Chapter 4: Disclosure
"Sara," Gabriel said, pounding on the door that led to his room. He often wondered why, exactly, his parents hadn't changed
it into a study or a library, or a half decent guest room. He further wondered why they had put Sara up there, when it was
unquestionably the worst room in the house. But his mother would not have heard of anything else and so Gabriel had
begrudgingly been carted off to spend a night with Curt talking about the innate qualities inherent in such varied things as
Nintendo, vegetables, and worms.
But now it was nearly nine a.m., and his mom was getting worried about her guest. So, like his parents had done so many
times, Gabriel stood outside of the door to his bedroom and pounded. "Sara!"
"What?" a voice groaned. He heard a thump and then, seconds later, the door opened to reveal an only partially awake Sara
Pezzini.
"Hey Pez," Gabriel said, unsure of how to react to this new side of his friend. "Time to rise and shine!"
"Time?" Sara asked, she had just reached REM sleep when Gabriel had come knocking at her door. Most of her was still
asleep.
"It's almost nine," Gabriel said. "God, Pez, you really look horrible."
"Thanks Gabriel," Sara said, slightly aroused by the insult. "You think I have time for a quick shower before breakfast."
"I hope so."
Sara nodded and slipped back into Gabriel's room, but before she closed the door she remembered something. Turning
around sharply, her eyes truly awake for the first time that day, she grabbed his arm suddenly and pulled him into the room.
"Hey Sara," Gabe said, more than a little surprised, "What gives?"
"You need to hear something."
"Hear something?"
"Yeah," Sara said, sitting him down in the directors chair. "Listen to this." She pushed the play button on the old boom box
and the sudden crackle of static so common to unprofessional recordings created a less than pleasant white noise.
"Sara what is this?"
"I'm going to take a quick shower, you just listen,"
"Sara?" Gabe asked again, but to no avail. She whisked herself out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving
Gabe alone with the static. Frustrated and confused, Gabriel lifted himself out of the chair and started looking for the
cassette cover that would explain to him what he was listening to and maybe, if he was really lucky, why Sara needed him to
hear it. But that's when the voice started, and that's when he didn't need an explanation any more. The voice was willowy,
like the piano music, and all to familiar:
"(Don't be bothered, no.)
Don't be bothered by the fears.
I'll try to bottle them like my mother's perfume.
She wore it only on Sunday,
kept it safe in her room in a chest with a key.
We found it anyway.
Don't be bothered by the fears.
They'll only join us like the sky that blushes red tonight.
And makes the wind die down,
calms the troubled sea (more out of duty than pleasure,
but out of pleasure nonetheless.)
Your fire burns me like a favorite song.
A song I should have known all along.
I feel you move like smoke in my eyes.
And that is why.
Don't be bothered by the fears
that sing from my eyes like carillon ringing only on Sunday
on the roof down our street finally Over the River.
Ring for you, ring for me, finally, forever.
It's just I never, it's just I never thought,
I never thought that I could be this free."
The chills ran down Gabriel's spine as the song ended. He wanted to listen to it again, but another song started and, before he
had time to digest what he had just heard, a whole new flood of emotions washed over him.
"It makes a difference
when you walk through a room
with that worrisome smile
road weary perfume
but this isn't the place
and it isn't the time for this beautiful delusion
that is robbing me blind
i want to know
i want to know
will it make a difference
when i go
it makes a difference
that i'm feeling this way
with plenty to think about
and so little to say
except for this confession
that is poised on my lips
i'm not letting go of God
I'm just losing my grip
i want to know
i want to know
will it keep you guessing
when i go
what is a love if the love's not my own
this is not my home
this is lonely but never alone
i just want to hold you
in my gaze for awhile
so i can remember
every line around your smile
then i want to know
i want to know
will it make a difference
when I go"
He was still enchanted by the music when the door opened and Sara, dressed only in a terrycloth bath robe, came in.
"Alright Gabriel," she said, leaning over him to push the stop button and break the spell. "I gotta get dressed."
"Sara," Gabriel laughed softly, "You can't just . . ." He looked at her, soaking wet in her bathrobe and realized that she could
just. So, meekly, he left the room, closing the door behind him and waiting eagerly in the hallway for her to come out and
give him any explanation she could.
"Hey Grunge," A sharp feminine voice said behind him. Gabe turned around to look at his youngest sister Joy. As a general
rule, Gabriel didn't like his younger siblings. He loved them, but, had he been given the choice, the girl born only a few years
after him would not have been the air-head, cheerleader, pop-star icon that she was.
