Post by Lorpius Prime on Jan 25, 2007 2:37:45 GMT -5
Jay felt a breeze at his back, and the branch swayed a little beneath him. Leaves rustled above, shaking loose drops of water, a few of which fell on him. It had been raining lightly off and on all throughout the day and the setting sun was a hazy orange beyond the low clouds. A drop ran down his forehead into his right eye, he blinked it away but otherwise remained still, his arms resting on a branch above.
The day had gone by in a rush, and Jay hardly remembered the details. He wasn’t sure if he’d said a word to anyone the entire time, and his family hadn’t seemed to want to push him. They’d eaten dinner early, and the meal had passed in silence. Afterwards, he’d come out to sit in the tree and await the morning when he would have to leave again.
They’d inherited the apple orchard from the previous owner. It wasn’t very large or neat, but the Blake children had enjoyed playing among the branches along with the occasional servant child or visiting friend. Most of the trees were dwarf plants, very low to the ground. They looked like nothing so much as giant scraggly bushes to a grown man. But one of them, roughly near the center, was a monster. It could almost have been a full oak tree for the size. Baron Blake had once spent a day hanging a swinging bench from it for Margaret to sit in. But climbing in the branches had always been much more exciting, if dirty, and when the ropes broke, the swing hadn’t gone back up.
So Jay sat suspended about eight feet in the air, in the protective grasp of a childhood memory, looking out at the world, hating it, and fearing it.
Wooden limbs creaked and scratched below, and Jay roused enough energy to tilt his head. His sister was winding her way through the knot of branches. When she reached the big tree, she set a confident hand on the trunk, then bounded up the branches without getting her skirt caught once. She reached Jay’s level in just a few seconds, then plopped herself down beside him.
Neither of them said anything for a while. She followed his gaze out towards the horizon and watched the sun turning red at the edge of the sky.
“Did you know him well?”
Jay wished he could answer yes. But the truth was he hadn’t known John Mills well at all. He read the man’s articles of course, and he’d admired him as the most brilliant newspaperman Britain had seen in decades. They’d even shared a few words on their occasional meetings in the office while getting refreshments or pestering the typing pool for copies.
But Jay hadn’t really known him. Mills worked on the north side of the building, he was a senior staff member with his own plush office. Jay was one of a dozen correspondents who were only at home intermittently and were considered mid-level writing staff at best, even if he was among the more well-respected of those. And he had nothing like the reputation of the older man; if Jay died tomorrow there would be no public memorial, no full-page obituary in his own paper. He’d have a small, quick service attended by his relatives, the handful of friends he still kept in touch with, and maybe a few boys from the paper if they could get away.
John Mills and Jay Thomson Blake were in wholly different orders of the world.
“No, not really. But the man was well on his way to being a legend, and everyone knew it, especially if you worked at the paper. And I was in his office just two days ago… It’s hard to describe.” He scratched the back of his neck.
Margaret nodded, and they sat in silence for a while longer.
Then she let out a tiny laugh, “Well, I guess we won’t be having him over for dinner after all.”
Jay stared at her in disbelief. She cringed and looked away, “Sorry.”
Now the silence was becoming awkward, and Jay felt a little twinge of guilt. The last sliver of the crimson sun slipped beneath the horizon.
“So, you really like that boy, William?” It felt best to try another subject.
She sighed and shook her head, “I let him know it wasn’t going anywhere. After you went stumbling off to your room with Father’s scotch bottle, things sort of fell apart downstairs. Mother gave up, and it just didn’t seem right to keep leading him on.”
Jay nodded wordlessly.
“Father dropped his righteous patriarch act, too,” she continued. “He gave William some kind of long talk in the drawing room. I think he felt guilty, and he was worried about you.”
Jay looked down at himself, feeling low, “I sort of lost it after Sam’s wire. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t dwell on it. It was no kind of news to be getting, and you weren’t in good shape to begin with. You looked like you hadn’t slept for days when you got off that train, and then I sprung that dinner on you.”
