The Barren Tree

Chapter 10

by Myeerah, published on May 13, 2001

It was a peaceful summer evening. The delightful aromas from Gerde's efforts in the kitchen wafted through the stone passages of Schloss Ritter. The setting sun turned the sky into a glory of reds and golds and violets.

The gentle murmur of birds roosting for the night came to an abrupt halt as Mosely's shouted, "Again!" echoed through the ancient turrets.

"Could you say that a little louder, Mose?" came Gabriel's dry voice. "I don't think they heard you back in New Orleans."

"Jeez, Knight. How do you do it? Even when you can't walk and you can't. . . well. . . "

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Go on," he said menacingly.

"You, uh, you can't, can you?"

"There's more than one way to please a woman, Mose."

After a bit, having gotten no response but a blank look, Gabriel said, "Don't make me spell it out for you."

"Ohhh. I get it." He winked. "So do you, apparently."

"Shut up, Mostly. It wasn't like that."

"What was it like? And who's next on your list of conquests? That blonde housekeeper of yours? She's a fine lookin' lady."

"Shut up."

"You trip every woman you know into bed with you, Gabe. You always have. Even if you can't use your legs."

"Shut up!"

"Who's next, then? That cute little Celeste?"

Mosely wasn't expecting it, so Gabriel's thrown punch landed squarely on his jaw. "Just shut the hell up, Franklin."

"You don't ever call me Franklin." His fist lashed out and caught Gabriel with a vicious right hook. "That's for hittin' me, ya w*nker. Now what's got your panties in a bunch? It's gotta be somethin' pretty big if you hit me and call me Franklin."

Nursing his aching face, Gabriel said, "I asked Grace to marry me."

There was a pause. Gabriel looked up finally to see Mosely staring at him. "Who are you and what have you done with Gabriel Knight?"

"I'm serious, Mose!"

"So'm I. You're not exactly the marryin' kinda guy, if you see what I'm gettin' at. What did she say?"

"I asked her when I was in the hospital. I was on morphine. She wouldn't give me an answer."

"Then what's the problem? You're off the hook."

"I think I want to marry her."

Mosely said nothing. When Gabriel looked at him, it was because Mosely was sitting down, eyes blank, mouth agape. This was just too much for him to handle in one day.

"Mose?" He didn't move. "Mosely?"

"You think!? You don't even know? Dammit, Gabe, you are the biggest sh*thead on the whole d*mn planet!"

"You don't think I know that? Hear me out. There're two big problems with this thing. Say I ask her. What if she says yes? Have you met her mother? The woman's a nutcase. I don't know if I can deal with that."

"What's the other thing," Mosely asked. "You said there were two."

"Hell, right now Grace doesn't know if she wants to kiss me or kill me."

"Probably both." Mosely thought for a bit. "Maybe you could try gettin' her drunk again."

"Mosely, it's that kind of advice that got me into this situation."

"I don't know what to tell ya then. I'll be around for a while if you want to talk. I'm gonna be in Europe for a few months, building up a contact base."

"Yeah. You can stay here when you're around."

"Thanks. Hey! Since you're a one woman man now an' all--Celeste is a hottie, ain't she?"

"Shut up, Mosely. Anyway, she's only sixteen."

"Really? She doesn't look it. She's got the perkiest little--"

"Shut up!"

"What's gotten into you, Knight?"

"I used to see her mother."

"Oh. The whole agein' thing gettin' to ya?"

"Mosely. I was with her mother about seventeen years ago."

"Wow. And you still remember?"

"Mosely! Listen to what I am sayin'! Seventeen years ago I went out with her mother. Celeste is sixteen. Does anythin' about her seem familiar to you?"

"She's got the nicest green eyes OH hell." He looked at Gabriel's own green eyes. Gabriel nodded, slowly. "Well. I see why you hit me."

Dinner was. . . interesting. Grace and Gabriel exchanged furtive looks, then would look away in embarrassment until it happened again.

Mosely watched the two of them in shock, then watched Celeste. Also in shock.

Celeste looked wonderingly at everyone--wondering if they had all gone insane.

Gerde just kept her head down rather than burst out laughing. Occasionally, small squeaking noises could be heard coming from her direction.

No one said much for a long while.