"Hey prep," he replied.
"Why'd she kick you out?"
"She's changing."
"What, like you've never seen that before," Joy scoffed, a little too worldly for anyone's younger sister.
"No," Gabriel said, trying to get his voice to downplay the horror and disgust he felt at the very idea. "I haven't."
"You mean you to haven't . . ."
"She's just a freind, Joy."
"She's awful pretty for a friend."
"Yeah, well, next time I'll try to make friends with less attractive people, how 'bout that?"
"You're such a snob."
"And you're a brat."
"All I can say is thank God you live in the city."
"I say that all the time too."
Joy huffed, annoyed. It was not often that she bantered with people of equal or greater wit, she didn't like it. "Mom wants to
know when you and your girlfriend'll be down."
"She's not my girlfriend," Gabriel insisted. "And soon."
"Whatever," Joy said as she stormed away. Gabe looked after her with an annoyance only an older brother can feel. She had
been so cute when she was little, then, bam, she hit junior high and she was a brat. What had happened, what had gone
wrong? He didn't know, he'd left for college by then, but he hoped someday she would somehow get sweet again and let him
know.
With a sigh Gabe leaned close to the door and knocked again, "Sara we gotta talk."
"Yeah, you can come in," she said. He did and found her completely dressed, doubled over, waving a blow dryer up and
down her long brown hair.
Gabriel shut the door behind him and then walked over, crouching down so that, while she couldn't really look him in the
eye, their faces were parallel. "Where'd you get that tape?"
"Shauna."
"Shauna?" Gabriel was shocked. "Where'd she get it?"
"From Phillis," Sara said, suddenly standing up. Her only partially dry hair streaming behind her and leaving a slight mist on
everything in the room, including Gabe. He only peripherally noticed.
"Why'd she give it to you?"
"You weren't here last night," Sara explained as she picked up a brush she had placed on his desk and started forcing it
through her wet hair. "She's not the only one who had to pass along the message."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone was throwing rocks at this window last night."
Gabriel's eyes lit up and his voice bubbled with excitement. "Wha'd she say?"
"That she's sorry," Sara said.
"She's sorry," Gabriel said, his eyes were slowly losing their excitement and becoming sad. "Anything else."
"And that you were right. Gabriel what does that mean?"
Gabe ignored the question. "Is she alright?"
Sara, both hands extend above her head as she pulled a chunk of her hair back, turned her head and looked at Gabriel, "Why
do you ask that?"
"She said I was right," Gabriel said sadly. "The last thing I said to her was that, if she kept chasing after the same kinda guys,
she could get herself killed."
"When'd you tell her that?"
"Two years ago," Gabe said sadly. "I haven't seen her since," he looked away, either to avoid Sara's accusing eyes or hide the
tears that were welling up in his own. "We had a kind of fight."
"Two years? That's a long time to not talk to a best friend."
"She didn't want to hear what I had to say, I didn't want to be the shoulder she cried on every time her drunken boyfriend
popped her one," his voice was thin, either with anger or with grief, it was hard to tell. "I abandoned her."
"No, you didn't."
"The hell I didn't," Gabe said, looking up, he was to angry at himself now to care who saw that he was crying. "You saw that
brute she was living with."
"She chose to be with him and she has to choose to leave."
"And you heard the music, didn't you?" Gabe said, pressing the point home with a little more emotional restraint. "She's sad
and afraid and trying to protect me, not herself."
"If you confront that man, he will kill you." Sara said, flatly. She didn't mention that she had seen it happen because she
didn't believe the Witchblade. That was a warning, not a vision, and therefore it wasn't worth contemplating.
"And if I don't he'll kill her."
"Gabriel, I'm a cop. I deal with this kind of thing all the time," Sara lied.
"No you don't, you're a homicide detective, the only time you deal with this kinda thing is after the girl's already dead."
"Who's dead?" The overly sugary sweet voice of Joy said as she burst into the room uninvited.
"Nobody," Sara said, her voice tense. "What do you want?
"Grunge, mom's freakin' about the waffles."
"Right," Gabe said, taking a deep breath and bottling his feelings like his mother's perfume. "Come on Pez."
Their was so much more she wanted to say to him, but in front of his little sister was not the place, and she had a feeling the
breakfast table wouldn't be either. So with a sigh and one last glance in a mirror, she followed Gabriel out of his room and
down the stairs into the big oak dining room.
