by Lenore, Lani
“What were you thinking?” she cried. “The beans-!”
Looking down at the floor, her eyes narrowed in mystification as noticed the bean sack. She had emptied it herself, but now it was full again. Bending down, Cindy picked up a handful of the beans and examined them – no rotting beans fell among them. Only the fresh ones were left. The birds had picked them clean and put the good ones back in place.
“How did you do that?” asked Cindy, her anger fading into confusion.
“So, do you believe now?” the woman asked victoriously. “That nothing is impossible?”
Cindy shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Amanda smiled. “I will explain it all to you, now that you are ready to believe. After your sisters and step-mother leave this house tonight, I will tell you what you truly wish to know.”
Amanda turned her back and made her way to the door, stopping abruptly to turn, throwing her voice into the room.
“Put some of the beans back onto the floor as though you haven’t gone through many. Do not tell your family that you have finished. There will be much to do after they are gone and the time must not be cluttered with busy-work. Finish all of your other duties before they return.”
With those words, Amanda walked away from the kitchen, leaving Cindy to prepare the sorted beans and to ponder what the woman could be speaking of. Cindy could indeed think of many questions to which she wanted answers. Perhaps the woman would have them for her.
3
Four long hours… This was how long it took to ready her sisters. The time was split between the two, each seeming to need more help than the other. Cindy hardly said anything throughout the time, tying up her sisters’ hair and strapping them into their dresses with bodice strings pulled as tightly as possible. Though it was hard work, Cindy actually found it funny to listen to her sisters’ griping and criticism. It put the girl in good spirits.
Occasionally she would mess the girls up and have to start over, but the extra time was worth it to hear her sisters’ worried voices about the event. It was almost too funny for Cindy to keep inside, but she managed to do so for fear that they would try to give her more work.
Finally, the girls were prepared, along with their mother, and were ready to depart, having rented a carriage for the evening with elegant white horses. Isabella was dressed in a champagne-colored dress with a bodice embedded with gemstones. Her hair was half up and half down, spilling over her shoulders in ringlets and accentuated by a lovely head ornament, the same color as her dress. Charlotte was dressed in light cream. The outfit was brought together with lace gloves and shoes with fancy buttons, topped off with a hair ornament of gold and diamonds. Both girls looked lovely, though Cindy wouldn’t want to admit it. As her sisters paraded themselves to the door, Amanda walked in from downstairs.
“My my! What lovely girls these are, madam,” she said to Anna.
“Thank you, Miss Jefferson,” she said proudly.
Anna directed her gaze to Cindy. “My servant girl will aid your every need. She has nothing else to do tonight.”
Amanda bowed slightly. “You are too kind, madam.”
With a proud smile, Anna led her daughters out of the house and down the hill to the elaborate carriage that awaited them. Cindy closed the door behind them and looked back to Amanda.
“Did you finish your chores as I instructed?” the woman asked hurriedly.
“I did. Now you must answer my questions,” Cindy said, crossing her arms.
“Very well,” began the woman. “My true name is Cassandra, but you shall call me nothing other than Amanda. I knew your father and your mother, and they asked me when you were just a baby if I would take responsibility for their child in the untimely event of their death. I have come here for you, to help you and reveal things to you. I must, however, make the condition that you do not speak anything that you have seen of me.”
“Because you are a witch,” Cindy confirmed boldly. She knew it in her heart that this was true.
Amanda put her finger to her lips slyly. “We must not utter that word,” she instructed. “Now, down to business. Let’s talk about your young man.”
Cindy stared back in disbelief, somewhat insulted. “Is that what you have come all the way here to speak with me about? My young man?”
“Do you love him?” Amanda asked, her eyes flashing with interest.
“I hardly know him!” Cindy protested. “And he isn’t mine.”
“But there is something there, isn’t there? You feel it. Don’t you?”
Cindy stood in silence, bringing up her thoughts about Christian. Of course she had felt something for him. They were the same. There was a kindred spirit between them. She shook her head.
“Why does it matter? It’s not as though I could burst into the party and confess my feelings. How could I expect him to feel the same – for a servant girl, no less? He hardly knows me.”
“You’re curious though,” Amanda stated, feeling the presence in her. “You wonder what he would say.”
“How could I go there? I would make myself into a fool,” she said, lowering her head.
“You’d only be a fool not to try,” Amanda said. “I have seen things that you could not guess, and I tell you that if you do not go tonight and make an impact on his life, you will be condemned to work in your sister’s household as she claims the Charming name. You will be forced to wait on her and even to clean the sheets of the marriage bed. Your face will be scarred once, and then once more by your jealous sister to hide your identity from her husband. No matter how you might wish for it, you can never tell young Mr. Charming that it is you, and he will never recognize you. As the years go by, he will forget about you until he accepts his unhappiness – and murders himself. Does that sound like something that would make you happy?”
Cindy closed her eyes in pain. “These event you have just told me – they will surely happen?” she asked.
“If you do not make an impact,” said Amanda. “Which means, if you do not go tonight, these things will surely happen.”
