Glassmage

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Gabrielle dreamed about sea glass.

In a blissful trance, she carried buckets of the smooth multihued bits from the back boardwalk to the basement. Each time she thought she was down to the final bucket or two, another dozen would be waiting. And the sky darkened. Thunder volleyed over the swell of the ocean and drew closer. Wind caught the sea spray and pushed it against her. Must get the sea glass inside, she thought. Must get every last piece.

A final cannonade of thunder woke her from sleep, echoing in her mind as she sat up in bed. Gabrielle went to the window, which was still open, but found the sky above the Atlantic clear and calm. The moon, half-full, reflected in the water like… well, like a fragment of frosted sea glass. And this thought followed her to the kitchen and then into the basement. She’d left the light on during her earlier visit and was immediately greeted by the magnificent, dappled wall. Moving to a point in the center of the room, she sat with her legs crossed and stared sleepily at the intricate mosaic.

“I used to come down here in the middle of the night, too,” a voice said softly from the open door behind her.

Gabrielle nearly shouted in alarm, then caught herself when she saw her grandmother. Marine moved forward and knelt slowly beside her granddaughter.

“You made this, didn’t you?” Gabrielle asked.

“One piece at a time, yes. I started the day after your grandfather passed away. Every piece up there I found on the beach.”

Gabrielle glanced over at the tin bucket in the corner and asked, “What about that bucket?”

With her gaze set firmly on the wall, Marine whispered, “They aren’t… part of the picture.”

Smiling, Gabrielle said, “I know what you mean!” Then: “You’ve made a sort of picture with the colors.”

Marine shook her head. “No, not me. I just cemented them together. There’s a missing piece, though. Right over there. I still look for it on the beach.”

Gabrielle stood and searched the place her grandmother had motioned to. Eventually, she saw a thumb-sized area with the grey wall behind it exposed. The piece required to fill it would have to be nearly heart-shaped.

“Help me to my room, dear,” Marine said. Her eyes were half-closed and she held up her right arm. Quickly, Gabrielle led her back upstairs. Tucking her into bed, she smoothed the covers over her grandmother’s already sleeping form and felt tears come to her eyes. This is what she always wished her mother would do for her. Or her father. But they wanted her to be a “big girl” and “grow up”. The sad part, she thought, was that she’d never been allowed to be a “little girl”.

“Goodnight Grandmother,” she whispered, then kissed Marine gently on the cheek.