Keeping Emma

Chapter 17: Reason to Celebrate

The next morning, the three conspirators sat around the kitchen table. Mrs. Trumbell was blustering around exclaiming at how late the Ambassador was sleeping. The night before, the three of them had left the mansion, ignoring Mrs. Trumbell's tuna casserole, and had made their way to a pizza parlor a few streets away.

"And my tuna casserole," Mrs. Trumbell was saying, "None of you bothered to eat so much as a bite."

"It was Emma's fault, Mrs. Trumbell," said Natalie. "She's taken an extreme dislike to anything fish related during her pregnancy."

Emma cast an expression at Natalie that communicated her displeasure at the blatant lie.

"Oh. Well, I understand. But you should tell me things like that, Emma," said Mrs. Trumbell. "But why didn't the Ambassador and your mother have dinner?"

Emma looked at the woman, obviously at a loss as to how to answer that.

"They went out for dinner too," said Natalie. "They made a pretty late night of it, I guess. That's why they're sleeping in."

"Well, I'll be in my rooms if anyone needs me," said Mrs. Trumbell as she left the kitchen, looking back with a confused expression. Ambassador Dalton never altered his routine.

"Shouldn't we let them out?" asked Emma.

"No. If Daddy has figured out what we've done, he'll ground me and I won't be able to go on my date tonight," said Natalie.

"Do you think it worked?" asked Emma.

"How should I know? I'm going to leave them locked up another day," said Natalie. "I mean, there's plenty of food. They won't starve."

They heard the sound of the elevator and August's footsteps coming up the hall to the dining room.

"We're in the kitchen this morning, August," Natalie called out.

August appeared in the kitchen doorway and blinked. "They're still locked up down there?" he asked.

"Yes," said Natalie. "I'm thinking keeping them there an extra day for good measure."

"So, August," said Severus, "how, exactly, did you allow yourself to get caught up in this insanity?"

"It makes perfect sense," said August. "Since Natalie's mother died, the Ambassador has avoided his responsibilities to entertain. More diplomacy takes place over the dinner table than at the conference table. His excuse is that he has nobody to act as hostess until you come of age, Miss Dalton."

Natalie snorted. "Right, like that would be the thrill of my life, playing hostess to a bunch of stuffy old men and their haughty trophy wives. This is why I have to get him married to your mother, Emma."

"I think my mother might not feel herself capable of that," said Emma.

"Oh, please. She's spent her life hostessing and waitressing. My mother used to say all you need to do is smile and keep the booze flowing."

"You're awfully young to be so cynical," said Severus.

"I'm not cynical, Severus; I'm a realist. I'll never get away with anything with him having only me to fixate on. I'm a teenager and he expects me to live like a cloistered nun. I'll be asking permission to go to the movies when I'm forty at this rate. I'm going to college next year, and he expects me home every weekend. EVERY weekend! Can you begin to imagine that?"

Emma smiled. She should have known that Natalie's motives were based in self-interest.

August was running down the itinerary. "The Ambassador has several appointments, but I can reschedule them. I'll say that he is ill. Of, course, I will be telling him that you told me he is ill, Miss Dalton."

"Don't worry, August, I've got your back," she said.

Down in the pantry, Michael and Viola slept, wrapped in each other's arms under the warmth of one of the comforters Natalie had provided. The room had no window, and the candles had burned down sometime in the night.

As he placed two new candles in the candle holders, Viola woke and said, "You'd think they'd have realized we were gone by now."

"I'm in no hurry to be rescued, Viola," he said, getting up to rummage in the refrigerator for more food. He found bottles of orange juice in the refrigerator and boxes of granola in the cabinet. He nearly laughed out loud to see that they had made sure to leave two brand new tooth brushes and toothpaste as well as a package of disposable cups in the cabinet as well. Leave it to Natalie, he thought.

After eating, they washed at the sink as best they could. Viola began to get dressed but he stopped her. "No, Viola, let's make the most of this time together," he said, kissing her.

"No, Michael," she said. "We can't. We shouldn't have done it last night. What if I get pregnant?"

"You're not on birth control?" he asked.

"No, I stopped taking it after they said Emma was gone. I got this idea that she was killed as some sort of punishment to me, because I hadn't lived my life right, that God was making me pay."

