Rapunzel Untangled

by Cindy C. Bennett

  “Good,” he said, smiling warmly at her. Suddenly it struck her—she was alone with the doctor.

  “Dr. Henreich, can I ask you something?” she asked quickly before her courage deserted her.

  “Certainly.” He pulled the vial away and replaced it with another.

  “It’s about my SCIDs.” His eyes flicked nervously toward the door. She continued, “I’m wondering . . . do you think there might be a cure? Or something . . . some kind of way that I could maybe at least be okay enough to go outside, or see other people?”

  Henreich pulled the needle from her arm, pressing a cotton ball against the dot of blood that welled up.

  “Hold some pressure on this,” he said. Rapunzel began to think he wouldn’t answer her as he marked the little vials. “It’s difficult to say, Rapunzel. There are some cures that are currently being used, but it depends on each individual case.”

  “Well, who would I talk to about that?” she asked excitedly.

  Henreich cleared his throat and looked at the door once again.

  “I don’t think any of the cures would work on you,” he said, his voice lowered. Rapunzel’s heart plummeted. “But not because I don’t think you can’t be cured.”

  “What?” What in the world did that mean?

  Henreich swallowed loudly, as if he were nervous. Rapunzel thought about the secret he shared with her mother. He glanced at the door again, and Rapunzel followed his gaze.

  “Is there something . . . you know? About me?” she whispered.

  Henreich’s eyes cut quickly back to meet hers. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but her mother’s voice from the other room cut in.

  “Are you finished yet, Henreich?” she called.

  He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, then stood. Rapunzel felt as if an opportunity were slipping away.

  “Please,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “If there’s something I should know . . .”

  He froze at her touch, then placed a hand over hers as her mother appeared in the doorway.

  “You’re going to be okay, Rapunzel,” he said, patting her hand, sounding like a concerned doctor. But his eyes bore into hers, seeming to want her to find meaning in his words. He squeezed her hand lightly. “You’re just fine.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it?” her mother asked, coming further into the room. Henreich’s face tightened as he turned away, placing all of his tools back into his bag. Rapunzel watched him, once again feeling as though she missed something that, if she could just figure it out, might change her life.

  chapter

  *.*

  25

  .**

  When you asked me about your disease and the community, is it possible you meant immunity?”

  Rapunzel blinked. She’d been staring pretty hard at Fane through the computer screen as he regaled her with tales about school, and updated her on the beautiful sisters Marissa and Ashlynn. In all honesty, other than when he talked about the sisters she didn’t really pay attention, just took the opportunity to look at him. She missed him desperately. She hadn’t realized how lonely she was until he came along.

  “Immunity?” she repeated.

  “Yeah. I . . .” he trailed off, looking distinctly uncomfortable, eyes downcast. “I asked my mom what diseases had to do with the community.” He glanced up at her as if to see her reaction.

  “What did she say?” she pressed.

  “A lot,” he grinned. “And after lots of listening to her talking about diseases that affect communities, she began talking about immunity and I suddenly wondered if that was what you’d heard.”

  “Could have,” she said, nodding. “The two words sound similar.”

  “It would make more sense,” he said. “Do you remember any more of what they were talking about?”

  “Not a lot,” she admitted. “It’s all kind of fuzzy. Just something about being kept inside being bad for the community . . . or the immunity, I suppose. Makes sense as SCIDs is an immune deficiency disease, right?”

  “That definitely makes more sense,” he said, leaning forward excitedly. “I Googled some stuff after she said that, and I read in several places that babies who are kept inside don’t have the chance to develop normal immune systems.”

  “Babies have to be exposed to the world to develop their immune system?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know a lot about immunity, so I read some stuff. It’s the . . . thing in your body that keeps you from getting sick. That’s not quite right. It’s like your body’s defense system. It’s how you’re able to fight off viruses and bacteria and other things that make you sick. If a baby isn’t exposed to some of those things when they’re a baby, they don’t have a good immunity, which means even the slightest exposure can get them sick—really sick.”

