Hansel and Gretel Read online

  Not that Hansel would have let her—he had decided years ago that he would destroy anyone who tried to take that girl. Anyone.

  The tree cracked and swayed. Finally. With another great whack, he felt it officially give. He stepped back and allowed it to fall with a loud crash onto the ground. Then he sighed. That was probably his problem right there. He could not bear to see Gretel fall. The thought of one of those village lads winning her heart and then dropping her—no, he would sooner face all of Hades than to see her hurt.

  He thought of the milk now sticking to his skin and grinned. Unless, of course, it was he who caused the pain—then all would be well.

  CHAPTER THREE

  GRETEL STORMED INTO THE kitchen and tossed the empty jug into the water basin. Ooh, Hansel could be such a menace at times. At others, he could be quite sweet and endearing. But it would seem that as soon as he was halfway decent, he would flip personalities and become a fool again. She sighed as she washed her hands and began to prepare the evening meal. Father would be home soon—he always came back from the market famished, and so she would attempt to have the food ready to be eaten the moment he walked in the door. To make him wait for his meals would be torture to them all. Heaven knew he liked to be fed, or he would become a grouchy bear.

  She chuckled to herself as she began to put together the dough for the meat pies. The filling had been created earlier from meat left simmering in the pot on the stove.

  This was a quaint little cottage—definitely not the shabbiest, nor the wealthiest, but just somewhere in between. There was something so snug about it, so welcoming and warm that had always made her feel right at home.

  Those first few months—oh, how she had cried. They did not know it, but she did. She tried to find quiet time alone to let her tears fall, usually at night when no one else was awake. Hansel had given up his room and had slept out in the front room until their father had remade the attics into a nice-sized loft and then eventually a bedroom. When she was alone at night, with the scratchy wool blanket they had originally used to dry her, she would curl into a ball and remember the days when she slept on a soft bed in the same room as her sisters and they ate bowls of Larkein candy together, laughing and giggling. She had missed her family so very much. These days, the pain was nonexistent, though there were a few glimmers of memory she had been able to keep fresh in her mind, especially from her last night in the castle.

  They had all been scared. She remembered that—it was one of the few memories she had left of the life she once knew, the day she lost everything. She remembered the fright that hung in the air. She remembered her mother kissing them all and packing up bundles for them, telling them she would send them away so they would be safe. She remembered hugging her father and seeing his fear when the castle doors swung wide as if she were in the main room waiting for the invasion, but that could not be right. Could it?

  Gretel cut into the pastry with a knife and began to add the necessary water to lump it together for rolling. Why would a child be in the front room just before an invasion? She closed her eyes to chase the memories away. Some things still plagued her, but they were better off left unsorted.

  Adale—her father, as he preferred her to call him—said the rumors reported that all her family had been killed. But why was she not? How did she slip away? She had no recollection of getting into the rock crevice where Adale had found her. None at all. And yet, she was there, shivering and soaked through when he saved her.

  Thank the graciousness of all good that he managed to find her and keep her. She sighed. She did remember distinctly that he did not want her when he first heard her speak, and she knew it was Hansel who pled for her.

  Hansel. She pounded the dough onto the wooden board and began to roll it out. That man deserved to have two pitchers of milk poured on him. She might have poured two if it had not been such a chore to milk the cows in the first place. Gretel groaned as she cut the thinned-out dough into squares. It truly was his saving grace, the fact that he had been so kind to her at the beginning and pled for her life. She could forgive him anything when she remembered she was in this lovely place because of him. But there were days, there were certainly days when she wished she could do more than dump milk on him. If he were not so strong and tall, she might very well toss him over her shoulder and throw him into the ravine.

  She grinned as she collected spoonfuls of meat and placed them in the center of each square. Then, folding the dough over to form triangles, she pinched the sides closed and set them on the large iron skillet to be baked in the oven. Oh, what a surprise that would be to Hansel to be thrown. She giggled to herself as she set the last triangle on the pan and opened the door of the oven. How she would love to behold his shocked countenance as he went flying over her head down the jagged slope to the river below. It would be worth it to witness the confusion and perfect fright on his features.

  The imbecile.

  While the meat pies baked in the oven, she fetched a few carrots and began to peel and slice them to serve alongside the pastry.

  It was a matter of minutes to get the table situated and the dishes washed once all was ready. She had heard the felled tree crash some time ago and could even now hear Hansel’s grunts as the last of the logs were being chopped and stored. He would more than likely be hungry as well. She grinned.

  Mayhap she would tell him she had no food for ungrateful wretches today. Being a woman in the kitchen, she was so preoccupied with all her chores that she did not have a spare second to cook something for him.

  She checked the oven and saw there were still a few minutes left. It had been such a nice surprise to receive the large iron oven from their neighbors. They were one of the very first families in the whole land to have their own stove. It had been a gift of thanks for all her pa had done for the Andersens while their father was ill that past fall. The oven had come to the Andersens as a sort of inheritance payment from a long-lost uncle, and it had quite set the village on its ear to see the thing rolling in on the huge donkey cart.

