1 The Bitches of Everafter (11 page)

19

Forbidden Fruit

Snow wasn’t looking forward to Sunday night dinner. For one thing, it was clear that she had no friends in this house except for Cotton, the white mouse, and Peanut, the brown mouse, who seemed to have an uncanny knack for showing up just when she needed them. She fashioned them each a small bed from tissue and cotton balls and tucked them away inside the desk drawer where they slumbered softly throughout the night. There was Beast, of course, but he was much more drawn to Bella, so Snow benefited from his slobbery company mostly when Bella was out. She didn’t mind that, as Bella needed the softness that only an animal can bring, but it did get rather lonely.

Hansel had been nothing but sweet to her, but Snow thought it was best not to tempt fate by breaking Granny’s rules. She didn’t want to be reprimanded by the court or the old woman, and she certainly didn’t want Hansel to lose his job over her.

There was also the small matter of the walls whispering the word
betrayal
to her every so often. She never matched a face with the voice, and sometimes she felt that it wasn’t from an outside source at all, but that it came right from her own head. She didn’t know what it meant or who it was referring to, but she figured that keeping the rest of the housemates at elbow’s length wasn’t the worst idea.

Maybe deep in the recesses of their minds they heard it too. Maybe that’s why everyone was so callous.

Snow was unloading the groceries for tonight’s feast when Punzie sashayed into the kitchen wearing leggings, flip flops, and a roomy tee shirt with a crooked crown printed on the front and the words “I’m the Fairest” splashed across the back in bold pink letters.

Behind her hopped a frog.

Snow stared at the frog, whose nose was still a violent red where Aura had kicked it.

Punzie said, “I’m starving, when’s dinner?” She poked her head through a couple of the bags and pulled out a vine of grapes.

“When is it usually?” Snow asked. She began unloading the vegetables she had purchased at the farmer’s market for the salad.

Punzie said, “I think seven. Sundays are my only day off, so I don’t pay too much attention to the clock.”

Snow was confused. “But don’t you usually all cook together?”

Punzie smirked. “Us cook? Are you serious?” Punzie washed the grapes in the sink and set them in the bowl. She offered one to the frog. It declined, catching a fly in mid-flight instead.

“We usually order from Gretel’s and Hansel picks it up.” She winked and elbowed Snow. “What Granny doesn’t know won’t hurt her. All she cares about is that we’re all here for the meal anyway.”

The frog made a
ribbet
sound and Snow said, “Will your green friend be joining us?” She put the tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, and lettuce in a large colander and set it in the sink.

Punzie frowned. “This thing won’t leave me alone, but I feel kind of sorry for it.”

Snow perked up at this. “Why?” She turned the water on and sprayed down the vegetables.

The dancer shrugged. “I don’t know. But I get the feeling he lost his mate or something.”

Snow shut the water off and turned to look at the frog. Both women stood side by side trying to decipher the emotional needs of a slick-backed amphibian.

Punzie said, “You see how he keeps staring at my boobs? I think he’s horny.”

“I thought that was toads.”

Punzie shifted her gaze to Snow. “Well slap my ass, the Princess just told a dirty joke.”

Snow rolled her eyes and went back to shaking the excess water out of her produce.

Punzie said, “Well, call me when dinner’s ready. Bob and I are going down to the pond to pick up chicks.”

Snow spun toward the back door that Punzie was about to walk through, the frog close at her heels. “You’re not going to help me?”

Punzie had her hand on the screen door. She turned back to Snow. “Why do you need my help? I thought you loved this shit.”

Snow looked at the bags of groceries spread across the kitchen. She hadn’t cooked for a crowd in, in, well she couldn’t remember when the last time was, but she was sure she had a little help. “Well, yes, but, I mean—”

“Great! Catch ya later. Come on, Bob.”

Punzie slapped the screen door open and Bob hopped outside.

“Catch ya later,” Snow mimicked Punzie’s high pitch and added a snotty twang to it. She made a face at the door.

“I guess the answer is yes.”

Snow jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see Hansel’s rugged face gazing at her. He was wearing a crisp white shirt that highlighted his tan, dark blue jeans, and a high voltage smile. His hair was slightly damp as if he’d recently showered. He smelled like the forest on an autumn morning. It reminded Snow of home, and she wanted to crawl between his arms and get lost there.

“The answer to what?”

Hansel gave her head a playful tap. “You
do
talk to yourself a lot.”

Snow smoothed a stray black hair away from her face and patted down her apron. “Oh that. Well, I suppose that’s true mostly because no one else talks to me around here unless they want something or they want something to bitch about or, you know, they need a punching bag.”

The groceries weren’t going to unpack themselves, Snow told herself. She also chastised herself for looking like a fool every time this man was around. Good grief, why did he always have to sneak up on her like that?

Hansel tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She yanked the potatoes from the bag and dropped them on the kitchen table.

“You sure?” Hansel asked. “Because you don’t seem fine.”

