by Laura Kenyon
Kirsten’s hand landed on Belle’s shoulder, just as Cooper came bounding back into their circle, holding a jumble of brochures with both hands. “It’s not like we don’t think about her every day,” she said, softly. “But she’s still here, in that amazing little man there.”
Belle nodded. It was a beautiful thought. But “that amazing little man there” was also the product of the psychopath who’d murdered their sister. She wondered if they ever saw parts of him in Cooper, too. Either way, these women were living saints. She opened her mouth to say as much, but decided against it.
“I’m hungry,” Cooper called out, pulling on his aunt’s sleeve. “Can we get lunch now?”
Kirsten smiled and looked at Belle. “I’m telling you, best tuna melts ever. Our treat.”
“Can I take a rain check?” Belle asked, still a little shaken by their revelation—and a little ashamed. She’d been so obsessed with her misfortunes that she’d failed to see her blessings. Her pain, both emotional and physical, was nothing compared to theirs. She could still hold Rye, even if it took her a little longer to reach him. Suddenly, she no longer saw her problems in a vacuum. Suddenly, her problems were manageable.
She leaned over and put both hands on her knees, wincing through the pain. Cooper gave a shy smile and hid halfway behind Kim’s leg. Then he peeked out, brought his right hand up to his forehead and started twisting his eyebrows—first the hair, then the skin. It was a strange mannerism that she’d seen before, though she couldn’t remember where.
“Do you need something to keep your treasure safe?” she asked, pointing at his fistful of pamphlets. “We don’t want them flying all over the streets of Carpale, now do we?”
He inched out a little further and looked up at her with those huge blue eyes. Belle wondered if they came from his father. She smiled and fished a zip-up diaper pouch from her purse. The diapers slid right out, without Kim noticing.
“This looks like just the right size. And look, it’s brown, just like a real treasure chest.”
“Wow,” the boy exclaimed, venturing all the way out from behind his guardian. Belle held it open for him as he stuffed it full of brochures. Then she helped him zip it up. “Wow,” he said again, tracing the neon green stars.
“Now what do you say when someone gives you something nice?” Kim said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Cooper looked straight at Belle again. “Thank you.”
Belle opened her mouth to say it was nothing. But before she could, he launched forward, arms wide, and wrapped his arms around her like an octopus bringing in its prey. It was too much weight for her, in her hunched over position, and the both of them went down instantly.
Kim screamed. Cooper laughed. Kirsten raced around and hoisted Belle back up by the shoulders.
“Oh my gosh are you okay?” Kim asked, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. “I’m so sorry. Cooper, you can’t just go jumping on people! Kirsten, is she okay or should we get a doctor?”
“A doctor?” Belle repeated, wiping the tears from her face. “No, no, I’m fine. These are tears of laughter,” she lied. “Little guy took me by surprise is all.”
“But what about the baby?”
Belle stopped wiping and dusted herself off. “Oh, I do worse than that to myself all the time. Don’t worry.” Kim’s mouth slanted a bit. “But I’m going to see Dr. Frolick anyway, so I’ll see what he thinks. No worries, little man. Never apologize for a hug; you never know how badly someone needs one. Now you enjoy that tuna melt.”
A few moments later, Belle was standing outside a bright yellow door with a pink frosted window. She’d been there a hundred times. But there was something a little surreal about today. It was as if she could see, or feel, the hundreds of previous iterations of herself in this exact same spot. Years of trying to have a baby. Years of that emotional roller coaster. Sometimes she’d come in brimming with hope, spouting off lists of symptoms and signs and “feelings” that it worked this time and she was pregnant. Other times she’d arrived wearing the colorless face of death, pummeled into devastation and convinced that her body was a wasteland. She’d never have a baby. Nothing would work. She didn’t have the emotional strength to keep on fooling herself.
But today, she stood there as a mother. There was a second little version of her ten miles away on Tantalise. Yes, her situation was still far from ideal, but maybe there was no such thing as ideal. At least they were both alive. At least she could be there for her son, even if no one else knew who she really was for a while. At least her wish had finally come true, even if it did come with a few unfortunate conditions. As a grown woman, she should know that they always did.
