By Lori Bush
Disclaimer:
Joxer, Gabrielle and their respective families are the property of RenPics and
Universal/USA Studios. This is a non-profit organization (me, not them).
Rating:
G – squeaky clean. See, I can still write ‘em that way.
Violence: Some minor angst, no
violence.
Sex:
Not a bit, sorry.
I took a poll on a chat
recently with some GJRSer’s that I much admire, and asked them what story from
my backlog I should put out next. This one won, so here it is.
Thank you, Chris. As always you
poked, prodded and shaped the original to make it a much better finished
product. This is dedicated to Marjie, for fairly obvious reasons. I love you,
sweetie.
Gabrielle looked to her left,
then to her right, finally spinning in a full circle. She had never been
anywhere so grand, so large as this place. Surely Corinth was the most
magnificent city in all of Greece! Father had had business with the government
here, and had agreed to bring his two daughters along. Their mother had been
hesitant, but finally Gabrielle had persuaded her to let them go. Lila, in
Gabrielle’s opinion, was far too young for such a trip, but she, at
almost twelve, deserved to see such a wonderful city! If only they could
have come by land. She paled again at the memory of the voyage, having spent
most of her time hanging over the railing of the ship. It took two days on the
road after landing at Megara before she could even look at food again.
Lila tapped her on the
shoulder. “Gabrielle,” she said to her enrapt sister, “Watch where
you’re going. You almost ran into that lady there.” The older girl looked up
into the irritated face of a passerby.
“Oops,” she stammered,
“s-s-sorry.” Even so, it was only a few moments before her green eyes lit
upon some new treasure, and she was looking at everything but where she was
going, once again.
“You know,” Lila stated,
trying to get her sister’s attention, “they say Athens is much
nicer.”
Gabrielle turned on her sister
in anger. “What do you know, pipsqueak? You’ve never been there. You
shouldn’t even be here. You can’t appreciate it.” Then just as
suddenly as it had flared, her anger faded. She loved her little sister, and
couldn’t stay mad at her long. “Besides,“ she reasoned, “we aren’t in
Athens, we’re here, and that makes Corinth better! Look,” Gabrielle pointed,
“I’ll race you to the agora!”
With that, the lithe blonde
girl took off running, her younger and slightly pudgier sibling trailing behind.
Peering behind her to check on her sister’s progress, Gabrielle failed to see
the young man she was heading for until she plowed right into him. They tumbled
to the ground in a heap of arms and legs, the boy dropping the large vase he was
carrying, which rolled, unharmed, into the mud on the edge of the street.
“Oh, gods, I’m so sorry.”
Gabrielle leapt gracefully to her feet, smoothing her dress and reaching out her
hand to help him up. “I didn’t see you. Are you hurt?” She looked down at
the young man. He seemed dazed, staring at his feet and not at the helping hand
she extended.
“I’m sure it was my
fault…somehow,” he stated morosely. “It always is.” He looked up, and
saw Gabrielle’s hand. As he accepted her help and she pulled him to his feet,
she finally looked him full in the eyes. They were the darkest brown eyes she
had even seen, and they looked so sad.
She studied him, curious to
know what could make someone have eyes that ached with that kind of pain. He was
tall, and thin – lanky, really. He was a little older than she was, at that
awkward age, when boys are all angles – elbows and knees going every which
way. His hair flapped over one eye, and he reached up to push it back,
succeeding in relocating it for only a moment before it dropped back down again.
He began looking around, in a panic. “The vase,” he fretted, “oh, please
don’t let it be broken.”
She began examining the area,
as he searched the other direction. Noticing a bit of color in the nearby mud,
she hurried to check. “Here it is!” she called triumphantly. Leaning over to
pull it out, she felt herself falling, “O-o-o-h, my…” she yelped, then
felt strong arms grab her and pull her back before she landed head first in the
puddle.
He smiled at her startled gaze.
He had a funny grin, and she found herself smiling back, in spite of the fact he
was still holding her around the waist. “You didn’t have to dive in after
it,” he said, amused. He released her, and she tugged her wayward dress
straight again.