He rubbed his temples with his right hand, “These last few days have been rather hellish. One thing after another, with hardly a break.”
Margaret didn’t argue, “Life happens.”
“I wonder what Mrs. Mills would say to that.”
“She’d probably try to tear my face off. So would I in her position.” She glanced over at Jay, “But it’s true.”
Jay chuckled slightly, but it sounded hollow. Life had just killed a good man and destroyed a family.
And why was this bothering him so much?
“Realizing your own mortality, is it?”
“Huh?” he found his sister staring at him again.
She rolled her eyes and spoke as if dealing with a particularly slow child, “Is the great Jay Thomson having trouble accepting the fact that he is not immortal?”
He tilted his head, “I know I’m not immortal…”
“Uh huh. You understand that, if I pushed you right now, you’d probably die.” She snapped her fingers, “Just like that. The end.”
He swallowed, “You wouldn’t, though.”
“No, but I could, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
Jay considered this for a moment, “I could push you first.”
Margaret laughed, “I never figured you for the kill-or-be-killed type. You’re not cynical enough.”
He winced at her laughter, “Are you saying I should be more cynical?”
She shook her head, “Nope. Then you’d probably agree with Father about everything and I would be bored.”
He looked out across the estate for a few minutes, at the flickering orange light coming from the servants’ quarters.
“So how do you deal with it?”
She shrugged, “I just accept it, live with it. Or I don’t climb the tree.”
Jay pondered this, then rubbed the back of his neck, “This is backwards. Shouldn’t I be the one sharing my immense wisdom with you? I am older.”
Another shrug, “I’m smarter than you.”
He nodded. That made sense.
Through the breaks in the clouds, they could see the sky, sprinkled thick with stars and the deep maroon haze of the galaxy. After spending so many nights under the dull sky of London, it was breathtaking. At times like this, Jay could sympathize with the astronomers who complained about their views from the big cities. Maybe it couldn’t be helped, but it was still a shame.
“When are you coming back?”
Blinking, Jay’s mind was dragged back down from the heavens.
“Shouldn’t be too long this time. Barry still owes me a proper vacation, so I’ll probably head back over right after the project’s run out.”
“Well that’s good,” Margaret was wearing her impish grin. “Mother was complaining about not being able to throw you a proper party.”
Jay groaned.
“What, didn’t you enjoy the one last year?” She tried to imitate their mother’s voice, “You and young Miss Perry got along so well.”
He rolled his eyes. Lily Blake had apparently decided last year to turn her son into a local celebrity, and—by extension—Exeter’s most eligible bachelor. Much to Jay’s displeasure, the plan seemed to work. Baron Blake had laughed for days about the expression on Jay’s face afterwards.
“She sent me a telegram in Stockholm. I still can’t fathom what she was thinking.”
“That you weren’t a total boor, I’m sure. I ran into her at a social a few months ago, she was wondering why you hadn’t wired her back.”
“Would you write back to a boy that was bothering you like that?”
She didn’t hesitate, “Yes, I would. And I would be perfectly polite about it, and perfectly boring and disinterested.”
“Do you think that would have worked?” he was incredulous.
She tilted her head, as if summoning the memory of Miss Wilma Perry, “No. You were probably safest saying nothing.”
“So then I’m not a boor.”
Margaret shook her head, sadly, pitying him, “No, you are a boor. You wouldn’t have wired her even if she wasn’t a flighty twit.”
Jay huffed, “You know, now that you’ve left poor William, maybe I should tell Mother that she should throw a party for you. Clearly you need to be introduced to more of the nice boys of Exeter.”
She squawked, “You wouldn’t dare!”
But he stuck out his tongue, “It would be such a shame if the daughter of Baron Blake gained a reputation as a spinster.”
Margaret’s face became expressionless, and there was murder in her voice, “Well, maybe you won’t be boarding that airship after all.”
