The Shadow of the Bear: A Fairy Tale Retold

by Regina Doman

  “I think his mother was a designer,” Blanche murmured. “He says I look a lot like she did when she was young.” Bear had promised to someday take Blanche back, by daylight, to his mother’s old apartment, which she had designed herself.

  Mother, talking on the phone in the kitchen, smiled at both of them. She was dressed in her Sunday best and was talking to their aunt in California. Ever since the girls’ escapade a few weeks ago, Mother had been calling one relative after another to tell them the story. Blanche returned her smile, and reflected that it was more fun telling the story than it had been living it.

  “Oh, I wish the boys would get here soon!” Rose fretted, going to the living room window to peer out again. She turned away with a sigh, took off her hat, and fluffed up her bangs with her hand.

  “You look really nice, Rose,” Blanche said to her sister. Rose was wearing her hair braided in front and long in the back. The bruises on her face were barely visible now, and she had regained her rose-petal complexion. Her small chin was raised in a look of confident assurance, spunk, and good humor, and her eyes were radiant. Blanche looked down. Was it really fair that her sister was so gorgeous? She fought with the usual jealousy. C. S. Lewis had said something about true humility being the ability to rejoice in somebody else’s good fortune as if it were your own. So she took in the picture of her sister, with her smooth, shining hair, sparkling eyes, and slim figure, and sighing, counted it all joy. She even managed to begin to feel less nervous.

  “Stand up straight,” Rose prompted her sister, and straightened her own shoulders. “You look absolutely beautiful, sister.”

  Rose thought her older sister had never looked so lovely. Let people say what they would—Blanche was the prettier one in the family. That smooth, pure white skin without a single zit! Maids of other eras would have killed for it, Rose was sure. The problem was, she decided, that Blanche lived in the wrong century. And her hair! Rose had dreamed so often of what it would be like to have soft inky black hair like Blanche’s. But no, her hair was flaming red. And when Blanche wore pale colors, she looked like a flower, delicate and airy.

  “You should always dress like that,” she told her sister.

  “I thought you said before that I should wear stronger colors,” Blanche accused.

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind. Strong colors are my favorite, but it’s okay if you want to wear pastels. I used to think it made you look weak, but maybe it’s okay. It sort of fits you, in a good way. You’re sort of strong when you’re weak, if you know what I mean.”

  “Have it your way,” Blanche laughed and put a timid hand to her head to feel the petals of the creamy roses in her hair. “I feel silly,” she confessed.

  Somehow, that was the wrong thing to say, Rose felt. One should keep a quiet composure, or say “thank you” graciously—not say you felt silly.

  “You look like a princess,” Rose said firmly. “I don’t care what you say.”

  “Rose, are you ever jealous of other people?” Blanche said at last.

  Rose thought for a moment, head on one side. “Yeah. But when I am, I try to think about something else. Then I forget.”

  “Oh,” Blanche paused. “I guess I’m not distracted so easily. Oh, I wish they would come so I could stop thinking stupid things!”

  “Yes, exactly—where are they?” Rose wrinkled her nose in consternation.

  “Mother said they had something to do. I think maybe another meeting with the district attorney about Mr. Freet.”

  “I wish he would confess to Fr. Raymond’s murder as well as to attempting to kill me. It would make it so much easier for them,” Rose said. “Did Bear tell you that their father—their real father—completely washed his hands of them when they were arrested for drugs? Since they were minors, he took away the money they had inherited from their mother. When they got out of detention, they had no place to go. Until they moved in with the Fosters.” Rose reluctantly turned from the window again, resigning herself to wait. “But their father seems to have changed his mind now that they’ve proved their innocence. At least he’s given them back their mother’s money.”

  “That must mean a lot to them. I think Bear has had a hard time forgiving their dad for abandoning them,” Blanche reflected. She had suddenly realized how blessed they were to have had such a good father. Dad was dead, but at least he had always loved and stood by them.

  “Poor Dr. Freet,” Rose said softly. “It must have been very hard for him to find all this out about his brother. Especially his connection with the school drug ring, when Dr. Freet had spent so much time on anti-drug campaigns.”

  They sat down on the couch, and Blanche stared at her white-linen covered lap and her folded hands. “You know, when you’ve had someone point a gun at you, it’s almost like having died, somehow. You’re never the same.”

  “I know what you mean.” Rose rubbed her eyes and shook her head. “Brrr! You feel as though you’re living on borrowed time.”

  “Yes. That’s it. You might have died, but instead, you’re alive. You know,” Blanche pressed her hands together to feel their warmth and the life in her muscles, “things like this make you realize that God is in charge of everything. Everything. I mean, even if things had gone the other way, and Mr. Freet had killed Bear—or you—or Fish—somehow I would still know that God’s in charge.”

  Rose had leaned back against the couch and gently felt the pimple on her nose. “It’s as though the curtain that covered the machinery of the universe was pulled aside for a moment, and you saw how things work, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, that’s it.” Blanche was surprised. “How’d you know?”