Chapter Fifteen
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel hesitated as she stepped onto the ferry, ten steps behind Ethan and a few uncomfortable inches from Donner Wickenham. She opened and closed her fist along the peeling rail, but her right foot didn’t want to follow the other onto the slimy, filthy fishing vessel that stank of guts and seaweed.
“What’s the holdup?” Donner asked, blocking her escape like a cinderblock wall. “Foot stuck to the dock? It’s no yacht, but the sooner you hop on, the sooner you can get off.” He paused, giving his double entendre time to sink in. “I’m sure you’re familiar with that idea.”
She whipped around and leered at him. If the stuff churning around in her stomach decided to head north, she knew exactly where to aim. “Look,” she snapped, still unsure why he was here. “I don’t know what your sociopath mother told you, but Ethan and I are perfectly capable of finding Grethel on our own. So why don’t you just fly your little jet back to Marestam, go back to your castle, and enjoy your undeserved luxury while everyone else does the work for you? I’m sure you’re familiar with that idea.”
Donner’s smug smirk doubled in size at the vitriolic wordplay. “I think you’re forgetting I’m a fugitive now.” His eyebrows lifted a half-inch, as if asking whether that sort of danger turned her on.
“Ugh. Just tell them you had too much to drink and accidentally activated the autopilot or something. Maybe they’ll cut you a break.” His smile grew even larger. “Or give mommy dearest a call during her sober hours. I’m sure she’d have no problem twisting Belle’s arm again and painting you a halo.”
Donner’s eyes shifted to the side as his smile descended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Rapunzel grunted in disgust, pushed herself off the railing, and stomped onto the boat. Ethan was standing in the cockpit talking to the captain, while three men in rubber overalls shared a parting smoke on the bow. One had holes in his earlobes wide enough to see through, one had a beard braided down to his chest, and one looked like he should have retired decades ago. The first two nodded towards her, then towards each other, then flashed her the creepiest smile she’d seen in weeks.
She scurried over to Ethan and latched onto his arm. “Do you think he knows how to swim?” she asked, gesturing toward Donner. “Or should we tie a rope around his waist and add an anchor?”
The corner of the captain’s mouth rose, but Ethan gave her nothing. How had she become the one pining for forgiveness?
“How far away is the island?” she asked, louder.
Ethan’s arm jerked a bit between hers. “About an hour. Right, Captain?” he said, not even answering her question directly.
The captain, who looked like he was still in high school, squinted toward the increasingly cloudy sky. “Just about,” he said. “As a bird flies, your island’s ’round sixty-five minutes due east.”
“Think you can handle that?” Ethan asked, patting her on the head but removing his arm in order to do so.
“Yeup,” the captain continued. “But thanks to the delay—we’ve been having spots of engine trouble here’n there—our schedule’s sayin’ to head northeast first and then swing ’round. Don’t you worry though. We’ll want to hit the best fishing waters afore deadlight.” He looked directly at Rapunzel. “That’s early evening feeding—ju
st afore twilight, when all the fish come out’n we try to snag ’em afore the sharks and other sea creatures. So we’ll have you folks on that island right around fourteen hundred hours.” He turned to spit on the floor. “Oh, and afore I forget, the life jackets are under a hatch on the starboard side over there. That is, assuming ya’ll don’t change your minds first.”
He winked at Rapunzel and then leaned in. She doubted he’d showered in days, but plugged her nose and tilted closer anyway.
“Like I told your boyfriend here, they don’t call it Blood Island for nothin’. Some say it’s cursed. Some say it’s booby-trapped. Some say there’s…” He shook his head and gave a condescending chuckle. “Well, there are lots of strange ideas about it. No refunds a’course, but I feel it’s my duty as an honorable Stularian seaman to let you know. Now, you’re welcome to stay above deck so long as you ain’t in the way, but there’s a table downstairs with some cards and a bathroom for the lady. If you need help with the flusher, I’ll be right here”—he paused to wink and run his hands over the wooden steering wheel—“manning my giant helm.”
