Rapunzel Untangled (17 page)

“Can I ask you something?” Rapunzel said. Her mother didn’t answer, but Rapunzel knew she wouldn’t. She always waited to hear the question before committing to answer. “Remember the prophecy you told me about? Can you explain it to me again?”

Gothel’s gaze sharpened. “Why the curiosity, Rapunzel?”

Rapunzel heard the slight note of warning in her voice and her resolve wavered. She was determined, though, to know.

She dropped her gaze and shrugged. “You just haven’t told me in a while. I want to be certain I have it right.”

“What do you mean, have it right? Right for what?”

Rapunzel clasped her hands nervously beneath the table, feeling as though she were standing on a thin sheet of ice above dangerous waters. “I just spent some time thinking about it while I was sick, and I worry that I’m forgetting it, or not remembering it correctly. It’s important, right?”

She slowly raised her gaze as her mother eyed her silently. Finally, she pushed her plate to the side and Rapunzel knew she would tell her.

“I suppose you’re right. You’re older now, and perhaps better able to understand the importance of what was told to me.”

Rapunzel wasn’t sure what she should do: to keep eating and pretend nonchalance to hopefully pull more information from her mother or to give her her full attention. She pushed her plate to the side and turned her gaze on her mother. Gothel’s eyes took on a sort of glow, confirming Rapunzel had made the correct decision.

“I’d been to plenty of psychics before, but they were all false prophetesses,” she began, her voice taking on fervency. “However, I never lost faith that I would find someone who could answer my questions. And then, a couple years before you were born I found Vedmak.” Rapunzel felt a jolt zing through her. She’d never heard the name before—or if she had, she didn’t remember it.

“He
knew
things, Rapunzel, things he couldn’t have possibly known about me. He knew of my hunger for a child. He knew about my parents and how they’d died so young.

“So I returned to him a second time, and then a third. Each time he knew things from my past. I asked about my future, the future of my daughter, and he told me about you.” Gothel smiled, but it wasn’t directed at Rapunzel, rather at some distant memory. “He said a golden-haired child, a girl, would come into my life. But that she wouldn’t be an ordinary child. Oh, no. Not my child. My child would be
everything
, not just to me but to my daughter as well.” How could Rapunzel be important to
herself
? It didn’t make sense. “You’re the one who is going to save everything.”

A chill ran up Rapunzel’s spine at hearing herself spoken of as some kind of extraordinary being, more than human. She didn’t
want
to be some kind of . . . savior.

“Vedmak told me you would have beautiful hair, like spun gold, and that it would be magical. He explained that your hair would grow at an unusual rate, and that, much like Samson, it must not ever be touched by the sharpness of a blade. He said that doing so would drain your hair of its magic, and the consequences would be devastating.” Gothel leaned forward, grasping Rapunzel’s hand urgently. “
Devastating
, Rapunzel.” She relaxed, releasing Rapunzel’s hand.

“And then I found you,” Gothel said.

Rapunzel startled. “
Found
me?” she asked, her voice high with surprise.

“
Had
you,” Gothel said. “I
had
you. And you were exactly as Vedmak had described you, from your thick, long, golden hair to your big green eyes, and you smiled all the time. I knew it was you. I knew you were the one he had foreseen—my daughter restored.”

Rapunzel’s mind was flying. Her thoughts kept tripping over that one word:
found
. Her mother had corrected herself, but she couldn’t get the word to stop spinning in her mind.

“When I brought you to him, he confirmed that you were the one foretold, Rapunzel. He recognized you immediately. And then he told me the rest of the prophecy.

“There was danger of being lost forever, he told me, and you would be the one to save her.”

“Save
her
?” Rapunzel interjected. Panic suffocated her.

“Save the world, Rapunzel. Do you want me to tell you this, or do you want to continue to interrupt me?”