  Though the Andersens were grateful, they truly did not have room for such a large oven and they felt they should repay her father for all his hard labors in keeping their crops up, which was how Gretel ended up with it. But goodness, was Adale hardheaded about taking it.

  Smiling, she untied her apron and hung it on the peg. She had never known a more generous man in all her life, and he kept repeating over and over, “I did not help the Andersens just so they would give me their expensive stove. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

  How she loved him. How so very grateful she was to have such a fine example of a man in her life. Unlike Hansel. She groaned and checked the oven again.

  This time the pies were ready. Clutching a cloth, she pulled the skillet out and quickly set the piping hot pastries on the dinnerware, then placed the carrots on as well and set the dishes on the table with a wedge of cheese.

  Hansel despised it when she rang the triangle, so she did it as a last-minute annoyance while she stood at the front door, with him not twenty feet away, and banged upon it loudly with the wand. “Suppertime! It is suppertime!” she called out as if he were hundreds of yards away.

  Hansel looked up as she first began to beat upon the thing and rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he said calmly. “Now my ears may ring for a good several minutes.”

  “Oh?” She pretended to pout. “I did not want you to miss your food. All good women need to feed and care for their menfolk.” She turned on her heel and laughed as she walked back in the house.

  “Do not forget that!” he called to the door as it slammed shut behind her.

  She stood on the other side for a moment and seethed. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself to remain calm when he came in. It would do neither of them any good to be so irate all the time. But honestly, how was she supposed to deal with such a boorish beast? Always needing to have the last word, always undermining her and believing she was something to be mocked an
d scorned. One day, one day, Hansel Waithwrite, you are going to regret all your mockery. I may only be sixteen to your superior twenty, but I will clobber you. Wait and see!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  HANSEL WASHED HIS HEAD, face, neck, and hands at the outside pump as he cleaned up before dinner. The sticky milk had begun to itch and mingle with the sweat in his shirt and hair. The water was so cool and refreshing. He glanced around the yard, and not seeing his father yet, he quickly unbuttoned the shirt and flung it off. Rinsing it in the cold water, he set it aside and leaned his whole torso under the tap and allowed it to cleanse the rest of the horrid stuff off him. Ahhh… this was bliss. There was nothing like cool water after a hot day’s work.

  He pushed the handle of the pump down and then, picking up his shirt, he shook it for several seconds, allowing the cold water to spray every which way. He walked over to the line and hung the shirt up to dry before clutching one of the sheets Gretel had placed there earlier and wrapping it around his shoulders.

  She would more than likely give him grief for ruining her clean laundry. He smirked and hoped it irritated her even more than he imagined as he stepped into the cottage.

  Right on cue, Gretel looked up, her jaw dropping, a look of outrage on her face. But just before she was about to utter something, most likely scathing, he explained, “Sorry. I had to wear this—I hope you do not mind overly much. There was a mishap with a jug earlier and I simply could not walk in stinking of sour milk. So I did the only thing I could do—I took off the shirt and borrowed this for now.”

  Her mouth closed and then opened again. Clutching a wooden spoon, she approached him. “Hansel, if you vex me into doing such silly things, you should not be surprised at the outcome, nor should you—”

  “If you continue to act like a child,” he interrupted, “and allow your emotions to get the better of you when I am simply pointing out the facts of life, you should not be surprised when someone may need to compromise and use your clean sheets because of your juvenile actions.”

  She inhaled a large breath, her face reddening to show she was becoming quite the incensed woman.

  He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Yes, Gretel? Is there something you wish to say?”

  “Yes!” Bringing the spoon forward, she used it to beat the air and accentuate every word she spoke. “You are the rudest, cruelest, most vain nincompoop who ever lived! You have no decent thoughts for anyone but yourself! You believe that you are the only correct one on this earth and you simply do not care about the pain you cause someone else. You do not even begin to see what your own actions do to others. I will not take your bullying. I will not take your uncouth manners and rude ways. I will not take you! You, Hansel Waithwrite, will soon find yourself the loneliest man in the whole kingdom because there is not a girl or woman within sixty miles of this place who would have you!”

  Oh, this was too rich. Little Miss Gretel just gave herself away. “Are you saying you have contemplated having me?”

  “What?” She looked shocked.

  “If you say you will not take me and no one else will, does not that reveal to me that you have thought of such things to begin with?”

  She gasped. “Thought of taking you? Of having you? Of all the stupid—”

  His grin deepened. “You should be careful what you reveal, for it could very well be turned against you.”

  “Against me?” She walked closer, this time tapping him with the spoon. “I tell you what a brute you are and how harmful your words are and you construe this to mean that I dream of marrying you?” She shook her head. “Of all the futile things to believe of yourself. Fine. Fine, Hansel. Make whatever your brain wishes to make of my words. I am through speaking to you at all.”

  “Finally! Peace at last!” He smiled.

