Broken Wish

by Julie C. Dao

  “Are you tired?” Elva asked, and Hannah nodded, so she hoisted the child up and carried her after the witch, glad for her comforting weight. At night, in this unfamiliar part of the forest, the North Woods looked every inch the place of secrets and sorcery Mathilda had said it was. The trees seemed to glow with a pale light, leaves rustling like voices conversing in the still air. Bright rings of fireflies danced around them as Mathilda led them past a row of spruce trees.

  “Here’s the boundary,” the witch warned, and as she spoke, Elva felt something invisible brush her face. Mathilda made a motion like lifting a curtain, and the sensation disappeared.

  “I’ve never been this far north down the river,” Elva said.

  After several minutes, they emerged from the trees near a section of the Main. Voices sounded out and footsteps hurried toward them as a frantic woman and a group of exhausted-looking people came into sight, carrying torches. The minute the woman saw Hannah, she burst into noisy tears and snatched her from Elva, hugging her tight as they both cried their hearts out.

  “You found my baby! Oh, thank you!” the woman sobbed to Elva.

  “I’m not the one who found your daughter,” Elva told her, seizing Mathilda’s arm to keep her from melting back into the forest. “My companion is.”

  Though the hood covered her face completely, Mathilda still flinched when the woman’s eyes turned to her. “Thank you for everything,” the mother said, looking at her child’s sticky fist. “And how good you are to give her something to eat. Let me return your blanket…”

  “No, please keep it. And good night,” Mathilda said quickly, freeing herself from Elva’s grip and hurrying back toward the woods.

  “May I at least know your name? Or where you live?” the mother persisted, following the witch. “I’d like to send you a little gift as a thank-you for keeping my Hannah safe.”

  “There’s no need. Good-bye,” Mathilda said, and disappeared into the trees.

  “But…”

  “Good night. And good-bye, Hannah,” Elva said, smiling at the stunned mother and child. She hurried after the witch. “You should have let her send you something as a thank-you.”

  Mathilda snorted. “Taking that screaming creature back is enough of a gift, trust me.”

  “She just wanted to show you her gratitude. Maybe you could have made a new friend.”

  “Yes, wouldn’t that be lovely? And then I could hear her shriek devil-woman and sorceress at me when she found out who I was, like all the rest. I just don’t know why I’m not putting myself through that wondrous experience again.”

  “You don’t know that,” Elva pointed out. “There might be decent people out there who would accept you. You shouldn’t spend your life hiding.”

  “So you’re saying I should leave my safe cottage and plunge into that Hanau out there? I should risk everything for the slim chance of making a friend I don’t need?”

  “All I’m saying,” Elva said gently, “is that not everyone is hateful. And if they knew how good and kind you are, they would want to give you a chance.”

  The witch cackled. “You think I’m good and kind? You know what I’ve done.”

  “That was years ago! I wouldn’t be here if I thought you were evil. And you agreed to help me when you could have turned me away. That’s kindness.”

  “I told you, that’s only because—”

  “You also offered to protect Cay if you found him in the woods, and you took good care of Hannah just now,” Elva added, as they walked alongside a quiet stream running through the forest. “Deep down, you are decent and there are people who will see that. Like me…and that woodcutter.” She knew she was treading on dangerous ground by mentioning him, and as expected, Mathilda stopped in her tracks.

  “What do you know? Nothing. You don’t know that meeting Alfred was what convinced me I would be killed on sight if I ever left my sanctuary. You think he saw the goodness in my soul?” Elva had never heard a sound more bitter than Mathilda’s laugh. “The vision you saw was the first time I met him, but not the last. From then on, whenever I went out, I made sure to stray just along the edge of my boundary so he could find me. We spoke more and more, but I never told him who I was. Someone else did.”

  “Who?”

  Beneath her hood, the witch’s eyes glinted with tears. “His brother caught us talking and recognized me as the witch of the North Woods. The way Alfred looked at me when he found out…the horror in his eyes…oh, Elva, I could take any other cruelty in the world, any other insult or injustice but that. I had let myself hope that Alfred would not turn me away if he knew what I was, but I learned the truth that day.”

