You Make My Heart Happy
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It had been a long time since I’d heard my mother’s voice, and hearing it now made me think of her as she was in the days before she died. It also reminded me that when I was born, she had stopped speaking to me.
I hadn’t thought much about this until I realized that I could hear her again. Now that we were both free from our prison, perhaps that was what brought us back together. Or maybe it just wasn’t too late after all. Whatever the reason, if I wanted to speak with my mother, there was only one place to go: home.
“I’m going to see her,” I said as soon as I got out of bed the next morning. “And then I’m getting you out.”
My father had already left for work by the time I finished dressing. He always ate his breakfast at his desk, so he didn’t look up from whatever paperwork he was working on when he answered me.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said. “This is my home. I’ve lived here longer than anywhere else—and I’m not leaving it without you.”
How could he say such a thing? How could he think like that after everything that happened? But that wasn’t fair of me; he couldn’t control his emotions any better than I could mine. We were both slaves, and I should have known that it would be difficult for him to let go of something so dear to him.
There was nothing I could do but nod and head downstairs. The kitchen was empty except for the cook, who was busy preparing breakfast. As usual, I helped myself to some bread and jam. I knew there was no point in asking anyone where my parents were, or what they were doing. They never told me anything about their day-to-day activities, so why would I expect them to tell me now?
I ate quickly, eager to get outside. I needed to spend more time in the sun. Otherwise, I might forget how to move freely, to feel the wind touch my skin.
When I went upstairs, I found my mother sitting at the table. She looked different somehow—older, calmer. Her hair was done differently, too, neatly pulled back into a bun. I hadn’t seen her wear it that way before. Maybe because we were both finally free of whatever spell had held us captive, we could talk like normal people.
“Hello, honey,” she said softly. “Are you hungry?”
I nodded. “I am.”
She motioned toward the plates waiting for us. “Help yourself.”
I sat down at the table and put a piece of bread in my mouth. It tasted better than I remembered. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for another slice. I took smaller bites this time, savoring each bite instead of gulping it down. I was still nervous, though, even after all these months. If only I could stop being afraid of something so small as food.
“Your father isn’t mad at you, is he?” my mother asked.
“No, ma’am.” I chewed slowly, trying to give the question time to sink in. When I spoke, my voice sounded strange. “Why wouldn’t he be mad at me?”
My mother smiled. “The two of you are making up for a lost time, aren’t you? That means there will be many things to catch up on.”
I cringed at that. There was no way I could make up for everything, especially with my father. I had caused him too much pain, and I was certain there was no way to take back those years.
I pushed the plate away. “I need to find your sister, then.”
“Don’t worry,” my mother said. “I’ll help you.”
And suddenly, I felt a little braver.
***
I had hoped to run into my sister somewhere in town, but we didn’t pass each other on the street. Instead, I followed a few of the servants as they walked to work. I saw them pause to chat with the guards at the gate, and then I followed as they turned onto a side street.
I caught up to them as they reached a large house. I recognized it immediately. It was the house where the witch lived.
One of the servants knocked on the door, and a moment later, a woman opened it. She wore the same black dress she had worn the night of the party. She didn’t seem surprised to see us.
“Good morning,” the servant said. “We’re here to see Madame Delsol.”
The woman gestured for us to come inside. “Be careful of the dog,” she warned. “He’s vicious.”
As we stepped inside, I tried to remember what the witch had said about the dog. She called him a “great beast,” which meant he must be bigger than most dogs. I wondered if I could fight him off.
“What have you brought me today?” the witch asked, turning to face us.
The servants exchanged glances. “Nothing,” one of them replied.
“You know I hate it when you lie to me,” the witch said. “I can smell it from across the room.”
They exchanged another glance, and then one of them crossed the room toward the witch, carrying a basket. “I bought this for you,” he told her. He set the basket on the table next to the witch. Then he left the room.
A moment later, the woman brought out a loaf of bread and a jar of jam. “For you,” she said.
The witch tilted her head curiously. “Did someone send you to buy me food?”
“Yes, ma’am. Someone very close to you.”
“Who?”
“Her name is Maisie.”
“Of course it is,” the witch said. “That girl has been avoiding me for weeks. She thinks I don’t know. But I have eyes everywhere. She comes to visit you every day, doesn’t she?”
