The Saving Grace

Prologue

The summer sun peeked through the foliage of the tall trees, speckling the dirt path and grassy ground with light. A scrawny girl, eleven years old, sat under the shade of a poplar tree that had grown through a large boulder of the riverbed. Her legs hung over the edge of the rough stone, toes just barely skimming over the top of the moving water. Above her, blue jays and robins sang their merry tunes like they did every day. Below her, fish scales shone in rays of light, giving them an iridescent hue. Nothing seemed more peaceful at that moment.

"Look out!" cried a voice from behind her, hands grabbing onto her shoulders and jostling her. She let out a screech before turning around and swatting at the legs of the intruder to the peace and quiet.

"Jess Chase!" she yelled, wacking the boy in the knees. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone when they're sittin' this close to the water?" she scolded as Jess flopped down beside her on the cool rocky surface. Her face was scrunched up in a scowl.

"Yeah, but not if it's you, lil' sis," he answered her, ruffling her short black curls. Jess wore a cheeky grin, a very characteristic look for him. He almost always wore the expression everywhere. He was only fifteen, but already had most of the girls in the little town of Dalesburg chasing after him. "You gotta learn to loosen up a little bit, Holly." Holly scowled again, effectively shut her older brother up.

"What d'ya want anyways?" Holly asked, kicking some of the cold water up with her toes. The fish that had been in the area scattered as the water rippled and dipped in with the falling droplets. She giggled quietly at her antics.

"Ma wanted me to come find ya. She said lunch would be ready by the time I brought ya home." This made Holly jump up from her seat on the river rock. She brushed off the faded blue dress she was wearing.

"Race ya home slowpoke," she teased, now wearing a cheeky grin of her own. She took off down the dirt path beside the river before Jess could even give her an answer.

"Hey, you cheater! Slow down!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holly, Jess, and their older sister Beyah munched on the sandwiches their mother had made. She stood at the kitchen sink, washing tomatoes that she had freshly picked. At the table with the three kids sat the family patriarch and their father. Both men were reading over the newspaper that had just come from town.

"Damn shame. Another strike from Tusron. Keep gettin' closer 'n closer by the day," their grandfather tsked and shook his head. It was no secret that tension between the nation of Tusron and their nation of Dracma were edging closer to war. The children looked up at him. They all knew he was an old veteran whose hair was white and had faded scars. The squarish shape of his face showed the years, but his tall body stayed strong and lean. Well, as lean and strong as a 72 year old man could be. And yet, all he had been through never dulled the sparkle in his grey-blue eyes

Their father, too, was a man of war. But time had not been so kind to him. Neither had alcoholism. His oval face was worn with wrinkles, blue eyes dulled and hazed over with the effects of whiskey and sorrow. His body, which once stood to six feet, now was sloughed over and had grown almost rotund. It too was littered with small scars.

The three children grew quiet as they eyed their father warily. They knew not to talk war and fighting around their father. It only sent him into a rage. A rage which scared them and their mother.

"Keep yer mouth shut about that shit," their father warned his father-in-law. "There 're things not to be discussed in my house, and war is one of 'em!" the younger veteran almost bellowed, slamming a heavy fist to the wooden table. The children jumped, setting their food down and leaning away from the table.

Holly looked around the table, making eye contact with her grandfather, and looked to her mother who was scrambling to dry her hand and rush to the table. It was evident to all that a verbal fight was building. And whenever something like this happened, their mother would usher them outside and out of the crossfire. "Alright kids, why don't you three go out and play. The barn cat's kittens have come out of hiding, why don't you try to catch them, hm?"

They three nodded at the soft suggestion of their mother and scurried outside. Their mother always tried to play peacemaker between her father and her husband. Both men were too stubborn and prideful, and it often conflicted. Fueled by short tempers, often the fights would become explosive. They children remember a few times where fists were thrown, but it didn't happen often. The only time true fights went down was when their father was drunk and becoming abusive to their mother or them. Other than that, the older men usually minded their manners.

Once the screen door slammed shut behind the youngest, all three took off running to the barn. They had no intentions of catching kittens, but rather to discuss and complain about the adults. That was the usual place they went, or the river when they felt they really needed to leave. "I hate it when they start fighting like that," Beyah moaned dejectedly. "Then mama gets pulled into it, and she's not meant to fight with them. They should just keep their quarreling to themselves!"

Beyah was seventeen, practically a woman now. She had soft brown hair and bright blue eyes, looks she had inherited from her mother. Soon she would get to find a husband and move away from the troubles they all lived through. Because she was the oldest, Beyah had always felt that she should take on the responsibility of bringing her mother and siblings joy. The teenager was also training to be a nurse at the hospital in the bigger town six miles over. The town of Dalesburg was just a small community. The large town of Mandson was where most went to find work if they didn't want to be a farmer, store clerk, handyman, or house wife.

"Yeah, but when have you ever known gramps or pa to get along?" Jess asked, leaning against the field plow, playing with a stalk of straw he had plucked from the bale beside of him. Jess was the second eldest at 14 years old. Brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. He took on many of the physical responsibilities that his father or grandfather couldn't. Although he was actually just a few months from being fifteen, he seemed a lot older, looked older. It was clear that the teen took over his father's role amongst the chores. He often helped farm the land and fixed things around the home. Their grandfather often put his trust in the young boy because of this. And he often was the one protecting his sisters and his mother when the oldest of the family was not around.

Holly, on the other hand, sat on the steps of the barn loft ladder without a word. She always agreed how much they hated their father, and always wondered to herself why her father hated them so much, or why her mother had ever married him. Certainly if he had been like this before then their grandfather would have never allowed the marriage to proceed. And their mother was such a sweet woman. Being the youngest of all the siblings, she had just learned to stay out of the way. "Well, at least with gramps around, we won't have to worry about how violent he gets," they youngest muttered before hopping off of the ladder and going outside. She just hated talking about these things.

It was back off to the riverside with Holly. That was her safe haven, her place to think. Everything seemed so terrible, so muddled and disastrous. For an eleven year old, that can make you feel pretty helpless. But that didn't mean that she didn't have a plan to make it all better for herself, with or without her dysfunctional family.