  Rose shrugged. “I always sort of knew, but now I know that I know. Boy, we’re profound, aren’t we? Let’s go outside to wait for these delinquent persons.”

  “No pun intended, I’m sure,” Blanche replied, opening the door.

  The summer sun was shining across a blue sky as they stood on the porch steps. Blanche tried to cover up her embarrassment at being on the street in such a fancy dress by examining the roses in the flower boxes. “I almost wish we hadn’t cut them. They just started blooming.”

  “Nonsense. Mother said we should, and your hair looks simply elegant with white roses in it. I would have put red roses in my hair, but they symbolize passionate love, and I don’t want that Fish person to get any ideas.”

  “I doubt that he would think you were sending him a secret message. Besides, you’re wearing red roses all over your dress.”

  Rose gave a start and her face turned the color under discussion. She squeaked faintly in dismay. “Oh, bother.”

  Blanche had picked a red blossom from Rose’s window box. “Never mind about flower language. You should pin it on your dress.”

  Rose rallied. “Maybe the thorns will send another kind of message.”

  Blanche hid a smile. “You are hardly the picture of disinterest, Rose.”

  Rose heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately, disinterest has never been one of my stronger qualities.”

  Just then, a sleek white car pulled over in front of their house, and two men got out of the front seats. Both of them wore suits, and were strangely familiar.

  “Is that—them?” Blanche whispered uncertainly to Rose.

  Rose was staring. “I don’t think so. They look too—nice.”

  The two young men in question halted before the stoop and looked up at them, expectantly. The tall one with short dark hair had his arm in a sling. The other one’s lighter hair was cut a bit longer, and he held a flat cap in one hand.

  The two girls stared at them in perfect incomprehension for several moments.

  “Oh, come on,” said the one with the cap in his hand. “We don’t look all that different, do we?”

  “Bear?” Blanche said, and “Fish!” exclaimed Rose at the same time.

  The tall, dark-haired guy with the arresting good looks laughed and held out his hand to Blanche. “Snow White?” he said, imitating her vo
ice.

  She knew him then, for certain, and went to him happily. He put his one arm around her and kissed her. “You look lovely in that dress,” he said. “Or is it the idea of the dress that makes you lovely?”

  “You cut your hair!” she said at last. She couldn’t believe what a difference it made in the way he looked, with his head free from the heavy mat of dreadlocks. He was standing taller, too, and smiling.

  “I did. Call it the fulfillment of a vow. My head feels ten pounds lighter,” he said, grinning.

  “Where are you princes going to take us?” Rose asked, still looking at Fish suspiciously as though she weren’t completely certain it was him. He crossed his eyes at her.

  “Before we go out to celebrate Blanche’s graduation, I thought we could start out by taking you to see how far they’ve gotten with the renovation of St. Lawrence,” Bear said offhandedly.

  “The renovation? But I thought it was all closed down!” Rose exclaimed.

  “Oh, it was. Until—uh—the diocese received a substantially large grant to repair the roof and floor.” Bear suddenly seemed interested in the state of his cuffs.

  “Two substantial grants, actually. I think my money’s going to repair the roof since Bear destroyed most of the floor himself.” Fish raised one eyebrow at his brother.

  “It was supposed to have happened a long time ago— my mother had planned it, and Fr. Raymond was going to oversee the project, but that all fell apart when he died. And then our dad decided to take everything away from us and—you know the rest.” Bear squinted at Blanche in the sunlight. “I understand a new religious order is going to be taking over the church and the old rectory fairly soon. St. Lawrence is being repaired just in time.”

  “Sister Geraldine will be so glad to hear that,” Blanche said.

  “Oh, she knows. I think we’ve given her a new lease on life. Fr. Raymond always used to tell her she should go back and stir up her Dominican congregation—I wouldn’t be surprised if she went off and did it now,” Bear said.

  “Should I tell Mom we’re leaving?” Rose asked.

  “Is she ready?” Bear asked.

  “I think so. She was just talking on the phone when we came outside. I’ll go and fetch her.” Rose danced up the steps, swirling her dress in pleasure as she went in.

  Fish watched her go, shaking his head. “What drama,” he said. “Is she always like this?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so,” Blanche said to him with a smile. “Life is always an adventure for her.”

  “It would be. Well, I can see I’ll have to get used to it.” He dropped his hat on his head with a sigh. “You two get in the car. I’ll wait for them.”

  Bear opened the car door for Blanche, and got in the back seat beside her. With a sigh of contentment, he put his good arm around her shoulders.

  “How’s your other arm?” Blanche asked.

  “Looking very good. It’s mostly healed.”

  She noticed he looked utterly at peace. “Where are we going?”

  “I was wondering the same thing myself, you and me. I think I’ll need you to tell me that.”

  “Wherever you want to go,” she said shyly, and looked up into his brown eyes. “I trust you, Bear.”

