by K. C. Hilton
“My mother is not a witch. She was cursed long ago—she will never age, and she will never die. But that is the extent of her abilities.” Luke. Poor, naïve Luke. He should have denied it all. I could just picture him grasping her hands, desperately pleading for her to accept his words. But he had to know she wouldn't. Anastasia was not one to be convinced. Obviously.
“Oh yeah? Then who cursed her?”
Gretta snorted. “Here it comes.”
“Luke?” Anastasia sounded stern. “I asked you a question. Who cursed your mother?”
“Gretta.”
“Just as I thought.” Anastasia lowered her voice. “Something must be done. Something will be done.”
Gretta locked eyes with mine. “She's right. Something will be done.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Then, Mr. Jenkins, in 1913, exactly 100 years after I moved to Paradise Valley, I smelled smoke.
I stood from my crouch in the garden and turned back toward the castle. Fire! Flames licked the windowsills from the kitchen and an orange glow filled the windows at the front of the castle.
Who had been in the kitchen? Had they gotten out okay? I raised my hand above my eyebrows and scanned the horizon. No one. Where were they? Luke!
I drew my skirts around me and ran as fast as my legs would carry me.
Gretta. Had she started it? She'd wanted to get rid of them for so long. She never wanted them there. What if she had stooped so low? My legs felt like lead as I ran across the ravine toward the castle.
I looked up at the tower and saw a face peek from the window. Please let it be Luke. Luke, please look at me. The face turned.
Gretta.
I threw open the side door and raced down the short hall to the kitchen. Flames engulfed the room and the foyer was burning, too. Nothing was untouched. But was anyone hurt? Maybe the kids had gone to market. They seldom shared their comings and goings with me. Maybe they hadn’t even been home.
There was nothing I could do to put the fire out, but eventually, it had to die down. After all, stone didn’t burn.
I waited until nothing remained but the glowing embers. Where was my boy? Where was Luke?
I untied my apron and used it to wave away the smoke so I could see through the haze. I stumbled into the kitchen and saw no one. Were they really not there? Safe? I hardly believed it possible.
I took another hesitant step. My foot nudged a solid form. I waved away the smoke and looked at the floor by my feet.
Huddled there were two charred bodies. Luke’s lay on top of Anastasia’s. He had tried to shield her with his own body. It had been no use. The smoke and the flames…I turned my face.
Luke was gone. And so was my grandbaby. My next chance at life. My family. I was all alone. Again. What would I do without him? I crumpled to the floor beside my son.
Voices sounded at the doorway as men with hatchets and water poured into the kitchen. “Does any fire remain that you know of, ma’am?”
I shrugged. Did it matter? “I wish it had all burned down and taken me with it.”
“She’s in shock,” a male voice called to his partner. “Let’s get her out of here.” He tried to help me stand.
I bucked my body and fought against his grip. “No! Don’t take me from my—”
He pulled me to his chest and his big arms encircled my body. He spoke softly into my ear while restraining my movements. “Ma’am, it seems bad, but you will come out of this.”
I didn't see how.
“I’m going to let go of you. Do you think you can stand up alone?”
I nodded.
“My friend and I are going to lift your…?”
“Brother.” I couldn’t tell them Luke was my son.
“And his…?”
“His wife.” I took a deep smoky breath, then dissolved in racking coughs.
“You need to get out of this smoke. We will get them to the wagon out front, then take you all to town. Okay?” His kind eyes looked sad.
I nodded solemnly. What choice did I have? “Okay. The woman was pregnant.” My voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to me anymore.
“Not very far along it looks, but we will have a doctor look her over.” They loaded the two bodies on the wagon. I winced when Luke’s head banged against the floor.
I hopped into the bed and sat beside my son. I held his charred hand. One last time.
As the wagon pulled away from the castle, I looked up to the tower. Gretta stared out the window from my room. Shaking her head.
The ride to the hospital was a blur. I couldn’t make sense of a single coherent thought.
“Ma’am?” The doctor approached and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I don't know what you were told, but I wanted to inform you that the woman brought in from the fire at your place was not with child.”
The world fell away beneath my feet. What did it mean?
“In fact, she likely never would have had children judging by the state of things in her body.”
Not pregnant? Never to be? It had all been a lie. She lied to me so she could take her place in my home and with my son. Made me sacrifice everything for the sake of the unborn grandchild that was never to be. The rage boiled inside of me.
I searched the space around me for a safe place and emptied the contents of my stomach. I couldn't believe it. My son, gone, for no reason. She wasn't even pregnant. She was a liar. Would my son have loved her if he’d known? Oh, how much he had sacrificed.
I rode home in silence. I climbed down from the wagon and didn't even turn to say goodbye to the driver. I knew it was rude, even in the state I was in, but what did he expect from me?
I stumbled into the castle. The smell of smoke cloyed at every fiber, every cell of my being—a lasting, lifetime reminder of all that was lost. Everything…gone. First Henry, now Luke, both gone before their time. Taken from me before I could have my life with them.
