by K. C. Hilton
Her fingers weakened, one by one, as she lost the strength in her grip. Her hands fell back onto the pallet. Her fingers splayed open. Her breathing stilled.
She was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
1813
I stared into the mirror at my reflection. Had it really been fifty years, to the day, since I was cursed on that dreadful night? I should have been sixty-eight years old, but my body continued to retain the same youthful appearance I had at eighteen. I looked like a schoolgirl. I had the energy of a schoolgirl. I had the body of a schoolgirl.
But I had the knowledge of an old lady who’d seen it all.
I’d watched as my parents suffered through the aging process and became old and fragile. Mother had died in my arms, and Father, growing increasingly frail for several years now, was clearly not long for this world. While his body weakened, his mind filled with more and more worry for me.
“Daughter.” Father's feeble voice called from his bedroom.
I jumped back from my inspection. He so seldom called for me, or asked anything of me. What if he were ill? Panic consumed my body like flames. The day I lost him…well, for now I was barely hanging on. But when that day came…
I raced to his side and dropped to my knees. “Yes?”
His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes opened to mine. “Oh, dear girl. I'm glad you came.” He inched his body upright, then lifted his legs out of bed and placed them on the floor. He stood easily and straightened his back.
“Well, you look like you're feeling much better.” A far cry from what I’d expected when I walked into the bedroom.
“How could anyone feel poorly on a day such as this?” Father gestured toward the window. “Let's walk outside, shall we?”
We strolled through the garden in more of a back-and-forth shuffle than a long and winding stroll due to the size of the garden. Father clenched my hand in his. “I know I've told you of the days I spent at my grandparents' castle in Paradise Valley. Deep in the mountains, that castle stood like a beacon to heaven.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, a castle. It had to be like most things seen by a small child. They appeared bigger and grander to the wondrous eyes of a boy. Then in adulthood they shrank to match reality and their real size was a shock. Surely Father had lived in a large country home in the woods as a small child, not a palatial castle with a moat in Paradise Valley as he had always described. But it would do no good to challenge his story. Let him believe as he wished.
“The most enticing part of the castle was the tower.” Father continued his wandering, but dropped my hand as he gazed up at the sky. “Have I ever told you of the tower?”
I nodded. I could recite the description if I’d wanted to, but there was no way I’d silence his words.
He gazed into the clouds and smiled. “The peak of this tower was so high that it took me several years of visiting Grandfather and Grandmother before I was willing to venture up the stairs.”
Was he talking about a turret? That had to be it. A small turret on an old house would look like a tower to a tiny boy. I stooped to pluck a weed from among the cabbage.
“You know that tower was so tall I could walk for miles and miles and still see it poking up from among the trees. I used to try to outrun it, just to see if I could. But in an entire day's journey, I couldn't escape the sight of the tower. Not that I ever truly wanted to.” He chuckled. “Then finally, I somehow developed some confidence. I knew when I returned the next summer, the tower was mine. I knew I was ready to face my fears and climb the steps. So, I did.” Father reached for my hand again and squeezed it.
I looked up at him and smiled. He knew how well I knew the story. But still I prompted him. “What was it like?” One day, I would cherish these minutes as I looked back at the time I had with my father—moments when he shared his memories and his dreams. Moments we walked hand-in-hand as he lurched toward his eternity, and I stayed firmly planted in mine.
“What was it like? Well, my daughter, I have to be honest with you. I was shaking from fear.” He stopped walking and closed his eyes as though he wanted a better view of his memories. “I reached the spot by the spiral staircase that would take me to the top of the tower and put one foot on the first stone step. I knew the first one would be the hardest, but I had no idea I would be paralyzed with terror as I tried to force my body up the stairs. But desire won out over fear, and I made my body obey. One step after the other.” His eyes darted behind his eyelids as though he followed that little boy’s journey in real time.
I reached the edge of the grapevines and turned to face the cottage for the return walk.
“Rapunzel.” Father stopped moving. I dropped my hands and looked up at him.
“Yes?” He was about to say something important. It was evident by the creases at the corners of his eyes.
“We're moving there.”
I stumbled backwards as if pushed by his words. Moving there? To the castle? “Father…” I had to get my thoughts together. I had to make sense of this and get Father to see that it was a mistake to uproot and move to the castle now. What was the point? We couldn't leave our home. It would be like giving up.
“Look, my sweet daughter, I hope you can see it's not safe for you here. At the castle you’ll be protected. You’ll have space to roam and stretch. If you…well, I mean…if you don't…die, you'll always have room to breathe. Plus, you’ll have help.”
“Help? What kind of help?” He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t ask me to leave my home, and surely he didn't want to leave it in his last days.
“The Cavanaughs—the caretakers who lived there since your grandparents and their parents before them—are descendants of the first caretakers who ever lived in the castle. They have assured me that they will take care of you and their future generations will take care of you…discreetly. You will soon learn that through my family and the investments we’ve made with the estate over the years, you have more than enough income to pay the hired hands.”
