Disclaimer: I only own the story.
Chapter 1: the genesis of a good life
It's a typical bright summer day. Birds singing. Children playing in the street.
A young woman shields herself from the debris of a passing car. A 'woman' hardly more than twenty. Most likely much less. Her body shows the signs of hard work and a life of difficulty. Experience beyond its years. But her eyes shine of innocence.
Eargh. She grunts and balances herself with one hand against a nearby wall and the other clutching her enormous belly. She distracts herself by staring into the sky as she waits for the pain to pass, her long red hair flowing behind her in the wind. The sun watches over her on the right, the moon on her left, both in the peak of their prowess. Locked in a battle for control as the sky is unable to decide.
The pain subsides for the moment and she stumbles along as best she can. No one seeming to notice the pregnant child let alone care. She comes upon the two majestic doors, the two doors she had imagined time and time again in the past two months, and takes a small moment to absorb their beauty. Her imagination did nothing to prepare her for the real thing. It had been a long time since she had been around anything so magnificent.
With a quick surge the pain comes again, stronger than ever before and she bellows it out as she falls to the floor on her knees. She pulls on the door's handle with all the might she can muster only to find it locked. She sinks deeper to the floor in defeat. After everything only to be turned down at the entrance of her sanctuary. There is a scuffling coming from the inside of the church and the young girl raises her head in hope. The door opens.
"Annabelle," he tells her, but she is too weak to notice. "Annabelle! I told you never to show your face here!" The man is almost double her age, but her pregnancy makes the difference appear much smaller. He has a commanding presence and was he to smile, a kind face. A true spiritual leader. He stands tall and straight with complete confidence in his convictions. He grabs her by the shoulders and forcibly pulls her up. Looking around in haste he quickly attempts to pull her into the church. But he suddenly freezes, the girl almost limp in his arms, as he sees a pool of blood gathered on the stoop where the girl once lay.
"Reverend Craig! What is this?"
"Reverend Galbraith!"
Reverend Galbraith was considerably older than the other man. His head nearly void of hair and his stomach plump with his pastry filled life in stark contrast to the young girl roughly cradled in Reverend Craig's arms.
Her body is well covered but a trickle of blood can still be seen running down her bare leg from the bottom of her dress to the top of her boots. She screams again in pain.
"What are you doing to this girl? Can't you see she needs a doctor?"
"I have done nothing. This is a sign. God is punishing her for the sins she committed in her life as a whore."
"Nonsense, Craig. This is a church and we do what we can for any who enter those doors."
"Reverend Craig?" The hushed words that come from Annabelle break the intensity of the room if only for a moment. She tosses her head about in an attempt to locate Reverend Craig in what must have been a mix of reality with some sort of delusion or memory. Both men look down at the girl in shock and confusion. "Reverend Craig, please," she begs. "Please don't ask me to kill my child."
ooooo ooooo break ooooo ooooo
After all the panic and screaming and crying and running around, the church seemed to echo the suddenly eerie quiet more than anything before. There is a sound at the door and Reverend Craig looks up at it expectantly. His fingers are interlaced and resting upon his lap. Hidden in the palm of his hand is a small silver cross, obviously worn down. He rubs his thumb up and down the prominent scratch down the front while praying for some sort of miracle, as if God were a genie and all he need do is rub that broken cross.
The door opens after what seems like an eternity and in walks Reverend Galbraith with the blanket in his arms.
"How is the mother? Anna – Ms. Sinclair?"
Galbraith looked from the child in his arms to the man in front of him. "Unfortunately, she didn't survive. But she is in God's hands now."
"It's a shame. Who knows what's in store for the child being raised in an orphanage." He looks down at his hands and shakes his head in a very realistic shame. "And how is the child?"
"Beautiful. Perfect." Reverend Galbraith takes a hand and runs his fingertips through the little wisps of red hair on the baby's tiny head. "Craig? How did you know the young woman's name?"
"Oh, she told me. At the door," he replies in haste. "Was she able to name the child?" Quick to change the subject.
"Yes. Named after her grandfather. Rahne."
The Reverend's face subtly lights up. "Oh. A boy. That's nice."
"Not exactly." He smiles again at the little girl. "Reverend, do you really show no interest in holding your daughter?"
Craig stares up at the older man in sudden disbelief. As the Reverend's knowledge catches him by surprise, he is no longer ready to deny these 'ridiculous' accusations. "Come now. Did you honestly expect no one would figure it out?" Reverend Galbraith looks from daughter to father. "You should know that whatever you have done has no bearing with me, or any other man for that matter. But God is watching. And He will be judging whatever it is you choose to do now. Here Reverend." Galbraith hands him the child and sits down in the pew beside him, the massive gold cross at the front of the room staring down at them.
Craig holds his daughter awkwardly in his hands for the first time. Her tiny vulnerable head cradled safely in the crook of his arm. Her eyelids bob up and down attempting to fight off the sleep that overcomes her. And through those little slits they leave he sees how green her eyes really are. Green like his own.
"Take your child and give her a good life. Her mother would want that. After all she gave her your name." He takes his finger and strokes her little hand. "Little Rahne Craig."
next chapter - crossing the i's: rahne at 7.