Rachel the Warrior

Rachel the Warrior

Part One

by G. Lawrence

Meeting the in-laws doesn't go well

In the third Rachel novel, we find our hero in her late twenties, wealthy and successful, a proud mother, and engaged to Thomas Harper. But controversy continues to follow her, for many distrust the powerful world-wide health matrix she created. She's still insecure and a little crazy, but amazingly strong when she needs to be. This novel is being presented in eight parts, two chapters per episode.

* * * * * *

They marched across the breadth of the earth and surrounded the camp of God's people, but fire came down from heaven and devoured them. Revelation 20:9

Chapter One

HOUSTON

"I'm scared," Rachel said.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Tom said. "My folks are going to love you."

"What if they don't? You can call off the engagement if they don't like me."

"After all we've been through, no one is calling off this engagement."

"They're going to learn I'm crazy. No one wants a crazy daughter-in-law."

"You're not crazy. You have a condition. You are also the most brilliant woman in the world, and everyone knows it."

"I am not. Look at how many times I've broken your heart."

"And you fixed it every time, better than before."

Their private jet landed at a small airfield outside Houston, taxiing to a secure gate. Big Bob McLane disembarked first, checking with local authorities.

"Such a fuss," Rachel said, looking out the window.

Twenty-nine years old, a touch over five feet two inches tall, with long brunette hair and big brown eyes, Rachel Marbury would have attracted attention even if she wasn't involuntarily famous. Habitually shy, she was known to flee when fans started taking pictures. Her well-rounded figure caught every man's eye.

"You need the security," Tom replied. "As your mother keeps saying, you're not an anonymous lab girl anymore."

Rachel's fiancé often gathered attention, too. Better than six feet tall, the thirty-four-year-old former Navy SEAL had broad shoulders, clear blue eyes, and dark blond hair trimmed short. His steady demeanor impressed all who met him.

"Almost ready, Miss Montgomery," the pilot said.

Rachel gathered her laptop and prepared to get off the plane. Flying wasn't one of her favorite activities, even if it was becoming necessary.

"They should call you Miss Marbury," Tom said.

"I took Marbury when Mother adopted me," Rachel replied. "It's for family. I'd rather strangers call me Montgomery."

The jet seated eight, but Rachel and Tom were the only passengers. Bob McLane reentered the cabin. The tall former U.S. Marine sergeant waved them forward. Rachel was slow to respond.

"You didn't get airsick again, did you, Missy?" McLane asked.

"Not this time. I miss riding the bus," Rachel answered.

"You never liked the bus," McLane said.

"The bus never left the ground," Rachel replied, lifting her travel bag with a grunt.

"I've got that," McLane said, taking the bag away from her.

"You're my bodyguard, not my servant," Rachel protested.

"You won't be carrying anything heavy," McLane insisted in his gruff Detroit accent.

The tarmac was busy with groundcrew and airport personnel. Rachel noticed the press waiting behind a yellow barrier.

"How did they know?" she said, unhappily surprised.

"I think my little brother may have let the secret slip," Tom replied. "When he heard you accepted my proposal, Eric was really excited."

"I proposed to you," Rachel corrected.

"Yeah. I may have shaded the story a bit so I wouldn't look like a wimp."

"You aren't a wimp. You are big, hunky, and handsome," Rachel said, taking his arm.

"My brothers knew I was madly in love with you and barely had enough courage to ask for a date. At least they think I was brave enough to propose. You'll back me up, won't you?"

"No."

"No?"

"Exodus 20:16. Thou shall not bear false witness."

"You're not under oath."

"I asked you to seduce me the first time, too."

"Rory hired me to date you. Then I had to give the money back."

"You should have kept it."

"I was in love with you that first night. The first minute. I couldn't keep it."

"How much did she pay you to get me out of my doldrums?"

"Not enough, little hurricane," he said, giving her a hug.

McLane came to Rachel's side, watchful as always. 6'4, 250 pounds, with short curly black hair and frowning brown eyes, he presented a fearsome image. His twenty-one-year-old daughter Marissa was already on the ground doing the advance work, sharply tailored in a blue suit.

"Going to talk with them?" McLane asked, glancing at the press circle.

"Just a word. Sheba has been coaching me," Rachel said. "She says if I throw the media a bone, maybe they'll let up."

McLane guided her forward. They were met with yelling from a motley group of twenty reporters.

"Miss Montgomery, why are you in Texas?" one shouted.

"Rachel! What really happened in Nevada?" a stout man with thick glasses asked.

"Are you being nominated for a Nobel Prize?" a third questioned.