“Hired hands?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “But they’ll know about me. They’ll figure it out.”
Father held up a finger and gasped for breath. He was tiring. “No, they’re contracted for the next ten years. After that time, if you feel it’s a problem, you can hire new people.”
I nodded. It made sense. “What kinds of things would they do?”
“I gave them a bonus upfront to help with the move. They’ve already moved their families into the small cottages on the land and will join them after they’ve moved us. They will live rent-free, work on the land, and do any needed repairs.” He held up that finger again and took a few breaths. “If you want to keep them on longer, that’s entirely up to you.”
“But, how will I…?” What did I even want to ask him? So many things ran through my head. How could I choose just one?
“You will inherit everything I own, including the castle. The estate has plenty of money to take care of itself forever if it's invested wisely. I will teach you everything while I can still think clearly. You will be able to live off your inheritance.” He smiled gently. “The time has come.”
How could it be? I didn’t want to leave. Once we left…this was my last tie to Henry. If we rode away from this home, it would be as though he never existed. A vapor.
“I will sell this place.” Father gazed around our home.
The only home I had ever known. Selling it? I thought I'd live there and die there. Well, at least live there.
“You will inherit everything I own.”
Why must he keep saying that? It provided little solace.
Father gestured to the space around him. “And the castle, the entire estate, you will never want or need for anything as long as you live.”
“As long as I live? Are you sure about that?” I shrugged. “I'm not really worried about that, Father. Time and money will take care of itself. Life is too short, at least yours is, to make decisions so important based on the unkn
own.”
Father stopped walking and grabbed both of my hands. He looked into my eyes, forcing me to lock my gaze with his. “Listen to me, I can't die unless I know you're cared for—protected—and have some kind of a chance at a normal life. I won't have peace. Please, put me at ease. Let me see you prepared, even happy.”
How did he know that would make me happy? I thought I was happy—at least as happy as I could be since Henry's demise and the curse. I dropped my hands and wiped them on my skirt matter-of-factly. “All right, then. If that's the way it has to be, then we have work to do. Let's go.”
I turned toward the house and strode off with purpose. Was he following me? I peeked out of the corner of my eye at some movement behind me. I bet he hadn't expected it to be so easy, but he had made some good-enough points, and I wasn’t going to spend his last days arguing about anything. If something, anything, would settle his mind and it was in my power to bring it to pass, I certainly would.
***
Over the next two days, the hired hands filled two long, covered wagons with crates of clothing, dishes, and personal items I’d packed. They nestled those smaller things among the few bits of furniture Father allowed me to bring. “Honestly, though, you will have no need for all of this.” Father had gestured to their household furnishings when he had seen the first items loaded onto the wagon. “The castle is fully appointed and needs nothing. Besides, you may find these items to be…um…provincial compared to what you’ll own in a few days time.”
Provincial? What was so wrong with that all of a sudden? I lifted a rocking chair into the wagon.
That was it for me. The boys could finish the rest of the loading. Where was Father? I went into the cottage and found him in his room. “I'm finished, Father,” I sat down on the settee beside him and lifted his wrinkled hand. It seemed even more feeble than it had just days before. The move had to be hard on him, too. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I squeezed his hand.
Father looked up at me with tears glistening in his eyes. “We have to.”
I thought my heart would break with grief as I saw the sorrow in his eyes. He'd expected to die in this house, too. “What if we stay now, and I promise to go alone when the time is right? There's no need for you to make this journey.”
Father let out a ragged breath.
Was that a glimmer of hope in his eyes? Had I stumbled onto the answer to his pain?
He shook his head. “No. I can't allow that. I need to see you home. Only then will I know you'll be safe. Then I can rest.”
I nodded and patted the top of his hand. I would probably feel the same way if I had children. He’d see me to my eternal home, and I’d see him to his.
My eyes surveyed my parents' bedroom, desperate to remember every single detail. One of mother's many quilts was placed across the end of the bed and another on the back of her knitting chair, next to the fireplace. Mother had loved that chair and enjoyed listening to me read aloud while she did her sewing. Father's Bible sat on his bedside table with one of mother's ribbons peeking out from the top. In less than a full day, the quilts would be tucked around his legs and the Bible placed in the wagon beside him for the long journey.
I would miss this room. It held a lot of wonderful memories. Every evening, before bed, Mother and I would spend our time together, brushing each other's hair. If we weren't talking, she was singing a beautiful tune in her luxurious alto voice. I’d relished that memory every night since she passed away. I missed her so much—the grief felt like a real illness, but there was no cure.
“All will be fine, Rapunzel.” He turned his hand over and squeezed mine. Tears welled in his eyes, but he wiped them away before they fell.
It had been so hard when Mother passed away, but it would be harder when Father went. I would be alone.
“I've lived longer than I could have hoped for, my darling.” He touched my cheek and smiled.