  Elva’s heart ached at the thought that Willem could have been so cruel toward her. Instead, he had shown compassion where Alfred had not.

  “I saw Alfred one last time. I went to find him and explain that I hadn’t meant to deceive him, but he wasn’t alone. He was with men he had gathered to hunt me down and have me executed. He accused me of using magic to make him unable to think of any other woman. That was how I found out he had fallen in love with me.” Mathilda looked at her tearfully in the eyes. “You don’t know how much I hunger for what you have, for people who care about me.”

  “You can have that,” Elva said fiercely. “I will help you. My family will help you. Mama and Papa are respected in Hanau, and I’ll explain. I’ll tell them…”

  But the witch shook her head. “I can’t risk my heart again. I thought happiness was within reach once, but no more. Every time I opened up—to your mother, to Alfred, to others before them—all I ever got was pain and betrayal. I’ve hurt enough, Elva.”

  “You have me. And just as you have been teaching me, I am going to teach you,” Elva told her. “I am going to help you be so charming and delightful that people can’t help but like you—please don’t snort, it isn’t polite—and you will live among us in peace. Then, when you reveal your magic, everyone will already respect you and perhaps be more accepting of it.”

  The witch gave a weak laugh, wiping her eyes. “You really are your mother’s daughter. Ever the optimist. But I’ll say this for you, you’re a lot more reliable than Agnes. You’ve already come to my house more than she ever did.”

  “And I will keep coming as long as I’m welcome. You have my word.”

  Mathilda pursed her lips. “You know how I feel about promises.”

  An idea occurred to Elva. She knelt beside the stream. “Can you give me some light?”

  “What are you doing?” the witch demanded, but waved her hand obligingly at some fireflies. They gathered in a spiraling halo around Elva’s head, illuminating the surface of the water so that she could see her reflection. She slowed her breaths and envisioned an empty room, just as Mathilda had been teaching her all week. The fireflies seemed to fade, and then there was only her and the water. She turned her thoughts toward her family sleeping peacefully at home, and the vision emerged clear and bright in the darkness.

  It was of her family, gathered around the dinner table. Mama set a roast ham in front of Papa, who kissed her, eliciting groans of protest from Cay and Rayner that made them all laugh. Elva thought she could watch the happy scene forever, but she hadn’t yet learned how to hold one vision steady in the water, and it flickered away to reveal the willow tree symbol once more. A shining square surrounded it like a door held ajar, and Elva reached out without thinking. But as soon as her fingers touched it, a sharp ache formed in her temples and she withdrew her hand with a cry.

  She heard Mathilda say something, but her voice was muted and Elva wanted to keep going. She felt the pain subside as she cleared her mind and turned all of her focus toward the people of Hanau. The vision of a bright, sunny day in town appeared, and Elva saw herself with Frau Bauer and Freida as the baker and his wife passed by with a warm greeting. Willem was there, too, and Elva’s heart tugged at the way he held her eyes in the vision.

  The willow tree symbol shimmered again. Instinctively, Elva
reached for it.

  “Stop it!” Mathilda cried.

  And then the trance was over. Elva was back in the North Woods again, on her back looking up at the trees, realizing that Mathilda had yanked her away from the stream. She winced as the sharp pain throbbed in her temples. “Did you see everything?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Not everything, I suspect. Were you reaching for that door again? Didn’t I tell you not to try until we learned more about it?”

  “I wanted to see what was behind it,” Elva said. Her legs shook so much when she stood up that the witch had to support her as they moved through the woods.

  “It cost you more energy than it was worth,” Mathilda said crossly. “Careless girl! How many times have I warned you not to overextend yourself?”

  “I wanted to show you what your life could be like, living near us and being a part of our town,” Elva explained. “Eating supper, greeting neighbors, shopping at market.”