"Viola," he said. "If you're going to get pregnant, it's already too late. Besides, I want us to get married. It makes perfect sense. We have a daughter and soon we'll have a grandchild together. Natalie still needs a woman's guidance, and I am a man who needs to be married. I miss having a feminine presence in my life. I'm tired of being alone."

"But what about your position? Natalie told me about the parties her mother used to host. How can I do that, Michael? I wouldn't know how to act, what to say to people like that. I'd probably say something stupid and start a global thermonuclear war."

"Viola, my wife and I dated in college. She never graduated. Mrs. Trumbell takes care of the menus and August provides safe and appropriate topics of conversation. That's what staff is for."

"I don't know, Michael. Natalie might resent me for taking her mother's place in your life."

"Viola," he said, laying down, his head on the pillow, "I hate to tell you this, but I've come to believe that my daughter is the reason we are both down here together. She set us up."

"Excuse me?"

"Come on, don't you think it's a bit too convenient? Two wine glasses, the candle holders, leftover food that should be upstairs, two toothbrushes, the pillow and the comforters. I bet she even broke the damned light bulb because she figured candlelight would be more romantic."

"But that's impossible. Emma sent me down here. And Natalie had gone into her room to shower. I heard the shower running when I got into the elevator."

"Natalie probably Apparated down here. And it wouldn't surprise me if our sweet little Emma was in it up to her eyeballs as well."

"Oh, Emma would never be able to pull off something like this. She's the lousiest liar in the world."

"My only mystery is who put the Anti-Disapparition spell on the room. It's highly advanced magic. I don't think Natalie knows how. Emma, of course, couldn't. That leaves Severus or August. I can't see August getting involved with this. But, on the other hand, he must know we're missing by now and protocol is for him to have the mansion searched first if I've disappeared."

"I'm going to kill her. And if Emma was involved, I'll kill her too," said Viola. "And we fell right into the trap. Oh my God, Michael. What if I do get pregnant?"

Michael pulled her down on top of him and flipped her onto her back. "Then, I guess, Natalie and Emma get a baby sister or brother, Viola," he said, kissing her. "Like I said, if it's going to happen, it's already too late. So, let's stop talking and just make love."

Viola was aware that his logic was faulty, but didn't care. She wanted to be with him again. After they made love, she was lying in his arms, thinking about Natalie and Emma. "Michael? Are you going to punish Natalie for this?"

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I won't even let on that I've figured it out. We will have to marry as soon as possible, of course. August can arrange a special license and we can be married in a week."

"A week? Maybe we should wait to--"

"No, absolutely not. I've waited long enough for you. I'm tying this up as quickly as possible before something else goes wrong."

"Um...I haven't said yes yet, you know, Michael."

"You know," he said, "I can put my own sticking spell on that door, and you won't get out of here until you agree."

"You wouldn't dare," she said.

Michael grabbed his wand from the floor and pointed it at the door. "Adhero," he said. The door glowed green for a second.

"Are you insane?"

"Are you going to marry me? If you say no, we really have to start conserving food."

"You're bluffing."

"Try me. Viola, I can't make the last nineteen years disappear. You have to give me the chance to do what I can to make everything right. I love you. I loved you then, so much that I was ready to break my engagement to Natalie's mother, disappointing my parents and hers."

"I didn't know you were engaged when we met."

Michael sighed. "I guess I told a few lies of my own back then, Viola," he said. "Our parents had been best friends forever. Our fathers had horse ranches in Massachusetts that bordered each other and wanted them combined. They'd dreamed of us marrying since we were babies. When I got back home, I told Beth about you. Half of me hoped she'd break the engagement so I could contact you and wait for you to turn eighteen. But she was as scared of disappointing our parents as I was. Don't get me wrong. I loved her. But our relationship was based on friendship and family expectations, not passion. Our home life was quiet. We really didn't have much to say to each other. I entered politics and she ran the stables and acted the part of the political wife. I often think that's why Natalie is so talkative and vivacious. She felt like she needed to fill the void. My point here is that for this last half of my life, I want the fun, the spontaneity, and the passion I remember from those brief months we were together. We deserve to be together, Viola."

"I'll marry you, Michael," Viola said at last. "I've loved you my entire life. When I found out I was having your baby, I was scared but thrilled at the same time. I knew my parents would be angry, but I never thought they'd throw me out onto the streets."