Such a wonderful man. So thoughtful and kind. There was nothing I wouldn’t give to curl up in bed and listen to one of his adventure stories before I drifted off to sleep, Mother stroking my cheek the entire time.
Oh, those stories. I smiled. When Father was a boy, he fought off a pack of wolves with nothing more than a torch, and protected his fortress with his mighty sword. Exploring the hidden chambers behind the castle walls were his most rewarding adventures. Were they true? Or just made up tales to impress a sleepy little girl? Either way, they were now my memories.
Footsteps sounded outside the door. The drivers were likely ready to head out on the long journey to a fairy-tale castle.
Father and I looked at each other. He held my gaze, imploring me to accept—no, embrace—the future. I nodded as the sadness turned to confidence. We still had each other. For now.
He gave a quick nod.
I smiled softly and nodded my agreement.
The door creaked open, and I spun around ready to chastise the driver who would dare enter a person’s private quarters without so much as a knock.
I gasped in horror. The silhouette of my worst nightmare filled the doorway.
The witch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
My hands balled into fists at my sides. Anger like none I’d ever felt before boiled up inside me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. What business did she have with my father? How dare she burst in here? Wait—would she try to stop us from leaving? Why had that thought never occurred to me? Or to Father?
Before she had a chance to answer, I found my voice. “Get out!” I said. “Get out!” She didn't move. She stood in the doorway looking blameless and not a bit like the wicked witch I knew she was.
My pulse pounded in my ears. How dare she set foot in our home.
“Rapunzel,” Father said in a soft tone. I barely heard him. “Rapunzel,” Father said again, then reached for my hand.
“Father, what is that witch doing here?” I demanded. “She has no right to be here. She killed Henry and cursed me. I want her out!”
“Rapunzel, darling.” The witch grinned. “It was your father's idea.”
I wanted to wipe that smirk off her face. Had she put a curse on Father, as well?
“Father, what is she talking about?” I took his hand in mine. He was so old and so tired. What reason could he have had to bring her here? “Did you take one of her potions? Were you poisoned?” I glared at the witch. That was the only explanation.
Father chuckled and tugged on my arm to keep me still. “Why would she ever have a reason to poison an old man? Gretta and I have come to a mutual understanding.”
How could he have done any such thing with her? Didn't he remember what I had told him about the agreement I had made with her? It was a mistake, and I had never forgiven myself for it. And now here he was making another deal? How long would I have to pay the price for this one? I had but one eternity to offer.
“I'm old, and I won't be around much longer. You will need someone to help take care of you.”
“And you thought it was a good idea for her to do it? Father, listen to what you're saying. Please, listen to me,” I pleaded. “She killed Henry! How could you possibly trust her to take care of me? I don't want to be around her!” I glared at the witch. If only my glare were enough to curse her to a long, painful death right on the spot where she stood. “I can’t even look at her without rage consuming me.”
The witch showed no remorse. She stood still, confident, as if she were some harmless old woman. But I knew better. I knew exactly what she was capable of doing. I would never trust her.
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel. Shh.” Father patted my arm. Only he could say my name in such a calming manner. “I'm sure Gretta has nothing but good intentions.” Father said it loud enough for the witch to hear, but gave me a piercing look that would stay embedded in my memory forever.
I knew my father well enough to know that he didn't trust her any more than I did.
That realization offered some solace even as fear surged. At least Father
hadn’t been deceived, but it also reminded me of the depth of our plight.
Father pulled me in for a gentle hug. With a whisper easily dismissible as murmurings of comfort to those not in the embrace, he said, “She may very well be the one to reverse this dark curse, daughter. Please, try to get along with her. You will need her just as much as she will need you.”
I now understood why Father had not wanted us to move away after that horrible night. He had hoped the witch would find a way to break the curse, but she never had. Not yet, anyway.
If he’d asked me, I’d have told him that I fully believed old Gretta could break the curse any time she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. What would change that truth in the coming years?
An over-ripe woman who forever withered away, and a girl who remained as youthful as a freshly blossomed flower—how the odds were stacked against us ever being friendly with each other.
Father's words made sense. Not that I liked it, but I understood his plea. He was still trying to protect me and hoped I still had a chance for a normal life. He wanted me to find happiness. For that reason, I had to move away with them. Even if I didn’t believe it would matter in the end, I had to do it, because he believed it.
“And one other thing. I think it’s best if you call her by her given name.” Father squeezed my hand. “No more talk of witches and dragons, okay? Let’s all just get on well with each other. Can you promise me that?”
“I’ll do my best.” He could force my spoken words, but he couldn’t change my thoughts. I’d call her Gretta with my lips, but my brain knew exactly what she was. A horrible witch.
“And for my part, I promise to take care of Rapunzel and watch over her as if she were my own daughter.” Gretta folded her hands together, the picture of innocence.
I will never be that witch's daughter. Not in truth or in appearance. No matter the cost. I cringed at the thought of living under the same roof with her. The thought made my blood boil. It was almost like giving a nod of approval to all that had happened.
