Juana nodded, and together they gathered their respective charges and dutifully trailed behind Luisa de la Vega.
Luisa led everyone to an elaborate display cabinet. "This is my most prized possession. My husband was most fortunate in being able to purchase it at considerable expense on his recent trip to Venice." She stepped away to let everyone see.
Juana's granddaughter jumped up, waving a doll. "You've got a Barbie just like mine!"
Juana knew she should reprimand Isabel for speaking without being spoken to, but the horror and embarrassment visible on the faces of Luisa and her cohorts kept her smugly silent while Isabel showed off her doll, which was exactly the same as Luisa's-although considerably more bedraggled.
"Where did you get that?" an outraged Luisa demanded, reaching for the doll in Isabel's hands.
Frightened by Luisa, Isabel rushed to her grandmother. Juana wrapped her arms around the trembling child and faced Luisa. "It's one my youngest son, Alfredo, gave to her."
Luisa pointed an accusing finger at Juana. "You let a child play with a priceless up-time artifact?"
Juana gently stroked Isabel's hair and smiled serenely at Luisa. "Only the ones that had already been well played with."
Isabel turned and, from the safety of her grandmamma's arms, carefully counted off on her fingers the various Barbies and Barbie accessories she had. Juana was impressed at how well her seven-year-old granddaughter remembered what she had been given. She didn't miss one.
"But none of the ones Isabel plays with are in anything like that good condition," Juana said. "No, the 'mint in box' ones like that are kept locked in a cabinet."
"I'm not allowed to play with them." Isabel pouted.
Juana sighed in silent relief when Isabel stopped talking. It wouldn't have done for her to tell everyone that the cabinet in question was in one of the attics. She glanced over at Anna Maria. Now might be a good time to take their leave. She jerked her head suggestively toward the door and Anna Maria nodded.
A month later
The planned meeting at San Sebastian's had not been the success Juana had hoped for. Catalina had indicated interest in Juan, but the ungrateful idiot hadn't reciprocated. Instead, he had pushed his way through the crowds in the Street of the Arch after services in his rush to get back to his wretched flying machine, leaving his poor mother to make excuses for his inexcusable behavior.
"It's not right," Juana de Silva protested to her husband later that evening. "Isabel and Eduardo need a mother, and Juan refuses to even consider remarrying."
"My love-Magdalida died in his arms," her less-than-sympathetic husband said.
"It is nothing but foolishness. God needed Magdalida more than Juan and the children did."
Antonio Diego de Aguilera shook his head. "You'll never convince Juan of that. He maintains that he will never expose another woman to that risk again."
Juana snorted. He might be her most favored son, but Juan was still only a man. She couldn't see him keeping that promise forever. However, it was an obstacle . . . just when she'd found an ideal candidate. Catalina de Mendoza was a modest girl of good family and fortune. "Isabel and Eduardo lost both parents when Magdalida died. Juan has buried himself in his flying machines instead of caring about them. Something must be done to convince him to provide them with a loving mother."
"What do you suggest? Father Gonzalez has already spoken to him, with no effect."
"Priests! What good is a priest? No, what is needed is someone who can convince Juan that what happened to Magdalida is unlikely to happen again."
"One of the up-timers?" Antonio suggested.
"Dr. Nichols would be ideal. Even Juan must have heard of the famous Moor."
"I fear Dr. Nichols is unlikely to be interested in coming to Andalusia," Antonio said. "I'm sure he is much too busy practicing his profession in Grantville."
"What about one of the other doctors?"
Antonio shook his head. "I don't think we could interest an up-time trained doctor to come to Puerto Real. However, Fredo has spoken of the new doctors being trained in Grantville and at Jena. I could write to him and ask him to find someone suitable."
Juana sighed. "Ask him to find an up-timer who has trained as a doctor if he possibly can."
"Of course," Antonio said as he wrote a short note to himself. "Anyway, where is Juan?"
"Where do you think? Chancing his life playing with that devil-spawned machine." Juana shook her head in disgust at the risks Juan was taking. "If God had meant man to fly he would have given him wings."
Meanwhile . . .
"Hold her steady," Juan told the student piloting the airship.
He glanced forward, toward the landing field, where dozens of men were waiting on the ground to grab the handling ropes that dangled from the Pepino. "When you cross the fence, reduce power," he instructed the student.
Fernando Lopez de Perez nodded to indicate he'd heard the instructions and aimed for the men assembling on the landing field.
They were coming in nicely when Juan felt the first telltale signs of a cross-wind hitting the Pepino. "Apply power," he screamed.
Juan willed Fernando to react, to apply power so that the Pepino would gain lift from its forward momentum, and achieve the safety of altitude. Instead, Fernando cut the throttle back, causing the Pepino to sink closer to the ground.
To Juan's horror, men on the ground grabbed at the handling ropes. He knew there was no way so few men could stop the wind carrying the Pepino away, and leaned over the edge of the gondola to shout at them to let go. Then the full force of the cross-wind hit the Pepino, and sent it sideways. Juan was almost tipped from the gondola as the gas-bag tried to fold under the force of the wind. The airship was blown, careering out of control, toward the trees at the edge of the cleared landing field.
Time passed slowly for Juan as the trees grew closer. From the moment the Pepino hit them, time moved too quickly. He was thrown from the gondola and fell through the branches to the ground. On the ground, staring up at the Pepino entangled in the tree above, his final thought before he blacked out was "Don't let it burn."
Early April, 1635, Grantville, USE
John "Sully" Sullivan guided his mother to the dining room table where his wife and three children were already seated.
After settling her, he took his seat and surveyed his sons and daughter across the empty expanse of the table. John Junior, Jack as he preferred to be called, was as usual, all attentive; Linda was busy tending to her nails; and the youngest, Jacob, was, as he always seemed to be doing these days, feeding his face. "Your mother and I have some good news, and some bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"
"The good news," Jack said.
John glanced over at his wife, but Annamarie shook her head indicating that he had the floor. "Your mother and I have accepted an offer of employment that will allow us to put Jack and Linda through med school, and send Jacob to the university of his choice."
Jacob, always the first to pick-up on points one would prefer were missed, piped up. "Where are these jobs?"
"We will be working for Alfredo de Aguilera's family," Annamarie said.
"But he comes from Spain, and the Spanish are our enemies," Linda protested.
"We're actually at peace," Jack corrected.
John dived in before the kids started squabbling . . . again. "That's enough, you two. Yes, we're currently at peace with Spain, and the contract your mother and I have accepted was too good to turn down. Besides, it'll be easy for us, since your mom insisted that we all keep up our Spanish even if we can no longer visit her family."