“Thank you,” she whispered. He brought her hands to his mouth, kissing them as he backed out the door. Rapunzel stood in the hall until he disappeared from sight, twisted the lock on the handle before closing the door, then hurried to the window to wait. He always waved from below. This night was no exception, though tonight he also blew her a kiss. She smiled at the gesture.
After he was gone, she brought her fingers to her lips. She felt changed, renewed. Time would tell if the kiss would make her sick, but she didn’t care. If she didn’t wake up tomorrow, she’d be happy. She walked into her bedroom and sat at her vanity, staring at her image. She looked the same as always. She touched her lips again and marveled at the remembrance of the kiss, a smile behind her fingers.
The smile fell as she realized she would never be kissed like that again. She’d have the memory for her whole life—something she could think about, dream about.
She’d also have the memory to torment her.
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16
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Rapunzel’s mother returned on the sixth day as promised. As much as she’d missed her, Rapunzel was almost sorry to see her come because it meant no more visits from Fane.
“Hello,” her mother said, breezing into the room. It had been six days, but she didn’t move to hug Rapunzel, nor did she say she missed her, which bothered Rapunzel.
“Hi, Mother.”
“Was everything okay while I was gone?”
Rapunzel smiled. Okay didn’t begin to cover it. “Yes, Mother, everything was . . . fine.”
“Did you complete your homework?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have enough food?”
“Yes.”
“Did you brush your hair seventy—”
“Yes, Mother.” Rapunzel couldn’t keep the exasperation from her tone. “I brushed my hair each night. I brushed my teeth twice a day. I kept my room clean.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed at her. “Why the attitude, Rapunzel?”
Rapunzel shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Her mother flicked her fingers her way, as if to dismiss her apology. For the first time she wished her mother would pay closer attention. She should delve further to understand why Rapunzel felt frustrated. Couldn’t she see the changes that Rapunzel felt inside?
“Mother . . .” Rapunzel began as her mother carried in the food that Rapunzel was sure was prepared by Cook. “Do you think . . . ?”
When she didn’t finish her thought, her mother glanced at her irritably. “Complete your sentences, please, Rapunzel.”
Rapunzel took a breath. “Do you think, if I wore the mask, I could leave my rooms? Just go into another part of the house?”
Her mother blanched, then flushed red as anger suffused her face. “What are you talking about? Do you think I would risk your life like that? Rapunzel, you know of the prophecy. You know what is to be lost if you don’t live.”
Rapunzel cowered at her mother’s words. She honestly didn’t know exactly what would be lost, only that she was the key. She thought about spending the rest of her life inside these walls . . . never being kissed again.
“What if it doesn’t hurt me? What if staying inside the house is okay? I just don’t like the thought of spending the next fifty or sixty years in this room.”
Her mother began pacing, wringing her hands. “You know that isn’t possible. The risk is too high. You can’t leave here, Rapunzel. You can’t do it.”
Had her mother been yelling the words, Rapunzel might have continued pressing it. But the words came in a half-mumbled nervous rush, her mother’s wringing hands trembling.
“You wouldn’t just endanger me, you’d endanger everything. Do you understand?” Rapunzel didn’t think she was talking to her anymore. Her stomach clenched with a different kind of fear. Suddenly her mother whirled toward her and seized her upper arms, pulling her close to her face. “Do you understand? Haven’t I done everything for you? Haven’t I protected you, kept you safe? I built this tower just for you.” A vision of the black room covered in sixes flashed through Rapunzel’s mind. “How can you question me now? All of this is for you.”
She flung Rapunzel away from her and strode to the door, ripping it open. Turning back to Rapunzel, fury lighting her eyes, with a voice low and full of warning, her mother said, “Don’t ever ask to leave again, Rapunzel.” Rapunzel swallowed and nodded once.
Her mother slammed the door, and Rapunzel dropped to the floor. She wrapped her arms about her knees, burying her face as she rocked back and forth. A nervous trembling shook her body silently. She felt as if she’d just survived an earthquake—not that she knew what one felt like.
After a few minutes, she stood and cleaned up the uneaten dinner. She had no appetite. She sat in front of her computer, wondering if she turned it on if she’d find Fane on the other end. She lifted her hand to try, but stopped, her fingers hovering just above the keyboard. With a sigh she dropped her hand back to her lap. She couldn’t tell him what had happened. She wasn’t entirely sure herself what had happened. And what could he do, anyway?
She pulled a book from the shelf and sat on the couch. She never opened the cover. Her mind kept spinning through the events and her mother’s strange words. She knew of the prophecy—or some of it anyway. It had been drilled into her for as long as she could remember. She’d always been told that she had to stay healthy and never cut her hair. She realized her mother had never said why really, other than the fate of the future depended on her, that the world would be destroyed if something happened to her. Her mother said that her disease was part of the proof that she needed to be kept completely safe and kept away from the rest of the world. Now she began to doubt the authenticity of it. After all, she’d survived having someone besides her mother in her rooms and being out of her rooms. Even outdoors.