Rachel stood like a deer caught in the headlights, her big eyes staring at the commotion. She started to speak. Stopped. Tried again. No words came out.

"I'm Thomas Harper," Tom introduced, his hands held up. "Miss Montgomery and I have been dating. She's here to meet my family and see my hometown. This is not a business trip, so we would appreciate some privacy. Thank you."

Tom wrapped an arm around Rachel's waist, leading her away.

"Is it true WHD is spying on American citizens?" a snooty woman questioned.

"Why are you taking away our freedom?" a cranky man shouted. A protestor, not a reporter. When he started to climb the barrier, McLane pushed him back.

"WHD is an interactive health database," Rachel defended. "That's all it is."

"It violates my rights!" the angry man yelled.

"If you don't want WHD, don't subscribe," Tom said. A scuffle broke out, mostly shoving. Tom shielded Rachel as they retreated. Tall and athletic like her father, Marissa acted as a rearguard.

"God bless you, Rachel!" a fan shouted.

"You're the best!" another said.

"We love you!" a young woman yelled.

Rachel turned back with a shy smile as everyone took pictures, her eyes glistening with appreciation. There was a midnight blue limousine waiting. When the driver opened the rear door, Rachel was surprised by the passenger waiting for her.

"Rory!" Rachel exclaimed, jumping in to hug her. "What are you doing here?"

"Couldn't let you face this crucible alone, could I?" Rory answered. "Especially seeing as how it's my fault."

"Your fault?"

"I found Tom for you, didn't I? Took months of hard work, too."

"You did a good job," Rachel complimented.

Almost two years older than Rachel, Rory Benson was seven inches taller, bigger-boned, and never seemed to have her bristly red hair styled the same way four weeks in a row. For the past five years, she'd been living down her notorious past by becoming a registered nurse. Often Rachel's registered nurse.

"So, meeting my family is a crucible?" Tom said, sliding in next to his fiancée as the limousine pulled out.

"You know how terrible Rach is at meeting new people," Rory replied. "Except when she gets confused, runs away, lives in small towns under fake names, and gets shot by criminals."

"I haven't done that in months," Rachel complained.

"You still have lingering brain damage from what that government machine did to you," Rory said.

"I'm okay," Rachel replied.

"You always say that," Rory countered.

"I would know if my brain was damaged. I think," Rachel guessed.

"Let's err on the side of safety," Rory insisted. "Though if I would embarrass Tom in front of his family, I can wait for you at the hotel."

"Why would you embarrass me?" Tom asked.

"Before I met Rachel, I was a jet setting party girl. Paris, Rome, Monte Carlo. Being inappropriate with boys. Before coming out. Followed by the paparazzi. You may have forgotten, but the tabloids haven't."

"It's true you'll raise a few eyebrows around the dinner table," Tom admitted. "My folks are a little conservative."

"If Ro can't come, I won't either," Rachel suddenly said, clenching her fists. "You're my sister. I won't go anyplace you can't go. Not ever!"

"Whoa, relax, Rach. Tom and I are only kidding," Rory assured her.

"Ro's right, honey. Of course, Rory is welcome. She's been my friend for years," Tom said.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked.

"We're positive," Tom replied, giving her a kiss.

They drove south past the Johnson Space Center. It was a cool early December day. Rachel liked how crisp everything looked.

"My folks are in Nassau Bay. Right near Clear Creek," Tom said, growing excited. "I haven't been back in three years."

"Why's that?" Rory asked.

"Been busy, and not much money while finishing my degree. I didn't want to ask my parents for help," Tom explained.

"Is money a problem? I'll give you money," Rachel spoke up.

"No, I don't want your money," Tom denied.

"I have a lot," Rachel pressed.

"And you still shop at the Salvation Army, so I know how impressed you are with that," Tom said.

"Old habits die hard," Rachel sheepishly confessed.

"Don't worry, my folks do okay. I could have asked them if I wasn't so stubborn," Tom said.

Rory took Rachel's hand, watching her. Despite a new prescription from Dr. Keller at the Swiss Institute, it didn't take much to throw Rachel into a haze. She could grow distant, her eyes staring at nothing. Her mind was always occupied, just not in the same world as everyone else.

"I'm okay," Rachel said, seeing her concern.

"The numbers?" Rory asked.

"I'll tell you about the numbers later," Rachel replied. She was smiling in a mysterious way, which had Rory curious.

"A week in Houston, then off to Aspen for Christmas," Rory said. "Looking forward to finally skiing Devil's Run?"

"I was," Rachel said. "Tom is coming this year, too. Our first Christmas together. Unless his unit gets called up again."