Her mother’s eyes bore into her, and Rapunzel cringed. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“Yes. Well.” Gothel looked off again as she continued. “You are to save everything. He spoke of your hair. He told me that it was all tied together—your hair, your safety, and the safety of the world. That I must protect you at all costs, and that your hair must never be touched by the sharpness of a blade. And I’ve done that, Rapunzel, I’ve done all he’s asked, and so far we’ve been protected from danger.”

The gleam in Gothel’s eyes unnerved Rapunzel. Still, she found the courage to ask, “And my SCIDs? Did he know about that?”

Gothel stood and turned away from Rapunzel. She walked over to the sink and leaned her hands on the edge of the counter, pushing her weight against her arms. “He told me you’d be fragile. He told me you’d need protection.” She turned back toward Rapunzel. “So, yes, I suppose he did know.”

Rapunzel nodded, feeling too shell-shocked by what she’d heard to form any further words. She’d been told the story many times over in her life, but never in this way, never with so much detail. She had more questions than when she’d asked. Her stomach churned.

“Rapunzel, I have to go away again, in a few days.”

If there were words to pull Rapunzel from her sense of doom, those were it. Her mother gone meant she could see Fane again. She tried to keep the happiness from her face.

“Oh?” she managed.

Her mother came to her, taking her hands in her own. “It will only be for six days again. You seemed fine when I last went. Will you be okay again? If not, I can change it, I can—”

“No,” Rapunzel said quickly. “Go. I was fine then and I’ll be fine this time as well.”

“I’ll be certain food is cooked for you each day.”

“It’s not necessary, Mother. I can feed myself.”

“We can’t risk a relapse, Rapunzel. You understand the danger now.”

“Which is why I should make my own meals, Mother. How will Cook get the food to me without exposing me to any possible germs she might carry?” Guilt plagued Rapunzel for playing the germ card, but she definitely didn’t want a babysitter spoiling her slight bit of freedom.

Gothel thought about Rapunzel’s words, then nodded in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Then make a shopping list and I’ll bring you what you need.”

Rapunzel dropped into bed an hour later, after messaging Fane with the news about her mother’s pending trip. She wanted to get on the Internet and Google so many things her mother had told her, but she was too emotionally exhausted. More than that she wanted to talk to Fane about it, but should she? How could she explain the things she’d been told without him thinking that she and her mother both were insane? Would he look at her differently if she told him all she’d been told?

It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take, not right now.

 
^.*
*

I
mmunity: a state of having sufficient biological defenses to avoid infection, disease, or other unwanted biological invasion. It is the capability of the body to resist harmful microbes from entering the body.

Rapunzel read the definition several times until she could repeat it from memory. With SCIDs she definitely did
not
have a sufficient defense against biological invasion. She tried repeatedly to remember the overheard conversation between her mother and Dr. Henreich, but try as she might she couldn’t recall specifics.

She read about the different kinds of immunity: the immunity acquired by being exposed to certain germs and bacteria in the world, and the immunity acquired by receiving vaccinations
against
certain germs and bacteria. She tried to remember if she’d ever been vaccinated but didn’t know.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She knew she could be opening a door better left closed—or what was that Greek thing she’d read about? Pandora’s box? Fane had warned her. Her fingers touched the keys. She was tired of being the only one who didn’t know anything about her life. She typed in “Gothel Manor.”

The search popped up with
Did you mean Gothel Mansion?

She clicked on the underlined words, stunned as pages of links came up.
The Mystery of Gothel Mansion, Gothel Mansion: Myth or Fact?, Gothel Mansion’s Haunted Legacy, Gothel Mansion’s Tower Ghost.
The titles almost all sounded sensationalistic, with only a few that seemed to stick to the historical. Taking a bracing breath, she clicked on one that seemed to avoid the sensational.

Gothel Mansion, built in the early 1700s by pioneer Lawrence Gothel, was nothing more than a small, two-room cabin for him, his wife, Clarisse, and their eight children to live in as they moved into the northern California territory. A renowned fur trader, Lawrence’s luck didn’t extend to his family. Within a decade of their move, six of their children had died, along with Clarisse.

