Chapter 1
"Move your feet! How are you supposed to parry if those balloons get in the way!? Ah, that's it, lassie! My wee little ducking, so quick with a sword! One day you'll have mine and put it to good use I wager! Now, again!" Gabrielle O'Malley sighed sadly at the memory as she watched the pallbearers gently set the coffin into the grave. Her father's coffin. It now housed the only thing Gabby had ever clung to. It was though all her dreams had died with him and now resided in the grave along with the deceased. She fingered the hem of her black shirt and adjusted her sunglasses. She'd be damned before she let anyone see her cry, especially when today was supposed to be so happy. She knew in her heart that she would never celebrate Easter again. There would be no colored eggs and sweet little bunnies for her. She could never again enjoy the day that Daddy died.
***
"Lauren? Hi, it's Gab. Look, is Jonathan home? I wanted to give him Daddy's sword." The words rang into the following silence. Lauren felt like crying. The sad voice had sounded tinny and far away, like it was spoken from the bottom of a well. "Gabby, why on earth would you get rid of your father's sword!? It was his most prized possession! It was a gift from his mother when he started that odd little business. You can't give anything so special away. What would he think of you!?" Lauren immediately regretted her words. A week ago, they would be brushed off and laughed at. Now, they sounded harsh and cruel even to her. "But, Lala, Daddy only trained people to swordfight because he couldn't do anything else. Why should I keep a memento of failure?" Gabby's voice cracked and she struggled to keep from crying. She had never talked to her father about his disability openly. He had never been able to discuss it without becoming angry with a God whom he had followed faithfully and yet gave him polio. The loss of her mother had beaten him down, but had not broken him. The loss of his legs had not either. He had founded his business as revenge upon Him who had stolen his love and his freedom. The sword fighting company had struggled until Hollywood discovered it. The trainers finally had had the resources to study many types of fighting skills with various weapons. Liam had taught her to fight with almost all of them though he was confined to a wheelchair. The ornate Celtic broadsword he had given to her on his deathbed, denying his mother's wishes to take it into the ground with him when he died, the way they did when it was forged. "It isn't a memento of failure, Gabby, it's a trophy! He overcame his disability and triumphed with Slash Inc., which is pretty amazing in this day and age. By the way, who's taking over the business?" Lauren hoped her encouragement would cover her trespasses and that by changing the subject she would avert the disaster of Gabby's tears. "Steven, of course. Little punk always was best with a sword," Gabby replied affectionately, seeing in her mind the short, wiry brat he had been at fourteen when her father pulled him off the street in pity and love; now twenty-two. "Best with a sword after you, sweetie. Everyone in town knows not to mess with you. Maybe that's why you can never get a date!" "That's something coming from you, lassie. You chose to marry the first guy who chose to notice you." "Maybe because he'd liked me since we were five!" Lauren replied hotly. "Just because I preferred the swing set instead of chasing the boys and throwing mud at them-" "All right, Lauren! I don't envy you for marrying Jonathan! Good gravy, if anything I'm TOO happy! I can't wait for the baby to come," Gabrielle was happily picturing their perfect family. They would be so beautiful. Gabby thought that twenty-seven was the optimal time to have a baby. It would be wonderful to be loved by two parents. "The baby had just better not come until the move. Belgium is a long way away." "And that's ANOTHER thing. Lala, how DARE you go and take my god baby to some country a billion miles away!?" Gabrielle wailed. How could Lauren leave? All her bridges were burning, one by one. "Tell me again why you have to leave," she mourned. Lauren sighed. "You know very well Jonathan's been transferred to a base there and I, for one, refuse to stay here when he's needed there. At least this way we'll be together some of the time." "Oh, well, in that case I'll make sure I pop in the next time I fly around the moon," she grumbled. Gabby tried very hard not to take Lauren's leave- taking personally, but the loss cut deep. Why did everything happen all at once? 'Well, when it rains it pours,' she thought. Lauren desperately searched for a new topic to discuss. "By the way, why AREN'T you taking over Slash? I'm sure they're all crying for your expertise in the field." "Yes, that's true," Gabrielle laughed. "Daddy taught me everything he knew. Steven even offered to marry me if I'd stay for five years." She sighed deeply. "However, I've decided to forsake my true calling and go feral. I'm pulling off into the woods for a year of retreat. I'm sufficiently moneyed; Daddy managed to pull in enough cash that I could suitably retire for the next seventy years and still be comfortably well off. Of course, I wouldn't be able to buy squat should I attempt such a thing. Anyway, I've put down a year's rent on a tiny little cabin deep in the woods somewhere or other. I will be totally isolated from all society. It's about time I got in touch with my roots." "Um.... What are your roots? You never told me." Lauren was curious. Gabrielle didn't fit any of the ethnic profiles she had grown up with. Gabrielle was Caucasian, with an incredibly think mane of almost blonde, almost curly hair and green eyes. She was of medium height and had a medium build. Though she had lost a lot of weight since Liam her father had fallen ill, she still had a large bust and rounded hips. She was quite normal; you might pass her on the street and not notice her unless she was smiling. Gabrielle had a smile that lit her face up like a sunrise; like she was glowing from inside. Lauren had not seen overmuch of those smiles as of late. Gabrielle was startled by the question. "Never? Really? Oh, I am deeply Gaelic. 