* * *
The morning was spent in the most pleasant way Sara could imagine, doing nothing. The entire family, all 16 of them, just
sat and talked and sipped coffee. Sara had a nice long discussion with the three practicing Bowmans of Bowman and Sons,
Gabriel's grandfather, father, and brother Mike, about the flaws in the legal system as she saw it. They, in turn, informed her
of how small town politics between the judge, the lawyers, and the local police solved all those problems. Gabe's grandfather
even proposed that, if she was so frustrated, she should move to a little place like Coppler's Grove and be the law there. She
only laughed. Throughout this conversation, Gabriel sat at her side, a silent observer.
Then, she was dragged into a discussion with Gabriel's mother, Anna (who always seemed like she was about to cry, even
when she laughed) and Shauna about the varied pros and cons of being a 'stay-at-home-mom.' Sara continually insisted that
she had nothing to contribute to this conversation, seeing as she was not a mom, but once she admitted she would,
hypothetically, continue being a cop, even after she had a kid, that argument lost validity. Shauna wanted to stay at home
with her little Timmy, even though that wasn't really financially tenable, Ralph's salary as a clerk at Bowman and Sons was
not quite enough to live on, and certainly not enough to go to college and law school on, as the young man intended. Anna,
who had a part-time job as a school nurse, argued that working made you a better mom because your children learned how
to be independent. Mrs. Bowman said that finances should be considered before all else; why when she and Tony (Mr.
Bowman) had first been starting out she supported him through law school by cleaning houses because he needed it, and
they needed it as a family. Sara's opinion was that you should follow your bliss. She would be a detective with a child
because she loved being a detective. Of course, this meant that she agreed with Shauna, a fact which she rued, and so she felt
it necessary to remind them all that she was not, nor ever intended to be, a mother.
Gabriel was, understandably, absent during this conversation. He had found his way to Timmy and Mary, who were playing
with duplos on the floor. She watched him, pretending she was watching Timmy, and was amazed with how casual he was
with the kids. He never yelled at them, or scolded them. He excepted their only slightly comprehendible ramblings eagerly
and pretended he understood. He didn't build a tower bigger than theirs, and he always let them knock his tower down. Sara
had an elusive feeling that she wold never have kids, her life was too fast and too furious. But secretly, she hoped Gabriel
would, truly wonderful fathers are few and far between, it would be a great shame if one was lost.
But of all the people she talked to, she didn't get a chance to speak with the one person she really wanted to, Gabriel's other
grandfather, the Rev. Dunn. She needed to ask him what had his call to action really meant. How much suffering was needed
to do good, how far did one have to drag the cross? Sara's parents had been good Irish/Italian Catholics: she had been
dragged to mass every Easter and she had been forced through the rigamarole of baptism, first communion, first confession,
and confirmation. She knew that not even Jesus carried the cross the whole way to calvary. But then again, she knew he did
die on it. And it wasn't death she was afraid of, at least not her death. But she couldn't bear to think of her vision, seeing
Gabriel killed. And then their was Phillis, she was afraid for her too. And the more she thought, the more she realized that,
although she did not need to worry about losing her own life for it was lost already, she could not stop worrying about
others, who shouldn't be forced to take up her cross.
But fate would not have her talk to the good reverend. Before got a chance to approach him in the big colonial house the
entire family decided to move outside. On the Saturday before Easter the church always threw a big Easter egg hunt, or so
Sara was told, in the town square. Curtis, Mary and Timmy had been inquiring after the event all morning and Curtis had
even been kind enough to tell Sara every last detail of last year's hunt, from the moment it started and Richie Mellano
stepped on his foot, until the end when he had more blue eggs than anyone else. The trick was, he said, leaving all the real
hard-boiled eggs when you found them, and only pick up the plastic ones. You see, Curtis said, each kid only gets five eggs,
and the little kids don't care if they get regular eggs 'cause they're too little to know that the plastic ones are better 'cause
they have candy. Sara wasn't quite sure how to respond to this information. She tried to remember what Gabriel had done.
She smiled, she nodded, and she laughed when Curtis laughed. These few simple acts won her a place in young Curtis's heart
forever.
The egg hunt was actually, surprisingly, fun. She and Gabriel watched it like a spectator sport, sitting on a small bench under
a tree in the far corner of the square.
"You know," Sara said. "It's hard to believe you grew up here."
"I don't know, I find it pretty believable."
"You just seem bigger than this town, you know. This place compared to New York . . ."
Gabriel shrugged. "It is what it is."
"This is so different than how I was raised," Sara said. Gabriel turned his eyes away from the egg hunt to look at her, she had
never shared part of herself with him. He hadn't invited her out to his folks house to discover childhood confessions, but it
was a nice perk. "My mother would never have let me just run around with other kids like this. To many freaks in New
York, you know."