  Confusion swirled around in Rapunzel’s head.

  “Don’t you get it?” Fane asked. Rapunzel shook her head. “Maybe what has made you unable to go outside is the fact that your mom has kept you inside your whole life. She was afraid you’d get sick. But now, because you don’t have that immune system you need, that means you’re more likely to get sick if you do go outside.”

  Rapunzel dropped her chin into her hands, keeping her eyes glued to Fane’s face. Even all this baffling information couldn’t dim her joy in seeing him.

  “So how do I fix it?” she asked.

  He slumped back in his chair. “I don’t know.”

  Despair swirled around Rapunzel. “Then how am I supposed to—gotta go,” she said quickly, shutting down the program as she heard her door handle turning. She pulled up the math page she’d been working on before Skyping Fane.

  “Still doing homework, Rapunzel?” her mother asked as she breezed into the room. “You’re going to cause yourself to relapse if you don’t get more rest.”

  Rapunzel sighed. It had been nearly three weeks since she’d first gotten out of bed following her sickness. She felt completely normal, but her mother would have her lie in bed all day in her fear of a “relapse.” Rapunzel almost considered faking one just to see if she could get Dr. Henreich to come back so she could question him again.

  “I feel fine, Mother,” she said, rising from her seat and joining her in the kitchen.

  “Well, we can’t be too careful, can we?”

  Rapunzel didn’t answer the rhetorical question. She slid into the seat opposite her mother and watched as she pulled the chicken, baked potatoes, and apple cobbler from the basket she’d used to carry it upstairs. Cooking was another activity her mother felt to be too strenuous and wouldn’t allow Rapunzel to do.

  “Can I ask you something?” Rapunzel said. Her mother didn’t answer, but Rapunzel knew she wouldn’t. She always waited to hear the question before committing to answer. “Remember the prophecy you told me about? Can you explain it to me again?”

  Gothel’s gaze sharpened. “Why the curiosity, Rapunzel?”

  Rapunzel heard the slight note of warning in her voice and her resolve wavered. She was determined, though, to know.

  She dropped her gaze and shrugged. “You just haven’t told me in a while. I want to be certain I have it right.”

  “What do you mean, have it right? Right for what?”

  Rapunzel clasped her hands nervously beneath the table, feeling as though she were standing on a thin sheet of ice above dangerous waters. “I just spent some time thinking about it while I was sick, and I worry that I’m forgetting it, or not remembering it correctly. It’s important, right?”

  She slowly raised her gaze as her mother eyed her silently. Finally, she pushed her plate to the side and Rapunzel knew she would tell her.

  “I suppose you’re right. You’re older now, and perhaps better able to understand the importance of what was told to me.”

  Rapunzel wasn’t sure what she should do: to keep eating and pretend nonchalance to hopefully pull more information from her mother or to give her her full attention. She pushed her plate to the side a
nd turned her gaze on her mother. Gothel’s eyes took on a sort of glow, confirming Rapunzel had made the correct decision.

  “I’d been to plenty of psychics before, but they were all false prophetesses,” she began, her voice taking on fervency. “However, I never lost faith that I would find someone who could answer my questions. And then, a couple years before you were born I found Vedmak.” Rapunzel felt a jolt zing through her. She’d never heard the name before—or if she had, she didn’t remember it.

  “He knew things, Rapunzel, things he couldn’t have possibly known about me. He knew of my hunger for a child. He knew about my parents and how they’d died so young.

  “So I returned to him a second time, and then a third. Each time he knew things from my past. I asked about my future, the future of my daughter, and he told me about you.” Gothel smiled, but it wasn’t directed at Rapunzel, rather at some distant memory. “He said a golden-haired child, a girl, would come into my life. But that she wouldn’t be an ordinary child. Oh, no. Not my child. My child would be everything, not just to me but to my daughter as well.” How could Rapunzel be important to herself? It didn’t make sense. “You’re the one who is going to save everything.”