Snow could feel a well bubbling up inside her, but the last thing she wanted was for Hansel—or anyone in this house for that matter—to see her shed a single tear.

She gritted her teeth, still unloading the groceries, and carefully avoided Hansel’s golden eyes. “What do you want, Hansel?”

He didn’t answer her for a few seconds and Snow could feel him staring at her. Likely sizing up what size straight jacket might suit her best. “I’m here to take your dinner order. It’s Sunday.”

“Yes, well, I’m cooking. There will be no take-out this evening, thank you.”

She brushed past him to put the sugar, vanilla, and flour on the counter. She was going to make a pie for dessert.

“Oh, okay then.” Hansel seemed nailed to his spot on the floor. He stood there, curling his truck keys around his fingers.

All the food was out of the bags, scattered across every hard surface of the kitchen and Snow scanned the room calculating the ingredients she needed in her mind. Peas, carrots, onion, garlic, yams, bread, beef, thyme, marjoram—

But, wait a minute, where was the fruit? Hadn’t she purchased peaches at the market?

No peaches meant no pie. No pie meant Snow had failed on her first task for Granny. And the girls would mock her, because she knew she’d feel the need to explain herself and she’d end up babbling all about it and probably blubbering. It was all her fault. Dinner was ruined. She felt herself growing dizzy, faint.

Stop it, Snow. Pull yourself together.

It was an absurd train of thought, she knew, but she couldn’t disembark. It felt like the walls were closing in on her, like this was the last straw. And in that moment, over a forgotten fruit, Snow began sobbing into the skirt of her apron like a three year old child. It was humiliating.

She felt Hansel’s strong arms around her. “Hey, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head.

“You never know, maybe I can fix it.”

“No you can’t.”

“I can’t if you don’t tell me.”

Hansel pulled Snow closer to his chest and stroked her hair. His hand was warm, comforting. It felt like what had been missing in her life even before she came to Granny’s.

Should she tell him that strange things had been happening to her? Things that made her question her very identity? Should she tell him that she felt trapped in this amusement park of a house and that she was afraid to go to sleep at night because a man with an ax kept showing up in her dreams? Should she tell him she was desperate for someone to talk to, that she was lonely, and that she longed for one true friend, one true love?

“Peaches,” she croaked.

“Excuse me?”

Snow dried her tears with her apron and pulled away from Hansel. “I was going to make a peach pie. I forget the fruit.”

Hansel’s brow wrinkled. “Fruit. For a pie. That’s the problem?” He said it as if he didn’t believe her.

Snow nodded furiously, sticking to her story. “Yep. That’s it.”

Hansel smiled. “Well that’s no problem at all. Come on, I’ve been wanting to show you this.”

He grabbed her arm and yanked her through the back door. He practically ran all the way around to the other side of the house, dragging Snow along.

“What’s all the fuss about?” she asked, breathless.

Hansel stopped and pointed. “There. Look. Isn’t it gorgeous? They aren’t even in season yet. It’s like it grew overnight.” Hansel looked at Snow. “Around the time you arrived, actually. Isn’t it something?”

Snow felt every nerve in her body tingle. She inched closer, mesmerized by the beauty, the colors, the bounty. It was drawing her closer, step by step, and with every step, her heart beat faster until it was drumming in her chest. Then she was standing directly in front of it.

An apple tree. The largest, most beautiful fruit tree she had ever seen. Its leaves a more brilliant green than the grass beneath her feet. The fruit shiny, plump, and red as rubies. The trunk a rich cocoa color, and branches that reached out for yards like prickly fingers.

Hansel plucked a piece of the fruit from a low hanging branch and tossed it at Snow. She caught it.

And in that instant, everything changed.

20

Sleepwalking Beauty

A jolt of electricity surged through Snow White. It felt like every fiber of her being was hypersensitive to the sights, sounds, emotions, and sensations of the world around her. Her head was spinning as if this land was trying to shake her off.

Thoughts, images, and pictures, surged through her mind one after the other like a slide show, each more vivid than the last. Trees, a forest, a cottage, a glass coffin, the faces of forgotten friends—and old enemies. There was a crown—her crown, a castle she used to live in, a kingdom she once ruled. The man with the ax, the queen with an ax to grind, and the mirror that knew all of their deepest secrets.

She remembered.

Snow looked at Hansel. “Cut it down!” An order.

Hansel cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

Snow had to think fast. Here—wherever
here
was—she was no longer a leader, she was a criminal.

“I, I mean, I’m allergic.” She backed away. “Maybe you could ask Granny if it can be removed.”

She didn’t wait for his answer. She just turned and ran back toward the house.

Punzie was still lounging by the pond. “Hey Princess, where’s the fire?”

Snow realized she was still clutching the apple. She wound up a pitch and fired it at Punzie’s head.

“Ow, dammit!” Punzie rubbed the back of her head where the apple smacked it. “I’m going to kick your ass for that.” She stood up.

Easy, Snow. Tread lightly until you figure out what’s happening.

