Read Grimm's Last Fairy Tale Online
Authors: Becky Lyn Rickman
Grimm's Last Fairy Tale (26 page)
“Look, Margaret, I am a specter who doesn't even feel mortal things like hunger or fatigue, but you have managed to change that. You have me exhausted from the on again off again rotation that you play at. I don't know how much more I can handle.”
“I understand. If you can't do this anymore, then be off with you. I won't hold you back. I know you must have other patrons of your work to observe and woo.”
“Oh, really, Margaret, that was so beneath you.”
“Yes, it was. I'm also exhausted. I can't do this to you anymore. I release you, Jacob. Have a nice afterlife. Maybe I'll bump into you one day.”
Maggie waited, but Jacob was still there.
“What is it? Why are you still here?”
“I need to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to be with you.”
“Oh, my word, Jacob, is this it? Am I dying tonight?”
“No, not exactly.”
“What does that mean, not exactly?”
“It means that you're not exactly dying tonight.”
“Am I going to collapse or something?”
Jacob said nothing.
“Jacob, I'm far too tired for cryptic games! What is going on?”
Jacob waited. He would not say a word. He just stared at her.
Suddenly Maggie felt a darkness like she had never known before and she had known some overpowering darkness in her day.
“Jacob, what is it? Why are you staring at me? What's going on?”
“Just wait for it, Margaret.”
“Wait for what?”
Maggie suddenly felt overcome by the darkness and then in the midst of it, saw a flicker of light.
“Do you see the light, Margaret? Walk toward it. Go to the light.”
“I don't want to. I'm not ready.”
“Don't fight it. It is time. It is time for you to go. Walk toward the light.”
“I don't see the light anymore. Only darkness.”
“Just keep walking.”
“No, Jacob, what's going on? Are you trying to trick me? You are a dark spirit, aren't you? You're trying to get me to go to the dark side where you're from! I won't do it. I won't do it!”
“Mom? Mom, are you alright?”
“Rhiannon? What are you doing here? What are you all doing here? You are supposed to be heading home!”
“What do you mean? We just finished the reception and were back here to pack for the trip and you collapsed in the lobby. You were saying something. Something about darkness.”
“Oh, my word! It was a terrible dream. I thought Jacob was evil.”
“Who is Jacob?”
Oh, dear, not again. Maggie had painted herself into another corner and Jacob was the culprit.
“He's an old friend. I don't know why I was dreaming about him. I haven't seen him in years. But he was here and he was trying to get me to go to the dark side.”
“Mom, I think you need some medical attention.”
“I'm just exhausted. That's all. I just need a good night's sleep and I'll head home tomorrow and be back to my old self. I just need my routine back. I have been on the road a little longer than I had anticipated and it is good that I was, but now I just need to go home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, all of you. Get on your way. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and let you know I've arrived home safely. If you get worried, just ring my cell. I'm fine. ”
They hesitantly said their goodbyes and Maggie crawled into bed, but decided to wait until tomorrow to apologize to Jacob. She wanted to sleep on the dream and try to decide if it was trying to tell her something.
Sleep overcame her and no more dreams were remembered.
in which the author gives no real foreshadowing; read on to
find out for yourself
When Maggie opened her eyes, even before she crawled out of bed, she called out to Jacob.
“Do you have any idea what I'm going to say to you?”
“No. You are a woman intensely impossible to read or predict. I've resolved myself to expect surprises each time I see you. It is a fate I have accepted.”
“Well, you don't have to sound so inflicted. Am I not worth it? I need for you to answer that before I say anything else.”
“Oh, Margaret, exasperated as I am with you sometimes, you are worth every minute of it.”
“That's the man I love. Thank you. Now sit and let me first apologize, second, explain, and third, fill you in on a very strange dream I had.”
They sat in the room and spent a little too long catching up and then Maggie invited her love to travel home with her. She suddenly had a little rush of adrenalin at the thought of finally having these visits over with and to be headed home.
The day went quickly and it was just about dusk when Maggie pulled in. She called her neighbor to thank her for watching over the cats and to ensure she would not be coming over to care for the cats while Maggie was sleeping. She then carried her things in and without unpacking, brushed her teeth and drank a cup of hibiscus tea and climbed into bed. The boys, anticipating this move, were there before her, rubbing and purring and receiving the affection they had so dearly missed.
“Goodnight, Jacob.”
“Goodnight, Maggie.”
And that was that until about noon the next day. Maggie woke up with a powerful hunger and went to the cupboards. She made her usual breakfast and silently thanked God for the privilege of being home. She spent the day resting with intermittent mail-checking and unpacking and when the evening came, she decided to pick up a few groceries.