Unable to take the quiet anymore, Celeste spoke. "You know, I've been having the weirdest dream lately."

Everyone stared at her.

"Oh? What about?" Gabriel asked.

"It starts with this little seed. It falls into this really gross patch of ground and gets buried, but this really gold light shines on it and it grows into a tree. It starts small, but it gets bigger and taller until it's just huge.

"Then the light goes away and storms come and lightning hits it and all the branches start to fall off until there's just one left. Then it starts drying out and cracking and it looks like it's gonna fall off too, but then the light comes back.

"The last branch gets stronger and puts out leaves. That's when I see that the branch is now the top of the tree and then it sends out a branch of its own." She calmly resumed eating.

Gabriel looked towards Grace to find her looking at him. He shrugged. She blinked once and raised her eyebrows inquiringly. He glanced at Celeste out of the corner of his eye, looked back at Grace, shrugged again, and nodded slightly at her. She lifted one eyebrow, glanced at Celeste, back to Gabriel, and moved her head slightly in assent.

"Do you," Grace asked, "have dreams like this often?"

"All the time," Celeste said. "That's nothing compared to some dreams I've had. Growing up I had a recurring nightmare about some guys executing a woman and this big gold medallion thingy. It was more complicated that that, but those stopped a few years ago. That and the tree have been the only recurring dreams, though."

Gabriel and Grace exchanged looks again. Grace raised her eyebrows expectantly. Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, shrugged, smiled wryly, and nodded.

"In your dream," he said, "did that medallion look anything like this?" He reached into his shirt and pulled out the talisman.

"Let me see that!" She was at his side in an instant, and nearly decapitated him as she yanked the chain so it cut into his neck. "This it is!" she screeched. "But why did I dream about your necklace?"

"We need to talk." Waving a hand for her to proceed him, Gabriel and Celeste left the room.

The three remaining looked at each other is silence for a moment. They picked at their plates.

"Hey, Grace," Mosely said eventually, "can we go and talk somewhere?"

"Uh, sure. Okay. Let's go." They wandered off.

Gerde sat alone at the table. "I guess no one wants dessert, then."

Once out of the dining room, Gabriel took the lead. Celeste sauntered behind him, watching him closely.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they entered the elevator.

"The library," he answered.

"Cool. I don't think I've been there before." She paused. "I don't think I know anybody who even has a personal library."

"You haven't and I don't think anybody else has a library like this one."

"Oh? What's so special about it."

"You'll see."

Silence resumed. Celeste studied Gabriel's every move intently as they approached his bedroom door. He was oblivious to her observation.

"Watch your step," he said. "There might still be some broken glass on the floor."

"Why?"

"I broke a glass." His tone invited no further question.

"oh."

As Gabriel unlocked the door, Celeste took the opportunity to look at his room. She took in the fireplace, the remnants of breakfast--two plates-- the antique armoire, the case on the wall with some old paper in it-- looks like parchment, maybe-- and the rumpled bed.

She let her mind linger hormonally on that image until she was brought back by Gabriel inviting her in.

Entering his inner sanctum, she was struck by the juxtaposition of old and new. Ancient manuscripts were side by side with Gabriel's own published works. A rotary phone and manual typewriter shared a desk with a compact laptop. Beautiful old oil paintings hung on the walls, adjacent to disturbing modern prints.

"This is incredible!" She walked over to inspect a strange painting of snakes crawling out of a skull when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look, she saw the talisman spinning lazily on the computer screen.

"There's that dream necklace again. What's up with that, and why is it your screen saver?"

"Have a seat," Gabriel said, "and let me fill you in on some things." She complied.

"It all started," he began, "back in New Orleans. Dead bodies were showin' up with their hearts cut out and what looked like Voodoo paraphernalia around them. I thought it would make a good plot for a book, so I started lookin' into it."

Celeste listened to his story with growing fascination. And suspicion.

"I'm worried 'bout Gabe," Mosely was saying. He and Grace were ensconced in her room.

Grace sat with her hands clasped in her lap. She seemed intent on her fingernails, inspecting them minutely rather than meet Mosely's gaze.

"He'll be fine. The casts should all be off in a month or so. A couple months of physical therapy and you'll never know he was hurt."

