The Barren Tree
Chapter 2
by Myeerah, published on April 30, 2001
Tibet
"You wanted to see me?"
Chadrel lifted his head to regard Grace compassionately.
"Yes, Grace. You have received an urgent telegram. I believe the sender did not think that you would acknowledge any other communication. Will you read it?"
"It's him again," she said, exasperated.
"Gabriel Knight? No. Not exactly. I believe you should know what this says."
Understanding and sympathy exuded from every pore. Grace had no choice but to give in.
"Let me see what he wants now."
Wordlessly, Chadrel passed her the message. It read:
GABRIEL IS DYING STOP PLEASE COME BACK STOP HE NEEDS YOU STOP GERDE
The words hit her like a physical blow. "Dying! How can he be dying?" She looked at Chadrel imploringly. "Gerde wouldn't lie. Do you know anything about this?" She paused, panic welling inside her. "Wait a minute. Gerde wouldn't lie, but Gabriel would. I wouldn't put it past him to send a phony message to make me come back. In fact, he already has! Like he would ever really say that he missed me or that he's "empty without me." That's not Gabriel. Gabriel would never admit to anything, even if it was true, which it's not. He's a pig! He has the morals of an alley cat and the sexual proclivities of a rabbit! He's just using me like he always has. I was so stupid to have ever fallen for it, just like all of the stupid women he's seduced over the years. Well I'm not going to fall for it again! I'm not going to--"
Grace became aware that Chadrel had been saying her name for some time. "What?"
"Come look at this."
The New Orleans Times Picayune stared at her from Chadrel's computer screen. The relevant headline caught her eye.
Truth Is More Terrible Than Fiction
Popular novelist Gabriel Knight, famed for his best-selling Blake Backlash occult mysteries, was thrown from his motorcycle after colliding with a car yesterday. He is currently being held in critical condition at a hospital in Munich. Sources say that he was on his was to the airport, having just booked a flight to Tibet
Grace broke off, horrified. She closed her eyes for a long moment, breathed deeply, and said, "Chadrel, would you please make travel arrangements for me? I need to e-mail Gerde and pack."
"Certainly, Grace. You need to expiate this weight on your karma before you can go on," he answered, but Grace was already gone. The discarded telegram fluttered in the breeze from the open window.
New Orleans
A stray zephyr carried the smell of spring flora into the old house.
"That's the last of it, Mrs. Knight."
"Heavens, child! So formal! Call me Gran, dear. I've missed hearing it." The smile enlivened her delicate features and put a mischievous light in her eyes. It was warmly returned by the pretty girl with her.
"Okay. Gran."
"Let me go and get you a glass of lemonade. You certainly deserve it after all your hard work."
"Oh, I don't want to be a bother--"
"Nonsense, child. I'll go and get you a glass. Take a load off, that's it. I'll be right back."
Celeste smiled fondly after Gran left. She had wandered by the house about a year ago, taking in the sights of the city that was her new home, when she saw Gran drop an armload of bulbs for her garden. Celeste had rushed over to help pick them up, and from this was born a strange friendship.
Celeste had lost her father recently, and her mother withdrew herself further and further, a difficult thing for an adolescent girl to deal with. Gran had filled a hole in her life. She was almost like a real grandmother.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Could you get that, dear?" Gran's voice came floating out of the kitchen. "I'll be right there."
Celeste went to the door. A rumpled-looking man with thinning hair and a gut had raised his hand to knock again. "Can I help you?" Celeste inquired.
"Uh, yeah. I'm here to see Mrs. Knight."
"Franklin?" Gran walked back into the living room with two glasses of lemonade. "Is that you?"
"Yes, ma'am." Mosely looked uncomfortable.
"Sit down, boy! It's good to see you. What brings you here? Have some lemonade." She passed one glass to Celeste and pressed the other into Mosely's had as she pushed him into a chair.
"Ma'am--" he began.
"I've told you before, Franklin, call me Gran."
"Gran, this, uh, this isn't easy to say," he tried again.
"Spit it out before it chokes you, boy!"
Mosely took her hands and guided her onto the sofa. "I got a call today. From Germany."
"Gabriel?"
"No. From his housekeeper, Gerde. Gabe's, uh, Gabe's been in an accident."
The color drained out of her face. "How is he?"
"Not good. That's why Gerde asked me to tell you. She thought you should hear it from someone you know and in person. That elected me."
"What happened?" Her hands were trembling within Mosely's. He wasn't too steady, himself.
"Apparently he broadsided a car while goin' about seventy miles an hour. The impact flipped him right over the car--he was on his bike. About the only things he didn't break were his back and his face. Somehow. If he lives, he'll recover all right, but he's got a lot of internal injuries."
He looked at her gray face. "Are you up to visitin' him? I know it's a long trip, but it would mean a lot to him to see you again. I mean, if he--"
"Of course I'll go!"
"Would you like me to, you know, set everything up for you?"
She withered like her outburst had cost her all of her energy. "Please do. I-- Thank you, Franklin."
Utterly miserable now, Mosely handed Gran a slip of paper. "That's my cell phone number. Call me if you need anything. Anytime." He left.
Celeste recovered somewhat from her shocked silence. One look at Gran's face had her on her knees, holding Gran's cold hands in her own. "It's okay, Gran," she said quickly. "He'll be fine." Celeste tried to send reassurance through her grip.
"I lost Harrison, and I lost Phillip. I can't bear to lose Gabriel."
"You won't lose him, Gran. I promise."
"I can't take this alone." A blush of panic overtook her terrified pallor."I can't face this. I can't lose my boy."
"Shh. It'll be okay." Celeste hugged Gran's unresisting form to her. "I'll go with you. It's spring break, I can go. I'm sure Mom won't mind."
"But you're so young! You can't possibly go!" Gran's eyes pleaded otherwise.
"Sure I can. I've been saving up for a trip to London this summer, so I have money and a passport and everything."
"But your mother will not want you to--"
"Sure she would. She's a huge fan of your grandson's work. Besides, she wants me to get our of the house more often. How much more out can I get than Germany?" She gave a lopsided smile. "You want company and I'd be happy to provide it."
"Go call your mother, dear."
"I'll be back before you finish your lemonade."
Last update: October 24, 2007
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