Page 22 of Enchanted in Time
“Marco, is everything really all right?”
“Yeah, Mom, we’re cool here. What’s up with you, though?”
Nervous, Hannah glanced over her shoulder and listened. She had spoken too loudly and forgotten all about the bear prince. But the garden remained quiet and deserted. No tromping or roaring, no rustling or cracking twigs. Other than the splashing water and the twittering birds, all was quiet. He must have still been in the castle.
“The prince just turned into a bear, right before my eyes. Frieda, tell me finally who you are and what happened here! And if you don’t answer me this instant, I’ll call the police and have you arrested for child abduction!” Through the water, Hannah looked her neighbor in the eye with as much anger and resolve as she could muster—after all, Frieda had no idea that she had no signal out there.
“That’s really not necessary, Hannah. You see, I am already a little older than you can imagine, and this prince is my godson. This dreadful curse that has turned him into a bear was inherited from his father. And you do know how it iswith children. Whether they’re our godchildren or our natural children, we’re sworn to protect them.”
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. What sort of strange things was her neighbor telling her? How old was she? And how did she come to be the godmother of a prince?
“I can already see the questions firing off in your mind, dear Hannah, but rest assured that it’s not as bad as all that.”
“How is it that you’re the godmother of a prince?”
Frieda smiled. “Can’t you come up with any ideas?”
Hannah’s brain was working overtime. “The dress you finished so quickly... the coach that was shaped like a pumpkin—which, by the way, has now disappeared along with the coachman! The magic mirror...”
Frieda smiled broadly as she watched Hannah over her half-moon glasses, which sparkled gold in the water. She nodded encouragingly, as if she were nudging her to draw the right conclusion.
“Are you a...”
“Yes?” Frieda beamed.
“Yes, Mommy, that’s right! Frieda is an enchantress!”
Hannah’s heart was beating faster and faster. An enchantress? There was no such thing! Except in fairy tales. Of course, her kids had been quick to figure out the answer to the riddle—they still believed in such children’s tales. But she had both feet firmly on the ground. She had problems, and as a single mother, she lived solely to work and to know that her kids were provided for. For someone like her, fairy tales no longer existed!
Or did they?
Hannah inhaled deeply, then exhaled. And then she breathed in and out once more. She lifted her head and saw, rising up over the rose and hydrangea bushes, the towering spires of the castle that until recently had been nothing but a ruin. And inside thiscastle, a bear was running loose, and the fur of that bear was hiding a prince beneath it.
Other than the glass she’d downed after choking on the canapé at the ball, Hannah hadn’t had anything to drink that evening. Could those few sips have made her tipsy? No, she felt totally clear and wasn’t swaying at all. She couldn’t be hallucinating or drunk. What was it then? She sorted through her thoughts and questions to decide what to ask Frieda first. “What kind of curse has the prince been struck by?”
“I’m so glad you finally believe me, dear Hannah, and that you’re asking the right question. And now I’ll tell you and the children what happened back then so you can understand why this curse was pronounced on the royal family.”
“But hurry! I don’t want the bear to catch me.”
Frieda laughed. “Oh, he won’t hurt you.”
Hannah wasn’t so sure about that. “So why was this curse pronounced?”
10
A long, long time ago
Holding her mother’s hand, Mirabelle stepped inside the magnificent ballroom. Her heart was pounding wildly, and her hands were sweating and itching in the lace gloves that covered her hands and arms. Not one bit of her blemished skin was showing through her high-necked ball gown. Her mother grasped her hand and did not leave her side for a single moment.
This solidarity—this motherly love—moved Mirabelle to tears. She had no longer known if her parents felt anything for her. But now she was sure that the love was still there. She breathed a sigh of relief, held back her tears, and squeezed her mother’s hand. In return, she gave her daughter a kindhearted smile. Mirabelle would have to attend this ball, but she was sure she could speak with her mother afterwards and think of a plan to avoid any future social obligations of this sort.
They ambled past the rows of knights on either side of the red carpet and stood in line with the other guests, mostly lavishly attired young women who, accompanied by their parents, werebeing introduced to the king and his son. Mirabelle tugged discreetly at her gown’s long sleeves, which reached down over her gloves. Then she adjusted her headband and veil so that no one could peer at her face from the side. Her golden hair, which shone like the sun, fell over her shoulders and all the way down her back. It was the last vestige of her former beauty, and against the midnight blue of her dress, it shone like the stars. The lady’s maids had braided it into an elaborate hairstyle and adorned it with satin ribbons.
Again and again, Mirabelle felt the curious gaze of the guests, who marveled at her beautiful hair and were trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Mirabelle smiled. Recalling who she once had been, she remembered her strength and confidence and stood straight and tall in her ball gown. When her turn arrived and she came alongside her mother before the king and the prince, she felt a bit proud of the way the prince was eyeing her with interest and how the other girls whispered behind their hands. With the assurance of a princess, she stepped before the king and the prince of the land and could feel the eyes of the gentlemen there upon her. She curtsied to the king and his son, just as she had learned to do, and a murmur went through the hall.
“Such grace!” someone whispered.
“Who is the enchanting stranger? And why does she hide her face?” murmured another.
