But what would I do for money if I lived on the run? What would I do for food? I supposed I could sell the estate first. That would keep me comfortable for a while. But that might be difficult to do with the witch knowing what I was up to. And then what? Maybe there were ways I could invest money that Gretta wouldn’t know about. Investments that would reap great rewards in lifetimes to come.
All of those things could be worked out in time, but it was something I could start thinking of so I was ready when the time was right.
What about when Father passed? I looked at him sleeping again, like a baby, lulled to sleep by the bouncing of the wagon on the rugged terrain. What would I do when he was gone? More importantly, what would Gretta do? What were her plans? If only I could figure out her agenda. Would she punish or torture me? Could I escape her if I tried? Surely she was only putting on an act for Father, but once he was gone…I shuddered. What wicked schemes were bubbling in the black cauldron that was her brain?
“Whoa.” The driver pulled back on the reins and slowed the horses as they rounded a bend.
Father jolted awake, his eyes wide-open. He raised his body from his makeshift bed and turned his face. A look of expectance and hope shone brightly in his eyes, even though a cloudy haze had settled in his eyes as he aged.
I followed his gaze up the path we traveled—nothing but trees, trees everywhere. What was Father so intent on seeing up ahead?
I felt his eyes upon me, so I turned to look at him. The corners of his mouth turned up and he nodded up the road. “Look, Daughter.” A grin spread across his face.
I whipped my head around to see what had brought joy to his face. Still trees. Was he losing his grip with sanity from the long journey? Why was he grinning at trees? I waited. And waited. Then I saw smoke rising above the tree level. Was there a home out there? Someone Father knew?
The trees began to thin as we pressed on farther ahead. After a few more moments, I could see between them. Then they parted like attendants curtsying for a queen.
The most magnificent structure lay beyond the bowing trees. The sun shone down on brilliant, gleaming marble and glittering stone. Jewel-toned stained glass sparkled with radiant beams of colored light. A wide moat flowed around the grounds, promising safety to all who lived inside. It was like nothing I'd ever seen or even imagined, and far grander even than Father’s stories.
My gaze flew to the gardens that flanked the castle. Even from that distance I could see they were fertile and lush. I’d never managed to grow gardens like that at home. I would spend my days in those gardens. They would be my abode.
Father grinned. “Welcome home, daughter.”
“Oh, heavens.” My hand flew to my chest and I pressed against my racing heart. I was to live there? In this splendor? “But, Father, why?” Why had we never come here before? Why had he kept this place hidden from me?
He patted my hand. “I know you have many questions, my dear. Of course you do. I will answer them all in due time. For now, just enjoy the view.”
The wagon pressed on toward the castle. As we approached, the drawbridge began to lower. Pretty soon, we would roll through that entrance and it would swallow me whole. I turned my gaze to the path we had traveled—a last glimpse at a world left behind.
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHT
2013
I awoke shrouded in a veil of moisture that clung to my skin. I shoved the saturated down pillow away from my face. Another night of a thousand tears, and I was growing tired of it. Night after night, year after year, decade after… I replayed the same terrible memory in my dreams. My shoulders trembled at the release of the tension that had been held within muscles through the night. Dream? It was more of a nightmare, one that refused to remain just that and imposed itself on my everyday life, painting it a shade darker each and every day.
I'd never forget what happened that dreadful night, some two hundred and fifty years past. If only I could find a way to encapsulate those vivid truths into a dream and keep it from intruding into my reality. I'd tried to train my thoughts away from the memory, but it was no use. The vision clung to my mind with no intentions of loosening its grip. There was no reality without those memories. It was my first thought each morning and my final thought each night.
I flopped back on the bed, my arms stretched overhead. The thought of facing another day like so many that had come before was debilitating.
Time was supposed to be the healer of all pain. I used to believe that. I’d waited for that to prove true in my life. But I no longer believed. After waking like this, to a drenched pillow, each morning for nigh unto three centuries, it still felt as though it happened only yesterday. Hope did fail for entire lifetimes…for many, many lifetimes.