“She nodded and took my hand in hers. ‘You need to.’ She took me back in to the matron in charge and said, ‘I will take this boy on trial.’ She squeezed my hand, then took me away, and from that moment on, I was no longer a foundling but an employee. I was special.”
I smile at this, then frown. “But if you can spin straw into gold, why work at a bookseller’s stall or anywhere else? Why not travel, see the world?”
“I did, a bit, but then I came back. After a while, a man wants a home. I have that, a little flat and lonely, but still a home. A man wants to feel useful to someone. A man wants . . .” He looks down at his shoes. “I may travel again someday.”
I wish I had such choices. But perhaps I am better off not having them, for when I do have choices, I invariably make the wrong ones.
“Are you angry at your mother for leaving you?” I ask him. “You are so . . . remarkable. If she knew, she would wish to know you.”
A bit of something darts behind his eyes, and he looks down toward the spinning wheel. “I doubt that. I am not angry. I am sure she felt she was doing the right thing, that she had no other choice. But . . .” Again, his voice trails off.
“What?”
“Sometimes, people think they have no choice, when really, they have not thought it through. Perhaps they do not know that others might help them.” He glances up. “I have talked enough about my dull life. Either read to me from that book or tell me a story of your own.”
So I pick up the book and turn it to the next chapter. But, even as I read, I wonder. Do I have choices? Is there something I have not considered?
The wheel spins and spins like Gretchen’s mind, and the room fills with gold, gold, and more gold.
8
At some point, I fall asleep, for when I wake, my visitor is gone and I am lying in a corner with a blanket bunched around me. I remember what the man said about no one covering him when he fell asleep. Had he carried me? The rest of the room is filled with gold, more gleaming gold, overwhelming me with its richness. I feel first gratitude, then guilt wash over me, like the rapids of the river. I did not thank him. I did not thank him, and he has done so much for me.
I still do not know his name. What is his name?
I will never see him again.
Nonsense. After I marry Karl, I will seek him out. I will find him and thank him.
After I marry Karl.
Where is Karl? The palace is awake, for the men are taking away the gold. Also, they are bringing more straw, so much more straw.
It is more than an hour before I see Karl, and in that time, the stable turns from golden to the dull yellow of straw. Outside, it is raining, so there is barely any light.
Finally, he comes. He seems out of breath, as if he had run. He says, “My ladybird, I have heard what you have done. You are a marvel!”
“So can we be married then? Today?” Even as I say the words, I know what his answer will be.
“Well . . . ah . . . my father would like you to stay one more night.”
I look around at the straw that fills every corner, piled to the ceiling. I realize that it is dark not only because it is raining but also because the windows are blocked. It is amazing that they have such a limitless supply of straw at the ready. But, then again, he is the king.
“Stay another night, or stay another night and spin straw into gold?”
He winces a bit. At least he is ashamed. “Thing is, we have some expenses. A barnful of gold could help with them. Just one more night.”
I start to say that I can still spin straw to gold after we are married. But I stop myself. I cannot spin straw into gold. And something tells me I will see the man no more if—when—I marry Karl.
The thought makes my eyes sting, and I feel like I have lost something precious. I want to see him again.
“Just one more?” I ask.
“I promise, my love, and today, I will come back and have lunch with you and take you for a walk on the grounds. The servants have brought you breakfast too.”
They have, meat, likely left over from yesterday’s dinner, and soup. It is delicious, and Karl does come back to see me later on. It is a lovely walk, and I hate to complain, but my entire body aches from sleeping on the hard floor, and my arms itch from bugs in the straw. And I need to speak to Kendra.
The grounds are beautiful, with tall trees and a fountain, and Karl weaves flowers in my hair, though my condition causes their scent to make me ill. We talk of the day when we will have a family.
On our way back, I remember the question the man asked me. “Karl, what was your favorite part of the book you sent me?”
“The book?” Then he understands. “Oh, the book I gave you. I am not certain, for I liked all of it so much. What was your favorite part, my darling?”
I smile and say I liked all of it too.
“That’s my girl. When we are married, you can—”
“I know! I intend to read every book in the palace’s library and discuss them with you over dinners! I am so looking forward to it!”
He laughs and pushes a curl from my shoulder. His hand lingers, then travels down to graze my breast. “I was going to say you could put such things behind you.”