Mrs. Beast (9 page)

    
The Beast had hung his huge, boulder head.
 
"I'd rather die of grief than distress you.
 
Go, but you must return in one week.
 
Put this ring on your table before going to bed and you will wake in your father's house.
 
Do the same in seven days to return to me."

    
The following morning, Beauty awakened in her father's house.
 
So great was his pleasure in seeing her alive and well that he regained his health in two day's time.
 
Daisy and Violet, now both miserable wives, came to call.
 
With bile-churning envy they eyed Beauty's dazzling gown and her face and figure that had grown even lovelier.
 
They put their heads together and plotted to detain Beauty so the Beast might grow angry and devour her.
 
They showered her with affection and Beauty was so beside herself with happiness that she forgot her promise to the Beast.

    
On the fourteenth night in her father's house, Beauty dreamt of the Beast.
 
In her first dream vision she and the Beast were in the rose garden, sensuously basking in afterglow, his fur like a sable coat around her moonlit body.
 
In her second vision, the Beast lay in the garden alone, still as death.

    
Half-witless with fear and guilt, she jolted from sleep, placed the ring at her bedside on her finger and awoke in the Beast's castle.
 
She flew to the rose garden, and there she found his furry bulk in an unconscious heap.
 
She threw herself upon his chest and pressed her ear to his ribs, listening for the strong thump-thud of his heart.
 
The Beast's eyes fluttered. "I die content in having seen you one last time."

    
"No, no, my dear Beast," Beauty sobbed.
 
"You shall not die. You will live to become my husband.
 
I give you my hand and swear I belong to you for all time.
 
I love you."

    
Beauty lies back upon the mattress and pulls the quilt to her chin.
 
A vision of Prince Runyon yawning on his divan springs to her mind.
 
She sighs heavily and whispers, "Nothing so changes a man as those three words."
    

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Chapter Four

True Confessions

    
Bullfrogs chug-a-rum into the April morning fog.
 
Great horned owls, bellies full of field mice, snore in giant oaks.
 
Fairies pee in the Nixie's Mill Pond after a night of reveling.
 
Snow White tosses in her bed dreaming of smashing pumpkins.
 
The seven dwarf brothers march to work on Gold Mountain.
 
The seven dwarf women and Beauty gather in the commune yard carrying salt, wine, and candles.

    
Brunhilde had prodded Beauty out of bed, chattering about initiation and the blessing.
 
Beauty is sleepily self-conscious standing out doors in a borrowed nightgown that barely covers her bum.
 
Even though she's feeling queasy, she complies because it's nice to be included.

    
The women divide into pairs facing one another.
 
Beauty is paired with Sigrid, who instructs her to mimic her gestures and repeat her words.
 
Sigrid tugs the hem of Beauty's gown and crooks her finger.

    
Beauty sighs and squats eye to eye with Sigrid.

    
"Let us begin the blessing," Eva announces. The women sprinkle the ground with salt, stand upon it, light their candles, and close their eyes.
 
"Allow your body to absorb the candle's glow and meditate upon your need for blessing," Sigrid says.

    
Beauty feels the candle's warmth and tries to think about her need for blessings.
 
Fairy tale beauties are not accustomed to meditation of this ilk after being repeatedly told they have it all. However, after a moment, Beauty becomes intensely aware of the salt beneath her feet, the earth beneath the salt, the plants growing from the earth, the breath of the seven women, and she feels completely blessed.

    
"Bless me, Erde, Great Mother, for I am your child," the women speak.

    
Beauty repeats the words.
 
Sigrid dips her fingers into the wine and anoints Beauty's eyes.
 
Beauty anoints Sigrid's eyes and follows each progression.

    
"Bless my eyes that I may see your path."

    
Eight noses are anointed.
 
"Bless my nose that I may breathe your essence."

    
Eight mouths are anointed. "Bless my mouth that I may speak of you."

    
Eight breasts are anointed.
 
"Bless my breast that I may be faithful in my work."

    
Eight feet are anointed.
 
"Bless my feet that I may walk in your ways."

    
Eight abdomens are anointed.
 
"Bless my loins that bring forth life as you have brought forth all creation."

    
The women blow out their candles and Sigrid asks Beauty, "When is your child expected?"

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"No doubt about it, Beauty's pregnant.
 
Those women are more reliable than EPT."
 
Elora gazes into her crystal ball with an uncharacteristic expression of admiration.
 