“So you are telling me that I must go? How am I to do that? I have nothing to wear and no way of getting there!”
“Dear child, still you question me?” asked Amanda with a shake of her head. “I have the power to send you there, but you must bring me eleven red roses from the garden and I will need the blood of a venomous snake.”
“And what are you to do with those things?” Cindy asked, horrified.
“Retrieve them and I will show you,” Amanda promised.
Taking a deep breath, but unable to hide her curiosity, Cindy pulled open the door to head out into the garden. Eleven red roses… She hoped she could find that many in the unattended garden.
4
Cindy looked throughout the garden, seeking any roses that may have survived the autumn weather. Roses were good in the cold, but most plants in the garden were dying from neglect. She alone simply wasn’t enough to care for everything. It was hard enough keeping the house looking decently clean. Luckily, a large gate and stone wall hid the grounds from public view.
Walking to the south garden wall where the roses grew, Cindy was discouraged to see the wall covered with dead vines which held sharp, petrified thorns. She peered around, distraught at the realization that there were no flowers at all in the garden. Her heart fell at her failure. Perhaps there was something else Amanda could use as an alternative.
Turning to go, a small fleck of color happened to cross the girl’s eye. She turned back, examining the spot until finally she reached her hand to it. Enveloped in a mass of brown vines, a deep red color made its presence known. Pulling away at the vines, she cut her finger on one of the sharp thorns but did not stop. Wincing, she continued her work, removing the vines until more color emerged.
After a bit of work, a deep red rose was revealed to her and she quickly took it in her hand. She plucked it and ran the fragrant blossom under her nose, drawing out the scent. The flow
er smelled as fresh as if it had just bloomed.
Looking back to the spot where she had removed it, she saw more red color peeking out at her. Ripping more vines away and accepting more cuts and pricks, more roses let themselves be seen. She plucked them quickly, as though they might disappear, and when she gathered what was surely all of them, she counted.
Eleven… One short of a dozen.
Cindy looked over the roses that rested in her apron. As she looked, there was something else she noticed. The rose petals were the same color as the blood rolling down her hands. When her blood touched the rose, the color blended together perfectly.
Finally tearing herself away from the thought, she made her way back to the kitchen where Amanda was waiting for her. When she entered, she nearly dropped the flowers at the sight before her. Amanda had dumped a copperhead snake upon the table. In her hands, she held two knives and her large black eyes were empty, as though she was not present inside her body.
The snake hissed as it crawled across the surface, trying to get away. In a fast movement, Amanda struck down with the knife, catching the snake straight through its head of soft cartilage.
The serpent writhed as its nerves began to buckle in death. The knife in the woman’s other hand came down and sliced the snake into two even pieces. Cindy watched, absorbed as the blood spilled across the table and began to drip off the edge and onto the floor.
“Bring the roses now!” Amanda commanded, waving the girl nearer with a blank stare.
Cindy was hesitant, but obeyed nonetheless. She dropped the roses hurriedly into the blood and quickly stepped back. Amanda moved her hands over the flowers and began to breathe deeply.
“It is coming,” she said, closing her eyes. “Hold out your arms, Cindy, and embrace what is yours.”
Cindy held her hands out to the sides obediently, though unsure of what she should expect. As she looked on at the table, the stems of the roses dried and disintegrated, leaving only the blood red petals. Amanda began to move her mouth slowly and speak in a tongue that was unknown to Cindy. As she chanted, the petals rose from the table and began to spin through the air in the gentle circles of a whirlwind.
After several moments, the woman stopped her chanting and blew into the cyclone, sending the petals floating toward Cindy. The girl watched with wide eyes as the blood-dipped petals drifted around her.
“Close your eyes,” called the woman. “Embrace what is yours!”
Closing her eyes, Cindy reached out with her arms and pulled the air into a strong embrace. She pulled tighter, feeling the soft brush of the petals against her skin. Finally, sucking in a deep breath, Cindy returned from the embrace of the wind and next wrapped her arms around herself.
There was stillness.
Chapter Six
1
The party was the grandest that Greenhaven had ever seen – the most extravagant of all the Charmings’ previous bashes. The house was pristine from top to bottom, aglow with candles and colorful lamps. Nearly the entire town was in attendance. Ladies dripped jewels from their necks and their laughter was filled with mirth. Gentlemen flooded the hall, perhaps hoping to take up some of those lovely young ladies that Christian cast off.
Mrs. Charming was as jovial as usual while she was being complemented for her spectacular party, but behind her smile, she had a mission as she shifted through the crowd. Not all was perfect, and it would not be long before others noticed it as well.
The guest of honor was not there.
Christian sat at the window in his dark room, calmly smoking one of his soothing cigarettes. Letting the smoke roll from his lips was still one of the few things that gave him pleasure, but he was beginning to partake more and more as the days passed. He sat by the open window, letting his arm hang out in the night air and sending the smoke spirals along their journey through the wind.