"My unit isn't being called up. I made sure of that," Tom said.

"The Navy might have different plans," Rachel suggested.

"Naval Reserve," Tom clarified. "And they don't get to call us on a whim."

"Christmas at Marbury House is a big deal," Rory warned. "Presents in the parlor. A giant tree. Turkeys. Lots of booze. And Aunt Hattie keeping an eye on everyone."

"I met Aunt Hattie at your mother's birthday party. She liked me," Tom said.

"Sure of that?" Rory asked.

"Pretty sure."

"You better be, because Aunt Hattie loves Rachel like a granddaughter, and she'll crush anyone who tries to hurt her. As she's proven," Rory warned.

"The Marburys are a tough clan," Tom agreed. "And the Benson family is just as tough. But then, though we Harpers aren't rich and famous, we aren't slouches, either. Dad was a major in the Air Force. My brothers were in the Army. I had ten years in the Navy. Mom spent two years in the Congo studying diseases."

"None of us are as tough as Rachel," Rory remarked.

"Yes, I know," Tom agreed.

"That's not fair," Rachel protested. "If I'm so tough, why does everyone have to rescue me all the time?"

"Because you put everything on the line for others, until you collapse," Rory said. "Which Mom isn't happy about."

"I'll be more careful. I have to be," Rachel promised.

"Why is that?" Tom asked.

Rachel smiled without answering.

* * * * * *

Their car pulled up before a large two-story house near a blue bay. Rachel noticed a broad green lawn and a wide porch. The wood framing looked a hundred years old. She liked the soft gray paint and rosewood trim.

"Hasn't changed a bit," Tom said, helping the women from the car.

Behind the limousine, a modified RV parked at the curb. McLane's daughter and two assistants climbed out. McLane checked in with them, wondering if a group of African Americans in an otherwise white neighborhood were going to cause problems.

"Marissa and Darnell will stay here with the mobile headquarters," McLane explained while unloading the bags. "Maverick and I are going to swap the limo for a town car. Don't leave the premises."

"Yes, Mr. McLane," Rachel agreed. McLane got behind the wheel and drove off.

"This is a safe area," Tom said.

"I try not to make his job harder," Rachel explained.

"Even though you do?" Rory teased.

"It's hard having people watching over me all the time. Except for paying my mother's medical bills, I've never been accountable to anybody," Rachel replied.

"A mother you hated for abusing you," Rory reminded.

"It's in the past. She's dead," Rachel responded. "I have a new mother now. One who loves me."

Tom picked up the suitcases, taking them to the front door, which quickly opened.

"Tommy! You're finally home!" a red-cheeked woman greeted.

Rachel saw she was tall, nearly 5'8, a little thick in the middle, with curly light brown hair and green eyes. A man appeared, better than six feet, burly, with thinning blond hair and blue eyes. He looked just like Tom, only twenty years older. Both were snugly dressed for the cool December weather. Rachel and Rory hung back while Tom embraced his parents.

"You're looking good, son," his father said with a hug and a handshake. "Guess California hasn't ruined you yet."

"It's trying," Tom said with a grin.

"Looks like you brought friends," the gentleman said. Tom rushed back, bringing Rachel to the porch.

"Rachel, these are my parents, Virginia and Walsh. Mom, Dad, this is my fiancée, Rachel ..."

"Rachel Marbury," Rachel finished, timidly holding back with her head down. Rory gave her a nudge. "Publicly, I'm known as Rachel Montgomery. Marbury is my legal name."

"Is Montgomery your stage name?" Walsh asked.

"It's a long story. This is my sister, Rory Benson."

"The famous Rory Benson? You're prettier than your photos," Virginia said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harper. I'm retired from that life now," Rory said. "Decided to become a nurse instead."

"We're glad to meet you both. Come on in," Virginia invited.

It was a comfortable home, and much lived in. As one would expect in a house where five rambunctious children had been raised.

"Can we get you anything? Water? Soft drinks? A beer?" Walsh asked.

"A beer sounds good," Rory said.

"Cranberry juice for me, if you have it," Rachel answered.

Rachel took a seat on the long sofa in the living room, daring to kick off her shoes. Tom noticed her feet looked a bit swollen.

* * * * * *

The afternoon was going well. The men grilled steaks on the back patio overlooking the blue bay. Rachel made a salad, allowing Virginia to help. They loitered around the picnic table under a canopy. The men drank beer. Rory and Virginia had white wine. Rachel stuck with juice. Rachel felt Tom's father was pleasant enough, though a little standoffish. His mother seemed friendlier, yet reserved. There was a knock on the front door.

