A Prophecy Forgotten
Chapter Seven: The Cabin

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Almost a month later, Gabriella fidgeted above Tommy and glanced at the classroom clock. Two twenty-five. Five minutes until Christmas break! Five minutes until Tommy’s dad would pick him up and take him to the cabin with his uncles—far away from Lorraine and the boys at school.

“Now class,” droned Mrs. Gatch. “Remember that the comma goes before the—”

“Before the and. I know. I know!” mumbled Tommy. He glanced at the clock and started bouncing up and down.

“Come on, lady!” said Aaron. “You lost the battle forty-five minutes ago! Do you honestly think that commas and their placement can compete with sugarplums and Santa Claus?”

Mrs. Gatch’s gaze shifted to the clock, and she smiled her own smile of relief. “Okay class, time for your homework.”

The class and guards responded with groans.

“Your homework…” she began, “…is to go have a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year!”

The class’s groans turned to cheers that rang as loud as the school bell, the blessed messenger that signaled the beginning of two wonderful weeks of bliss.

Tommy grabbed his bags and tried to navigate his way through a crowd of fifth-grade behemoths. Gabriella followed behind, pushing away some book bags that nearly broke his nose again. He ran out the door to the pickup area to wait for his dad.

“Hey, Tommy,” said a shy voice over his shoulder.

Tommy turned around and looked up. (As the shortest in his class, he always looked up.) The voice belonged to Ritchie.

“Oh, hi, Ritchie.”

Awkward silence followed.

“Doing anything neat for Christmas?”

Before Tommy could answer, a more foreboding voice interrupted. “Hey, Ritchie! What are you doing with Tiny Tommy Crybaby? He’s a loser!”

Ritchie shifted his weight a couple times, looking first at Mikey and the other boys and then at Tommy. Luckily, his mother drove up and saved him from having to choose between popularity and friendship.

“Gotta go, Tommy. Merry Christmas.” Ritchie ran down the steps and climbed into the safety of his mother’s car.

Gabriella watched Tommy stare at the car as it drove away. The look in his eyes made her nervous. “Don’t hate him, Tommy!” she said.

Tommy finally smiled when he saw his dad’s truck pull around the corner. He grabbed his books, ran to the truck, and jumped in the passenger seat. Gabriella took a seat next to Zane in the back.

“Together again, eh, Gabs?” said Zane.

“At least we don’t have to listen to a five hour long argument all the way to the cabin. I see you gave up shotgun.”

“Yeah, but at least I’m giving it up to Tommy, instead of the Arch-Mistress of Torture.” Zane took a good look at Tommy. “Not good, Gabs. He looks harder.”

“I know. I know! I’m trying my best. What am I supposed to do? No one at school likes him, and he has to live with—well, her. I’ve got my friend Aaron looking for any loopholes in the Code that I can use to help him.”

“Gabs, I don’t think anything you can do will help him. Tommy needs motherly love and affection, and you can’t give that to him—short of becoming human without permission—and that violates every rule and loophole in the Code.”

Gabriella frowned and crossed her arms.

“Don’t worry about it, Gabs. All boys go through something like this at one time or another. I remember when Jimmy did.”

“Yeah, but all boys don’t have Lorraine for a mother.”

“Well, Jimmy had her for a wife for a while, and he’s still okay.”

Below, Jim finished giving Tommy their secret handshake. He reached under his car seat and retrieved a small, hastily wrapped package. “Now I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I figured this couldn’t wait.”

Tommy’s eyes widened as he took the gift from his dad. “I can open it now?”

“Right now.”

Tommy tore into the package. “Wow! Lieutenant Cobb!” Lieutenant Cobb was the newest American Hero action figure, a paratrooper.

“I had to give him to you early because we’ll need him to complete our next assignment,” said Jim with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Whoopee!” yelled Tommy.

Zane shared none of Tommy’s enthusiasm. “Couldn’t you have chosen a private?” he said. “Or maybe a desk jockey! A paratrooper usually requires a cliff, and I’ve seen you around cliffs, and you, Jimmy, are much too old to go and—!” Zane turned to Gabriella. “What are you laughing at?”

Gabriella clutched her sides, unable to answer.

“Gabs, this isn’t funny! My Jimmy is a fully grown man who somehow always manages to change back into the nightmare he was as a boy when he gets around your charge!”

Gabriella continued laughing.

“I can’t believe you’re laughing at this! Do you know what it’s like having to push things out of the way of a falling thirty-seven-year-old preschooler? They cover more surface area than little seven-year-old runts, I can tell you!”

“Zane, stop! Stop! It hurts too much!”

Zane crossed his arms and leaned against the back seat, fuming.

Gabriella finally calmed down. “It feels so good to know that another guard out there knows what I’m going through.”