He could hear the sounds of the party below as people danced and the musicians played their strings. The guests seemed to be having a fond time, save for the fact that he wasn’t present. There was no doubt that many were wondering where he was – he was the guest of honor after all – still, he could not tear himself from the window. Perhaps it was because he knew there was nothing for him downstairs.
A soft rapping on the door gave warning as his mother entered, dressed in her finest clothes. Her gold-colored dress set off the candlelight magically, though one would think she would have toned herself down so as not to draw attention from the young ladies. She peered through the dark and to the window where Christian was only slightly illuminated by the moonlight.
“Everyone is waiting for you,” said Mrs. Charming as a pointed reminder.
“You’re imagining things,” her son countered, looking back to the window.
“Really, Christian. Put out that cigarette and come downstairs. There are several young ladies here to see you,” she insisted.
She had been trying to force him, but this was entirely the wrong thing to say to him. “Just bring them all up here and we’ll have a different sort of party.”
The woman was appalled, but not shocked by this sort of response from him. “Is that any way for a gentleman to speak?" she scolded. "Especially to his mother?”
“And this is how I am to spend my evening?” he asked, ignoring her. “Greeting girl after girl and never having a chance to actually talk with a single one?”
“You’ve had the opportunity to talk with them this week already.” Samantha sighed deeply for her trouble. “Why must you act this way, Christian?”
“Why must you, mother?”
“You may do what you like afterward, but just come down. If you don’t want to dance with all the girls, you don’t have to trouble yourself, but I beg you at least dance with one! Go downstairs, close your eyes and pick one out! It matters not to me!”
The young man sighed and pulled himself from the floor by way of the windowsill.
“I will come down on one condition,” he said.
“And what is that?” his mother asked, trying to be patient.
“You must let me work the floor by myself. I won’t have you holding my hand through it like the others – whispering in my ear and such.”
Samantha finally nodded in agreement, though she didn’t seem too fond of the idea.
“Very well, Christian,” she complied. “I expect you will be down in a short time.”
The woman withdrew herself from the room then, leaving her son alone in the dark to gather himself. Though he was in deep inner anguish, he knew that once he stepped foot downstairs, he would be expected to hold it in and put on his guise again – just like always. All of this angered him to think about.
Tonight will be different. By God, I will make my own fun. Flicking the dead cigarette across the room, he did as he was expected to and came out of the dark.
Christian stepped off the staircase and into the main hall. He could feel the eyes on him as he came down, dressed in a fine black vest and coat with golden buttons and silk accents to his neck and sleeves. Though he didn’t smile, the ladies below him seemed to light up at his sight.
The faceless women all greeted him, the sea parting as he stepped through. It was biblical. They all spoke cordially, but his ears were deaf to their words. Through the crowd of eager faces, he saw his mother’s eyes watching him, waiting for him to perform like a pony. He would give her what she wanted for now, but eventually he would make this party his.
He turned directly to his right and took up the hand of the first girl who he saw. He knew her face, but he’d forgotten her name. He asked her to dance. She was flustered, chatting nervously, but he did not hear a word she said as they waltzed. He was looking over her head, staring at his mother. She was watching his every move, and he watched her in return, not breaking her gaze even with the steps of the dance that he had learned so long ago. He stared hard and accusingly at her until she was finally forced to turn her face away from him, and he counted it as a small victory.
Wh
en the music paused, he stepped away from the girl without speaking to her, ready to take up another when a hand fell on his arm.
“Christian!” came a voice.
Turning, his eyes fell on a woman with long brown hair and eyes that matched, but unlike many, these eyes were able to see through him. He knew her. This was his brother Joshua’s wife, Beatrice. She was the beauty who had won over the last of his brothers before him. Christian wasn’t sure of how good a prize Joshua was, but he had done his duty and married a woman as his mother had expected him to. Being married, Beatrice was not a threat to Christian tonight. Finally, here was someone with a face.
“My dear sister-in-law,” he said, kissing her hand, “you have amazing timing!”
She couldn’t suppress a little smile as she looked at him. “I see this is becoming quite the event. Seems the whole town has turned out.”
“Only the young, unmarried sheep and their parents to gloat on their shepherding skills,” he mused.
"Well, you look as though you need to be rescued," she said.
"Yes, please, distract me a moment."
He offered her his arm and they began to wade through the crowd, stepping casually. He could feel the whispers rolling over him.
“Who is that young woman on his arm?”
“Oh, that’s only his brother’s wife. There have always been rumors about that one.”
“Ohh, like what?”
Christian was momentarily amused at the thought.
“You aren’t seeing anyone who interests you?” Beatrice asked, pulling his attention back to her.
“It would seem that my brothers already married the better women of Greenhaven,” he said with a heart-melting smile.
“Always know what to say, don't you,” she said, looking out over the floor.
"My usual trouble is the exact opposite. Ask my mother."
He hadn’t been lying, exactly. Beatrice was a beautiful girl – and not even as old as he was. He didn’t know her extremely well, but she had always been forward and honest, unlike some girls who would hide, blushing, behind their lace gloves. He liked that about her.