"I'm not talkin' 'bout that and you know it! I've never seen him like this before."

"Like what?" Grace was now scrutinizing the veins in her wrists. "He's pretty much the same as always."

Mosely noticed at last that Grace wasn't looking at him. "How would you say he's acting?" he asked, observing her closely.

Tracing a design on the palm of her hand, she answered, "Like an infuriatingly charming jerk. Normal."

"Grace?"

"Hmm?"

He took her hands, startling her into looking up. "Grace, he's got a kid he never knew, he can't walk, he can't. . . ya know. . . " he looked down and coughed. "Anyway. He can't. . . do that. . . and he's asked you to marry him. You think he's actin' normal?"

Grace sighed, squeezed his hand once and pulled away. "Mose, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say you're not seriously considerin' marryin' him!" He stopped, appalled.

"Mose?" This was out of character enough that she snapped into focus. He was standing a few feet away with his back turned to her. He was so tense that he was shaking. Grace rose and padded up behind him. She touched his shoulder lightly. He flinched away. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice gentle. No response. "Tell me," she entreated.

"It's just. . . " Frustration radiated from him.

"Just what?"

"You deserve better."

Giving him a mental shove, she said, "Better than Gabriel?"

"Hell, yeah, better than Gabe! You deserve somebody who respects you. Somebody who knows how special you are!"

"Somebody like you?"

"Ye--no! No. Somebody you care about. Not some loser." He sat, dejected. "Not me."

Grace didn't respond. There was nothing she could say.

Celeste was not a stupid girl. Far from it. She could put facts together with suspicions and come up with certainties. This, however, was a very big jump to make. What she had just heard had shocked her to the core.

"You're telling me that your uncle ripped his heart out?! By himself?!"

Gabriel winced. "Uncle Wolfie was an exceptional guy," he explained. "That's not somethin' I'd like to linger on, if y'don't mind."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Right." He finished his tale quickly.

"Well," Celeste said after a few minutes of restless silence. "That explains the talisman. It doesn't explain why I'm dreaming about it."

"Ah. Yeah. I've been meanin' to say somethin' about that." He stopped, obviously uncomfortable. Occasionally he would start to speak, but he never managed more than a syllable.

Celeste stared at him for a time. Finally, pity overcame her. "Let me guess," she said at last. "That talisman is an heirloom for you family, so to speak. From the time Gunter lost it to the time you found it every Ritter has dreamed about it. You recovered it about three years ago. I stopped dreaming about it three years ago." She smiled. Actually, she bared her teeth. "My, how the coincidences pile up. Given the fact that Mom met Dad because he was a nurse in the hospital when she had me, I'm led to the conclusion that you're the son of a b*tch that got her pregnant and left her." She batted her eyelashes coyly. "Am I right?"

Gaping at his entirely too intelligent daughter, Gabriel couldn't respond for a while.

After a time, Grace approached and laid a hand on Mosely's shoulder. He flinched, but didn't pull away. She brought up her other hand and began to massage knotted muscles.

"I'm sorry," she said simply, after some of the tension had drained away.

"Why?" His voice was flat.

"For being so callous." She laughed humorlessly. "Ha. I took lessons from the master."

"Master what?" His dry tone echoed her own.

"Well, seeing as he's always leaving his little traps around, ready to catch anyone willing to take the bait, I guess you could say he's the master baiter."

"He gave a surprised snort. She giggled. He laughed at her, then they were both laughing hysterically, entirely out of proportion to the amusement value of the remark. The tension drained as pent up emotions were harmlessly released, both of them clinging to each other for support as they gasped for breath.

The mood around them was much more comfortable after the last of the chuckles died away.

"Grace?" Mosely said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You just did," she said, smiling warmly, "but go ahead."

"Do you love him?"

She sobered immediately. "I--I think so, yes. Sometimes."

"Sometimes," he repeated, incredulous. "I don't get that."

"Well," she tried, "the rest of the time, I want to kick him." She started to laugh, but stopped as Mosely stared at her. "It's weird, but--let me try to explain."

"Okay," he said, resettling in his chair. "This I've got to hear."

"Well?" Celeste persisted. "Am I right?"