She’d survived being kissed. She’d enjoyed being kissed.
She went into her room, glancing at the clock. Enough time had passed she doubted her mother would come back. She got ready for bed and brushed her hair. She pulled back her covers and climbed into bed. As she did, a thought struck her and she sat up. She glanced toward her bedroom door and the living area beyond.
She walked out of her room slowly, hoping. She approached her door and slowly twisted the handle, her heart pounding in her chest. It turned easily and when she tugged on it, the door opened. Her breath rushed out as she peered around the edge of the door.
She glanced back at the microwave. The time shone bright red in the darkness of the room: 9:56. She looked into the hallway, able to see the edge of light coming from somewhere else. Her mother was probably still up. Others might be up as well, like Cook, and . . . well, whoever else might live in the house. She quietly closed the door and walked into her room.
Instead of climbing back into bed, she pulled her nightgown over her head and dressed once again.
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17
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At midnight she felt safe to leave her rooms. She pushed aside the covers she’d been buried beneath—just in case her mother came back to check on her—and moved to the door. It still opened freely. She thought maybe her mother remembered and came back to lock her in once again. Beyond the door was darkness. She wished Fane had left his flashlight behind. Then she thought of the cell phone her mother hadn’t retrieved, remembering how Fane used his to light the way.
Before crossing the threshold, she stopped. Nerves vibrated up her legs and down her arms. Her entire body trembled with the idea of venturing out into the house without Fane by her side. Unsure of the wisdom of her decision, she hesitated. Turned around. Turned toward the open door.
Taking a bracing breath, she moved into the hall, her hand running along the walls to guide her. She didn’t dare use the light of the phone here. She only hoped her hands wouldn’t leave a mark for her mother to discover. She went toward the tall room, as s
he thought of it, the one with the tall windows and fireplace. It sat in darkness, some ambient light filtering in from outside. She went down the stairs that took her into the room.
Moving slowly, carefully, so as not to trip over something and bring unwanted attention, she made her way across the room. On the opposite side, she found an opening into what she assumed was another hall. She walked down the hall, keeping her hands on the wall. Suddenly, she bumped into a solid wall in front of her. She moved left, then right, but found no opening. It just ended.
Huh.
She went back up the hall, then back down again, feeling both walls only to discover there were no doors, no openings, no escape from the hall. Odd. She braved the light of the phone and discovered it was as she thought—just a hallway with walls. She walked back toward the tall room and froze when she heard a noise.
Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she barely made out the sounds. Then she realized it was a familiar voice—the same one she and Fane had heard their first night out of her room.
“The crazy old bat is holding one of her séance’s again . . . No, I can’t yet . . . She was particularly agitated after she was up in that tower . . . Yeah, who knows, some kind of . . .” Her voice faded as she moved further away.
Rapunzel pressed her hand against her chest. She peeked around the corner, but saw no one. Why was Cook walking around this time of night, talking on the phone? Rapunzel waited a few minutes, then crept back to the stairs. Instead of going up, she walked around behind them, finding another hallway as well as a second set of stairs that descended. She glanced down the stairwell, but it ended in inky blackness. Her last trip down a set of stairs didn’t end anywhere good, so she bypassed them and continued down the hall.
She came to a closed door and pressed her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she pushed it open and looked inside. It was a bathroom, large but basic. She closed the door and went to the next. A linen closet sat behind that door. A few more doors revealed what appeared to be sparsely decorated guest rooms.
At the end of the hallway was yet another bedroom, but this one was different than the others; larger, though still sparsely furnished. She looked behind her and, assured she was alone, entered the room. She pulled open the closet doors and was immediately assaulted by a familiar smell. She gasped, realizing she stood in her mother’s room. But why would her mother provide her such an opulent room and live in one so utilitarian?
She walked over to the bed, reaching out to touch her mother’s pillow. Just before making contact, she quickly withdrew her hand. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets and blankets pulled tight, the pillows smooth. She had a feeling that her mother would notice anything out of place, even a small handprint on the pillow.
Suddenly afraid of being in this room, Rapunzel turned to the door to leave when footsteps padded in the hallway. Panicked, she looked around for escape. A window on the opposite side of the room beckoned and she hurried over. She pulled up the sash as the footsteps neared. Looking out, she saw a small balcony. She swung her legs over the sill and pushed the window closed quietly and quickly as she could.
She pressed herself against the outside wall, as if she could be invisible this way. A light turned on in the room. Cold sweat broke across her forehead as she shook with fear. Peeking around the edge of the window, she could see the tall shadow of her mother moving around within. She didn’t know how long she stood in place before the light within went off.
She still didn’t move for several minutes, paralyzed by the thought of being caught. Finally she peeled away from the wall and leaned over the railing. There were no stairs leading from the balcony, and she was still on the second floor.