  A chill ran up Rapunzel’s spine at hearing herself spoken of as some kind of extraordinary being, more than human. She didn’t want to be some kind of . . . savior.

  “Vedmak told me you would have beautiful hair, like spun gold, and that it would be magical. He explained that your hair would grow at an unusual rate, and that, much like Samson, it must not ever be touched by the sharpness of a blade. He said that doing so would drain your hair of its magic, and the consequences would be devastating.” Gothel leaned forward, grasping Rapunzel’s hand urgently. “Devastating, Rapunzel.” She relaxed, releasing Rapunzel’s hand.

  “And then I found you,” Gothel said.

  Rapunzel startled. “Found me?” she asked, her voice high with surprise.

  “Had you,” Gothel said. “I had you. And you were exactly as Vedmak had described you, from your thick, long, golden hair to your big green eyes, and you smiled all the time. I knew it was you. I knew you were the one he had foreseen—my daughter restored.”

  Rapunzel’s mind was flying. Her thoughts kept tripping over that one word: found. Her mother had corrected herself, but she couldn’t get the word to stop spinning in her mind.

  “When I brought you to him, he confirmed that you were the one foretold, Rapunzel. He recognized you immediately. And then he told me the rest of the prophecy.

  “There was danger of being lost forever, he told me, and you would be the one to save her.”

  “Save her?” Rapunzel interjected. Panic suffocated her.

  “Save the world, Rapunzel. Do you want me to tell you this, or do you want to continue to interrupt me?”

  Her mother’s eyes bore into her, and Rapunzel cringed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “Yes. Well.” Gothel looked off again as she continued. “You are to save everything. He spoke of your hair. He told me that it was all tied together—your hair, your safety, and the safety of the world. That I must protect you at all costs, and that your hair must never be touched by the sharpness of a blade. And I’ve done that, Rapunzel, I’ve done all he’s asked, and so far we’ve been protected from danger.”

  The gleam in Gothel’s eyes unnerved Rapunzel. Still, she found the courage to ask, “And my SCIDs? Did he know about that?”

  Gothel stood and turned away from Rapunzel. She walked over to the sink and leaned her hands on the edge of the counter, pushing her weight against her arms. “He told me you’d be fragile. He told me you’d need protection.” She turned back toward Rapunzel. “So, yes, I suppose he did know.”

  Rapunzel nodded, feeling too shell-shocked by what she’d heard to form any further words. She’d been told the story many times over in her life, but never in this way, never with so much detail. She had more questions than when she’d asked. Her stomach churned.

  “Rapunzel, I have to go away again, in a few days.”

  If there were words to pull Rapunzel from her sense of doom, those were it. Her mother gone meant she could see Fane again. She tried to keep the happiness from her face.

  “Oh?” she managed.

  Her mother came to her, taking her hands in her own. “It will only be for six days again. You seemed fine when I last went. Will you be okay again? If not, I can change it, I can—”

  “No,” Rapunzel said quickly. “Go. I was fine then and I’ll be fine this time as well.”

  “I’ll be certain food is cooked for you each day.”

  “It’s not necessary, Mother. I can feed myself.”

  “We can’t risk a relapse, Rapunzel. You understand the danger now.”

  “Which is why I should make my own meals, Mother. How will Cook get the food to me without exposing me to any possible germs she might carry?” Guilt plagued Rapunzel for playing the germ card, but she definitely didn’t want a babysitter spoiling her slight bit of freedom.

  Gothel thought about Rapunzel’s words, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Then make a shopping list and I’ll bring you what you need.”

  Rapunzel dropped into bed an hour later, after messaging Fane with the news about her mother’s pending trip. She wanted to get on the Internet and Google so many things her mother had told her, but she was too emotionally exhausted. More than that she wanted to talk to Fane about it, but should she? How could she explain the things she’d been told without him thinking that she and her mother both were insane? Would he look at her differently if she told him all she’d been told?

