Frog Meets Girl

Chapter 2--A Birthday to Remember

For a long while, as she wandered the tapestry-lined halls, those fantasies kept her preoccupied. She eventually found herself in the flower gardens, as she usually did in moods like this.

Lush lawns stretched out before her. Gravel paths meandered through the elaborately colored flowerbeds. Roses in tumbling fountains seemed to beckon to her, announcing safety. Hyacinths and daffodils gently waved in the cooling breeze while the lavender bobbed at her.

Gabriella reached out to touch the blossoms as she passed. As always, touching them reminded her of the story told of the woman touching Christ’s robe. The poison seeped out through her fingers and the flowers absorbed it, protected by their purity and perfection. Sometimes she imagined that they understood what they were relieving her of, the burdens she felt lifted, and like Christ, knew she was changed. As long as she hovered in the garden, she felt the change.

Tucked in the back of the garden in a forgotten corner, was the pond. Gabriella was drawn to it as always, pausing only briefly at the majestic fountain at the center and the broad clearing that had hosted the ball only the night before. The only remaining evidence of the previous evening’s events was the crushed flowers drooping along the perimeter of the area.

In a small corner of her brain, she could understand why her father had just spoken to her. He wanted a daughter who felt at home in a gathering that would crush both flowers and political agendas with the same ease, a daughter whose beauty and manners were equally captivating. Any other kind of daughter would be quite useless. Again, she looked down at her pretty, flawless little hands.

In another small corner of her brain, she still felt angry.

She kept walking, reaching those hands out for anything that could provide a healing touch. Slowly, she approached the pond. The water lilies floated, both marring the reflection of the perfectly still water and concealing what lay in the depths below.

Even as a child, fascinated by the pond, she would poke sticks under the water, stabbing at the ground, connecting with something solid and real that lay hidden and dark. She had never stepped even a toe into the water. Her nursemaids had fluttered and worried as she’d played with the sticks in the water, but their anxieties had been unnecessary. Though fascinating, the mysteries under the surface were sobering and frightening during the age of fearlessness.

From the opposite corner of the pond, the Frog watched her drawing near. Unpleasant memories of princesses past stormed through his thoughts. He had so little time, but felt paralyzed in his hiding place among the reeds.

Nothing in all these years had worked. Nothing. The pressure of the moment made his heart skip. He hadn’t anticipated that she’d return so soon. He didn’t have a new plan. In previous attempts with previous princesses, he’d burned through plan A, past plan Z and was sure that at this point he was on his third trip through the alphabet.

Heart beating fast, his unsightly, bulging neck was also throbbing with his heart. However many plans had failed to date, this current one was not panning out well. So far, it consisted of sitting quietly and watching the breeze tickle her auburn curls, which were hidden under some sort of headdress. He never was good at paying attention to that stuff. His sister used to---his sister. His breath caught in his throat.

“Focus!” he told himself. He supposed his distractibility came from having such a small brain. This was another item to take up with the witch.

She stood there at the edge of the pond looking down into the water. Thick reeds and lilies floated gracefully on the surface. Slowly, she lowered herself to perch on a rock and a hand absently reached toward the emerald ring she wore on her right hand, twisting it around and around. The expression on her face shifted continually, like the sands of the Sahara, blown about in her gusting thoughts.