The Time Travelers' Club: Chapter 55 -- The Stage

"Mama, you were magnificent."  Rose hugged her mother off stage at the Paris Opera House. "And by the sounds of the applause, the audience thought so, too."

"Thank you, my love. And where were you during the performance this time?  You always choose some strange places from which to watch."

Rose laughed.  "Since this was your dream role, I watched from the balcony in the front row.  I wanted to watch from the catwalk."

Her mother, who went by the stage name of Maria Montagne, put her arm around Rose's waist as they walked. Her stage name helped keep her daughter's identity secure. Maria was a retired member of the club, leaving it to pursue an opera career.

"This night was your crowning achievement. You achieved your dream."

"Thank you, my dearest," said Maria. "I have always wanted to be in Carmen"

In her dressing room, Maria's assistant was waiting. "Oh, Jenna, my daughter is here. She will help me undress. Why don't you call it a night?"

"Yes, ma'am." Her assistant left shutting the door behind her.

Rose helped her Mother out of her simple yet typical opera costume for a Spanish gypsy.

"Remember when we used to play dress-up and we would pretend to perform scenes from our favorite operas and movies and plays."  Maria slipped into a silk flowery robe, then sat and brushed her long black hair.  "As I recall, you always wanted to be Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Rose sat down on the pink upholstered sofa while her mother sat in front of her dressing mirror, removing make-up with cold cream and tissues.

"Ah yes, Holly Golightly.  My dream role.  I almost auditioned for a local playhouse where they were going to perform it."

From the coffee table, Rose picked up a worn leather photo album and opened to the first color photograph.  Two little girls in matching green dresses stood in front of a seated young man with a handlebar moustache, next to him sat his wife.

"Look at us," said Rose. "We look so happy.  How old was I?"

"You were five at the time," said Maria, wiping her face with a clean towel.  "You were my little blooming rose.  Do you remember?  I used to sing that song about being a rose. Your Papa would strum his guitar."

Turning the page, Rose saw a color photograph of her father with a mischievous grin on his face.  "Papa was so handsome.  I remember this photo being taken. Where’s Papa now?"

"He’s somewhere on business in southern Chile," said Maria. "Undoubtedly having a grand time.  You know your Father.  I got a postcard from him a few days ago.  I am having dinner with some of the other performers.  Do you want to join us?"

"I would love to but I must be going," said Rose. "I have an important meeting in the morning."

Maria pouted her lips and gave her the sad-eye treatment.

Rose smiled. "How about next week I come back and we have dinner?  Just the two of us."

"Promise?" said Maria.

"Yes, I promise."  They hugged

Leaving her dressing room, they walked back to the stage.  "You can find your way out?  I’m going through the back."

"Yes, I’m very familiar with the theater."  Rose had been on this stage and others many times before and after her Mother's performances. She passed back through the props, ropes, and scenery.  She headed to the main stairway. She enjoyed the grandeur of the ornate architecture of the Paris Opera House. The gold decorations glowed from the lights.

Strolling out the entrance, Rose hummed one of the songs from Carmen. She gazed up to the clear starry sky.

Turning onto an empty side street next to the Opera House, Rose walked, lost in thought.  The traffic noise died away and she heard footsteps behind her.  When she paused, so did the footsteps.  Someone was following her.

"Who's there?" said Rose, peering into the shadows.

"Just me," said Dreda Caligar. "Enjoying the opera this evening?"

"Yes, I did," said Rose. "And how did you know I was here?"

"It was a lucky guess."  Dreda stopped within a few feet of Rose.

"Well, I'm glad you had the honor of seeing me," said Rose, walking away, but stopped when Dreda followed.

"Rose, you are in league with the old lady and the brat?"

"Excuse me, his name is Sam and the "old lady" is Mrs. Lottie Steers, a well-respected member of the Club.  And they both have better manners than your friend the Doctor."