  It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, not right now.

  chapter

  *.*

  26

  .**

  Immunity: a state of having sufficient biological defenses to avoid infection, disease, or other unwanted biological invasion. It is the capability of the body to resist harmful microbes from entering the body.

  Rapunzel read the definition several times until she could repeat it from memory. With SCIDs she definitely did not have a sufficient defense against biological invasion. She tried repeatedly to remember the overheard conversation between her mother and Dr. Henreich, but try as she might she couldn’t recall specifics.

  She read about the different kinds of immunity: the immunity acquired by being exposed to certain germs and bacteria in the world, and the immunity acquired by receiving vaccinations against certain germs and bacteria. She tried to remember if she’d ever been vaccinated but didn’t know.

  Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She knew she could be opening a door better left closed—or what was that Greek thing she’d read about? Pandora’s box? Fane had warned her. Her fingers touched the keys. She was tired of being the only one who didn’t know anything about her life. She typed in “Gothel Manor.”

  The search popped up with Did you mean Gothel Mansion?

  She clicked on the underlined words, stunned as pages of links came up. The Mystery of Gothel Mansion, Gothel Mansion: Myth or Fact?, Gothel Mansion’s Haunted Legacy, Gothel Mansion’s Tower Ghost. The titles almost all sounded sensationalistic, with only a few that seemed to stick to the historical. Taking a bracing breath, she clicked on one that seemed to avoid the sensational.

  Gothel Mansion, built in the early 1700s by pioneer Lawrence Gothel, was nothing more than a small, two-room cabin for him, his wife, Clarisse, and their eight children to live in as they moved into the northern California territory. A renowned fur trader, Lawrence’s luck didn’t extend to his family. Within a decade of their move, six of their children had died, along with Clarisse.

  Wow, Rapunzel thought. How horrible to lose six of your children and your wife.

  The two remaining sons married, but only one had a child, a son.

  This downturn of luck continued for the Gothel family for over a century, until the Gold Rush of ’49, when Lucas Gothel struck it rich. He built on to the cabin un
til it became a large home. The large home was for naught. Lucas also was only able to sire a single child, a son named Frederick.

  Frederick was a financial genius, and it is due to him that the family has prospered in the century and a half since. Frederick tied the family fortune up into profitable ventures, unable to be discontinued by any of his descendants, which has ensured the continued prosperity of the Gothel fortune for many generations to come.

  Currently, for the first time ever the home is owned by one not of Gothel blood. The last heir, Nigel Gothel, married Bonnie Higby, who came from a questionable background. There was some speculation as to the untimely death of Higby’s parents. However, with inconclusive evidence, Higby was not charged with any crime. Gothel married Higby and then died in an accident three years later. Higby was again brought under question, but again there was no evidence proving she had anything to do with Gothel’s death. She has since continually built onto the house, despite living there alone.

  Unfortunately, the couple did not have any children, and with no other heirs the home and fortune has been left to Higby.”

  Wait, what? Rapunzel read the last two lines again. “No children . . . lived alone.” But then, who am I?

  Higby, who now goes by her legal name of Gothel, resides in the home. She has never remarried, and it remains to be seen to whom she will leave the fortune upon her passing.

  Rapunzel finished the article, which had a few pictures of the outside of her house, including an aerial view. The older photos showed a much smaller house, and her tower was definitely missing. She went back and read again the line, “. . . the couple did not have any children.” If she were correct, Bonnie Higby was the name of her mother. Her mother who had a “questionable” background.

  Why didn’t anyone know about Rapunzel? Was her birth a secret? She felt overwhelmed by what she’d read. Then, deciding since she was already in this far, she may as well go all the way, she clicked the link called The Mystery of Gothel Mansion.

  Shasta County, California, may not have an amusement park adorned by a talking mouse with big ears, but it has something much more sinister: Gothel Mansion. Gothel Mansion has a long legacy of less-than-sane owners over the years, with the curse of each heir only being able to produce one son to carry on the legacy.