The Barren Tree
Chapter 8
by Myeerah, published on May 6, 2001
Rittersberg, three months later
"Any word yet?"
"Gabriel!" Gerde shouted. "The answer is the same as it was the last thirty times! No! Now go away!"
Miffed, Gabriel turned his chair and rolled off. A cutting retort fleeted through his mind, but-- Naw. She's put up with too much already.
The casts were off of his arm and one of his legs. The other cast was due to come off in another three weeks, the bones having been nearly shattered as opposed to just simply snapping as the others had done. Gawd. I feel like the Christmas turkey, here.
The last three months had been harrowing, to say the least. Gabriel, usually so fiercely independent, had had to rely on Gerde for even the simplest of tasks. I can't even get dressed by myself with this freakin' hip brace on. The enforced helplessness had wrought changes, though. He was more thoughtful, more considerate, kinder. He was also more inclined to violent outbursts brought on by inactivity.
He flushed crimson at the memory of a particularly childish tantrum brought on by an overcooked dinner. Gerde was 'bout ready t' toss me in the oven. Can't say as I blame 'er.
To distract himself, Gabriel thought about Grace. It wasn't a good choice. What an I gonna say t' her? I just know she's gonna ask me if I meant. . . what I said. The problem was that Gabriel, himself, was unsure if he had meant his proposal. What if she wants t' get married? What if she doesn't want to? Both possibilities were equally horrifying. It took me so long to realize that I love her, I can't lose her now, but. . . am I ready for in-laws? I never even had parents. . . Sh*t! I've gotta tell 'er 'bout Celeste, too!
Gerde's voice cut into his agonized thoughts. "Gabriel! Grace is here!"
Grace came home.
That's what it is.
She'd been raised in New York, had gone off to Yale, had lived in New Orleans, and had spent the last year with Chadrel, but Rittersberg was home. She made a decision then, but it would have to wait.
Grace stepped inside and set down the paper sack she was holding on a nearby table.
"Welcome back, Grace," Gerde said. She then turned her head and called, "Gabriel! Grace is here!"
"How's he holding up?"
"He has been driving me out of my head. He still can't walk and there are many things he cannot do for himself. It bothers him, so he bothers me." Gerde sighed. "I'm so glad you are here, now. Much longer and I would have locked him in his room and invested in earplugs."
Grace laughed. She saw Gabriel come in, then. He looked better than he had when she'd left, but the sight of him in a wheelchair was heartwrenching. It almost overwhelmed the shock of seeing him with short hair. Almost.
As cheerfully as she could manage, Grace said, "Speak of the devil and who should appear?"
"Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer," Gabriel retorted. "It's good to see you, Gracie."
"It's good to be home." The word hung in the air between them.
The held each others' gaze for so long that Gerde was uncomfortable.
"Why don't you two go talk, hmm?" she interjected at last.
"I don't--" Gabriel began.
"Are you still on meds, Gabe?" Grace interrupted.
"No," he said, remembering her words about talking when he wasn't drugged, and wincing.
"Good." Grace picked up the sack that was resting on the table. "Your room, I think."
"All right," Gabriel agreed weakly. "The elevator's this way."
"After you." Grace made a sweeping gesture with one hand.
They were silent until the bedroom door closed behind them.
"Grace--" Gabriel tried.
"Hush," Grace responded. "I have something for you." She opened the bag and, with a flourish, set the contents on a small table.
Gabriel beheld the vision before him. "Two shot glasses and a coupla big green bottles. What's this, Gracie?"
"A shot of Jäger for the Schattenjäger," Grace said, turning one of the bottles so that "Jägermeister" was clearly visible on the label. "I wanted to celebrate."
"In that case. . . ." He snagged a bottle, opened it, and quickly poured two small shots. Lifting one, he said, "To comin' home!" and downed the alcohol.
Grace met his eyes for the briefest moment, then grinned widely and tossed hers back, as well.
There was a soft knock on the door. Grace answered it to find Gerde holding a tray.
"I thought you might be hungry, so I brought this."
Grace took the plate of cheese and crackers and smiled sincerely. "Thank you. This is perfect."
"Enjoy your evening, then." Gerde looked meaningfully at Grace, then left, closing the door behind her.
"Have a cracker," Grace said, placing the platter on the table next to the bottles.
"Thanks." Gabriel took two and a slice of cheese. "So," he mumbled, chewing, "tell me 'bout what you've been doin'."
Grace talked about her experiences and training for awhile. Gabriel listened attentively, asking relevant questions.
After the seventh shot he said, embarrassed, but just drunk enough not to let it stop him, "Gracie, I'll need to get in bed before I'm too drunk to lift myself."
"Okay."
They stared at each other, blinking to keep focused.
"Did you need help?" Grace asked after a bit.
"Unfortunately, yeah."
"Okay."
With a great deal of effort Grace managed to assist Gabriel out of his chair and into bed. Collapsing next to him, she said, "Did I hurt you?"
"Naw. I'm okay. Sorry."
"'S'okay. I'm here to help."
"Help me to another drink?"
"Sure."
Four shots and two minutes later they lay together on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Gracie?"
"Hmm?"
"I've missed ya."
"Mmmm. Me too."
"Need to tell you sumthin'."
"Hmm?"
"'Member Celeste?"
"Uh-huh."
"I think she's my daughter."