Jay laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the tree and broke his neck.
<<4<<_>>6>>
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-
The day had gone by in a rush, and Jay hardly remembered the details. He wasn’t sure if he’d said a word to anyone the entire time, and his family hadn’t seemed to want to push him. They’d eaten dinner early, and the meal had passed in silence. Afterwards, he’d come out to sit in the tree and await the morning when he would have to leave again.
They’d inherited the apple orchard from the previous owner. It wasn’t very large or neat, but the Blake children had enjoyed playing among the branches along with the occasional servant child or visiting friend. Most of the trees were dwarf plants, very low to the ground. They looked like nothing so much as giant scraggly bushes to a grown man. But one of them, roughly near the center, was a monster. It could almost have been a full oak tree for the size. Baron Blake had once spent a day hanging a swinging bench from it for Margaret to sit in. But climbing in the branches had always been much more exciting, if dirty, and when the ropes broke, the swing hadn’t gone back up.
So Jay sat suspended about eight feet in the air, in the protective grasp of a childhood memory, looking out at the world, hating it, and fearing it.
Wooden limbs creaked and scratched below, and Jay roused enough energy to tilt his head. His sister was winding her way through the knot of branches. When she reached the big tree, she set a confident hand on the trunk, then bounded up the branches without getting her skirt caught once. She reached Jay’s level in just a few seconds, then plopped herself down beside him.
Neither of them said anything for a while. She followed his gaze out towards the horizon and watched the sun turning red at the edge of the sky.
“Did you know him well?”
Jay wished he could answer yes. But the truth was he hadn’t known John Mills well at all. He read the man’s articles of course, and he’d admired him as the most brilliant newspaperman Britain had seen in decades. They’d even shared a few words on their occasional meetings in the office while getting refreshments or pestering the typing pool for copies.
But Jay hadn’t really known him. Mills worked on the north side of the building, he was a senior staff member with his own plush office. Jay was one of a dozen correspondents who were only at home intermittently and were considered mid-level writing staff at best, even if he was among the more well-respected of those. And he had nothing like the reputation of the older man; if Jay died tomorrow there would be no public memorial, no full-page obituary in his own paper. He’d have a small, quick service attended by his relatives, the handful of friends he still kept in touch with, and maybe a few boys from the paper if they could get away.
John Mills and Jay Thomson Blake were in wholly different orders of the world.
“No, not really. But the man was well on his way to being a legend, and everyone knew it, especially if you worked at the paper. And I was in his office just two days ago… It’s hard to describe.” He scratched the back of his neck.
Margaret nodded, and they sat in silence for a while longer.
Then she let out a tiny laugh, “Well, I guess we won’t be having him over for dinner after all.”
Jay stared at her in disbelief. She cringed and looked away, “Sorry.”
Now the silence was becoming awkward, and Jay felt a little twinge of guilt. The last sliver of the crimson sun slipped beneath the horizon.
“So, you really like that boy, William?” It felt best to try another subject.
She sighed and shook her head, “I let him know it wasn’t going anywhere. After you went stumbling off to your room with Father’s scotch bottle, things sort of fell apart downstairs. Mother gave up, and it just didn’t seem right to keep leading him on.”
Jay nodded wordlessly.
“Father dropped his righteous patriarch act, too,” she continued. “He gave William some kind of long talk in the drawing room. I think he felt guilty, and he was worried about you.”
Jay looked down at himself, feeling low, “I sort of lost it after Sam’s wire. I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t dwell on it. It was no kind of news to be getting, and you weren’t in good shape to begin with. You looked like you hadn’t slept for days when you got off that train, and then I sprung that dinner on you.”
He rubbed his temples with his right hand, “These last few days have been rather hellish. One thing after another, with hardly a break.”
Margaret didn’t argue, “Life happens.”
“I wonder what Mrs. Mills would say to that.”
“She’d probably try to tear my face off. So would I in her position.” She glanced over at Jay, “But it’s true.”