"She was protective?"
"First twelve years of my life It flet like I was in a cage, you know?" Sara laughed. "But then she died and, ah, I realized how
much I needed to be protected."
"Needed?"
Sara shrugged, "Well, wanted."
"What about your dad?"
"He protected me in his own way," Sara said. "And he taught me to be self sufficient, which protected me most of all."
Gabe nodded, and shifted his gaze towards back towards the frolicking children. This time Sara turned her head and
examined Gabriel, "Did you do this, as a kid?"
"The egg hunt?" Gabe asked, turning towards Sara. She nodded, "Oh, yeah."
"You and Phil?"
"No," Gabriel said, shaking his head and turning back to the game. "She didn't come until seventh grade, we were all too
cool to be caught looking for Easter eggs at that point."
"You want to tell me the story?"
"The egg hunt story?"
"The Phillis and Gabriel story."
"Ah," Gabe said, laughing and shaking his head. "A tale of star crossed lovers as told by John Hughes."
"John Hughes?"
"You ever see Some Kind of Wonderful?" Gabriel asked, "With the blond girl and nerdy kid from Breakfast Club and the
mom from Back to the Future?"
It took a moment for Sara to remember that particular film, all of Hughes's works sort of streamed together for her, but
finally she nodded. "Yeah."
"I'm the blond girl, Phil's the nerdy boy, and every jerk in the tri-state area is Marty McFly's mom."
"Unrequited love," Sara said, just a little sadly.
"Yeah," Gabe responded, with just a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Only the movie got it wrong. I didn't get diamonds in the
end, all I got was the worst fight I've ever had, with anyone."
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure," Gabriel sighed. "It was the summer after our freshman year of college. We both thought we were so, you
know, mature," he rolled his eyes at the ludicrousness of it. "She was telling me about her roommates and I was telling her
about Sly and then she brought up this guy she knew and I, stupidly, set into her about how she always followed the wrong
guy and she had to break away. So she got all defensive and asked who did I think she should go out with, me?"
"You said yes didn't you?" Sara said, hoping against hope that the Gabriel of years ago would not be that foolish.
"Yeah," he said, his voice making it perfectly clear he knew exactly how stupid he had been. "I did."
"Oh, Gabriel."
"Needless to say we haven't talked since then. She spent all her time at her school in Poughkeepsie and I got really involved
with the business . . ." his explanation faded, just as his friendship had, into a sort of sad uncertainty.
"It's not too late," Sara said. "She wants to be close to you again."
"And how's she gonna pull that off, Sara?" Gabriel asked. "The gorilla she's currently dating doesn't want me anywhere near
her."
"Maybe he's worried."
"Don't," Gabriel said with a warning laugh, "give me that kind of hope."
"All I know is that she was throwing rocks at your window last night," Sara said. "And she's been carrying around a cassette
tape of those songs to give to you."
Gabriel opened his mouth to say something, but what Sara never knew, because right at that moment Curtis ran up,
screaming. "Uncle 'Riel, Uncle 'Riel!"
"Yeah Curt?" Gabe said, he seemed almost glad to have someone draw the topic away from the mistakes of his youth.
"There's a girl wants to speak to you."
Gabriel's relief was short lived. "What girl?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Over there," Curtis said, pointing to a beautiful girl with cinnamon tinted skin and long black hair pulled back in a thick blue
scarf that completely hid her forehead, running down to her temple and the side of her neck. "She said to tell you she's not
gonna talk to you unless you talk to her."
"What is this," Sara scoffed. "Junior high?"
"Thanks Curt," Gabriel said. As he stood he took a time to ruffle his nephew's hair, an action that got him an affectionate
'hey' out of the boy.
Gabriel took nearly three determined steps towards Phillis, who was waiting anxiously, before he stopped and looked behind
him. Sara was still sitting on the bench, watching him with an almost motherly pride. "Aren't you commin'?" Gabe asked
nervously.
"Phil and I had a nice long discussion last night, Romeo," she said, smiling. "Whatever she wants to say now, she wants to
say to you."
"Thanks Sara," Gabe said, genuinely. Curtis followed him about half way to Phillis, before he was showed away by the older
boy.
"They make an interesting couple," Danny said. He was suddenly occupying the space Gabe had filled only moments ago.
"Not really cute, but striking."
"And how are you this fine day, Danny?" Sara asked. Seeing Phillis, in the daylight, talking to Gabriel had lifted Sara's spirit
and sense of hope a thousand fold. She was in an extremely good mood.