She weighed her options. She could sit here all night and hope to sneak back in at dawn without being seen, or she could find a way down. Since the first option seemed the bigger risk, she decided to find her way to the ground. She supposed she could hang from the railing and drop but decided that might end in a broken leg. She looked up. Nothing there either. No trellises adorned the walls here. She was truly stuck.
She pressed herself back against the wall, wondering if she dared try to sneak back in this way. She didn’t know how easily her mother woke. She shuddered at the thought of being caught in her mother’s room in the middle of the night. Her hand tightened around the cell phone, useless for calling anyone other than her mother.
Except . . .
One day when Fane came to visit her, he showed her how to text. Of course the only person to text was him since no one else knew about her. She pushed a button on the phone and it lit up, bright as a spotlight to her petrified mind. She hunched over the phone to shield the light and began pushing random buttons, trying to remember how he’d done it.
By happenchance she found his last text to her. Now if only she could remember how to send a text to him. Through trial and error she finally discovered what she thought was the right way. She typed in
Fane, it’s me, Rapunzel. I need some help.
The message showed on the phone, but she thought it was supposed to disappear. Then she remembered she had to send it. She found the little button below the send command and pushed it. Almost as soon as she did, she wished she could retrieve it. Fane would be asleep, of course. And even if he woke, he could hardly leave his home in the middle of the night to rescue her.
Her phone beeped, the sound loud in the night. She cradled it against her, breathing quickly as she waited to see if it was loud enough to wake her mother. When there was no apparent movement from within, she dared to look at the phone.
What’s wrong? Where r u?
Rapunzel took a breath.
On my mother’s balcony. Long story. No way to get down. Any ideas?
On my way.
Rapunzel released the breath she’d been holding. She’d hoped he would come, known he would, even though she knew he probably shouldn’t. Now she just had to wait.
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18
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It felt like ages—though only fifteen minutes according to the phone—before Fane came. Rapunzel watched him scan the yard, then the upper walls, before spotting her. He crept over to stand beneath her.
“You okay?” he whispered. She barely heard him but nodded. He held up a single finger, then jogged lightly back across the yard.
Soon he was back, lugging a ladder. He carefully tipped it vertical and placed it against the side of the balcony. The aluminum rattled as it settled, and Rapunzel’s breath caught as she pushed herself flat against the wall. Fane froze, hands on the sides of the ladder. Rustling came from within the room, as if her mother had stirred, or at least it sounded so to Rapunzel’s ears. Long, tense minutes passed while they waited. Finally, Fane grinned up at her, his teeth glowing in the moonlight, and began his slow ascent.
When he reached her, he leaned his forearms casually on the balcony railing. “So, what’s a nice girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” he asked quietly in some weird accent. She laughed and quickly slapped a hand across her mouth. She pushed his shoulder lightly.
“Come on,” he said, leaning back to give her room to climb over.
“Don’t you want to go down first?” she whispered.
“No, I’m going with you to make sure you don’t fall.”
“What if the ladder falls with us both on it?”
“Good point,” he said. “Go slow, though. This isn’t the quietest ladder ever invented.” He descended and then held the ladder steady while she climbed over the railing. She was terrified as she looked at the ground far beneath her, secure that at least Fane would make sure the ladder was steady. When her feet touched the ground, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Fane pulled her into a hug. “You okay?” he asked.
She wrapped her arms around him tightly, closing her eyes. She nodded against his chest. A bird chirped nearby, startling them. Rapunzel wondered if it was Angel, and why she’d be out at night.
&n
bsp; “Let’s go,” Fane said, releasing her. He carefully pulled the ladder back and eased it down. It clattered as it dropped the last few inches. Fane quickly pushed it and Rapunzel against the house beneath the balcony, flattening himself against her. A light came on above them, brightening as Rapunzel imagined her mother pushing the curtains back to peer outside. She heard the window being raised and imagined her mother leaning over the sill. Pressed against Fane, her head turned to the side, Rapunzel could only hope they were hidden from view.
After a few minutes, the window was shut, and soon the light went out. But still they stood, Rapunzel pancaked between Fane and the rough stone wall. She became aware of his heartbeat against her ear, the feel of his arms pushed protectively around her, the feel of his heat against the chill. He dropped his head, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head, and she closed her eyes against the wonder of feeling that flooded her.
He moved back, the cold night air frosting her skin. He smiled down at her. “That was close,” he whispered. She could only nod, her throat choked with emotion. He leaned down to retrieve the ladder, and she helped him carry it as he led her toward the greenhouse. They laid it on the ground, and Fane tested the doors, which opened easily.
He pulled his phone from his pocket to light the way and led her by the hand through the plants and flowers. Rapunzel regretted hurrying, wishing she could stop and smell them. They went through the dark tunnel beneath the house where she pressed closer to Fane, then up to the main part of the house. Fane slowly opened the door at the top of the stairs, creeping stealthily around the corner to look. He came back and took her by the hand, and they hurried toward her room, stopping at each corner to look first. Once they were in her room with the door closed, Rapunzel sank to the couch.
Rapunzel Untangled Page 9