"I know Emma was born in June," said Michael. "We met the previous September and I left at the first of December. You must have known you were pregnant by then. You should have said something."

"No, Michael. I got pregnant just before you left. Emma was nearly two months premature. She weighed less than four pounds. She had heart and lung problems and was in the intensive care nursery until she was nearly four months old. She had all these tubes going in and out of her. Then, she had asthma. But, I think it was caused by the crappy old apartment in the projects we lived in. When we moved to our current place, the asthma was suddenly gone. I don't have many baby pictures, but one of the nurses took a picture of me holding her once they removed the breathing machine. It's in my apartment in a shoebox with all her school photos. I'll make sure to show them to you when I get my things."

"I'd like to see the pictures of Emma when she was little. In many ways, she is always going to be a stranger to me. I hear the hesitation in her voice when she calls me dad. She resents me for taking her away from Severus, but I'm still not convinced that he is right for her. I just don't completely trust him, Viola."

"He seems to care for her," she said.

"He is too possessive, controlling," said Michael.

"And threatening to keep a woman locked up in a pantry until she agrees to marry you isn't?"

"We have an entirely different situation, Viola. We are both adults. In our own way, we've have always tried to do what was right. We are simply giving our story the best possible ending. Emma, in many ways, is still a child. They wouldn't be together at all if it had not been for the Ministry holding her against her will. She'd had everything stripped from her--her home, country, even her identity. He was nothing more than something to hold on to. I am worried about her being with him. I want her to know that should she wish to leave him, she and her child will always be loved and cared for. That would be the best scenario for her, to be brought back home. She could live on the horse farm and we could help her raise her child. I hate the thought of leaving her here, with him. I can't see him making a caring, devoted father either. He pretty much admitted to me that Dumbledore had insisted that he marry her. He was perfectly happy to use her as nothing more than a...a...convenience."

"I want Emma to be happy, Michael," said Viola. "I believe she loves him, and that they both need to be given this shot of making it work. We need to butt out and let them make it or fail on their own."

"Maybe," said Michael. "But I'd love to do something to them regarding this stunt. Not that I'm not grateful, but I've always believed that one good prank deserves another."

"You know what we should do?" asked Viola.

"Again?" asked Michael, flipping her on her back and shifting on top of her.

"No, not that, you nut," she said, laughing. "When they do come down to let us out of here, we should pretend to be at each other's throats, that their little scheme didn't work at all."

"That would be funny, if only to see how dejected they'll be. I'll have August plan the marriage ceremony for next Saturday," he said. "Are you up to starting 1983 with a new name?"

Viola looked up into his green eyes and said, "I guess I have to be, if I'm ever going to get out of here," she said.

Upstairs, Emma, Severus, and Natalie were sitting down to lunch. Emma was beginning to crack.

"Natalie, we have to go down there and let them out," said Emma.

"No."

"If one entire night was not enough to bring them together, then another isn't going to help at all. Let's send Mrs. Trumbell down there to get something. Please, Natalie. If you don't then I will go let them out myself."

"You can't. The sticking spell on the door, remember," Natalie said.

"Severus, you get down there and remove that spell," Emma said.

"I vote no, Emma," said Natalie stubbornly.

"You don't get to vote," Emma answered. "I'm older than you, so what I want trumps your vote. I..." Emma stopped speaking as Mrs. Trumbell came out to the kitchen.

"Well, I'm going to take some of the groceries I bought yesterday down to the pantry," she said.

That's a great idea, Mrs. Trumbell," said Emma. "Would you like us to help you take things down?"

"Don't be silly, dear. I can summon them when I get down there. But thanks for offering."

"Oh, right, I forgot," said Emma, who stuck her tongue out at Natalie as the housekeeper left the kitchen.

"Fine, whatever," said Natalie. "But letting them out had better not screw up my date with Jason tonight."

Severus and Natalie Apparated down to the basement and hurriedly removed the spells they had placed on the door. They waited for the housekeeper to show up. After a few minutes, the elevator settled on the basement floor. Mrs. Trumbell got out and came walking toward them.

Mrs. Trumbell reached for the latch and it still held fast. "My, what happened here?" she asked aloud. "The latch is stuck." She reached up to her hair where she usually had her wand stuck in her bun, and waved it toward the door. "Alohomora," she said. But the door held firm.