'Descended of Kings', my father used to say. Apparently, I'm a direct descendent of King Aiden of Ireland in the Fifth century or something like that. Daddy discovered it when he did a family tree in, like, second grade. I doubt it though. I mean, do I look like a queen? But there might be a nugget of truth in there somewhere. Liam is an Irish name, after all." "But Gabrielle isn't," Lauren interjected. "True, but my mother was French. Gabrielle St. Claire. She didn't live long enough to name me, so Daddy named me after her. Pictures have proven I look much more like Daddy than her." Privately Lauren thought that was probably impossible, since her father had had straight black hair and brown eyes. Well, children didn't always look like their parents. "Good gravy, look at the time! I have to pack! My plane leaves in two days!" Gabrielle was actually starting to feel excited about the blasted trip. Dang it, that wasn't the plan. All she wanted was time to mourn, not to have fun. "I'll even be making my own clothes. Already packed into my apartment are yards and yards of cloth, all in forest colors. Moss greens, birch bark browns, it'll be a blast," Gabby stated, only half sarcastically. "Can I help you? I know all about sewing. And I can even make you look sexy, though practical." Lauren jumped at the chance to spend more time with her beloved, though beleaguered friend. "Oh, si, signore, I would hate for the squirrels to miss out," She replied dryly. "Of course I want you to help! I can't even turn on the stupid sewing machine! What time can you come over tomorrow?"
"Nine?" "In the morning!? Are you serious!?" "Take it or leave it, Gab." "Done. See you tomorrow."
"And Gabby?" "Yes?" "You're taking the sword, aren't you." "And multiple other weapons. So what?"
"Just asking. See you tomorrow?" "Nine then, sadist."
"Love you." "Love." As Lauren hung up the phone, she thought about how much she hoped this trip would brighten Gabby up. Lauren hated to see her sad. She sat down and pulled out a notepad. First of all, they were going to have to buy her several pairs of sturdy new boots....
"Move your feet! How are you supposed to parry if those balloons get in the way!? Ah, that's it, lassie! My wee little ducking, so quick with a sword! One day you'll have mine and put it to good use I wager! Now, again!" Gabrielle O'Malley sighed sadly at the memory as she watched the pallbearers gently set the coffin into the grave. Her father's coffin. It now housed the only thing Gabby had ever clung to. It was though all her dreams had died with him and now resided in the grave along with the deceased. She fingered the hem of her black shirt and adjusted her sunglasses. She'd be damned before she let anyone see her cry, especially when today was supposed to be so happy. She knew in her heart that she would never celebrate Easter again. There would be no colored eggs and sweet little bunnies for her. She could never again enjoy the day that Daddy died.
***
"Lauren? Hi, it's Gab. Look, is Jonathan home? I wanted to give him Daddy's sword." The words rang into the following silence. Lauren felt like crying. The sad voice had sounded tinny and far away, like it was spoken from the bottom of a well. "Gabby, why on earth would you get rid of your father's sword!? It was his most prized possession! It was a gift from his mother when he started that odd little business. You can't give anything so special away. What would he think of you!?" Lauren immediately regretted her words. A week ago, they would be brushed off and laughed at. Now, they sounded harsh and cruel even to her. "But, Lala, Daddy only trained people to swordfight because he couldn't do anything else. Why should I keep a memento of failure?" Gabby's voice cracked and she struggled to keep from crying. She had never talked to her father about his disability openly. He had never been able to discuss it without becoming angry with a God whom he had followed faithfully and yet gave him polio. The loss of her mother had beaten him down, but had not broken him. The loss of his legs had not either. He had founded his business as revenge upon Him who had stolen his love and his freedom. The sword fighting company had struggled until Hollywood discovered it. The trainers finally had had the resources to study many types of fighting skills with various weapons. Liam had taught her to fight with almost all of them though he was confined to a wheelchair. The ornate Celtic broadsword he had given to her on his deathbed, denying his mother's wishes to take it into the ground with him when he died, the way they did when it was forged. "It isn't a memento of failure, Gabby, it's a trophy! He overcame his disability and triumphed with Slash Inc., which is pretty amazing in this day and age. By the way, who's taking over the business?" Lauren hoped her encouragement would cover her