  He laughed and squeezed her hand. “Then, my lady, the adventure is just beginning.”

  A Little Bit About Me

  and This Book

  I had loved the Brothers Grimm tale of “Snow White and Rose Red” since childhood, when I read a stage version of it by Madge Miller in a school reader. In Ms. Miller’s version, the brother of the bear prince was turned into a fish, and it was Snow White who dispatched the evil dwarf by cutting off his magic beard, two elements in my story which are not found in the original Grimm’s tale. Ms. Miller’s play is out of print, but those willing to search for old books can find it in the 1954 book Miniature Plays by Children’s Theatre Press (now Anchorage Press).

  When I was a teenager, three friends and I tried to videotape our own version of the story, but the first day of filming ended in disaster when the video camera shorted out, ruining the tape. I told my best friend that if I ever revisited the story, I would set it in the city, in modern times. Five years later, I found myself living in New York City—and writing my first novel, which would become the first of three books about Bear, Blanche, Rose, and Fish. (Although I keep thinking I will have to write more books about Fish later on.)

  One of my heroes, G.K. Chesterton, said, “The old fairy tales endure forever. The old fairy tale makes the hero a normal human boy; it is his adventures that are startling: they startle him because he is normal.” Discovering that the modern world can still contain the wonder and strangeness of a fairy tale is part of what my novels are about.

  My thanks goes to many people: first, to Amber and Katie, who wanted me to write this story down so that they could read it; and to my sister Maria, who was among the first to finish it; along with my brother John; thanks to my mother and father for their terrific encouragement; also for my friends of the Steubenville women writers group of 1995—Helen, Ronda, Judy, and Rebecca—for their enthusiasm and constructive criticism; grateful thanks to the Bethlehem Community for liking this odd story enough to publish it ten years ago, with particular appreciation for Jean Ann, Lydia, and Peter; thanks to my brother-in-law Mike S. for his plausibility and grammatical editing during the final stretch.

  Particular thanks to Alex Fedoryka for allowing me to use his photo on the cover, and to my friend Joan who gave permission for me to use her artwork in this new edition. And to my six children, who were extremely patient during the process of designing, typesetting, and publishing said edition. I am glad it is finally done.

  And I would like to acknowledge Janet Butler, for it was her comments on her blog about my writing that led to this revised edition of The Shadow of the Bear, particularly spurring me to fix things about the first chapter that had bothered me for years.

  From start to finish, the one person who has given me the most encouragement, who seemed to see what I saw and feel what I felt about this story was the man who would become my husband, Andrew. He knows this story wouldn’t have been finished or republished if it hadn’t been for his inspiration, his support, and his love.

  More information about my Fairy Tale Novel series can be found at www.fairytalenovels.com. I always welcome email, feedback, and questions from readers.

  Regina Doman

  Shirefeld, Virginia

  2008

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  1. One winter night, while they were sitting together, a bear came to their door.

  2. The two girls were quite close and always held each other’s hand when they went out into the world together.

  3. Their mother reassured the girls, 'Have no fear of this bear. He will do you no harm.'

  4. From that time onward, the bear came by every evening to play with the girls. He let them amuse themselves with him as much as they liked.

  5. And the bear cried out, 'Snow White, Rose Red, would you beat your wooer dead?'

  6. The girls so accepted their strange friend that they never locked the door until he had appeared.

  7. No harm came to Snow White or Rose Red when they wandered in the woods alone. The creatures of the forest befriended them.

  8. One day as they walked in the woods, the girls came upon an old dwarf with a withered face and a scowling eye.

  9. Snow White was the meeker of the two sisters, and would remain at home, engaged in quiet pursuits.

  10. Snow White caught a glimpse of gold shining beneath the bear’s hairy coat.

  11. Rose Red was the more spirited of the two, and thought nothing of running forth alone to explore the woods and fields.

  12. 'Why must you go away, dear bear?' 'I must go into the forest and guard my treasure from the evil dwarves, who live under the earth.'

  13. 'See what you two milksops have done to me! Ugh, how malicious and odious you are!' the dwa
rf screamed at them.

  14. There were once two princes who were bewitched by one of the evil dwarves. He sought the treasures they had hidden away in the woods.

  15. In the winter, the dwarves are trapped beneath the earth. But when the sun warms the world, they break through into the light to plunder, enchant, and hoard.

  16. 'So you return to laugh at me, you wicked creatures?' the dwarf raged at them. 'Don’t just stand there, you sleek milk-faced things!' And his ashen face became copper with rage.

  17. 'Whatever gets into the hands of one of these vile dwarves does not easily see the light of day again.'

  18. Snow White had given herself up for lost when suddenly a black bear came roaring out of the forest.

  19. The bear, snarling, rushed upon the dwarf and attacked him.

  20. And the sisters stood amazed to see two young men in handsome clothing.

  A little bit about me and this book