She stopped. “Sorry, thought you’d like a snack. Just picked it. Didn’t mean to hit you.” Although she had.

Punzie glared at her, but she must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort to chase Snow up the hill. She sat back down on the grass next to Bob. Snow watched the apple roll into the pond. There was a faint bubbling, a burst of water like a fountain, then it was gone.

Snow slapped through the screen door. She ran down the hallway and up the stairs, anger boiling through her veins with each step.

If her hunch was right—and as the appointed leader of the United Kingdoms of Enchantment, her hunches were usually right—then the woman in the room she was about to barge into had a lot of explaining to do. After all, she was the only one who had seemed to be even remotely in touch with her personal nemesis.

The look on her face, her reaction when Snow pulled that wheel from the closet—that couldn’t have been a coincidence. She had to have felt
something
.

Snow tested the handle. It wasn’t locked.

She opened the door and several images hit her all at once. Aura asleep on her bed, a bandage around one finger. A spinning wheel—not the one from Granny’s forbidden closet, but another, sitting beneath the window. The window wide open, a blue jay perched on the sill.

“No!” Snow rushed over to Aura Rose and shook her shoulders. “Wake up! Aura, wake up!”

The princess didn’t open her eyes. Snow dashed to the bathroom, grabbed a glass of water and ran back to Aura’s room. She splashed it on her face, jumped on her chest, and slapped her. Hard.

She raised her other hand just as Aura grabbed it.

“If you hit me again, I’m going to throw you out of that fucking window.”

Snow gasped. “You’re awake! Thank God!”

“No, thank you, Snow. A bitch slap usually interrupts my sleep pretty effectively. What the hell are you
doing
?” Aura shoved Snow off of her and sat up. She looked at her shirt. “Why am I wet?”

“I thought, I thought...the spinning wheel….” Snow wasn’t sure what to say. Had it happened to Aura too? The visions, the flashes. Did she remember who she was? Is that why she was so frightened of the spinning wheel yesterday?

Aura got off the bed. “That was a gift from one of the Meals on Wheels clients.”

Snow looked at her.

“Old people.” Aura shrugged. “Always trying to get rid of crap they don’t need.” She laughed. But her voice shook as if she was nervous.

Snow approached the wheel. She noticed the needle was taped over with paper towels.

She turned back to Aura. “You remember, don’t you?”

Aura averted her eyes. She shuffled to the door, closed it, and stuck a chair beneath the knob.

She didn’t turn around for a long while and Snow got the suspicion that she was trying to compose herself.

“I don’t know what you mean by
remember
, but something has been happening to me. Ever since I helped you clean out that stupid closet…I feel like I’m going crazy.”

Snow said gently, “You’re not going crazy.”

Aura began pacing. “I keep seeing things, hearing things…voices that aren’t there. And there’s this horrible woman who haunts my dreams.”

Snow said, “Does she carry a staff and wear a black cape? With thorns?”

Aura’s eyes widened. She stopped and stared at Snow. “How did you know that?”

Snow could have tried to explain it, but it was clear to her that Aura wasn’t quite on the same page. Snow was the first princess. It stood to reason that she would be the first to see through the veil of this world, no matter who created it. She decided it was best to show Aura Rose who she truly was.

Snow enveloped Aura’s hands in hers. “Aura, how did the wheel get in your room?”

“Hansel carried it up for me. I was afraid someone would think I stole it, so I asked Hansel to bring it up to my room this morning.” She looked at Snow nervously. “I don’t even recall driving home. There was this…flash of light, a boom, and then I was here.”

Snow couldn’t make sense of that. Some sort of power surge perhaps? Surely the wheel must have magic, as the apples seem to. Energy can be affected by it. Then Snow realized something. “Wait…you carried it to your car last night? Did you touch the wheel?”

“Not the wheel itself. The woman who gave it to me had it wrapped up in a blanket.”

So she hadn’t touched the surface. Snow had touched the apple with both hands. Touching the apple was never going to hurt her, but eating it would surely have killed her. So maybe, as long as Aura steered clear of the needle and touched just the wheel, her memories would return, as Snow’s had.

“I need you to touch the spinning wheel with both hands.” Snow said.

Aura shook her head, her lips pursed. “Uh-uh. No way.” She edged backwards.

Snow said, “Please, just trust me. Everything will be clear if you do.”

Aura looked doubtful.

“I promise you, Aura, if you do this, you won’t feel crazy anymore. You’ll feel relieved, strong.” And really, really confused, but why spoil the surprise?

Aura considered this.

Snow urged her on. “I’ll be right here the whole time.”

When Aura didn’t move, Snow said, “You’ve stolen cars, you’ve beat up your parole officer, and you have the mouth of a miner. Are you really afraid of a piece of wood?”

That did it. Aura made a face at Snow as she trudged forward. She put her hands up, then down, then up again.

Snow had the urge to push her, but that wasn’t her style. Aura glanced over her shoulder.

“You can do it,” Snow said.

And she did.