"Their kind has been around as long as me, tapping into the collective consciousness, the divine eternal, and sections of the brain other women have forgotten how to use.
 
The big question now is whether or not Beauty has enough jam to stick to her quest now that she knows she has a stowaway."

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Three weeks have passed since Beauty first learned of her maternal condition; weeks spent absorbed in doubt, fear, and exhilaration.
 
The women said the baby would come in September.
 
Five more months.
 
How long will it take to find Glass Mountain?
 
I must think of the baby's safety.
  
Should I stay with the dwarfs until the birth?
 
Will they allow me to stay?
 
Snow White still hasn't spoken to me.
 
How will I provide for a baby on my own?
 
Can I be a good mother?

    
A mother.
 
She had not believed it was true. Then Sigrid asked if Beauty's stomach had been sick, and Gerda asked if her breasts were tender. Eva asked the date of her last bleeding, and Beauty accepted the truth.

    
The first time Beauty had bled, she was twelve years old.
 
She thought she was dying, which is not uncommon for fairy tale beauties that have neither mothers nor friends.
 
With head held high, she stoically trod through the alfalfa field to a ramshackle coop where she laid down to await death.
 
She had just folded her hands over her breast when an old woman appeared in the doorframe.
 
Her back was curved, her mouth toothless, and her head covered with a red wool scarf.

    
"Did I startle you, Dearie?" the woman wheezed.
 
"These old bones need resting and this seems a likely spot."

    
"Why no, Madame.
 
Please come in and rest yourself."

    
The old woman plopped down beside Beauty and asked, "Why are you moping in this fetid shack on a lovely spring day?"

    
"I don't wish to burden you with my trouble, Madame."

    
"Nonsense.
 
You look as pale and low as a catfish belly.
 
Tell Granny, maybe I can help."

    
"I . . . I am dying," Beauty stammered.
 
"I began bleeding this morning from my private place and it hasn't stopped."

    
The old woman cackled, "You're not dying, girlie girl.
 
It's the curse of Eve, the monthlies, the red flower, a visit from Aunt Flo.
 
You should be celebrating.
 
You've crossed over from childhood into womanhood and gained the wondrous ability to bring forth life."
 
The old woman drew a pear from her pocket as a visual aid, and explained the menarche.

    
Beauty kissed her withered cheek. "Will the visitor ever stop coming?"

    
The old woman struggled to her feet.
 
"If you lay with a man and he plants his seed within you, then a baby may grow. Your blood will nourish the babe instead of flowing from you.
 
And when you're old as me," she leapt in the air clicking her heels, "it will cease altogether."

    
"Thank you, sweet Madame," Beauty said sincerely. "How can I repay your kindness?"

    
But the old woman didn’t answer. She hustled out the door, caught her skirt on a piece of chicken wire and ripped it free muttering, "Bricklebrit."

    
Beauty remembers the old woman's words now as she watches Lars caress Eva's pregnant belly.
 
She knows the baby has wiggled beneath Lars hand when his eyebrows fly upward.
 
Last evening, she had felt her own child stir for the first time.

    
The old woman said when you lay with a man and he plants his seed within
 
you . . .
 
I lay with both the Beast and Runyon, although only twice with Runyon and once he spilled blue white, watery seed on my belly, saying he wanted no
 
brats, no squalling balls of meat . . . The Beast's seed was pine scented, thick as honey, and white as milkweed juice. Of course, Runyon and the Beast are one and the same, and his beastly appearance was created by a spell, inside beats the same heart.
 
Still, the two are so different, if I'd not witnessed the transformation with my own eyes . . . If I’m able to complete my quest, if I can persuade Elora to change Runyon back to my beloved Beast, how will he take the news of my pregnancy?

    
Beauty smiles a Mona Lisa smile; only she knows the true noble character of the Beast. She removes her crocheted slippers and examines her feet.
 
The sores have shrunk to tight red scabs.
 
Tonight she'll tell the dwarfs that she's leaving in the morning.
 

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Beauty yellow satin dress is spread on a trunk, cleaned and pressed for her morning departure.
 
She sits cross-legged on the bed looking at farewell gifts from the dwarfs.
 
There is a boar skin satchel, gloves and shoes, and a flask of elderberry wine from the men. The women gave her a muslin caftan embroidered with flowers, a pot of cure-all salve, a red vellum diary, a crocheted baby blanket, a scarf with sun and moon appliqués, and a tin filled with dried fruits, nuts, and cookies.
 
Gerda had assured her that her mirror would be returned in the morning.