She headed out the door and was met by her neighbor.
“Thank you so much for caring for my little furry guys.”
“Oh, Maggie, it's my pleasure. Were they glad to see you?”
“Oh, I should say so. They must have missed me. I'm actually surprised they didn't make me pay for my absence by sulking and ignoring me.”
“They reserved that for me. I could barely get them to come out of hiding. By the way, dear, a package arrived for you while you were gone. I put it in your office.”
“Oh, OK, I'll look for it when I get back. I just have to pick up a few groceries. Do you need anything?”
“No, I'm good, thanks.”
“Alright then. See you another day.”
“Goodnight.”
Maggie finished the shopping and went home anxious to see what had arrived for her. She unloaded and put the food away and then went to her desk. There was no return address. Maggie opened it and found a small velvet box. She opened it to find a breathtakingly beautiful antique ring. She angrily suspected David, but her train of thought was interrupted by Jacob.
“What's that you have there?”
“A ring.”
“Who is it from?”
Jacob was sounding a little miffed himself.
“I can't be certain, but I suspect David.”
“Why would David be your first thought?”
“Who else? He's the one who can't seem to let go. I feel like he's stalking me.”
“So it must be him?”
“Do you know of anyone else who might send me a . . .”
Maggie looked at Jacob. The answer was there in his eyes.
“Oh, Jacob, I'm so sorry. Was this you? What does this mean? Why?”
“Can't you guess?”
“I have something for you, too.”
“A ring?”
“No, silly man. A completed manuscript.”
She opened her laptop and turned the screen toward him. He sat and read. For hours he read. Periodically, he would look up at her with a look that was sublime—a look that pierced her soul and told her that he loved what he was reading.
When he was finished, he looked up once more.
“This is us.”
“Yes.”
“This is our story.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It's beautiful.”
“Yes, it is that, too.”
“You'll have to leave it, you know.”
“Now?”
“Yes, that's what the ring is about.”
“Then it's time?”
“Yes, it's time.”
And with that, Jacob took her by the hand, placed the ring on her finger, and together they walked, unafraid, toward the light.
--The (Mortal) End—
Maggie Grimm sat under the protective wing of husband and watched the faces of each of her children as they read to their children the magical story of a ghost who won the heart of woman who had stopped believing in love.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Since I've only had a few creative writing-type classes, I would have to defer to my life experience as my credentials. As Evelyn Waugh so aptly put it: "Novel-writing is a laborious trade. The raw material is every single thing one has ever seen or heard or felt, and one has to go over the vast rubbish-heap of experience, scraping and delving, until one finds a few discarded valuables." I have had a husband that dated other women. I have had another that dated other men. I have raised four biological children, five stepchildren, and 45 foster children and now enjoy ten grandchildren (so far). I have had over 70 addresses. I have advocated for myself and others in cases of domestic and drug abuse, rape, and have worked with hospice, Special Olympics, preschool reading programs, literacy groups and drug rehab. I also spent 15 months homeless. In short, I have ample raw material and I am constantly having to deal with unwritten or partially written novels vying for my full attention. Voices are what I hear; writing is what I do.
Published Work:
My writing credits include website articles, articles and editorials for local newspapers, the voice of a Booker the bookshop cat (who did amazingly articulate book reviews and commentaries), well-crafted notes to my children’s teachers, captivating shopping lists, scathingly brilliant letters of accusation, followed by the inevitable ensuing heart-wrenching letters of apology. Having finally completed
When Renoir Loved Thomas Jefferson
, I am currently working on its prequel and sequel, as well as a number of other novels.
Work History/Expertise:
My work history is varied and colorful: Executive Assistant, Deli Schlepper, Carpenter and Cabinetmaker, Designer and Dressmaker, Childcare, Foster Parent, Executive Housekeeper (wait until you see that manuscript!), Executive Director of Literacy Council, Used Bookstore Maven, Entrepreneur, Botanical Apothecary Technician, among other things. None of this may seem to qualify me as a writer, but I would have to dispute that. They have been amazing parts of my journey.
Awards/Honors/Associations:
2nd Place in Missouri State Art Contest in 10th grade. Safety Award in Carpentry School. National Honor Society. None of this sounds terribly impressive.
ALSO BY BECKY LYN RICKMAN:
When Renoir Loved Thomas Jefferson
How to Be a Man in a Woman’s Life
COMING SOON:
How to Be a Human in a Cat’s Life
Sasquatch of Rosedale
Terrible Smith Makes Good
Heavenly Fodder
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