Page 295 of Naughty Nelle

I half-heartedly listen. My mind is already back on Gallant.

“I begin my book signing tour tomorrow,” she continues. “But enough about me; we’re here to talk about you.” She pauses. “Jane, why are you crying?”

Drowning in my tears, I manage three words. “I lost someone.”

“Ah, yes, I heard,” she says in surprisingly matter-of-fact voice. “We’ll get to that later. Right now, let’s talk about something else.”

I’m taken aback. I so need to talk about Gallant. Isn’t she here to help me? Truthfully, I don’t know how much longer I can bear the pain. The heartbreaking, gut-wrenching pain.

Shrink grows impatient. “Jane, surely, there must be something else. So much has happened to you since we last met.”

Yes, so much. Yet, all I can think about is Gallant. My beautiful Prince.

“Well, Jane, we don’t have all day.”

My tears have wiped out everything else, except my dream. Somehow, I find the strength to relay it. I ask her what it means.

“The dance could symbolize your relationship with evil,” Shrink says in an analytical tone. “The man you unmasked was likely your mother.”

“My mother?” I shudder. “Where is she?”

“Your mother is dead.”

I’m confused. “Did I kill my own mother?” I cry out.

Shrink’s silence answers my question. A deep, unexpected sadness, one that has nothing to do with Gallant, sweeps over me. I bury my head in my hands.

“Jane, look at me.”

Slowly, I lift my head. Shrink is in my face, a blur from all my tears.

“Jane, you did not kill your mother.”

“But I must have!”

“No, Jane. The Huntsman shot her.”

The Huntsman?His gunfire must have created that explosion I heard.

“And I suppose he brought me her heart as a souvenir?” I ask with sudden bitterness.

“Your mother had no heart. She was a monster.”

I force myself to ask, “Was she born that way?”

“We’ll never know. Perhaps, she was the victim of some evil sorcerer’s spell.”

I’m overwhelmed with emotion. Sorrow. Remorse. Confusion. Relief. Maybe once my mother was a decent person. Shrink lets me collect myself and remains silent.

“Jane, you’re finally free of evil,” she says at last.

I’m free of evil?I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say.

“Come, Jane. I want you to take a look at yourself.” She whizzes over to a standing object at the far end of the room. It’s covered with a sheet.

Of course, it must be a full-length mirror. I dread seeing myself. After my ordeal and all this crying, I must look beyond terrible. The large scab on my face won’t help.

Hesitantly, I get up from the chaise and make my way over to it.

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