"I'm fine," Danny said. "Later I'm going to see Holly and Charles visit my mother."
"You're gonna what?" Sara asked, shocked. Holly was Danny's widow, and Charles was their son. Sara hadn't seen them
since the funeral and she had, for some reason, assumed that Danny had not either.
"It's a holiday, I wanna spend it with my family."
"Well, I know but . . ."
"Did you think you were the only one I visited?"
"I, ah, I never really thought about it."
"Anyway, Sara, I don't have much time, so I want you to remember one thing."
"What's that?"
"You may judge people by their intentions as long as you hold them accountable for their actions."
"What the hell does that mean?" Sara demanded. But Danny wasn't there to answer.
She sighed, and looked at the children running around, oblivious to the eyes that were looking at her, silently wondering if it
was her guardian angel she had just talked to and what it was he had said.
"Sara," A deep, raspy voice said, leaking out of the bushes behind her.
Her heart stopped and her mind quickly tried to convince her that what it was thinking was not possible. Still, she had to be
sure, "Nottingham?" she asked, her voice trembling just slightly.
"Yes, Lady Sara, It's me."
A cold wave of fear washed over her. She hadn't seen Ian Nottingham since he had left her partner, Jake, lying on the
ground, beaten senseless and she hadn't talked to him since he had admitted to the murder of Gabriel's friend, Sly. And yet,
there was some small part of her, totally separated from all logic and reason, that never felt safer than when he was around.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sara asked through clenched teeth. Her eyes remained focused on Gabriel, who seemed
to be doing very well with Phillis. They were both smiling, unabashedly. If she was not consumed with being creeped out by
Ian Nottingham's presence behind her, she would have been touched by the scene in front of her.
"I am protecting you," Nottingham said simply.
"Really, from what? That kid over there. He looks pretty shifty with that hard boiled egg."
"You are in danger of nothing so base as physical violence."
"Than what kind of danger am I in?"
"You're being poisoned, Sara," Ian said fervently. "That boy is poisoning you."
Sara laughed, "I thought you said I was not in bodily harm."
"It's not your body that is being poisoned, Sara, it is your mind. A far more insidious and harmful procedure."
"And who, pray tell, is poisoning me?" Sara asked sarcastically.
"The boy, Gabriel Bowman."
Sara laughed again. To Ian it sounded like the first robin's song of spring or the tinkling of bells on Christmas Eve. He
wanted to revel in the beauty of it, but he couldn't. He had to communicate to her how much danger she was in. "This is not
a laughing matter, Sara," Ian said a little harshly. "He intends to lead you astray."
"You're wrong, Nottingham," she said. "He doesn't intend to lead me anywhere."
"He lead you here," Ian said innocently.
"You're just jealous because I choose to spend time with him," Sara said, just a little spitefully.
"You're right. I long to share myself with you the way he does." Sara got a cold chill flying down her spine. The logical,
reasoning part of her that said 'run from this man, he's insane' was drowning out the small part of her that felt safe. "But that
does not change the fact that he is feeding you lies."
"And what lies would those be?"
"By giving you information about the Witchblade he has convinced you that you no longer need my master."
"Newsflash, I don't."
"You don't know what you're saying," Ian said desperately.
"From the moment I met your master he has tried to manipulate me and the Witchblade. From the moment I met Gabriel he
was willing to risk retribution from you to help me. Think about it Nottingham, who would you rather trust?"
"Sara, I beg you, for your sake as well as his."
She had been refusing to look towards the dark man in the shadows, hoping he would eventually realize she did not want to
talk to him. Unfortunately, Ian would not be detoured by such subtle signals. But Sara threw those scruples aside, she turned
and looked at him with a veil of dread shading her eyes. "What do you mean?" She demanded.
"I cannot have him interfering in your relationship with my master."
"If you touch a hair on his head . . ." Sara warned, not bothering to hide her anger.
"It doesn't have to be that way," Ian insisted. "Come back to my master now, with me. We can leave the boy in peace."
"No," Sara said. "You can go back to your master and tell him that if he wants me to stay away from Gabriel he'll have to kill
me."
"Or kill Gabriel."
"No. Because if he did that I would hunt him down and repay an eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a heart for a heart."
"I would have to stop you," Ian said, very sadly.
"You really think you would be able to?"
Nottingham looked at her, the one woman he truly loved, the one woman who he wanted to love him back. He wouldn't be
able to.
"Go Ian," Sara ordered.
And he obeyed.
To be continued (in a little while, I've got to go to a funeral) . . .