A glass shattered against a wall.
"Sh*t."
"Gracie, I didn't know. . ."
"Sh*t!"
"Grace?"
"Sh*t!"
"Gracie! Talk to me!"
Silently she flung herself off of the bed and out the door.
"Dammit!" Gabriel slumped in bed, reviewing the evening in his head.
How else was I supposed t' say it? Maybe if I'd waited? Naw. She'd hate me if I didn't tell her right away.
She hates me anyway.
Sh*t. You stupid piece of. . .
The door opened, unraveling his thoughts in mid-denouncement. Grace lurched inside, carrying a whisk broom and dustpan. She set about cleaning up the broken glass. She kept missing.
"Gracie, you're too drunk. Leave it for t'morrah."
"It's not safe to leave broken glass just layin' aroun-- ouch!"
"See wha' I mean?"
"Guess so." Sucking her cut finger, she weaved her way back to the bed and plopped down. "So drink." She blinked. "Talk. I'll drink. Where's yer glass?"
He passed it to her, carefully poured her a shot, recapped the bottle, and dropped it onto his chest. Taking a deep breath, he told Grace everything he knew. It didn't take long.
"You mad?" he asked after some time had passed in silence.
"Uh, no. Don't think so."
"Good."
"Gabe?"
"Yeah?"
"As long as we're tellin' secrets, I need t' tell you one."
He turned to look at her. She seemed worried. He poured her a drink. "Here ya go. What's up?"
She swallowed quickly. "Remember von Glower?"
Gabriel froze. "How could I forget?"
"He sent you a letter. With the talisman." She tapped the gold on his bare chest thoughtfully.
"I never gave it to you. I guess I jus' didn't want to lose you."
Refilling the glass, for himself this time, Gabriel asked, "Where is it?"
"I burned it."
The full glass made a spectacular display as it shattered in the fireplace. "You whut!?"
They tried to stare at each other but fuzzy, drunken eyes refused to cooperate. Unable to hold it any longer, they both exploded with laughter.
"Oh, that hurts," Grace said, holding her ribs.
"Tell me 'bout it," Gabriel responded.
They laughed again.
"Stopstopstop. I'm drunk."
"So'm I."
With the hilarity of the truly inebriated, the laughed again.
"Ow!" Grace chuckled. "Make me stop. This hurts." She fell, sprawling, full length on the bed. She rested her head on Gabriel's shoulder. "Nice. . ." she mumbled.
Gabriel put his arm around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "Um-hmm," he agreed.
They lay like that for awhile, calming down.
"Gracie?" Gabriel asked at least.
"Yeah?"
"Why dincha gimme the letter?"
"Di'n' wancha t' leave me."
"Didja think I would?"
"Runnin' 'round, no worries. . . . Soun's like your thing."
"Gracie? I'm no killah. Had t' sumtimes, but hate it." He turned his head and kissed her hair. It smelled good. "Ah'm a lovah, not a fightah."
They both giggled.
"Not anymore, though," he said, suddenly serious. "I need a drink."
"We're outta glasses. Drink from the bottle."
Gabriel opened the bottle and took a long drink--or tried to, anyway. He missed his mouth and poured it liberally on his neck and chest.
"Sh*t!"
Grace giggled. "You're a mess, Gabe."
"Couldja get me a towel or sumthin'?"
"No." Grace rose over him, then leaned down and licked a trickle of liquid from his chest. "Let me get it."
"Gra--"
She clapped a hand over his mouth. "Shh. This is my turn." Keeping his mouth closed with one hand, she lapped up the fluid on his neck. He moaned.
"Still want a drink?" She picked up the bottle. It was nearly empty. Grace poured the last of the Jägermeister into her mouth, then pressed her lips to Gabriel's.
He opened his mouth and swallowed, the sting of the alcohol mixing with the sweetness of her kiss.
"Gracie, you're dru--" he tried again, only to be cut off by her mouth on his again.
"Toldja. This's for me." She pulled off her clothes and straddled his chest.
Looking at her naked body, mind afire, Gabriel felt the wrenching lack of physical response.
Gawd she's beautiful, he thought. Maybe I can prove somethin' to her. Either she'll know I love 'er, or she'll be disappointed and leave me. Whichever it is, at least it'll be settled.
Giving in to her silent demands, he raised his hands to her, cupping one around a breast and trailing the other down her spine.
Throwing back her head, Grace moaned in response to his fingers which were now teasingly walking up her thighs. "Kiss me," she sighed.
"Happy to. Move up here where I can reach you."
She walked her legs up over his shoulders until she was directly over his face.
"I love you, Gracie," he said. With a hand on each breast he pulled her down.
She gasped as his tongue touched her, then leaned over to brace herself on the carved headboard.
Floating in drunken disembodiment, feeling his hands and lips and tongue again, finally, after a long year, it didn't take long. Holding her arms rigid so as not to crush him, shuddering violently, she rolled her head back in a long, vocal scream .
As she relaxed Gabriel tried to support her weight and guide her off of him. She did her best with trembling muscles and managed to sing wearily down at his side.
After kissing his rather messy face, Grace cuddled in his embrace.
"Did you mean that?" Gabriel asked.
"M'n wha'?"
"What you said just now."
"Hmm?"
"You said you loved me," he persisted, but Grace was already asleep.
Last update: October 24, 2007
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