Page 43 of Hansel and Gerhardt
The amber liquid danced in drifts of sunshine and steam as it poured into a delicate china cup, pale yellow, with tiny flowers painted on it, and gold around the rim.
Herr Candy set the pot down. “How many sugars?”
“I… ummm…” He eyed the sugar pot hungrily.
“One lump,” said Herr Candy, dropping it in with elegant tongs and a delicate ripple of the drink. “Two lumps.” Another disappeared beneath the surface. “Three.” He dropped the last, then took up a pretty jug that matched the teacup. “And extra cream.”
Hansel hated the snug, settled look that took Gerhardt’s features as he watched the liquid billow and swirl. He didn’t belong there, no more than Hansel did, in that too-pretty, too-luxurious, too-magical room.
Herr Candy took up the pot and rounded the table. “And I suppose you’ll have tea.”
It wasn’t a question, and Hansel didn’t answer.
The man poured the tea. “How many sugars?”
Hansel’s hand shot to the top of the cup, covering it. “No sugar.”
Placing the pot down, Herr Candy gave a laugh that made it sound like Hansel was the problem. He returned to his seat with a pointed glance at Gerhardt. “How odd.”
“Yes, that’s our Hansel,” Gerhardt laughed out uncomfortably. Then, over a forced smile, “Have some sugar, Hansel.”
“I don’t want any sugar,” Hansel replied flatly.
“How could you know?” asked Gerhardt.
“Yes,” parroted Herr Candy, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “How could you know?”
“I just know,” said Hansel.
And he did.
He couldn’t understand for a second what was going on. Couldn’t begin to fathom how this house, out here in the woods, made of sweets, even existed. That the pictures on the walls were made of licorice frames, and their canvases, with scenes of towns, and animals, and flowers, were painted in every shade of icing. That the windows were hung with curtains of sticky, yielding jelly, holding together in spite of the laws of nature, translucent and throwing a sickly yellow light on everything. That the very chair he sat upon, a swirling hard candy seat held in place by sleek candy canes, didn’t collapse under his weight. But he knew, somehow, that to eat this sugar would be his undoing.
“Cream, then?” asked Herr Candy.
“No,” he replied.
Gerhardt reprimanded him in a low voice. “You’re not being very polite, Hansel.”
Gerhardt’s sharp eyes pierced him, but Herr Candy laughed it off, leaning back into his marshmallow cushion, crossing his long legs at the ankle. “Never mind, Gerhardt. It’s only to be expected. He is fresh off the farm, after all.”
The muscles in Hansel’s arms contracted sharply.
Gerhardt, a tone of galling apology in his voice, explained, “We rarely had tea like this.”
“Mmm,” came the note of tolerance from Herr Candy, the sound of his spoon scraping the bottom of his cup setting Hansel’s every nerve on edge. “You’re not from the farm though, are you, Gerhardt?”
Both men looked up in surprise.
Herr Candy tapped his spoon once on the rim of his cup, then surveyed Gerhardt freely, with that same hungry look in his eyes. “There’s something a little more…” He placed the hollow of the small spoon in his handsome mouth as he thought, then decided, “Polished, about you.”
The puff of pride in Gerhardt’s chest ground Hansel into the rug like a discarded crumb. “I’m from Hallin,” said Gerhardt. “Originally.”
“Ahhh, that makes sense,” crooned Herr Candy. “I can see it. There’s something of the city gentleman about your gait.”
Gerhardt purred beneath the stroke of the compliment. “We’re going there,” he revealed. “We were on our way, only we ran into a little trouble. That’s how we came across your beautiful home.”
Herr Candy paused with the cup at the tip of his lips, giving Gerhardt his full attention. “What kind of trouble?”