Rapunzel stood there for another minute, jaw slightly agape. Then Ethan moved in front of her—actually looking into her eyes this time—and assured her that there was nothing to worry about. “This boat may not be pretty,” he said, “but it’s sturdy. We’re not going to capsize in any shark-infested waters. And all those strange stories he’s talking about are just Grethel trying to keep people away. You know that, right?”
Rapunzel did know that. She couldn’t care less about Captain Creepo and his fear-mongering superstitions. Her fear came from something much more real—and far more disturbing. She panned slowly around, looking at the men with the rubber overalls … at Donner, lurking in the middle of the boat with his Whatcha Need coffee and no handcuffs … at the tiny hole in the floor that led to a tiny table and a toilet that might not flush and probably hadn’t been cleaned in years.
“Am I miscalculating,” she asked, “or did he just say we’re going to be on this boat for the next four hours?”
This time, Ethan laughed. His chiseled face angled to the side and his eyes—a million compacted flecks of green and brown—sparkled against the white clouds above. If she’d meant to be funny, she might have latched onto this as an offer of peace. But she hadn’t. And seconds later, when the boat motored up and the stagnant air turned into a slightly less putrid breeze, the opportunity for reconciliation sailed away on it. Ethan soon followed.
She cracked her back in frustration.
“So that’s the man who tamed the wild Rapunzel.” Rapunzel scowled at the sound of Donner’s voice directly behind her. “Are you sure you don’t need an extra man in your corner?”
“Look,” she growled, almost poking his eye out with her fingernail. “If we’re actually doing this, I don’t want you talking to me unless I ask you a question. Got it?”
He raised both hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, boss. Though from what I just saw, if you aren’t talking to me, you’re not going to be talking to anyone for the next four hours.” Their eyes remained locked as Donner raised his cup and took a long, drawn-out sip of his coffee. “Just to be clear, that was a question, right?”
Rapunzel’s teeth slammed together. Donner tossed his cup into a mound of garbage and crossed his arms—black Henley sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a giant watch with red darts instead of numerals. He leaned against the exterior of the cockpit, bent one foot behind him, and swooped a few inches toward her. His wild black waves smelled like a Fifth Avenue salon, but his stubble said he hadn’t shaved in days. Amid all the darkness—his hair, his clothes, his eyes—that bright white smile almost made him look like a decent human being. Had he been a complete stranger and had she been pre-Ethan, all of this sparring might have ended below deck, with the two of them out-rocking the ocean.
“Come on,” he pled, slipping on the second syllable. “Give me a chance. It’s going to be a long ride, and I think both of us could use some company.”
Rapunzel wanted to punch him in that square, chiseled jaw of his. How dare he talk to her as if they were friends? How dare he try to catch her off guard with some fake desperation in his voice and that phony sadness in his eyes? Looking at him now, it was no wonder Belle stuck with him after his monster hair molted. It wasn’t fair for the devil to have so much sex appeal. He should have had boils on his face, no hair, and five extra layers of fat instead of muscle. Suddenly, his first curse made perfect sense.
“Look, I’m not asking for us to be besties,” he said. She pressed her eyes into slits and glared out at him. “Just, you know, pull back a bit on the hatred.”
“Hatred?” Rapunzel crossed her arms with such force, she nearly lost her breath. “Hatred doesn’t even begin to cover it. You burned down my inn and almost murdered my best friend. Try loathe, or detest, or—”
“I thought Cinderella was your best friend.”
Her jaw dropped mid-sentence and hung there. Was she even supposed to respond to that? “Not that it’s any of your business, but I can have two best friends. Just like you can try to have two wives.”
Donner grinned, tipped the last of his coffee back, and chucked it over the side of the boat. “I might not have been an ideal husband in the end, but I still know Belle better than any of you.”
“Now that’s the exaggeration of the centur—”
“She always felt like the outsider of your little group. She thought Dawn was aloof, and the rest of you treated her like a child.”
