Page 41 of Hansel and Gerhardt
And when Gerhardt swept his hand from his arm, everything in Hansel wanted to grab him and run away with him.
But the man in the doorway, with his golden waves and his smooth skin, called their full attention. “That’s right. I’m Herr Candy. Now…” He adjusted his stance, two legs wide and strong, an immaculate hand on either hip. “What are you doing on my lawn?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Gerhardt, and Hansel’s every hair bristled at the name. “We were lost. In the forest. And we came across your house…”
“And my cake,” said Herr Candy, the sound of the ‘k’ pronounced with the sharpness of a dagger.
“Um…” Gerhardt glanced down nervously, guiltily, at the crushed, half-eaten dessert in his hand. “I just saw it. And I didn’t know it belonged to you. And…”
The man’s head tipped slowly to the side. “Do you like to eat cake, young man?”
Gerhardt blushed.
Hansel blushed.
Hansel had no idea why he should blush. It wasn’t the words he said but the way he said them—the seductive tone, some suggestion behind it.
But Gerhardt’s hand tightened on the cake. “Yes.”
He locked eyes with the man for too long—those in the doorway an unnerving black, glinting coolly, and Gerhardt’s, previously so rich and so warm, now scared. Hansel could see it. But Gerhardt had said yes, and Herr Candy lifted his strong chin in return. “You’d better come up here, then.”
Gerhardt started forward, as though he wasn’t even considering the possibility of fleeing. He kept his gaze on Herr Candy, and Hansel felt like a piece of his soul was about to disappear into the mouth of that house, being sucked away with every step Gerhardt took.
He snatched a hand around his arm. “What are you doing?”
When Gerhardt looked over at him, his eyes held a faraway, glazed look. Yet he sounded just like Gerhardt when he laughed out, “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Belittled by his mocking tone, Hansel lowered his eyes, whispering, “I don’t think we should go in there.”
But Gerhardt walked on, as if carried on the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve spent our whole lives hungry, and you want to walk away from a house that’s made entirely of food?”
“Is there a problem?” Herr Candy’s words fell like a knife between them, and Hansel couldn’t understand why. Everything the man said was metallic somehow, jarring, and the Gerhardt he knew should have been more wary.
Yet Gerhardt kept on. “There’s no problem.”
“Good,” said Herr Candy, rusted steel voice.
Gerhardt set his foot upon the first step, which crumbled slightly beneath his boot as shards of thick chocolate broke apart.
Herr Candy held out his hand.
Gerhardt approached, raising up the half-eaten cake as he went, stairs throwing crumbs of chocolate with every step. Herr Candy’s head remained high. Gerhardt’s lowered in supplication. Fourth step, fifth, and onto the thick and quiet hard-toffee porch.
He walked directly to Herr Candy, who stretched out his palm. Gerhardt placed the cake down gently, a curl of hair hiding his eyes from Hansel when he dipped his head a little further in apology.
It was as though that unrelenting glare of Herr Candy sat physically upon him—his forehead and his shoulders and his arms and his neck, dragging the lot down.
The man held him there a moment, restraining him with the pressure of his displeasure. Then, ever so softly, Herr Candy said, “Good boy, Gerhardt.”
Gerhardt looked up with a smile, sweet and unguarded, and Herr Candy smiled wide.
Hansel’s heart thundered in his chest. He set his first foot on the stairs. “How do you know his name?”
But Herr Candy acted as though Hansel didn’t even exist. He said to Gerhardt, low and confiding, “I think you deserve a treat for that, don’t you?”
Gerhardt’s eyes sparkled, and he gave a slight but ravenous nod.
Herr Candy turned, movements calm and deliberate, and he walked to the edge of an awning. Locking his gaze on Gerhardt, he reached a hand up to one of the golden orbs, then plucked it from its string.