I put one foot in front of the other—I had no idea how. Just get to the tower so I can die there.
Gretta. She sat on the bottom step, waiting. Her face ashen.
What? First she started the fire that killed my son. Now she dared show her face in my presence. I turned my gaze from her. “I will not say your name. I will not look on your face. For the rest of my life you will stay away from me. Stay out of my room. In fact, you can move into the Cavanaughs' cabin. I don't want you here in this house.”
“You can't do that, Rapunzel.”
“Oh, yes, I can. I believe I just did.”
“No. I’m sorry to say, you can’t. Your father made sure of it.”
I stopped with my foot on the second stair and turned to face her. “What did you say?”
Gretta hung her head. Was that shame? Was she capable of shame? Gretta lifted her face and shook her head. “I did not do this.”
“You expect me to believe that? First you took my betrothed from me just so you could have me to yourself. You cursed me with this—” I gestured my hand around the castle, “—forever. And you threatened them. Of course you killed them. You were afraid they might expose you or detract me from whatever purpose you have for me.” If only I could prove it. “But you will move to the cottage.”
“You should probably check the deed to this castle.” Gretta dropped her gaze. More false shame?
“What are you talking about? The deed to the castle?”
“Your father made sure you could not banish me. I own half.” She whispered the words of doom. Even she knew they were like knives in my soul.
And yet, I believed her.
But how could that be? Father wouldn't do that to me, and if he had, why was I only just now finding out about it? Gretta must have forged the documents. How could I prove that? I'd have to find a way. Unless…did I even care?
“Listen, you old witch, as long as it takes for me to prove you killed my son and his wife, and for as long as it takes me to prove you are not a rightful heir to this castle, you will stay away fro
m me.” I jabbed my finger in her face. “Sleep here. Live here. Eat here. I don't care. Just stay away from me.”
Gretta hung her head, defeated. I stomped up to my bedroom in the tower, threw myself on the bed, and finally allowed the sobs to take over.
***
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Rapunzel, open the door. It’s morning. I have your water.”
“Go away, witch. I want nothing from you. You will never enter this room again.”
“Open this door, Rapunzel.”
Tomorrow, I buy a lock. I rolled over on my side and went back to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
1913
I peered out my window, waiting for the right moment. There. The sun dropped below the horizon, casting the castle grounds into darkness.
Now!
I tied the corners of my blanket together into a knot then slung the makeshift sack over my shoulder. I scurried to the door. Don’t look back. With Luke gone, there was nothing to worry about back there.
I had thirty minutes, maximum. That's all I had between the setting of the sun and when the dragon would expect to see the candlelight flicker in my window, my daily assurance to him of my presence in the castle. If he didn’t see that glow from my tower…
I pushed the door open with my shoulder, careful to move slowly enough that it wouldn't squeak. Rousing Gretta's suspicion certainly wouldn't help matters. If I got caught by the dragon, that witch had as much to lose as I.
I placed my tiptoes on one stone step at a time as I skipped down the spiral staircase. Light as a feather.
Hurry. Hurry. I recited my plan. Get as far away as possible. As quickly as possible. Through the gardens, around back past the Cavanaughs' cabin. Then what?
Maybe I needed more details than that. What if he came after me? I’d never tried to escape before. First time in almost one hundred years. How far would he chase me?
I practically flew down through the foyer and past the dining room. I arrived at the Hall of Horrors and turned right. It was all I could do to not run to the end of the hallway and burst through the door to the garden, but noise would give me away. All I could hope was that the dragon lay resting on the other side of the castle, waiting for candlelight to soothe his panicked soul.
I slowly opened the door to the stairs that would lead to the garden and out of the castle walls. I swiftly made my way down the stairs. Just don't fall. Whatever you do, don’t fall. I instructed myself with each step down the tiny stairway. Finally, I hit ground level and opened the door.
Run! It was like my feet were cemented to the stone cobbles that made up the garden walkway. Run! I ran through the garden as quickly as possible, past the pond and waterfall and beyond the roses to the surrounding hedge.
This had taken longer than I'd expected. I should have practiced. Why, in heaven’s name, hadn’t I practiced?
I gathered my skirts in my hand and reached the other back to hold my pack steady. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, I ran toward the open fields beyond the castle grounds. If I could make it to the other side of the expanse, I should be okay. At least I had a chance.
Stars filled the sky and the moon took its place among them. I was running out of time.
My lungs burned in my chest as I forced my body to run faster. Come on, Rapunzel, I coaxed myself. This is your only chance. Run.
There was a day, over a century ago, when my legs wouldn't run to make their escape. Now, today, they could run, but likely not fast enough.
I let go of my pack and pumped my arms to help with speed. My burden bumped on my back.
Thu-Thump. Thu-Thump.
My lungs were on fire.
Maybe I should just drop it and run on empty handed. I shook my shoulders and let the sack fall from my arms, the bundle bounced across the valley into the ravine. No matter, with it I'd be caught, without it, at least I have a chance.
Come on, Rapunzel. Run!
I pumped my legs and swung my arms with each stride. Faster.