Rapunzel shuffled uncomfortably in place. “Yeah, well. She was a child until she grew a pair and got rid of you. Now she’s a butterfly—a kickass one. You were the cocoon she was suffocating in for the past five years.”
Donner parted his lips and froze, as if letting the jab fully sink in and dissipate. Then he dropped back a bit and looked her straight in the eye. “You have no idea how sorry I am for the way I treated her,” he said. “But even you have to know I’d never hurt her—”
“Ha!”
“I’d never physically hurt her if I had any control over my actions. You know about my curse. I couldn’t contain it that night, and it nearly cost me everything. But I’m not here for myself. I’m here because I don’t want our kid paying for my mistakes. You have to believe that. Belle respects your opinion more than anyone’s now.”
Rapunzel felt her hostility soften a bit, but continued to glare. She was gearing up to rip into him further when something he’d said came back and tripped her up: I don’t want our kid paying for my mistakes. Did he know about Rye or was this a trick? She shuffled uncomfortably in place. “What do you mean you don’t want your kid paying for your mistakes?”
Donner closed his eyes for a second, then looked at the sky, let out a long, deep breath, and finally settled his gaze on the moldy, splintering deck. When he finally spoke, it was in a raspy, disbelieving whisper. “So she was telling the truth.”
Rapunzel’s head tilted. “Who?”
“Some reporter. Matilda Hart—or Holt. She grabbed me before the arraignment to get a comment about my curse coming back and spreading to my unborn child.” He swayed to the side a bit, then regained his balance. Rapunzel gave a tiny smile of relief over the word unborn—tiny, but apparently not tiny enough. “What?” Donner barked, his huge, black eyes growing red. “How is that possibly amusing?”
“It’s not,” she said, gazing into the distance. The harbor was just a speck on the horizon now. The captain was propped up behind the helm. The crew was scattered around the deck, and Ethan was with Pippi Longbeard in the very back, winding a rope around a peg. She watched him for a good twenty seconds, but he never looked her way. “It’s not,” she said again. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She trailed off and tried to shake her senses back. “It’s okay because we’re going to fix it.”
Donner gave a quick, appreciative nod. In that one moment, Rapunzel saw the face of a wounded child, convincing himself that yes, he w
as a big boy and he was going to be okay. Then she saw Ethan in her peripheral vision. He was looking her way. Seeing an opportunity, she ran her hand up along Donner’s rock-hard bicep and gave a sympathetic smile. He flinched in surprise but didn’t pull away.
“You know, you’re right,” she said. “If we’re going to be stuck on this boat for the next four hours, we might as well call a temporary truce. What do you say? Interested in checking out that poker table downstairs?”
“Really?” he blurted, then immediately cleared his throat and struck his usual domineering male specimen pose. “I mean, absolutely.” His left eyebrow rose. “But if you really want to make lover boy jealous, we should make it strip.”
Rapunzel leered at him and glanced toward the tiny hole that led to the ladder that led to the cabin beneath the boat. On second thought, perhaps descending into a tiny space with a devastatingly handsome man with bricks for arms, magical powers, and no control over his off-the-chart hormones wasn't the best idea.
But then she caught Ethan looking her way once more and changed her mind. Maybe what her boyfriend needed was another reason to get his blood boiling—and, if the tide so turned, rescue her for real this time.
* * *
After seven hands of five card draw, Rapunzel was still confident that Ethan would fly down that ladder any second to reclaim her. He would apologize for being stupid, and she’d apologize for being aloof, and they’d go on to get Grethel together.
After fifteen hands, she was beginning to worry.
But after sixty-plus rounds of poker, three hours of meaningless banter with Donner, and no sign of the man who’d loved her through attempted murder but apparently drew the line at being bad with kids, she was furious. She was just about to march up there and give him a huge piece of her mind when three firm stomps sounded at the top of the ladder.
"We're approaching," Ethan shouted through the hole. "You two should think about coming above soon."
Rapunzel stared, bewildered, at her royal flush. What was that? “You two?” He hadn't even said her name. Her fingers went rigid and then curled slowly into a fist.