“At least you don’t have a swing set. Little Jimmy had a swing set. I called it the Suicide Swing Set because on some days I was going to either commit suicide or suicide him!”

“Don’t start thinking you had it so bad. Tommy has a Wailing Wall in his backyard!”

“A Wailing Wall doesn’t have nails—and screws—and chains—and a slide you can break your teeth on! Have you ever heard how loud a boy screams when he breaks his teeth?”

“Have you ever heard how loud a boy screams when he jumps off a nine-foot wall into a thorn bush?”

Tommy clutched Lieutenant Cobb as he looked out the window at the passing trees. When his dad turned off the main road onto a winding trail that led up the mountain, Tommy began to bounce in his seat.

“Thank goodness we’re almost there,” said Gabriella. She watched Tommy’s excitement with relief. Christmas break could not have arrived at a better time. The poor boy needed a vacation from the trials life at home threw at him.

“Yeah!” Tommy yelled. “We’re here!”

The truck pulled up to the cabin. Before it stopped, Tommy opened the door and jumped out into the winter air. Gabriella darted out behind him, and it was Zane’s turn to laugh.

“At least mine finally keeps his hands and arms inside the vehicle until it comes to a full and complete stop!” he yelled as she chased Tommy up the slippery hill.

“That’s only because yours is the one behind the wheel!” Gabriella pushed a leaf that covered some ice out of the way before Tommy could step on it and slip.

The cabin was actually Uncle Bob’s five-bedroom, four-bath, 3,000 square foot mini-mansion. Tommy ran up to the huge oak doors that guarded the cabin’s entrance and pushed.

“Need some help there, son?” asked his father.

Jim’s strong arms enveloped Tommy’s shoulders, and the two of them pushed open the doors together. Tommy ran inside the cabin’s wood paneled foyer. Warm air and the soothing crackles from a fire in the den greeted them along with the smell of gingerbread cookies and pipe weed.

“Tommy!” said a bald man in a red sweater who emerged from the kitchen. That was Uncle Bob, who picked Tommy up in a bear hug.

Aunt Sophie, a trim, tan blonde wearing a sleek, brown turtleneck joined him and waited for her husband to set Tommy down. Then she gave Tommy a squeeze of her own. Next came Nana, a four-foot-nine eccentric lady wearing a bright purple sweater and a red, wool hat. Tommy cringed as Nana pinched his cheeks.

“My you’ve grown,” she said, and passed him to Gramps, who laid down his pipe long enough to give him a hug.

As Tommy hugged his grandparents, Gabriella stole a glance out the windows at the woods behind the house. She sniffed a couple of times, checking for sulfur—a habit she had formed since her bout with the mornachts. Things seemed safe, so she turned back to Tommy, who scrambled down from Gramps’ lap and ran over to Uncle Neil, who sat at the counter nursing a beer. Uncle Neil set his beer on the counter and gave Tommy a high five.

“How’s my favorite nephew?” he asked.

“Great!” said Tommy.

Gabriella looked around. Charlotte, Uncle Neil’s girlfriend, whom Jim called the huge pain in the you-know-what, was nowhere to be found.

Jim trudged inside carrying two duffle bags under each arm.

“Jimbo!” yelled his two brothers in unison. Hugs and kisses were had by all, along with loud laughing and storytelling.

“Where’s Charlotte, Uncle Neil?” asked Tommy after the din died down.

Zane and Gabriella turned to Zebedee, Neil’s guard. A big smile crossed Zebedee’s face.

Uncle Neil ran his fingers through his hair. “Charlotte?”

“…is history!” Zebedee said with glee.

“Tommy, Charlotte isn’t coming this time.”

Zebedee waved good-bye to an imaginary Charlotte. “Bye-bye!”

“Actually Tommy, you probably won’t see Charlotte again.”

 “Good riddance!” yelled Zebedee. He slammed an imaginary door and danced a little victory jig.

Gabriella and Zane laughed.

“Was she that bad?” asked Zane.

“She was on her best behavior here,” said Zebedee.

Tommy’s eyes brightened. “You mean you dumped her?”

“Yeah, I dumped her.”

Zebedee entertained the guards with another victory dance.

“Whoopee!” yelled Tommy.

Jim walked through the door with another suitcase. “What’s all the commotion about?”

“Dad! Uncle Neil dumped Charlotte!”

Jim walked over to his brother and patted him on the back. “That truly is good news, Bro.”

“I seem to be getting a lot of that,” said Neil through a swig of beer.

Zebedee slapped his hand across his forehead and said, “That’s because she’s mornacht-spawn, moron!”

“Well, Neil, that’s because she was the devil’s spoiled child,” said Jim. He patted his brother on the shoulder and returned to the car to bring in more suitcases.