"I can't deny it," Gabriel responded at last. He was still astounded by the speed with which Celeste-- my daughter! --worked out solutions. It took him far longer than that to jump to conclusions, and with far more to go on. He felt a surge of perverse pride. He went on, "It certainly sounds like I'm your father."

Her green eyes went icy. "No. Let's get one thing straight. My father was Thomas Bradley. He married Mom and adopted me when I was a year old. You just enabled me to be born. Nothing more. Ever."

To his surprise, Gabriel felt intimidated by the menace in her words. There was something very frightening in the air around Celeste. "I'm not tryin' to take your father's place. I'm just statin' a biological fact."

The aura of anger faded. "I know. It was a long time ago. Still," she eyed Gabriel suggestively, "I can tell what Mom saw in you." She advanced on him.

Gabriel felt suddenly frozen in place. He tried to back away from the disturbing figure bearing down on him, but he couldn't move. As she leaned over him he felt his head move involuntarily upward, as if someone were physically forcing him. He had never felt so helpless before in his life.

Celeste brushed his lips with her own. As they touched, there was a surge from the talisman around his neck. Celeste gave a startled cry as she was shoved backwards, and Gabriel felt control flood back into his paralyzed muscles.

"What the f*ck?!" he shouted.

Celeste was huddled against the desk, sobbing. Gabriel made a move towards her. As he neared her he was engulfed in a nearly tangible cloud of misery and self-hatred. Shaking his head, fighting off tears, he backed away. The feeling stopped.

"What the f*ck?" he repeated, this time in bewilderment.

"Well?"

"Give me a minute," Grace said. "This is hard to say. Maybe if I got the bad things out of the way first."

"How long were ya plannin' on takin'? I can only stay here for a coupla weeks."

"Very funny." She tried glaring at him, but couldn't keep a straight face. "Okay, okay. His major bad points."

"My point still stands."

Grace looked for something to throw at him. Not finding anything convenient, she sighed. "He's a self-centered, egotistical, scheming jerk. He takes me for granted. He pushes all of the work he finds boring onto me and excludes me from anything exciting that happens. He rushes into situations without thinking and somebody--usually me--has to rescue him. He drives me crazy sometimes!

"On the other hand, though. . . he make me laugh. He's impetuous, but it adds to his charm--spontaneity works! He looks too good by half. Maybe more than half. He genuinely cares about people when he bothers to think about them, and he'll go to enormous effort to help someone after he gets started. He may not be the nicest man, but he's got a good heart. He's passionate, and vibrant, and full of joie de vive.

"Also, he's really. . . talented, if that makes sense. Practice makes perfect, I guess. I've just never felt that good before."

Mosely squirmed in discomfort as Grace, eyes closed, lips parted, reveled in her memories. He couldn't take it for long. "Uh. . . what about the way he makes you do all of his work?"

"That's just it," she said, refocusing. "He gives me the stuff he thinks is boring, but it's research, which I like. He does the grunt work and leaves me the cerebral part of it. We make a good team that way."

"But you said he excludes you?" Mosely tried to find something else to add. "And he takes you for granted?"

"Keeping me out of things is annoying, but it's more misplaced chivalry than anything else. He doesn't want me to get hurt. As for the other--do you know how he was hurt?"

"Yeah. He was goin' way too fast on his bike and hit a car." He rolled his eyes.

"Gerde told me that he was on his way to see me. To apologize."

"Seriously?"

"That's what she said."

"Then. . . I don't get it, Grace. If he's so reformed, what's holdin' you back?"

She didn't answer immediately. She was trying to think of a logical reason, herself. Defending Gabriel to Mosely made things clearer to her, but the reluctance was still inexplicably there.

At length she said, "I hate the way he talks to me, but I love the way he speaks to me. I hate the way he acts, but I love the things he does. I hate the way he can't function until he gets his morning coffee, but I love the look on his face when he drinks it. I hate the way he can make me feel, but I love the way he makes me feel."

"He may be my friend," Mosely interrupted, "but I hate him for what he does to you."

A short, sharp scream cut off Grace's reply, followed by Gabriel's pained shout. Grace was out the door and running as Mosely stood up.

"Gabe, you jerk," he muttered to himself, trundling along in the wake of the vanished Grace.

Last update: October 24, 2007

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The Barren Tree

Chapter 10