Jay chuckled slightly, but it sounded hollow. Life had just killed a good man and destroyed a family.
And why was this bothering him so much?
“Realizing your own mortality, is it?”
“Huh?” he found his sister staring at him again.
She rolled her eyes and spoke as if dealing with a particularly slow child, “Is the great Jay Thomson having trouble accepting the fact that he is not immortal?”
He tilted his head, “I know I’m not immortal…”
“Uh huh. You understand that, if I pushed you right now, you’d probably die.” She snapped her fingers, “Just like that. The end.”
He swallowed, “You wouldn’t, though.”
“No, but I could, and there’s nothing you could do about it.”
Jay considered this for a moment, “I could push you first.”
Margaret laughed, “I never figured you for the kill-or-be-killed type. You’re not cynical enough.”
He winced at her laughter, “Are you saying I should be more cynical?”
She shook her head, “Nope. Then you’d probably agree with Father about everything and I would be bored.”
He looked out across the estate for a few minutes, at the flickering orange light coming from the servants’ quarters.
“So how do you deal with it?”
She shrugged, “I just accept it, live with it. Or I don’t climb the tree.”
Jay pondered this, then rubbed the back of his neck, “This is backwards. Shouldn’t I be the one sharing my immense wisdom with you? I am older.”
Another shrug, “I’m smarter than you.”
He nodded. That made sense.
Through the breaks in the clouds, they could see the sky, sprinkled thick with stars and the deep maroon haze of the galaxy. After spending so many nights under the dull sky of London, it was breathtaking. At times like this, Jay could sympathize with the astronomers who complained about their views from the big cities. Maybe it couldn’t be helped, but it was still a shame.
“When are you coming back?”
Blinking, Jay’s mind was dragged back down from the heavens.
“Shouldn’t be too long this time. Barry still owes me a proper vacation, so I’ll probably head back over right after the project’s run out.”
“Well that’s good,” Margaret was wearing her impish grin. “Mother was complaining about not being able to throw you a proper party.”
Jay groaned.
“What, didn’t you enjoy the one last year?” She tried to imitate their mother’s voice, “You and young Miss Perry got along so well.”
He rolled his eyes. Lily Blake had apparently decided last year to turn her son into a local celebrity, and—by extension—Exeter’s most eligible bachelor. Much to Jay’s displeasure, the plan seemed to work. Baron Blake had laughed for days about the expression on Jay’s face afterwards.
“She sent me a telegram in Stockholm. I still can’t fathom what she was thinking.”
“That you weren’t a total boor, I’m sure. I ran into her at a social a few months ago, she was wondering why you hadn’t wired her back.”
“Would you write back to a boy that was bothering you like that?”
She didn’t hesitate, “Yes, I would. And I would be perfectly polite about it, and perfectly boring and disinterested.”
“Do you think that would have worked?” he was incredulous.
She tilted her head, as if summoning the memory of Miss Wilma Perry, “No. You were probably safest saying nothing.”
“So then I’m not a boor.”
Margaret shook her head, sadly, pitying him, “No, you are a boor. You wouldn’t have wired her even if she wasn’t a flighty twit.”
Jay huffed, “You know, now that you’ve left poor William, maybe I should tell Mother that she should throw a party for you. Clearly you need to be introduced to more of the nice boys of Exeter.”
She squawked, “You wouldn’t dare!”
But he stuck out his tongue, “It would be such a shame if the daughter of Baron Blake gained a reputation as a spinster.”
Margaret’s face became expressionless, and there was murder in her voice, “Well, maybe you won’t be boarding that airship after all.”
Jay laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the tree and broke his neck.
<<4<<_>>6>>
Book One, Chapter:
-1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-
-22-23-24-25-26-27-28-29-30-31-32-33-34-35-36-37-38-39-40-41-42-
-43-44-45-46-47-48-49-50-51-52-53-54-55-56-57-58-59-60-61-62-
Appendix: -A-B-C-