My Name is Rapunzel(37)

I stepped forward toward a waterfall that dropped into a trickling brook that was likely fed by the water from the moat. I dropped to my knees and reached a hand into the water. Little fish fluttered away from my fingertips as they followed the water flow back outside the enclosed garden.

I stopped moving and listened. What was that? Birds chirping? I looked up into the branches and saw at least a dozen birds happily homemaking in perfect little nests nestled in the lush trees.

I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the sunlight and let the warmth comfort me. Was there an outside access to this place, or could I only get there by descending the way I’d come? I knew I’d have to figure that out, because I'd be spending a lot of time out there.

The garden had remained unattended for years. Hundreds of vines, sheltering closed blooms, did their best to hide the stone walls. If it weren't for the roofline, they would have kept climbing. Instead they grew thicker, wider, and stronger. I imagined the morning glories opening their blooms, brightening up the castle every day and releasing their intoxicating aroma. I imagined days, weeks, and years of walks among the rows of freshness.

Yes, I’d be spending a lot of time there. If only I could hide it from Gretta.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




In no time, I had my bedroom looking decent, even if I didn’t feel at home in that space. When I had finally settled in, I found solace for a time. Peace. Father and I settled into daily walks in the garden and meals by the big fireplace. It was an easy existence, and Gretta left us alone.

One afternoon, like the many that had come before, I found Father standing in the center of his bedroom. Just standing. “Father? Maybe a stroll through the garden?” I placed my hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

I waited for him to gather his thoughts. As time went on, it seemed to take longer and longer for things to connect. I thought, please, say something. Sometimes it seemed he even forgot who I was. Once I said just the right thing to awaken his memory and bring him back, he’d fall into confusion again in a moment. I often wondered if one day he would venture off into the great beyond and never return.

His eyes flickered with the start of recognition. Ah. There it was. “Hello, Father. Want to go for a walk in the garden?” It was so hard to see him like that. Other than being frail and a bit scattered, he was quite healthy. Actually, he was much healthier and stronger here at the castle than he’d been back home. For that single reason, I’d never again worry that moving to the castle was a mistake.

“Father? A walk?”

He startled as though it was the first moment he realized I was in the room. “That sounds like a perfect idea. Let me just get my sweater.” He shuffled over to the wall and retrieved his tattered sweater from its hook. I'd offered to get him a new one or even knit him one myself at least a hundred times, but he wouldn't hear of it. He’d explained that wearing it was like getting a hug from an old friend.

Father pulled on his sweater as we carefully made our way down the stairs and turned right in the Hallway of Horrors where a dozen pairs of eyes followed our every move. We left the main house through the garden doors. The outside air rushed our senses and we both drank it in desperately.

Notes of lavender and magnolia danced on the breeze. Father lifted his face and basked in the sunshine. “Do you feel that, sweet girl? I think that wind is your mother calling me home.” Father turned and faced me. He smiled with his eyes. “It won't be long now.”

I shuddered. “Don't talk like that. There's no reason to say that. You’re healthy. I believe you’ll be around for a long time.”

“I'd like to say I wish you were right. But I don’t, really. I think my time is drawing to a close and I’m okay with that. I hope you will be, too. Don't mourn me. I've watched you grieve the loss of your mother. She took a piece of you with her when she left. Please, don't let my death do the same thing to you, dear one.” He squeezed my hands as tightly as his weakened ones would allow. “I can’t bear the thought that you’ll spend your next years weeping, mourning my loss. A loss that was bound to come.”

“Father. Please, stop it. You’re healthy. You’re fine. You're not going anywhere.”

“I'm not fine at all, Rapunzel. I've been sick for a long time. I’ve just done a pretty good job of hiding it. Every day, when we take our walk, I wonder if it will be my last one.” He shrugged, his expression unchanging.

“Well, I'm not listening to this. You're not going anywhere. You’re going to be fine for a long time.” We wandered silently through the rose bushes around by the pond, and then Father bent down to feed the koi. They rose to the surface, their mouths open wide in anticipation of food—completely dependent and so appreciative. That was how I felt much of the time. So dependent on other people, appreciative, I guessed. Resentful a lot. If only I could be as free and carefree as the fish.