  “Careless girl,” Mathilda said again, but not as forcefully. She waved her hands at the fireflies still following Elva, and they transformed into many-petaled white flowers that shone like stars plucked from the sky. Elva gasped at the beauty of the enchantment: the graceful movement of the witch’s hands, the light of the fireflies intensifying just before they changed, and the musical sound of the flowers bursting from the air where none had been before.

  “See what I mean?” Elva said weakly. “You’d be the most popular woman at all of the fish bakes.”

  “Oh, do be quiet,” Mathilda told her, stuffing the flowers into Elva’s hands. But on her lips was the barest hint of a smile, and her eyes held something even more precious: hope.

  Elva strolled home from market on a perfect June day, hot and bright. She had gotten two full nights of sleep for the first time in a month and a half of magic lessons, and she felt as cheery as the weather. Mathilda had asked her not to come for a few days, saying she had business to attend to. “But I expect you to practice everything we’ve been working on. Please,” she had added, after a pause, and Elva had grinned in approval. They had been working on improving Mathilda’s manners, which were a bit rusty after so many years alone in the North Woods.

  “So you are alive after all!” Freida Bauer exclaimed, passing Elva on the bridge. The girls hugged. “I’ve hardly seen you since the Easter party.”

  Elva lifted her basket apologetically. “It’s been busy on the farm and I’ve only just gotten a chance to get away. Mama needed some things in town.”

  “And you needed to see Willem, I’m sure,” Freida teased. “He’s by the old tree. I have to run to market myself, but come see me next week?”

  “I will.” Elva hugged her again before heading to the riverbank with renewed excitement. As Freida had said, Willem was sitting against the willow tree, the remains of his lunch scattered around him. Elva’s heart picked up at the sight of him, his hair shining in the sun and his eyes fixed dreamily on the river. She snuck up behind him and covered his eyes with her hands.

  “Freida, you’d better go before Elva sees us together,” Willem said, without missing a beat. He burst into laughter as Elva gave his shoulder a playful swat. “You got my note, then?”

  “I did. I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” Elva leaned into his kiss as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt safe and comfortable with him, and someday they would be together like this forever. She wanted him to know everything about her, the way Papa did about Mama. Well, almost everything, she thought. It didn’t feel right to talk about Mathilda yet, but it didn’t feel right to keep such a secret from him, either. “I made a new friend. A woman about Mama’s age,” she added hesitantly.

  “Who is she?”

  “You wouldn’t know her. She keeps to herself and doesn’t have anyone to care for her.”

  “It’s just like you to be kind. Have you invited her over for supper? I’d like to meet her.”

  “Well, no.” Elva bit her lip. “She hasn’t been out in society for a long time, and she’s very shy. But I wish you could meet her. She knows so much about everything, and she bakes delicious cakes and knits the warmest blankets. You’re the only one I’ve told about her. I don’t think Mama and Papa would approve.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “They wouldn’t disapprove of you befriending a lonely woman.”

  They would if she was a witch, Elva thought. “I guess they might think it was odd that she’s all alone. But she’s wonderful.” She laughed, thinking of Mathilda’s jokes and sarcastic quips. She had been looking forward to seeing the witch again all day.

  “What else have you been doing? Have you had any more visions?”

  “Nothing new, though I’ve been practicing,” she told him. “I’m stronger and I don’t get sick or tired as quickly. Would you like me to see how many calves Herr Bauer will have soon?” Papa had told her that the Bauers’ cows were all expecting babies in early June.

  “Yes, please,” Willem said, delighted. “I have a cup of water.”

  Elva took it from him. After so much practice with Mathilda, it was simple now to clear her mind. She turned her thoughts toward Herr Bauer’s farm, smiling when an image appeared of Willem filling the cows’ water buckets. “You did well, Rosie,” he told one of them kindly. “And you, too, Marigold. Three new babies! Herr Bauer will be pleased to have another bull in a couple of years.” The animals blinked their gentle, trusting eyes at him as he spoke. In the background, a farmhand tripped over a rake someone had carelessly left on the ground.

