138Window Panes of Sugar
~The Story of Hansel and Gretel~
~Chapter I~
Life's a sugar-coated dream…
The small girl sat huddled in the corner, hugging her long skirt around her knees. When would her father finally be home from his long day of work? She greatly hoped it would be soon. The girl of nine had just taken quite a beating from her step-mother in this small dingy kitchen. The draperies were pulled from the windows in the woman's rage and several plates had been broken. The girl's blue eyes followed her step-mother now as she paced back and forth in stress across the cramped room.
"Gretel, pull yourself together and clean up this mess," the woman ordered hastily, putting her hand to her head.
She slowly rose from the floor, trying to ignore the pain in her back. Then, like a good girl, she took hold of the old broom to sweep up the broken glass that was scattered about the floor while her step-mother regained her calm manner; Gretel's father was home.
"How are my two beauties?" he asked as he tromped through the small wooden door.
Gretel's father was a homely man, with a stature of medium height and dark hair and light eyes. He had a scruffy beard that always seemed to have woodchips caught in it. He was a large man with powerful arms and cheery red cheeks. Gretel adored her father greatly, though his line of work – being a woodcutter – took him away from the house all the day, leaving his daughter to be alone with her step-mother.
"Hello, darling! So glad you're home!" his wife greeted him with a smile.
"My! What happened in here?" he asked, looking right past her.
"A mouse," said his wife. "We saw a mouse and we were startled. Isn't that right, Gretel?"
"Yes," said the girl with no emotion. "A mouse."
As much as Gretel deeply wished to tell her father of what her step-mother did to her, she dared not say it. Her father didn't need any more worries. He was off bad enough just trying to keep them fed, and his wife did help around the house with the cooking and cleaning. Perhaps her father even loved the awful woman. Gretel could not rob her father of his only happiness.
"Oh my! For heaven sakes, love! You don't have to clean this up now!" said her father as he took the broom from her hands. "I have some news for the both of you."
Then he paused.
"Well, perhaps it would be better to show you."
Taking his daughter's hand, he led the way outside into the open air. The spring breeze tossed Gretel's strawberry curls as the sun touched her face; it felt good. She was never allowed to venture outside unless her father was home.
"Father, what is it you wanted to show…?"
That's when her eyes had fallen upon him. Standing there before her across the yard, there was a boy, just her size. His hair was light and his complexion was as well. In his face, sat two of the loveliest hazel eyes to ever have been made onto the earth. The children stood and stared at each other for a bit, as if trying to figure each other out from the distance.
"Who is this?" the man's wife asked.
"Apparently, this is… my darling Gretel's… brother."
"Brother?" the two females asked in unison.
"Yes. His name is Hansel, and I suppose that he will be living here now."
Gretel smiled as she looked at him. Perhaps it would be nice to have a brother, though she wondered why she had never known about him before.
"Darling, could we speak in private please?" the woman asked, quite ready to get this matter resolved.
"Of course. I have some explaining to do." Then he turned to the children. "I'm sure you two will take a liking to each other."
The two adults walked into the house. The man shut the door and his wife turned to him, her arms crossed, a frown upon her face. This was not exactly the kind of news she wanted to hear today.
"There was something you didn't tell me about your first marriage?" the woman asked, quite disapprovingly.
"I, honestly, had no idea either."
"Then do explain," she urged.
"I come home and I find this little boy standing beside the road. I ask him if he is lost, because what would he really be doing at a woodcutter's house carrying a small knapsack? He handed me a note and told me that it was from Charlotte. I wondered why my ex-wife would send a small child with a letter for me, but that was before I read it."
"May I read it?" his wife asked, hoping this was all some big misunderstanding. The one child was already more than she wanted to deal with.
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter written on a yellow colored paper. His wife unfolded it carefully and began to read the feminine handwriting.
'Dear Simon,
I know that this is a strange way to tell you, but you have a son. His name is Hansel and he is eight years old. I was pregnant with him when we divorced and didn't know until after. I would have avoided telling you, for I know what a soft-hearted man you are, but I'm afraid this is an emergency, as my time is growing short. I am very ill, and I am afraid I will not live on for much longer. Since he is your son, I asked him to go to you and you should take care of him, for he has no where else to go. I'm sorry I have no money to send with him, but the boy will pull his weight, for he is already quite strong. Oh how I wish I could come and see the two children together! How is my lovely little Gretel? Sometimes pictures aren't enough… I thank you so much for your kindness and hope he will not be a burden to you.
Love,
Charlotte
His wife folded the letter back to its place and handed it back to her husband.
"I supposed we are pretty much forced to take him in," the wife presumed unhappily.
"I would not turn him away. Not after knowing he is my son," the man said, peering out the window at the two children who just stood, still staring at each other across the yard.
"Perhaps we cannot feed him," said the wife supposed. "Would you have us starve?"
"As he grows, he will be able to help me more and I can get twice as much work done in the woods. It will be good to have him here," the man said, trying to convince his wife to agree. Really, the man would never send the boy away. He had already become quite attached, just knowing that he was his son.
His wife sighed. It was already enough of a burden that they must deal with the girl; they could not support another child! But, she could not very well say no to her husband – not after she could see how much he wanted his children close. Perhaps she could stand to cook for one more… for a while.
"I suppose I would not be opposed to him staying here. As long as he does pull his weight as she says he will."
The man had smiled happily then, as out in the yard the two children finally approached each other.
After that day, everything had changed. Hansel had been an addition to the family not long to be forgotten. Many years passed and he grew strong and tall; much taller than his father. He pulled his weight and more around the house as their father became older. Hansel was strong and good to look upon, with a kind manner and a soothing voice. He had since learned to do the business about town in selling the wood, so that his aging father could stay home more. More and more by the day it seemed, his looks veered from his father's – having light hair and dark eyes and being tall and thin, but no notice ever crossed his father's mind; he simply thought the boy looked like his mother.
Hansel was the only one allowed to go into town and would often bring home small trinkets for his shut-in sister, for theirs was a union to break all rumors of sibling bonds. The day that he had first come, their relationship had begun to grow, and it grew more and more as the years passed by. Now, seven years later, Hansel and Gretel were inseparable. Hansel watched over her, giving a disapproving eye to their step-mother in threat for his sister's sake. Gretel found a shelter in him from the beatings she received, and many a night she would cry herself to sleep on his shoulder for the pain of her bruises. Hansel would always listen and no matter how angry he would become, he would always stay calm and comfort her and tell her that God would not forsake them. Then he would put her to bed, and kiss her forehead, for he cared for her more than anyone else in the world.
Gretel had grown lovely over time. Her hair was long and light and her eyes were a crystal blue; she indeed looked like her mother. She was very mild-mannered and passive, for she was always under the influence of her step-mother. No one in the house would have Gretel go into town, for they all feared of loosing her to a man who would lust to have her beauty; she was quite fair. It was not as though her step-mother truly cared , but if Gretel was to leave, the woman would be stuck in doing all of the household chores herself. She had grown quite accustomed to Gretel's help. So, the girl made herself happy to stay at home and never wished to leave.
The two siblings kept themselves close and would always talk amongst themselves, never telling their father of their hate for their step-mother. The woman knew of this, and she felt hatred deep in her heart, for she knew that her husband loved his children more than he loved her. But the two did not care, for they would try their best to hold together until there was nothing left in the world to cling to.