A wolf howled as the full moon took her rightful place in the night sky.
Time's up.
I could see the tree line yards away, beckoning me to safety. If I could only get among the trees and hide until the beast gave up.
A roar filled the valley. The castle shook, the earth quaked.
It was all over. What had I been thinking? Of course he wouldn't let me escape.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
1978
Then, Mr. Jenkins, it wasn’t too long before Gretta catapulted me into modern society.
What was that clamor outside my tower? It felt like an earthquake. Though, it had been centuries since there had been an earthquake around these parts. Well, at least in the 165 years I’d been living in Paradise Valley, I’d never experienced a single one. What was going on?
I flew from bed and raced to the window, not bothering to scramble for my slippers or slip into my robe. I ducked beneath the window and peered over the sill, hiding my body. Not that anyone could see me way up in the tower, but still.
What on earth?
I gazed down to the parkway in front of the castle. Big trucks filled the space between the front door and the side garden. Men in blue uniforms pushed wheeled carts and hauled heavy boxes and building supplies.
What was happening? I raced to my armoire and grabbed my robe. I pulled it on and cinched it around my waist. Would I dare go down and talk to people before I formally dressed? Not that people ever did formally dress these days, but old habits died hard.
But, no matter what was going on, there was no way I could wait to find out what was happening down below. I hurried back to the window. Maybe I could get another clue before I investigated further.
A uniformed man strained against the weight of his cart as he pulled a man-sized box up the slight incline. It was as tall as a man and wide as a doorway. How would he maneuver that box into the house?
Oh, and look. Next came a television. That was interesting. Maybe I could watch some of those programs I’d read about. But who ordered all of this and why? Did Gretta think she had free rein over my money, too? Surely Father hadn’t signed half of that over to her, as well.
I ran down the stairs as fast as my feet could carry me without tripping over each other. “Gretta?” Where was that witch? I hadn’t spoken to her since the day I’d banished her from my presence, the day Luke died. I marched right into the library after the workman with the TV. Surely Gretta would be in there.
I hurried to the back porch. Maybe she was washing. No, not there. Was she hiding from me? That was very possible. If I were her, I’d hide too. “Gretta!” I put my head in the kitchen. No Gretta, but there was a new yellow refrigerator where the old icebox had been. The man who’d been wheeling the cart unwound a cord and plugged it into the wall.
That new electricity Gretta had insisted on getting a year ago—a lot of good it had done us, but it was nice to flip a switch. The light made things a lot easier, but it simply wasn't necessary.
I stepped back into the hallway. “Gretta!”
I saw the walking stick first as it lead the way around the corner. A shaky form soon came along behind it. I hadn’t seen much of her in recent years. She’d kept to herself since Luke died. And I’d locked her from my tower, so no more morning water ritual or conversations through a bolted door.
“What are you going on about?” Gretta seemed older, if that were possible. More frail, even. It looked like Gretta had stopped taking her vitamins.
“What am I going on about? Would you care to explain the meaning of all this?” I gestured to the servicemen and delivery people. “What is going on?”
Gretta sighed. “I'll tell you what’s going on, dearie. I’m bringing us into the next generation. We're also getting plumbing, and you will love it.”
“We already have plumbing. We’ve had running water in the kitchen for three years.”
“I'm talking about full plumbing—a commode, a shower, and
a bath. Running water in the bathroom on both levels, and in your tower.”
“Are you serious? How could two women need so much extravagance?”
“Why don't you just close that judgmental mouth of yours and open your mind a little bit.” She shook her head in disgust.
“Hold it right there, old lady. How dare you insult me or change my life in anyway without my permission? I was perfectly happy—well, we'll call it satisfied—with the way things were, and you had to go and change everything?” What nerve. Besides, I liked my morning rituals. I wouldn’t let modern conveniences rob me of that single hold on the past.
Gretta steadied her wobbly stick and turned to face me. “Listen here, dearie, you will thank me one day for all the updates in this house. Make no mistake, changes are coming. Do you not realize that if you continue living in such bizarre conditions, people will start to take notice?”
Could Gretta be right? Was I making myself more conspicuous by not trying to fit in with the times more?
“There is not a single home in this town that doesn’t have bathrooms with running water and a commode. It’s such a basic lifestyle need in these advanced times. You have to catch up.”
She had a point there. I really wanted to see what was going on, but I needed to do it my way. I gave a slight nod, as polite as she’d get from me, and I made my way back to my tower so I could dress.
I spent the entire day in the library watching the comings and goings of the workmen and their crews lugging wood for framing, copper pipes, porcelain fixtures…downstairs, upstairs. Everything got a makeover.
A workman stepped through the bathroom door and poked his head into the library. “Well, that about does it.” He wiped his hands on a towel. “We've got your toilet and sink installed. It's usable, I’ll have to come back tomorrow to finish up the rest of this part of the job, and then the plaster guys will be here the next day. Sound good?”
Gretta offered a shaky smile. Her hand trembled as she pressed down on her stick. “I can't wait to take my first shower.” She gave me a look. What did she want me to say?