“Uh,” she pointed,
“it’s right there.”
Gabrielle had always dreamed of
being a poet, or perhaps an artist, so she was trying hard to remember all the
details of what had happened - how she had felt, being rescued like the heroine
of one of the stories she would write one day. Only, she would be saved from
something better than a mud puddle - maybe she would even save someone
herself...
Joxer watched the girl as
her mind wandered. She was young, but not much younger than some of the girls
his father was trying to get Jett to take up with. Dad always said that a good
warlord needed a good wife at home to take care of things. Then he would
slap their mother on the rear, never failing to bring tears to her eyes. Joxer
fiercely hoped that none of the girls he had grown up with chose to marry his
brother, who was taking after their father in most other areas. They all seemed
too nice to be subjected to such treatment.
He knew his father would never
search for a wife for him. In fact, Joxer felt he could be considered lucky if he even
survived long enough to be of a marriageable age.
His “idiot son,” he called him. Not capable of handling the family business.
Too soft. No, his father had no interest in Joxer’s future at all. And even
his father was astute enough to realize that Jace was not in the market for a
girl…
He found himself wondering who
this girl was. Not that he knew every girl in Corinth, by any means. But she
was, he wasn’t sure… soft, pretty, someone he knew he’d have noticed
before. As she stood before him, her strawberry blonde braids loose and swirling
in the breeze, and her green eyes dreamy, he found himself thinking that this is just what Aphrodite
must have looked like when she had been that age.
She was just beyond being a little girl, but not yet a woman. He hung his head
in shame. He shouldn’t even be looking at someone like that, he was just the
family moron, no good to be around.
Just then, a smaller,
dark-haired child ran up and tugged on her sleeve. “You have to see these
pretty vases they have over here, c’mon.”
“Vases.” The word startled
both the young people from their reveries, reminding them of their shared
purpose. “I’ll be along in a few minutes, Lila,” the older girl said,
blushing slightly as she looked at Joxer. “I’ll meet you there.” And she
propelled the child back in the direction she had come. She looked him straight
in the eye for a moment, then hung her head. “I’m sorry, I was daydreaming
when I should have been working. Father gets so upset when I do that at home.”
He had to smile. This wasn’t
even her problem, and yet she was apologizing for not helping him. “I was,
too.” Oh, Zeus, why did his voice have to break NOW? It had almost stopped
doing that. Maybe she didn’t notice. Yeah, right. He shrugged, and turned to
the puddle. “If I hang onto your left hand, you should be able to lean over
and snag it with your right,” he suggested. She nodded, and soon the two had
retrieved the wayward pottery.
“Thanks.” He was kind of
sorry he had the vase back, although he knew he would have been lucky to escape
with his hide had he broken or lost it. But now, she had no reason to stay.
She looked at her feet,
suddenly shy. “I have to go now, my sister will be waiting. I’m real sorry I
ran into you.”
He smiled, and for the first
time since she had seen him, it reached his eyes. “I’m not.” She giggled
slightly, then turned and ran off to where the younger girl had gone.
“Hey, stupid,” Joxer heard
his brother call from behind him. Thank the gods he hadn’t been a few minutes
earlier. He would have spoiled the best thing to happen to Joxer since, well, he
couldn’t remember when. “How’d you get the vase all muddy, idiot?” Jett
shoved him, almost causing the dirty piece to slip again from his brother’s
hands. “Showing off for the little girly, huh?”
Joxer pulled himself to his
full height. “Shut up, Jett,” he said sharply.
Jett tensed, as if he were
going to make Joxer regret those words, then relaxed. “Aw, it doesn’t
matter. Dad’ll beat the tar outta ya anyway, for getting his precious vase all
dirty. He does a better job than I do most of the time.”
Joxer sighed, and followed his
brother down the street. Jett was right; he was going to pay when he got home.
At least, this time, the price he paid would be for something worthwhile. He
stopped, and turned back towards the agora. He had never asked for her name. He
realized it was too late, and turning back towards home he offered a silent
prayer to Aphrodite that someday, somehow, he would meet a girl just like her
again.