"Manners aren’t always important.  He just has a better mission," said Dreda, grabbing Rose’s arm.  "Listen to me. Join us."

Rose pried Dreda’s hand from her arm.  "Absolutely not.  The Doctor’s way only leads to destruction of life as we know it.  You can’t change history."  Rose dismissed Dreda with a wave of her hand.

"I know the rules and respect them.  I would never fight you out here."  Dreda seized Rose by the shoulders and, in a flash, they stood on the main stage of the Paris Opera House.

"Hey!"  Rose staggered forward, catching her balance.  "What are you doing?"

"I’m challenging you here and now.  Not afraid of a little duel, are you?"

"Fine!" Rose stamped her left foot.

Dreda circled Rose, each turn getting further away from her.  Rose followed Dreda’s lead and circled in the opposite direction.

"Want to be first?" said Rose.  "I don’t mind giving you the first shot."

Barely finishing the sentence, Dreda hurled three oranged-sized pink orbs all at once. Rose ducked, rolled, and jumped between each one.  Rose returned three of her own baseball-sized red orbs.  Dreda jumped over each one, leaping nearly six feet up.

"I see you've been practicing high jumping," said Rose.

"I have. Just waiting for a moment like this."

Rose ran to one side of the stage and squeezed through the rope system running from the floor up into the catwalk.  Dreda was on her heels, trying unsuccessfully to grab her. "Come back, you coward."

Dreda and Rose not only used orbs, but also used their brains and brawn.  Rose pushed Dreda into the ropes then punched her in the upper arm.  Bouncing off the ropes, Dreda used the force to leap upwards towards Rose.

Quickly jumping to one side, Rose seized Dreda's leg and abruptly yanked her face down to the stage floor.  Before Dreda knew what was happening, Rose straddled her side and took hold of a large clump of Dreda's hair.   Dreda tried to reach around, but Rose had a tight hold on her.

"Now I've got you," grumbled Rose.  "Just try to get loose..."  Without any hesitation, Dreda propelled herself up with the palm of her hands. Rose staggered backwards, letting loose of Dreda's hair.

Dreda jumped up.  "That old trick won't work anymore.  I've been practicing with Bruno.  You need some new strategies."

Rose ran back out onto the middle of the stage with Dreda right behind her.   Rose twirled around, running backwards a few steps, and threw a series of orbs.   Dreda began to dance in place, leaping back and forth as each orb smacked into the hard wood.   Sparks flew as each orb burst; some igniting tiny fires on Dreda's skirt.

"You!"  Dreda was angrily patting out each flame. "This is a new skirt!"

"You always said you wanted to wear the hottest clothes."  Rose's non-stop barrage of orbs continued to send sparks flying towards Dreda.

"That's not what I meant."  Dreda couldn't make an orb designed to counterattack.  Rose kept hurling orbs at Dreda’s feet.

Rose harassed her. "Had enough?"

"Alright!  Yes!  I concede.  You win!"

Rose's attack ended, but she remained posed to begin again. "Are you sure?  I'm starting to have fun."

"Fine. You can have this victory, but you'll be the loser when we get a hold of one of the books."

"Give your friend the Doctor my regards."  Rose put her hands on her hips.  "We’ll meet sometime soon."

Dreda glared at Rose.  "You don’t get it, do you?"

"I understand.  The Doctor wants to control history.  He’s messing with an already written story."   Rose got preachy.  "You can’t change the past.  It’s done.  People made choices and we must live with consequences of their past actions.  There’s a lot at stake."

Without warning, Dreda disappeared.  Rose twirled around to make sure she hadn’t appeared somewhere else.   Rose drew a deep breath and let it out.

"Damn." Once again, Rose had failed to change Dreda’s mind. "We’re not done yet."

The opera house was still.  Rose walked off the stage and back towards the front entrance, unaware of the eyes watching her from the upper back row of the balcony.

Vincent had watched the fight.  "This isn't good."  He disappeared.