“Sometimes,” the woman admitted reluctantly. “But—”
“Enough of your excuses.” The witch scowled. “If you want to keep your job, do as I say. Buy me more food.”
I watched as the woman left the room, leaving the witch alone. She picked up the knife she’d used to cut the bread and licked her finger clean. Then she sliced off a chunk of bread and placed it on a plate. She reached for the jar of jam and poured some on top of the bread. As she ate, her eyes never left mine.
“Did you bring me a gift?” the witch asked.
I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”
She frowned again, but then her expression softened. “In that case, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do with the rest of this.” She took another bite of bread while she talked. “I’ve decided you’re not ready for a full-time job. You’re too frightened of everything around you. So I think I’ll just train you to be a thief.”
I wanted to scream at her. How dare she? Steal from people who had nothing?
“How does it feel to be a criminal?” the witch whispered. She leaned forward until our lips were almost touching. Her breath smelled like the honeycake I’d eaten earlier.
I jerked back, afraid that I would lose control. “It feels terrible,” I spat out.
“Well, you should probably get used to it. Because I’ll have you stealing jewelry from rich men’s wives. And then, once I’ve stolen enough money, I’ll sell you to a brothel.”
I swallowed hard. “But I won’t do anything.”
“Just watch,” she said. “Watch and learn.”
***
My days were filled with watching. My nights, too. At first, I tried to stay hidden. I hid behind furniture, or under beds. But soon the witch began to notice me. She stopped talking about how much I reminded her of her own daughter, and instead, she started to focus on the way I looked.
“Look at you,” the witch said. “All you need is a hat and a cloak, and you’d look like a proper thief.”
“I’m not a thief!” I cried.
“Sure you are,” she sneered. “And you’re a good one, too. I bet you’ve already stolen something.”
I shook my head vigorously.
“Do you think I wouldn’t notice if you stole from me?” she asked. “Of course I noticed. That’s why I’m doing this. To teach you the value of stealing. To show you that there’s no such thing as right and wrong in this world.”
At least, that was what the witch claimed. I didn’t believe her—not completely. She seemed so sure of herself. If she really thought everyone else was a bad person, why did she even bother helping the other servants? Why did she care if they lived or died?
Because I realized, she wasn’t a nice person. She knew exactly what she was doing—she only pretended to help the others because she wanted them to admire her power over them.
At first, she gave me things to steal. A piece of fruit here, a coin there. Sometimes, she sent me to take messages from one part of the house to another.
After a couple of weeks, she finally let me go into the kitchen. I hadn’t even known the kitchens existed before now. I’d spent most of my time in the parlor, or my room, or wherever the witch happened to be. Now, suddenly, I could go anywhere I wanted. All I had to do was sneak past the guards.
I don’t know why she trusted me so much. Maybe she hadn’t given up on me, after all. Or maybe she needed someone to give her information, and I was the perfect spy.
The kitchen was a chaotic place. There were three separate rooms; one for preparing the food, one for cooking it, and one for washing and storing the dishes afterwards. All three of those areas had their own cooks and helpers.
They chattered constantly, but none of them ever looked at me twice. I suppose they figured I belonged there—that I was a part of the family. The cooks didn’t seem to mind me hanging around, either. It helped that I brought them food every day.
I kept my ears open. I listened to the gossip around the kitchen. I eavesdropped on conversations between the cook and his helpers. I learned where they went during the night. I found out which ones the witch trusted, and who she hated.
I also overheard the cook and his wife talking. He’d mentioned something about his son being sick, but he hadn’t said anything about any treatment. When I asked him about it, though, he told me that the boy was getting better.
“He’s been sleeping more lately,” the man said. “I think the fever’s broken.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “You must be relieved.”
“Yes… yes, I am.”
I tried to keep my voice casual. I didn’t want the man to realize I was listening. “I’m glad to hear it,” I said.
“So when will he be able to play with the other children again?”
“Soon, I hope. We haven’t had much luck keeping him healthy lately. I don’t know what got into those sheep last year. They just kept dying.”
“It wasn’t the sheep,” I blurted out. “I saw it happen. Someone poisoned them.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. But I think I can find out.”
The next morning, I snuck into the woods and waited for the cook’s wife to leave. Then I followed her back home.
