was tricky work; the delta wings were temperamental, and occasionally one of the pilots would lose control. One morning his father tumbled out of the sky like a swift-spinning, falling leaf, and someone reported they'd heard him complaining the day before that one of the struts ‘wouldn't last much longer'. Though she hadn't asked for anything, the manufacturers must have been afraid Gabriel's mother would, and so they hurriedly, almost furtively, paid her a tiny compensation, ‘as a goodwill gesture.’ The witness disappeared quickly, and everyone was happy.
It had seemed a vast amount to her. Several thousand, after the advocate had taken his fee. Most advocates, he said, would have taken a straight fifty percent of it, so he was quite considerate. They had the house on the outskirts of town, which was now hers outright, and enough to get by on without ever being truly comfortable.
His mother had a persistent, niggling cough and a surfeit of minor illnesses. He heard Rosie's father mutter, “Creaking gates always hang on longest,” and, “The woman only does it for attention.” Rosie's ma shushed him, pointing at the boy. Rosie's pa flushed, and Gabriel wondered what he'd meant.
How different the O'Malleys were—loud and bright and vital. They'd moved to San Clemente from a big city, and Rosie and Gabriel met and fell in love. Uncle Dez, as he told Gabriel to call him, was short and rotund, with almost no hair on his head but a lot on his face, all of it a fiery red.
When his pa had died, Gabriel had been unaware of it. He'd been too young; it was too remote to take in. But when Rosie's ma suddenly died, the security of Gabriel and Rosie's world was abruptly breached. There was talk of ‘a rogue virus from an institute lab,’ but while they understood the words, they couldn't comprehend the meaning, could only see that Shalleen had been young and bright and pretty, suddenly old and frail, then dead, all within a few weeks. Now the world was dangerous, so Gabriel and Rosie drew even closer.
For a year Uncle Dez was so bitter that he was almost a stranger. But time healed, and he became his old self again. He grew, if anything, even friendlier toward Gabriel and his ma. Rosie cried for a time, before admitting that some of the other children had teased her. Said when her pa married his ma, they'd be brother and sister and couldn't be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.
As his voice deepened with the first signs of impending manhood, his own mother got really sick. When the wheezing worsened and she began to cough blood, she finally called for a healer. The healer shook his head and called a specialist, and she shook her head too and muttered about something called emphysema. It was too late, they said. Soon after, there was no danger of Gabe's mother marrying Uncle Dez or anyone else. Her last words were to beg Uncle Dez to look after Gabriel. She left the house in trust with Uncle Dez until Gabe came of age, and then the boy was on his own.
The first year after Ma's death was the worst of Gabe's short life, and only Rosie's nearness made life bearable. The rest of the family treated him kindly, and whatever lingering reservations Uncle Dez might have had about the boy were dispelled by the way he so very clearly made Rosie happy. So he swallowed any doubts he had and was kind to Gabriel. Even Jasper, Rosie's older brother, treated him as almost human.
The second year was easier. The third year, they made plans to marry as soon as possible. Jasper went to study at the Thaumaturigical Institute, but he promised he'd return for the wedding. Gabriel left school, got a nothing job as a dogs-body at the orchard, but that was okay. Rosie finished at the seminary and got a job at the dyeworks. He wasn't very happy about it. The chemicals were dangerous; they made her eyes red, and he knew she deserved better than such a mundane job, but she was happy, so he kept quiet.
In the evenings they always met outside her
It had seemed a vast amount to her. Several thousand, after the advocate had taken his fee. Most advocates, he said, would have taken a straight fifty percent of it, so he was quite considerate. They had the house on the outskirts of town, which was now hers outright, and enough to get by on without ever being truly comfortable.
His mother had a persistent, niggling cough and a surfeit of minor illnesses. He heard Rosie's father mutter, “Creaking gates always hang on longest,” and, “The woman only does it for attention.” Rosie's ma shushed him, pointing at the boy. Rosie's pa flushed, and Gabriel wondered what he'd meant.
How different the O'Malleys were—loud and bright and vital. They'd moved to San Clemente from a big city, and Rosie and Gabriel met and fell in love. Uncle Dez, as he told Gabriel to call him, was short and rotund, with almost no hair on his head but a lot on his face, all of it a fiery red.
When his pa had died, Gabriel had been unaware of it. He'd been too young; it was too remote to take in. But when Rosie's ma suddenly died, the security of Gabriel and Rosie's world was abruptly breached. There was talk of ‘a rogue virus from an institute lab,’ but while they understood the words, they couldn't comprehend the meaning, could only see that Shalleen had been young and bright and pretty, suddenly old and frail, then dead, all within a few weeks. Now the world was dangerous, so Gabriel and Rosie drew even closer.
For a year Uncle Dez was so bitter that he was almost a stranger. But time healed, and he became his old self again. He grew, if anything, even friendlier toward Gabriel and his ma. Rosie cried for a time, before admitting that some of the other children had teased her. Said when her pa married his ma, they'd be brother and sister and couldn't be boyfriend and girlfriend anymore.
As his voice deepened with the first signs of impending manhood, his own mother got really sick. When the wheezing worsened and she began to cough blood, she finally called for a healer. The healer shook his head and called a specialist, and she shook her head too and muttered about something called emphysema. It was too late, they said. Soon after, there was no danger of Gabe's mother marrying Uncle Dez or anyone else. Her last words were to beg Uncle Dez to look after Gabriel. She left the house in trust with Uncle Dez until Gabe came of age, and then the boy was on his own.
The first year after Ma's death was the worst of Gabe's short life, and only Rosie's nearness made life bearable. The rest of the family treated him kindly, and whatever lingering reservations Uncle Dez might have had about the boy were dispelled by the way he so very clearly made Rosie happy. So he swallowed any doubts he had and was kind to Gabriel. Even Jasper, Rosie's older brother, treated him as almost human.
The second year was easier. The third year, they made plans to marry as soon as possible. Jasper went to study at the Thaumaturigical Institute, but he promised he'd return for the wedding. Gabriel left school, got a nothing job as a dogs-body at the orchard, but that was okay. Rosie finished at the seminary and got a job at the dyeworks. He wasn't very happy about it. The chemicals were dangerous; they made her eyes red, and he knew she deserved better than such a mundane job, but she was happy, so he kept quiet.
In the evenings they always met outside her
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