My Name is Rapunzel(5)

What had happened?

Henry.

Henry.

I dropped my head into my hands and rested it there as I emptied myself of tears. Thank heaven no one was home. How would I explain this to them? There was no going back from this moment. Henry was gone and people would ask questions. Maybe this was my chance to expose the witch for who she was. But if I did…I shuddered at the thought of that dragon. That warning. If I went up against Gretta, I would be taking on a witch and a dragon.

Not to mention a community of people who would know a witch had cursed me. They’d see me as spawn of the devil and exile me—or worse. But maybe exposing Gretta was worth risking whatever they might do to me.

Laughter and footsteps approached the doorway. Mother and Father were home. I scrambled to my feet and scurried to the washbasin in the back room. Anything I could do to make myself presentable so I could go try to ward off their questions. I scrubbed my face and splashed water on my arms to attempt to rid myself of the sticky, dewy scent of fear and grief.

“Rapunzel? Rapunzel, are you home?” Father’s voice called through the house, his cheer booming off the walls.

I let out a deep sigh. It was time to invite them into my nightmare. But from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same. When I told them, I would cross a threshold, and I’d never be able to go back. The blissful unknown. Purgatory between what was and what would be. I stepped around the corner. “I'm here.”

Father took one look at my face and bounded across the room in two strides. He grasped my hand and looked into my eyes. “What happened? What's the matter, daughter?”

I shook my head. The tears formed again. It was hard to believe any remained.

Mother joined Father at his side and placed her palms on my cheeks, forcing me to look at her. She searched my face. “You've been crying. What happened? Did you and Henry have a fight?”

I shook my head. “It was more than that.”

Father's eyes turned to flames. “More than a fight? What has that young man done to you?”

“He's done nothing to me. It's just…that he…”

“Did he leave you, my dear?” Mother reached forward and pulled me into an embrace.

I nodded.

“Is your…honor intact?” Father’s eyes flamed with rage.

“Father! Yes. Please…”

“Where did he go?” His body strained to the door like he could bolt at any moment. “Let me search for him. I'll pound some sense into that boy.”

Mother shook her head. “This isn’t your fight, dear.”

“No. Father.” The less searching the better. “There is no sense causing more problems. He has the right to choose his wife. It's just…not me.” The words sounded hollow as I said them, but hopefully Mother and Father would believe them to be true.

Mother laid her hand gently on Father’s forearm and patted it. “She's right, dear. Sadly, this sort of thing happens all the time. Especially…” She cast her gaze aside.

Father's expression saddened. “Especially among people like us? Is that what you were going to say?”

Mother closed her eyes and sighed. “No, dear. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know I haven't provided you the most opulent existence here in the valley. And I know you’ve resented that I didn't bring my family's wealth with me when I left home. But I’ve provided well for you, haven’t I? We’ve been happy, haven't we?”

Mother opened her mouth to speak, the protest evident on her face.

Oh, lovely. Here they went again. Why did they insist on this same bickering over and over?

I interrupted. “Father, yes. You’ve been a great provider. We are a happy family. You made the right choice when you left your wealth behind. No one is judging you, or blaming you, but the fact remains…” I scrunched my eyes closed to ward off an onslaught of new tears, though one slipped through. I’d let them believe the most likely scenario about Henry. The one that would keep the witch hunt at bay.

“Yes, the fact remains, Henry's parents got to him. Convinced him that he needed to marry within his station in life. Right?” Mother knitted her hands together in her lap.

“Yes.” I hung my head. That was close enough to the truth, or to what could have been the truth to make it completely plausible.

“So where is the boy?” Anger and regret danced in Father's eyes.

I shook my head. No point in sending Father off like a hound on a hunt with no pheasant around. “He's not to be found. He left for points unknown. He wants to explore. He’s looking for adventure.”

Mother gasped. “We all know what that means.” She fanned her face as though blowing away the untoward images her mind conjured.