"Eric!" Tom shouted, rushing to embrace him. "Rachel, this is my little brother, Eric. He just mustered out of the army last month. A lieutenant, no less."

"Glad to meet you, Rachel," the tall, good-looking young man said. His bushy blond hair was like his brother's. Just turned thirty, Eric Harper was well-built, though not so husky as Tom, with an eager gleam in his blue eyes.

"These Harper boys must come out of a mold," Rachel said. "Eric, this is my sister, Rory Benson."

"Everybody knows who Rory Benson is," Eric said, bending over to kiss her hand. "If you weren't gay, we could make it a double wedding."

"You are very bold, sir," Rory said, her face red.

"Just in time for food, I see," Eric said. "Just so you know, eating is one of my talents."

With the food ready, they gathered around the patio table for a late lunch. The steaks were rare. Rachel ate a salad and bits of fruit. Eric noticed that, for someone so famous, Tom's fiancée appeared very shy.

"So? What do you think of Texas?" Walsh asked.

"I don't have much to compare it to, but it's pretty," Rachel hesitantly responded.

"Don't travel much?" Virginia inquired.

"Oh, I've traveled a lot," Rachel explained. "Boston. New York. New Orleans and Aspen. The Everglades."

"And where else?" Walsh asked.

"What do you mean?" Rachel said.

"Where else have you traveled? Paris? Tokyo? Rome?" Walsh inquired.

"No, I've never been out of the country. Until I left for Harvard, I'd hardly been out of Palmdale."

"Your parents didn't want you traveling?" Virginia wondered.

Rachel put her fork down, lowing her head without answering.

"What's wrong?" Virginia asked.

"Do you want me to tell them?" Rory prodded. Rachel nodded, not looking up. "Everything?"

"Enough," Rachel said.

"Tell us about what?" Virginia said.

"Rach had a difficult childhood," Rory explained. "Her father was a drunk. Her mother--her birth mother--wasn't helpful. Social workers put her in foster care, where things were just as bad. Before the scholarship came through, she was working in a coffee shop out in the desert. She's never had money for traveling, or much of anything else."

"But everyone says you're wealthy? Fabulously wealthy," Walsh said.

"Sheila Marbury did that," Rachel replied. "She created WHD. All I did was stabilize the Level 12 matrix."

Eric laughed and gave Tom a poke.

"That's all? You just stabilized the Level 12 matrix?" Eric said. "Like Newton just discovered gravity? Like Einstein just discovered E = mc2?"

"Actually, there are implicit contradictions with Relativity's foundational concepts," Rachel mentioned. "Professor Einstein concluded that the speed of light is constant, but a reevaluation of relativistic quantum electrodynamics suggests the interaction of matter and light could--"

Rachel stopped talking, seeing expressions ranging from confused to amused.

"She does that all the time," Rory said with a grin.

"Just what is a Level 12 matrix?" Virginia inquired. Rachel appeared reluctant to answer. Tom gave her an encouraging look. Rachel sighed.

"The Level 12 matrix uses multilayered fractal interfacing to search the continuum for digital signatures using quantum mechanics," Rachel explained. "Then it breaks the tracks down into comprehensible equations, extrapolates the algorithms through a series of layering techniques that sort superfluous structures from the desired resolution, and organizes the formulas into an accessible database."

"Oh, that's very interesting," Virginia said, looking clueless.

Tom laughed.

"Don't worry, Mom. Everybody finds that confusing," he said.

"What have you been doing recently? Since that mess in Nevada?" Virginia asked.

"Taking care of my son," Rachel said. "And preparing my doctorate proposal for Harvard."

"You don't have a PhD?" Eric said.

"Not yet," Rachel replied.

"What field are you studying?" Virginia asked. "My PhD is in microbiology. Walsh studied aerodynamic engineering."

"I just got my MBA from Duke," Eric said.

"It will be a doctorate in mathematics," Rachel answered. "My dissertation is the feasibility of a Level 14 matrix."

That caused a few curious glances.

"Is a Level 14 possible?" Walsh asked.

"I think so, but it will be hard," Rachel confessed. She poked at her salad, eating small bites. She didn't appear excited about the project.

"We're sorry to be so inquisitive, but our son wants to marry you," Virginia said. "I hope you don't think we're intruding."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I have questions, too."

"Okay, ask a question," Virginia agreed.

Rachel paused, looking at Tom, and then his parents. She took a deep breath.

"You have five adult children and no grandchildren?" Rachel asked.

"We're hoping for grandchildren, of course," Virginia said.

"How soon?" Rachel asked. Conversation came to a halt.