Page 22 of Hansel and Gerhardt (The GriMM Tales #3)

One Lump or Two?

H ansel sat by the coffee table, his foot tap, tap, tapping, hands balled into tight fists on his thighs, staring at Gerhardt, who sat opposite him.

“And that’s when our father chased us into the forest,” Gerhardt was rattling out, dainty fingers drawing circles on a lace armchair cover.

“Dear boy,” said Herr Candy, settling a pot of steaming tea on the table, “you must have been terrified.”

“We were used to it. More or less.” Gerhardt let the man see another of his beautiful blushes, another of his shy smiles, and Hansel’s fingernails dug deep into his palms.

“But… your father?” The man flashed his grin between them, so clearly malevolent Hansel couldn’t understand why Gerhardt didn’t seem to see it. “Don’t tell me you’re brothers?”

“We are,” Hansel said protectively.

“ Step brothers,” Gerhardt quickly added. “We’re not really related.”

“No,” said Herr Candy. “I couldn’t see the smallest resemblance between the two of you.

” He turned his cheek away from Hansel as he said it, sending a shock of shame through him.

This man was handsome. Gerhardt was gorgeous.

And the tone made Hansel feel rough, unrefined, on the outside of something they both shared.

“Tea, Gerhardt?” asked Herr Candy, leaning over his shoulder.

“Yes, please, Herr Candy,” Gerhardt replied sweetly.

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?”

“A… small creature. A gnome, possibly. It attacked us.”

“A gnome?” Herr Candy clicked his tongue. “You’re lucky you got away.”

Emboldened, Gerhardt said, “Then a wolf. One that could speak.”

“A wolf like that?” Herr Candy shook his head. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

“And then a tree,” Gerhardt continued. “A huge and horrifying tree, and mad as it sounds, it tried to kill us both.”

Herr Candy gave a knowing nod. “You have to be careful out here in the forest, boys. It’s eat or be eaten.”

He took a long sip, thoughtful, before saying, “How about this…” He strode to a small wooden side table, and pulled out a biscuit tin.

The lid was off, his hand was in, and he took out a pink and pretty biscuit, deep folds of gooey, fluffy marshmallow clinging to it, dappled with shards of coconut, split apart with scarlet jam.

He placed it on the side of Gerhardt’s saucer, then re-lidded the jar without so much as a glance at Hansel.

“How about,” he carried on, returning to his seat, “you stay here with me for a while?”

“We’re going to Hallin,” Hansel spat out, some searing panic rising in his chest. “He just told you that.”

“That’s right,” said Gerhardt. His brow clouded. “I mean, that was the plan.”

“That is the plan,” Hansel corrected, pinning him with a sharp glare.

“Eat, dearest,” Herr Candy said softly, eyes on Gerhardt.

Gerhardt nodded an apology, took the biscuit up, and dipped it into the tea. “Hansel’s right. We did say—”

“ Eat ,” the sound of the ‘t’ coming like a needle in Hansel’s spine.

Gerhardt gave him a small, anxious smile, then took a bite of the biscuit. On contact, his eyelids quivered closed, his lips trembled, and his shoulders shook with soul-deep enjoyment of the treat.

Herr Candy watched him a moment, his lazy smile deepening. “You were saying?”

Eyes still closed, fingers splayed out long on lace, “We’d love to stay.”

“What?” Hansel shouted the word.

“That’s wonderful,” Herr Candy drowned him out. “Only, naturally, I will want something in return…”

Hansel hated the way his eyes seemed to lick Gerhardt’s precious skin when he said that. “We’re not staying. We’re leaving. Right now.”

“What do you want?” Gerhardt asked, his voice coming drowsy, long and slow.

“Oh, nothing dreadful,” Herr Candy laughed out. He twirled a hand in the air. “Some odd jobs. I don’t suppose you’re any good at… cutting wood, are you?”

Gerhardt sat up tall, eyes popping open in enthusiasm. “Why, that’s exactly what we do! We’re woodcutters!”

“Now, just imagine that!” Herr Candy trilled. “Then you’ll stay here and cut my wood.”

“We’ll stay here and cut your wood,” Gerhardt repeated, pupils seeming to dance about in his eyes.

“No,” said Hansel. He reached across the table for Gerhardt’s hand. “You want to go to the city. You said we were going to the city. You don’t want to live in the forest and cut wood. That’s exactly what we were leaving.”

“I…” His eyelashes trembled as he held Hansel’s gaze, but his lips closed tight.

The sharp scrape of Herr Candy’s chair brought Hansel’s gaze across. The man stood. He walked around behind Gerhardt and settled hands onto his shoulders. “Gerhardt’s going to stay and cut my wood. You heard him, didn’t you?”

Gerhardt withdrew his hand from Hansel’s. “I’m going to stay and cut his wood.”

Herr Candy’s fingers tightened at the edge of his neck. “And you’ll do whatever else I need done, won’t you, Gerhardt?”

“I…” Gerhardt’s chest rose and fell a little faster.

“ Whatever I ask of you,” Herr Candy insisted, digging thumbs into Gerhardt’s skin.

“Yes,” said Gerhardt. “Whatever you ask.”

Hansel’s chair flung back to the floor as he stood. “Gerhardt, we’re leaving.”

Herr Candy leant right down to Gerhardt’s ear, and smiling up at Hansel, he said, “And Hansel can leave if he doesn’t like it. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” whispered Gerhardt. “He can leave.”

“You don’t need him,” said Herr Candy.

“I don’t need him,” Gerhardt repeated.

Herr Candy tapped his shoulder with an incisive index finger. “Tell him.”

A strange smile pulled across Gerhardt’s face, and his chin jutted up. Speaking sharply, brightly, he said, “I don’t want you here, Hansel. Stupid farm boy. You can go away now, and we’ll be quite happy without you.”

He looked, for all the world, just like his old self. His voice was clear, his expression hard. And Hansel’s big heart might have broken in two with those words, had he not caught the sparkle of a single teardrop that fell fresh from Gerhardt’s eye and splashed down into his tea.