

“Now, when their glances met, they understood one another. The power that lay within both their souls had met, and, as it were, clasped hands. They accepted one another's sacrifice.” Emma murmured the passage aloud as she read it through the second time. It was well worth repeating. “Hers, mayhap, was the more complete of the two, because for her his absence would mean weary waiting, the dull heartache so terrible to bear.” And somehow, although she had never experienced it herself, she felt she understood, in part, how all those brave women of the Great War felt as they watched their men march off to war. She had heard her mother speak of it many times, how she had smiled and held her tears to show her husband a brave face as he left that long-ago day. And then came the weary waiting… the dull heartache of which the author spoke. 

Emma sighed a luxurious sigh as she read over the passage a third time and began on the one beneath it. But scarcely had she gotten halfway through it when the book suddenly vanished from her hands. No… not fallen… but snatched. She started up indignantly, staring up into the tree, wondering whether it was Mickey or that impudent Jerry that was to blame. It certainly couldn’t be Ronnie. But how on earth would Mickey be able to climb that high? 

“I see you up there, you… you…” she broke off, partly because she didn’t actually see anybody, and partly because she wasn’t sure how to end the sentence. But it didn’t matter to her. Jumping from the ground, she was just barely able to reach the lowest limb of the tree and pulled herself onto it, scrambling up the branches after whoever-it-was, whom she could hear just above her. The Whoever-it-Was laughed suddenly and she frowned. It wasn’t a familiar laugh. She caught sight of someone’s boot and lunged to grab the perpetrator’s ankle. 

“Hey! Let go…” Josh peered down at her, shaking away from her grasp. “What are you… what are you doing?”

“I was just about to ask you the same thing,” Emma laughed, straddled the branch just below his and put her hands on her hips. “No one takes my books and gets away with it.”

“What do you mean?” Josh asked innocently, his eyes wide. “What book?”

“Don’t give me that,” Emma narrowed her eyes. “The one sticking out from behind your back.”

“What… this?” Josh pulled it out and stared at it in mock surprise. “Now how’d that get there?”

“Give it back, you dummy, or I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll push you out of the tree!”

“Ha! Like to see you try!” Josh lifted the book over his head triumphantly. “Come and get it!” 

But he got more than he had bargained for. Clearly, he had underestimated Emma. Within moments, she was on the branch next to him and with the book back in her hand. For one long second, their eyes met and he felt instinctively that he had made a grave mistake. But he didn’t have long to ponder on this, for he was sailing through the air and landed with a tremendous splash directly in the center of the pond. Emma stared down at him from the tree, laughing fit to split.

“Forgot that you were in a tree that stood right over the swimming hole, didja? Rule number one of combat: Always be aware of your surroundings!"

“I’ll remember that,” Josh spit out a mouthful of water and struggled to the shore. “But I’m getting you for that first.”

“Like to see you try!” Emma swung down out of the tree and landed on the ground just as Josh dragged himself out of the swimming hole. She streaked across the yard like a lightning bolt and he tore after her, regretting not having the time to discard his water-logged boots first. He caught up with her right in the middle of the front yard, tackling her to the ground just as the front door to the Stewarts’ house opened.

“Gracious heavens!” a voice exclaimed and both children froze where they had fallen on the grass, staring up with wide eyes at the two women standing on the porch. “Is this how you’ve raised your daughter, Donna Stewart? I’ll not have that young harum-scarum anywhere near me after this, that’s what!”

“They’re just children,” Donna tried in vain to hide her smile as she politely extended a hand in farewell. Her portly and be-feathered guest was certainly properly horrified. With a few flustered words of reproach, she hustled herself down the steps and across the garden path to where her car was waiting. Donna moved to the porch railing, leaning against it as the car drove away. “Really, Emma Ruth, you could’ve chosen a better time. Right in front of Mrs. Croft, of all things. The chairwoman of the Ladies Aid Society!”

“She looked like an overstuffed chicken,” Josh said promptly and Emma clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle an unladylike howl of laughter. The corners of Donna’s mouth twitched, but she maintained her composure.

“Maybe so, young man, but it’s best to keep thoughts like that to yourself. Remember, always respect your elders. And ladies especially. Any lady,” she continued, with a meaningful glance at Emma. “Even if she doesn’t act like a lady.”

"Oh… Mama…" Emma scrambled to her feet, trying in vain to smooth the wrinkles and brush the dirt from her calico dress. "This is Josh, the new boy I told you about. He came yesterday."

"Welcome," Donna smiled. "I'm glad to meet you… even under such ridiculous circumstances." She was laughing now, with no effort to hide it. "I've fresh sugar cookies inside… why don't you come in and have some?"

"I'd better not," Josh grimaced. "I'm soaked."

"Something tells me that wasn't entirely your fault," Donna grinned. "No matter. I've four children in the house, I'm used to this kind of thing. Ronnie's out back, I'll call him in and he'll find you some dry things to wear."