  “Give me back the sheet first!”

  “I thought you were not speaking. Pity.”

  “I swear upon the moon, Hansel, I will whack you with this ladle. Give me my clean sheet now and go find yourself something else to wear!”

  He grabbed her raised arm and pulled her all the way up to him. She pushed against his chest and tried to kick him, but he quickly wrapped his leg around hers, holding her closer to him. “You will learn not to be such a shrew.”

  “Me?” She yanked, but he held her fast.

  “Gretel, I am only holding you here until you stop these mad thoughts of violence. I may be the bane of your existence, but I am not your enemy. And though neither of us prefers the company of the other overly much, I will not allow us to resort to abuse to achieve our most wanted desires.”

  “The desire to thump you?”

  “Yes. That is exactly what we will not do.” His eyes traced her worn features. He had not noticed before the worry lines forming upon her brow. Her full mouth was set in a firm line and her normally large eyes were sharp and slanted as she glared at him. Even filled with anger, she was a remarkably pretty young woman.

  “There are days when I despise you, Hansel.”

  He took a deep breath, the faint smell of lavender tickling his nose. “I know. But it is for the best.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “Do my words harm you?” he asked.

  She looked away, and his gaze followed the long lashes as they caressed her cheek. “Does it matter?”

  Yes, it does. “I did not think I was hurting you.”

  “You did not?” Her blue eyes met his.

  “No. I believed you could handle all I threw at you.”

  She pulled against his arm, and this time he let her go. “I can. Do not mind about such things. You do not hurt me—you will never hurt me. I simply do not care to take your words into account. They mean nothing to me.”

  He nodded his head and shrugged off the sheet. Handing it to her, he said, “Here, ‘tis yours. You clearly need it more than I do.”

  Nonplussed, she took the sheet from him. “Thank you,” she muttered, watching his mussed brown hair and strong back as he climbed the stairs to the attic room. Slowly she wrapped the cloth around her arms into a messy fold. What had just happened? She looked over to the empty stairs. Why did she feel so terrible now, as if it were she who was in the wrong and not him?

  Gretel walked back outside and hung the sheet upon the line, then shook her head. What was she doing? In a great rush of action, she pulled the sheet down, as well as the other dry clothes hanging upon the line. She was happy to see Pa arrive with his cart and horse as she carried her load to the door. “You are back!” she called out to him.

  “Yes.” He smiled across the way as he maneuvered the horse toward the stables. “Give me about five minutes or so and I will join you for supper. Is Hansel here as well?”

  “Aye. He is changing at the moment.”

  “Good. Good.” He clicked his tongue at the horse and began to pull the wooden cart into the stables. “I have much to share with you both. Be prepared for some wonderful news.” He grinned as the cart continued forward.

  “What news? What has happened?” Gretel asked as she followed him.

  The cart jolted to a halt. “You never can wait a few minutes, can you?”

  “No. Never. Tell me, please.”

  He jumped down, his eyes twinkling into hers. “Very well. I shall give you a hint, mainly because I am too excited to stop myself. Gretel, you are to have a mother! I am to be wed again.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  GRETEL DID NOT SAY a word to Hansel of Pa’s news. She herself was still processing it. To have a mother, a real mother? Now? Now would be the most perfect time to have an older woman in the house, someone who could teach her those last, final things she would need to know before she took a husband and became mistress of her own home.

  But then again, what would it be like to have another woman preparing the meals and taking over the home duties? What would Gretel do? Would her stepmother like the way things were run? There would most likely be several new changes. Several.

  It was an announcement that
warranted nervousness, but excitement as well.

  How wonderful to see her father happy and in love. What a great joy it would be for him to have such a woman in his life. If there were ever a man who deserved great joy, it was he.

  Gretel smiled as the men pulled up their chairs and Hansel offered grace. So changes would need to be made, but what was living life if there were not changes?

  She was so lost within her own thoughts as the trio began to partake of the food that she barely heard Father explain to Hansel the good news. However, when Hansel asked, “Who is she? Do we know her? What is her name?” Gretel looked up and met Hansel’s eyes.

  Their father wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned back in his chair, a sign that he was about to divulge something cautiously. “Well, I am not sure if you know who she is,” he said at first. “I believe neither of you have met her. But she is simply lovely, j ust a wonderful woman.”

  Hansel’s brow furrowed and he cleared his throat as he reached for a slice of cheese. “I am very happy you found her. How did you meet?”

  Pa was vague as he waved his hand. “Oh, you know, here and there.”

  “Where is here?” asked Gretel.

  Surprisingly, Father slammed his napkin upon the uneaten portion of his food and pushed his chair back from the table. “I do not need you two questioning me. You can be thankful I found someone so lovely to wed.”

  “I—I am thankful,” Gretel rushed to explain. “Forgive us if it came out critically. We are merely curious.”

  “She is right, Father. We meant no harm; we only wish to celebrate with you and so ask very simple questions, as would anyone. We are delighted you have found happiness.”