Inside, Michael and Viola were scurrying around getting their clothes on. Viola was desperately looking for her bra but couldn't find it so she quickly pulled her sweater on. Michael used magic to dress, and then pointed his wand at the comforters on the floor. They neatly folded themselves, and Viola threw them back on a shelf in the cabinet.

"Viola," whispered Michael. "I found your bra." He picked it up from the floor and hurriedly shoved it into his jacket pocket. "It's a good thing I put my own sticking spell on that door, or poor old Mrs. Trumbell would have had the shock of a lifetime."

Viola giggled nervously.

"Don't laugh. Do you know how hard it is to find a housekeeper who's willing to move so much?"

Michael pointed his wand at the door and said, "Finite Incantatem."

At that second, Mrs. Trumbell tried the Alohomora spell one more time and the door slammed backward, clanging loudly against the concrete wall. Severus and Natalie used the noise to Disapparate back to the third floor.

Severus, Emma and Natalie sat in the parlor, trying to look as innocent as possible. Severus was reading the Daily Prophet, Emma sat on the couch reading a book, and Natalie was writing a Transfiguration essay for Professor McGonagall.

"Emma," hissed Natalie as they heard the elevator coming back upstairs, "it might look better if your book wasn't upside down."

From the foyer, they heard Michael say, "Fine, I'll have August give you your papers back tomorrow. You can leave whenever you want."

"Oh, believe me, I am leaving. Tomorrow, in fact."

Natalie and Emma looked at each other, heartbroken. Emma tried to hop up from the couch, but merely floundered there, like a beached whale. Finally, Severus got up and pulled her to her feet.

Emma and Natalie raced each other to the foyer, with Natalie easily winning. Severus followed slowly behind.

"What's going on? Where have the two of you been?" asked Natalie.

"We've been stuck down in the basement, trapped in the pantry," said Viola, "That's where we've been. Didn't it occur to either of you girls to come looking for us?"

"Well, we went out to dinner at a pizza parlor up the street last night, Mommy," said Emma as she steadfastly avoided looking her father in the eye. "I told Nat's...I mean Dad you'd gone to the pantry. When we got back from the pizza parlor, we'd just assumed that you were in your rooms."

"And this morning?" asked Michael. "And when neither of us showed up for breakfast? What did you think then?"

"That you were tired?" asked Emma, wishing that Miss Braveheart Natalie would start answering some questions.

"I thought maybe you weren't feeling well, Daddy," said Natalie. "You know Mrs. Trumbell's tuna casserole doesn't agree with you."

"But I told you all this morning that nobody ate my tuna casserole," said Mrs. Trumbell. "You told me that they'd gone out to dinner."

That does it, Emma thought. It's every daughter for herself. Emma put her hands on her stomach and said, "Oh, I have to go to the bathroom," and scurried down the hall toward her room. "Come on, Severus," she called back. "My back hurts."

Damn, thought Severus, just when it was starting to get good. He looked at Emma's parents, shrugged, and followed Emma to their room.

Once in their room, they both listened at the door to see how Natalie was going to explain herself. Within a few minutes, she'd gone from outraged declarations of her innocence to suggestions that her father had been a victim of a Communist plot to bursting out crying and admitting to the entire scheme. They had to admire her though. She did not implicate anyone except herself.

Emma turned to Severus as Michael was sending Natalie to her room, telling her that she was grounded and her date that evening was officially cancelled. "Oh, Severus, what makes this worse is that it didn't work. Did you hear them as they got off that elevator? They did nothing but argue, and my mom's going home now after all."

Severus smiled and shook his head. "They were just pretending, to get even with you two," he said. "Your father must have figured out they'd been set up. When we went down there the other night, I knew she was going overboard. She was summoning everything under the sun to make them comfortable, candle holders, wine glasses, towels, that platter of leftover chicken. Your father would have to be an idiot not to have figured it out. He may be a pain in the ass, but he's not an idiot."

"Really? You read their minds?" Emma asked.

"I didn't have to," said Severus.

"Then how--"

"Does your father always walk around with the strap of a woman's bra hanging out of his jacket pocket?" asked Severus.

Emma clapped her hand over her mouth as she burst out laughing. "Well," she said, turning the lock on the door. "Enough about them. I think we need to celebrate." She stepped close to him and ran her hands up his chest, entwining her fingers behind his neck.

"What are we celebrating?" asked Severus.

"I don't know. You make something up," she answered.