  Then the willow tree flashed, and the square around it glowed more clearly than ever. Elva hesitated, thinking of Mathilda’s warning. And then her fingers darted forward and gripped the edge of the square, pulling it open like a swinging door. She had to know what was behind it. It was a place not even the witch could go, and perhaps Elva was the one meant to open it.

  She held her breath, waiting to see what would happen. But then the image of Willem filling the water buckets appeared again, exactly as she had seen it. Again, she heard him tell the cows, “You did well, Rosie. And you, too, Marigold…”

  Elva shook her head, confused. The door had only made the vision replay. As the cows blinked gently at Willem, her eyes moved to the farmhand in the background, knowing he was about to trip on the rake. She wished she could move the rake and prop it against the wall.

  And suddenly there it was. The rake leaned against the wall of the stables, and the farmhand who had tripped in the earlier vision went about his business, whistling.

  “Elva?” Willem asked, and she came out of her trance to find him looking at her, worried.

  “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile, as a pounding headache pricked at her temples. “The cows will have three calves. One of them will be a bull.”

  “Here, lean against the tree.” Willem scrambled to his feet and helped prop her against the tree trunk. He wet his handkerchief in the river and pressed the cool cloth against her face. “You look so pale. Should I get a horse to bring you home?”

  “I’ll be all right,” she reassured him, closing her eyes. “I just need to sit quietly.”

  She had opened the willow tree door in her mind, but for what? Sometimes, in her more vivid dreams, she could control what happened, whether it was making horses fly or imagining herself in elaborate gowns. She must have done that just now, except she was wide awake. She had known the farmhand would trip and had pictured moving the rake—that was all. Changing the future was impossible, as Mathilda had told her over and over. Wasn’t it?

  “Klaus!” Willem called to a man who came jogging over. “What are you doing out here?”

  “The cows are about to give birth. You told me to get you when that happened,” the man said, his light gray eyes darting to Elva. He was short and strongly built, with thick black hair and a sharp, clever face—a familiar one at that, given that she had seen a vision of him talking to Willem about Berlin. “Is she all right? Should I get help?”


  “I feel a little better,” she said, looking up at the newcomer. “I’m Elva Heinrich.”

  “I know who you are.” His shrewd, pale gaze took in her whole face. “Willem talks of nothing else. I’m Klaus Eibner. Pleased to meet you at last.”

  “And you. I think the sun must have gotten to me,” Elva added. “It’s so hot today.”

  Klaus’s eyes moved slowly to the cup Elva had dropped, now lying empty beside her. “Perhaps you haven’t drunk enough water yet,” he suggested.

  “Perhaps not,” she said, feeling a bit uneasy under his perceptive stare.

  Willem helped her to her feet. “Are you sure you’re all right? Would you rather go home or come with us and see the baby cows?”

  That made Elva pause. If she went to the Bauers’ barn, she would not be looking at the cows, but at the farmhand and the rake. She knew deep in her heart that Mathilda was right—that no one could play with time without devastating consequences—and yet a small voice of doubt sang at the back of her mind. “I’ll come with you,” she said. “It’s on my way home.”

  “Here, take this,” Klaus said, handing over his wide-brimmed straw hat. “That should help keep the sun off your head. And let me carry your basket.”

  She smiled and put on the hat, shaking off her uneasiness about him; she knew it had only been fear of discovery. “Thank you,” she said, taking Willem’s arm on the walk back. When they got to the Bauers’ farm, Herr Vogel, the animal physician, was coming out of the barn. He was a tall, gray-haired man who had always brought candy for Elva and her brothers when they were smaller on his visits to Papa’s farm. He greeted her warmly, then turned to Willem.

  “You’re too late,” he said merrily. “Your favorite, Rosie, struggled on for a while, but she and Marigold and all three of their calves are fine and healthy. It’s a shame Bauer wasn’t here to see, but he’ll have two new cows and a new bull in a few years.”