Wow
, Rapunzel thought.
How horrible to lose six of your children and your wife.

The two remaining sons married, but only one had a child, a son.

This downturn of luck continued for the Gothel family for over a century, until the Gold Rush of ’49, when Lucas Gothel struck it rich. He built on to the cabin until it became a large home. The large home was for naught. Lucas also was only able to sire a single child, a son named Frederick.

Frederick was a financial genius, and it is due to him that the family has prospered in the century and a half since. Frederick tied the family fortune up into profitable ventures, unable to be discontinued by any of his descendants, which has ensured the continued prosperity of the Gothel fortune for many generations to come.

Currently, for the first time ever the home is owned by one not of Gothel blood. The last heir, Nigel Gothel, married Bonnie Higby, who came from a questionable background. There was some speculation as to the untimely death of Higby’s parents. However, with inconclusive evidence, Higby was not charged with any crime. Gothel married Higby and then died in an accident three years later. Higby was again brought under question, but again there was no evidence proving she had anything to do with Gothel’s death. She has since continually built onto the house, despite living there alone.

Unfortunately, the couple did not have any children, and with no other heirs the home and fortune has been left to Higby.”

Wait, what
? Rapunzel read the last two lines again. “No children . . . lived alone.”
But then, who am I?

Higby, who now goes by her legal name of Gothel, resides in the home. She has never remarried, and it remains to be seen to whom she will leave the fortune upon her passing.

Rapunzel finished the article, which had a few pictures of the outside of her house, including an aerial view. The older photos showed a much smaller house, and her tower was definitely missing. She went back and read again the line, “. . . the couple did not have any children.” If she were correct, Bonnie Higby was the name of her mother. Her mother who had a “questionable” background.

Why didn’t anyone know about Rapunzel? Was her birth a secret? She felt overwhelmed by what she’d read. Then, deciding since she was already in this far, she may as well go all the way, she clicked the link called
The Mystery of Gothel Mansion.

Shasta County, California, may not have an amusement park adorned by a talking mouse with big ears, but it has something much more sinister: Gothel Mansion. Gothel Mansion has a long legacy of less-than-sane owners over the years, with the curse of each heir only being able to produce one son to carry on the legacy.

Until now.

Now the Mansion and Gothel fortune are in the hands of accused murderess Bonnie Higby.

Rapunzel’s mouth dropped. Murderess?

Bonnie Higby’s parents died when gas in their home caused them to asphyxiate. There was no leak. The oven had been turned on, the pilot light extinguished. Bonnie happened to be spending the night at a friend’s house.
Happened
to be. While it never could be proved that Bonnie killed her parents, there was much suspicion and speculation. There were rumors of heavy abuse by Bonnie’s parents.

When she managed to snag über-eligible bachelor Nigel Gothel, the world was stunned. When three short years after their marriage Nigel died in a hiking accident with his wife in the Cascade Mountains near their home, Bonnie once again became a suspect. However, with no witnesses to prove he hadn’t slipped as Bonnie claimed, she was once again released.

And that’s when things got really weird.

After Nigel’s death, and with no other heir apparent, the fortune fell to Bad Bonnie. Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to call her Mad Bonnie. Mad Bonnie, who lives like a hermit, consults mediums, and holds séances. There have even been rumors of witchcraft possibly being dabbled in by her. In between all of her extracurricular activities, Mad Bonnie builds.

Yes, that’s right. She builds. There is always construction on the sprawling mansion. Rumors abound that the construction is almost constant and is also useless. A previous construction worker claims he personally worked on stairways that go nowhere and doors that open into walls. And always, he claims, with six workers total.

Clearly Mad Bonnie is obsessed with the number six. Six workers on crew at all times, working six hours, six days a week. Doors must have six panels, windows either six panes or six windows per room. Everything must be measured in increments of six. For example, a room must be twelve, eighteen, twenty-four feet across. Anything divisible by six. Ceilings are twelve feet. And those that weren’t have been modified at great expense.