Neil joined him, and Zebedee followed, commenting, “Yeah, and Jim knows all about mornacht-spawn, right Zane?”

“Don’t go on, Zeb,” Zane admonished him.

“At least I didn’t marry her, Baby Brother!” said Neil as he walked out the door.

Zebedee pulled Gabriella aside. “Is the boy okay?” he asked. “He looks a little—”

“Hard. I know! I’m working on it!”

Zane overheard the conversation and joined them. “Come to think about it, Gabs, Lorraine doesn’t have a guard. You could always…” Zane looked back and forth, “…eliminate her.”

Gabriella stared at Zane in horror. “No!”

“Why not?”

“Yeah, why not?” Zebedee chimed in.

“Because! First, it’s just plain wrong! We are supposed to protect the humans—not eliminate them.”

“But I don’t think you can classify Lorraine as human,” said Zane.

“And second, the Code forbids it. Besides all of us know that humans choose to harden on their own. Plenty of boys live with worse than Lorraine, and they aren’t hard. It’s a heart issue with Tommy, not a parental one, and you both know that.”

“Whoa! Listen to the rookie try to tell us how things should be,” said Zebedee with a teasing grin.

Zane frowned. “Well, it would make my charge’s life a lot easier if Lorraine…went away.”

“Speaking of rookies, I’ve been practicing for this year’s Christmas archery tournament,” said Zebedee. He elbowed Gabriella in the ribs. “This year I will humble the great Gabriella once and for all! Fifteen drekels says I beat you, Gabby.”

Gabriella raised her eyebrows, and Zane burst into laughter. “I’m still placing fifteen drekels on Gabs.”

“You’ll be out those fifteen,” said Zebedee. “Come on Gabs! What do you say?”

“I say I shoot for honor, not money, Zeb,” Gabriella said. She wrapped her arms around both of them. “I’ll let Zane do the betting.”

Zane’s smile faded when he saw the large, fresh scars running down Gabriella’s arms. “Hey, Gabs. What are those from?”

“Those are hideous!” said Zebedee. “What happened? It looks like you were scratched by a mornacht.”

Gabriella hid her arms behind her back. “It’s not something I want to talk about.”

They followed the family into the den. Gabriella stopped and hovered in mid-air, staring at a ceramic figurine on the bookshelf depicting an angel sitting on a ceramic cloud. “Tell me she didn’t buy another one.”

Zebedee grinned. “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”

“Sophie!” Gabriella wrinkled her nose as she stared at the Sophie’s newest angel dressed in a pastel purple robe with flowers decorating her long, flowing brown hair.

“Does someone want to tell the doc’s wife that clouds aren’t exactly that firm?” said Zane. “And that clouds don’t grow violets.”

“At least the robe isn’t pink this time,” said Zebedee.

“Lavender isn’t much better,” snapped Gabriella. “And tell me she’s not playing a harp.” Gabriella flew closer to the angel.

“No harps,” said Zebedee. “This one’s got a ukulele.”

“It’s a lute, Zeb,” said Zane.

“A lute? You actually know the difference between a ukulele and a lute?”

Gabriella shook her head as she stared at the angel. “White wings. I can’t believe it.” She looked at Zane and Zebedee. “Do the people who create these things even think about how difficult it would be to hide from mornachts with a pair of white wings on your back? Or how hard it would be to fight with all that hair flowing back and forth.”

Zane elbowed Gabriella in the ribs. “Hey, Gabs. You might want to find your charge.”

Gabriella looked around the room and gasped. No Tommy. She sighed with relief when she heard Tommy’s voice upstairs.

“Here we go,” she muttered, and she flew upstairs.”

•

After dinner Tommy and his dad convened in the basement, where they conquered foreign lands with their new paratrooper unit for hours. Tommy slept peacefully for the first time in a long time.

As Zane perched on the headboard of his sleeping charge, he noticed Gabriella holding her bow in her hand with an arrow half-cocked.

“So, warrior, are you going to tell me about those scars, or are you going to sit there like you’re expecting a battle?” he asked.

Gabriella took a deep breath and explained both experiences with the scout and the infiltrators.

After she finished, Zane whistled. “So that explains why you’ve been sniffing around all night. You actually killed two mornachts? What’s it like, slicing your blade through a mornacht’s throat?”

“I’m worried, Zane,” she said, opting to keep the thrill of actually engaging in battle to herself. “Tommy has something they want.” She looked back down at Tommy, who was smiling in his sleep. “He’s so much better with Jim.”

“And Jimmy is a much different man with Tommy, although I wouldn’t say he’s better.”

“Oh, leave him alone, Zane.”

Their conversation turned to talk about old times while Tommy and Jim slept soundly beneath them.

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Copyright © 2006 M. B. Weston. All rights reserved.
Revised: 02/06/09