Epilogue: 1984 Washington, DC
Aimee Godsey washed down the last of her sandwich with a warm swig of Diet Coke before turning back to her monitor. Her neck was killing her, but she had to get this coding in before the end of the day. She glanced at the framed pictures on her desk--the one of her mother and father on their 20th wedding anniversary. Beth’s graduation picture, complete with a neon-blue strand of hair sticking out from under the cap. Aimee laughed for a moment. It was an odd little family she had.
“Ms. Godsey.” Charlotte came in from the outer office. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you have a call on line two.”
“Who is it?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a woman.”
“I’ll get it.” She picked up the receiver and waited for Charlotte to transfer the call. “Aimee Godsey. How can I help you?” At the voice on the other end, she started to laugh. “Elizabeth! How’s my country cousin? Still saving the world, one tree at a time? Oh, you heard? Who told you, Jason or Daddy? Yeah, I’m in shock, too. I thought for sure she’d wind up in some militant feminist rock group or something. When she told me she was applying for the Klineberg Conservatory, I almost fainted. Well, yeah, I’m just happy she’s going to college. I would have never suspected Klineberg, but--you’re right. I can just see her in one of Jason’s classes, fighting over the lack of female composers on the curriculum.”
There was a pause as Aimee tried to decide how to broach the next subject. “Um, Elizabeth, did Daddy tell you anything else? No? I thought not. Well, I guess you ought to hear it from me. I’m going to be a grandmother. No, no, she’s not planning on getting married. Apparently, she planned this from the start. I don’t know--she says she wants to be a mom, and that she’s not about to get married just for the privilege of having a kid. I know. I know. But, what can I say? She’s 21; she’s on her own; and she’s not asking for any favors. Daddy? Actually, he’s taking it pretty well. He’s even offered to make a studio for her and the baby in Godsey Hall. Yeah, I heard about it. I’m just glad he wasn’t hurt. No, I can’t convince him. He’s stubborn. Part of me hopes Beth’ll accept his offer. I’d feel much better if I knew he had somebody with him. Sure, he’s still in good health, but he’s getting on in years. Jake told me he’s been talking about Mama a lot. Yeah, she’d have a fit if she knew about Bethie.”
“Aimee?” It was Allen, who was helping her with the programming. “Got a moment?”
“Hold on, Elizabeth.” She put her on hold. “What is it?”
“Larry just told me they moved the deadline up. They want the coding done at three, not five.”
Aimee groaned, then pressed the hold button once more. “Gotta go, Elizabeth. All hell’s breaking loose, and I’m in the middle of it. Yeah, I’ll see you soon too. Give my love to Drew.”
She disconnected the call and turned a weary look at Allen. “Three o’clock? They must be nuts.”
The birth was more difficult than she’d expected. She focused, trying to remember everything she’d learned in class about birth. It was no use. They’d warned her she’d forget everything at the moment of truth, and they were right. Corabeth just held on, trying to make the best of it. She could see a light and hear voices.
“Come on, Beth. Just one more push.”
“What was I--OW! What was I thinking?”
“You can do it. I see the head.”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Just one more big push--yeah, that’s great. Keep breathing. Just one more...oh, Beth! Oh, Beth, he’s beautiful. He’s just beautiful.”
Corabeth panted, cold and tired and scared. The light was blinding, and there were too many people. Too much noise. She squirmed as somebody began to wash her, measuring her and putting her into a warm blanket. This was terrible. What was she doing here? What had possessed her to do this again?
She looked up, and saw Mary Ellen Jones smiling down at her. “Hi, there,” she said. “Welcome to the world, baby boy.”
Baby boy? Oh, yeah. Baby boy. That’s right. She was--it was too confusing. It didn’t make sense. Life was nothing at all like what she’d expected.
Mary Ellen lay her...him on his mother’s stomach, where he immediately began to nurse. He looked into his mother’s eyes. Beth. Bethie. He knew her. It was okay. It was so warm. He suckled, getting sleepier as he did so. He was beginning to forget. Beth was there. That was good. She was his mother....
“Do you have a name picked out, Beth?” Mary Ellen asked.
“Yeah. Corey Isaac Godsey.” She leaned down and kissed his warm head. “Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered. She was covered in perspiration. He noticed sleepily that her hair was a mess.
Ike Godsey watched as his two-year-old great-grandson valiantly attempted to stay awake. “Corey, you’re getting tired. I’ll finish this tomorrow night.”
“No, Grandpoppa. Finish it. I’m not sleepy.” This was said through a heavy yawn and the back of a tiny hand pressed against a pudgy cheek.
“All right,” Ike said, opening the book he’d had for almost twenty years. It was the only copy of the book his late wife had written. She’d given it to him on their thirtieth anniversary, shyly telling him he was the only one she trusted not to laugh. He’d read the story so often its hand-made binding was tattered and worn. But it still seemed as fresh as the day she’d first read it to him.
“Now, where were we? Oh, yes...”
‘Very well, then,” the witch said. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a hand-full of herbs. Blowing them into the air, she began to sing her enchantment. Flora felt light-headed, confused as the spell filled the air. Her eyes became heavy. As she began to fall into a deep slumber, the last thing she saw was her husband’s eyes opening.
She was dying. Flora knew this immediately, but she didn’t care. Her beloved store keeper was safe, and that thought would sustain her to the afterlife. He regained his senses just as she fell, and flew to her side to catch her.
“What have you done?” he said hoarsely. “Why have you taken my beloved wife?”
“She gave herself willingly so that you might live,” the hag said plainly. “She has broken the spell.”
“But...” The shop keeper held his wife’s lifeless body in his arms. “No. You cannot take her. I will give you anything--all the money my store has made, my home, anything. Just spare her life.”
“You will give anything? Be warned, store keeper. I do not take kindly to those who do not adhere to their promises. Were she alive, your wife could assure you of that.”
The store keeper closed his eyes. Nothing this horrid woman could ask of him would be worse than this. He would do anything, if it meant even one more moment with his Flora. “I will do as you ask, provided you promise to spare my Flora’s life.”
“Very well then. What I want from you is--” She leaned close, her wretched face only inches from his own. “A kiss.”
“A kiss?” The store keeper looked at the enchantress, who was no less deformed than when she’d made the same request of his wife, years earlier. “You will spare her life in return for a single kiss?”
“I keep my word,” the witch snarled. “Unlike some humans I know....”
“Very well. It is agreed. One kiss, and my wife returns unharmed.”
The witch nodded, tapping her feet and bouncing giddily at the thought.
The store keeper breathed in deeply, preparing. Finally, he closed his eyes...
...and pressed his lips tenderly against those of his dead wife. The witch began to curse, shrieking and accusing, as the kiss deepened and Flora began to stir.
“Unfair,” she howled. “You were supposed to kiss me!”
But the clever store keeper had tricked her. Never had it been stated that he was to kiss the witch, only that he was to kiss. And kiss he did, drawing his beloved Flora into his arms, heart filled with joy as her breast rose and fell with life. Her eyes fluttered open, and she cried out with delight at finding him unharmed. In dying, the spell of long-ago had been broken, and Flora was able to finally love her husband truly and without reservation.
The witch, fooled and angry, disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving the shaken couple to return home alone. From that day on, Flora never once took her clever husband for granted. And he never told her how he had tricked the witch into giving her life back.
“Well, Corey, what did you think? Did you like the ending?”
Corey was sound asleep. Ike grinned, then leaned over to kiss the child. “Goodnight, Corey.”