Her house was smaller than ours. Her husband worked with the sheep, too, but he stayed in the fields most of the day. As far as I knew, he never came inside the house.
When she reached her home, she told me to come in. She showed me where the kitchen was, then left me alone. I watched her disappear around the corner. I hesitated, then went toward the door.
A voice called out behind me: “Hey! What are you doing in here?”
I jumped and spun around, startled. Before I could even react, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the cook snapped.
“I—” I faltered, and bit back whatever answer I’d planned. I thought about telling him that I was looking for information, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie. I hadn’t lied to anyone yet.
“You need to get out of here,” he said. “Right now. I’ll have your father throw you in the dungeon if I catch you here again.”
“But I—”
“Just go!” he shouted and grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise it.
I stumbled away, crying out. I ran all the way back to the castle. I burst through the front doors, panting. I didn’t even try to hide the tears that streamed down my face.
“You,” the witch said, pointing at me. “Go to your room.”
She waved her wand at me, and I was gone.
***
My parents threw me in the dungeon.
They did it because they were angry at me. Not only had I disobeyed them, I’d also stolen from my mother’s jewelry box and given it to the witch. If the truth had ever come out, I would’ve lost everything.
As soon as they threw me in, I realized how lucky I was. The cell I ended up in was big enough to stand in. It smelled terrible, though. It reeked of wet wool and old sweat. It stank like a pig pen. I spent the first few days sitting on the floor, surrounded by my own filth. My bed was a pile of straw.
I didn’t care. The rest of the castle seemed nice. At least I had a roof over my head. That was more than half the battle.
After a week passed, the witch sent me food. I guess she wanted to make sure that I ate it before someone else did. I wasn’t allowed to meet with her in person. Instead, she dropped off the meals herself. Each time, she walked right past the bars that separated us. I could see her shadow moving on the wall beside the door. It looked just like mine.
After three weeks, she stopped dropping off the meals. I assumed that meant she no longer cared whether or not I lived. But she also stopped bringing me books.
I was bored. I almost wished I could die already. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised. The witch never liked me. She probably hated me.
One night, as I lay awake, I heard a knock at the door. I jumped up, trying to figure out who it might be. A guard? Maybe one of the king’s men had finally decided to rescue me.
But I recognized the sound of that knocking—a little louder this time. There was no mistaking its purpose now. This was someone coming to break me out of prison. I grabbed my blanket, still lying on the floor. I wrapped the thin fabric around my shoulders and crept toward the door.
I leaned against the stone wall, listening. I could hear voices outside. But none of them sounded familiar. The witch had never brought me any guests.
I peeked out the door. Three men stood there, dressed in black cloaks. One of them held a lantern.
I recognized them from the stories. They were the ones who kidnapped me and brought me to the witch. Had they come back for revenge? Or were they going to take me somewhere safe?
I stepped out onto the floor, careful to avoid making a sound.
“Who is that?” one of them asked. “Do you know him?”
“No, I don’t think so,” another man answered. “He must have friends. Let’s check the other cells.”
They marched down the hall toward the back of the dungeon, searching every cell. They dragged me out of my own cell. I tried to scream as loud as I could, but no one heard. As soon as the last of them disappeared into the next cell, I bolted for the door. I ran until I got to the main entrance.
Then I broke through the door. My heart pounded in my chest. I didn’t stop running until I reached the edge of the forest.
I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to see what they’d done to my family. I didn’t want to find out if anyone had survived.
I kept walking, keeping my eyes ahead of me. I didn’t turn back to see what became of the castle. I didn’t even bother looking behind me. I thought about returning home, but I couldn’t do it. I needed to stay hidden. I had nowhere to go. I certainly wouldn’t be welcome in the village if word of my imprisonment ever got out.
So I kept walking.
I walked all day. By evening, I was too tired to keep moving. I leaned against a tree, breathing hard. I sat down on the ground, leaning my back against it, and looked up at the sky.
It was beautiful.
The stars shone bright and clear. They lit up the entire darkening sky. I hadn’t seen anything like it since I was a child. We used to watch the stars together when we were younger.
I remembered how much fun it had been. I smiled at the memory. I had always loved the night. But now I wasn’t afraid of it anymore.
I stayed where I was, watching the stars until dawn. Then I kept walking.
The End