trespasses and that by changing the subject she would avert the disaster of Gabby's tears. "Steven, of course. Little punk always was best with a sword," Gabby replied affectionately, seeing in her mind the short, wiry brat he had been at fourteen when her father pulled him off the street in pity and love; now twenty-two. "Best with a sword after you, sweetie. Everyone in town knows not to mess with you. Maybe that's why you can never get a date!" "That's something coming from you, lassie. You chose to marry the first guy who chose to notice you." "Maybe because he'd liked me since we were five!" Lauren replied hotly. "Just because I preferred the swing set instead of chasing the boys and throwing mud at them-" "All right, Lauren! I don't envy you for marrying Jonathan! Good gravy, if anything I'm TOO happy! I can't wait for the baby to come," Gabrielle was happily picturing their perfect family. They would be so beautiful. Gabby thought that twenty-seven was the optimal time to have a baby. It would be wonderful to be loved by two parents. "The baby had just better not come until the move. Belgium is a long way away." "And that's ANOTHER thing. Lala, how DARE you go and take my god baby to some country a billion miles away!?" Gabrielle wailed. How could Lauren leave? All her bridges were burning, one by one. "Tell me again why you have to leave," she mourned. Lauren sighed. "You know very well Jonathan's been transferred to a base there and I, for one, refuse to stay here when he's needed there. At least this way we'll be together some of the time." "Oh, well, in that case I'll make sure I pop in the next time I fly around the moon," she grumbled. Gabby tried very hard not to take Lauren's leave- taking personally, but the loss cut deep. Why did everything happen all at once? 'Well, when it rains it pours,' she thought. Lauren desperately searched for a new topic to discuss. "By the way, why AREN'T you taking over Slash? I'm sure they're all crying for your expertise in the field." "Yes, that's true," Gabrielle laughed. "Daddy taught me everything he knew. Steven even offered to marry me if I'd stay for five years." She sighed deeply. "However, I've decided to forsake my true calling and go feral. I'm pulling off into the woods for a year of retreat. I'm sufficiently moneyed; Daddy managed to pull in enough cash that I could suitably retire for the next seventy years and still be comfortably well off. Of course, I wouldn't be able to buy squat should I attempt such a thing. Anyway, I've put down a year's rent on a tiny little cabin deep in the woods somewhere or other. I will be totally isolated from all society. It's about time I got in touch with my roots." "Um.... What are your roots? You never told me." Lauren was curious. Gabrielle didn't fit any of the ethnic profiles she had grown up with. Gabrielle was Caucasian, with an incredibly think mane of almost blonde, almost curly hair and green eyes. She was of medium height and had a medium build. Though she had lost a lot of weight since Liam her father had fallen ill, she still had a large bust and rounded hips. She was quite normal; you might pass her on the street and not notice her unless she was smiling. Gabrielle had a smile that lit her face up like a sunrise; like she was glowing from inside. Lauren had not seen overmuch of those smiles as of late. Gabrielle was startled by the question. "Never? Really? Oh, I am deeply Gaelic. 'Descended of Kings', my father used to say. Apparently, I'm a direct descendent of King Aiden of Ireland in the Fifth century or something like that. Daddy discovered it when he did a family tree in, like, second grade. I doubt it though. I mean, do I look like a queen? But there might be a nugget of truth in there somewhere. Liam is an Irish name, after all." "But Gabrielle isn't," Lauren interjected. "True, but my mother was French. Gabrielle St. Claire. She didn't live long enough to name me, so Daddy named me after her. Pictures have proven I look much more like Daddy than her." Privately Lauren thought that was probably impossible, since her father had had straight black hair and brown eyes. Well, children didn't always look like their parents. "Good gravy, look at the time! I have to pack! My plane leaves in two days!" Gabrielle was actually starting to feel excited about the blasted trip. Dang it, that wasn't the plan. All she wanted was time to mourn, not to have fun. "I'll even be making my own clothes. Already packed into my apartment are yards and yards of cloth, all in forest colors. Moss greens, birch bark browns, it'll be a blast," Gabby stated, only half sarcastically. "Can I help you? I know all about sewing. And I can even make you look sexy, though practical." Lauren jumped at the chance to spend more time with her beloved, though beleaguered friend. "Oh, si, signore, I would hate for the squirrels to miss out," She replied dryly. "Of course I want you to help! I can't even turn on the stupid sewing machine! What time can you come over tomorrow?"
"Nine?" "In the morning!? Are you serious!?" "Take it or leave it, Gab." "Done. See you tomorrow."
"And Gabby?" "Yes?" "You're taking the sword, aren't you." "And multiple other weapons. So what?"
"Just asking. See you tomorrow?" "Nine then, sadist."
"Love you." "Love." As Lauren hung up the phone, she thought about how much she hoped this trip would brighten Gabby up. Lauren hated to see her sad. She sat down and pulled out a notepad. First of all, they were going to have to buy her several pairs of sturdy new boots....