Chapter 4: Night's Reflections
The blue skies of the day had given way to twilight some two hours past, and had now faded into a black velvet sky with constellations of diamond starlight and no moon. No clouds marred the skyline of the tall forest pines, which created the backdrop beyond the old Victorian manor, nestled against the woods at the edge of town. Crickets, invisible in the folds of darkness, maintained a steady strum of muted music, keeping the night from being too still, and a few early lightbugs scattered glittering flashes of light within the thick darkness. A slight chill had descended, settling on the still face of the salmon Victorian manor until all was cocooned in serenity.
Rumpelstiltskin curiously roamed the little nursery situated on the second floor adjacent to the Master suit. Looking around, he noted the care and love that had gone into the décor, intended to inspire the occupant's play and creativity. The upper portion of the wall had been painted in translucent pastel stripes of cream and pink, the west wall displaying several white-framed prints of porcelain dolls taking tea. The lower wall, painted a soft green, was separated from the upper wall by a white chair rail, under which ran a two-inch stripe of cork. Pinned liberally to the cork stripe, Aaralyn's hand-drawn pictures were proudly displayed. On the opposite wall was a white daybed tucked up with a pink comforter and covered with a plethora of stuffed toys and decorative pillows. Centered on the wall above the bed were two photographs in frames. One was a close-up of Belle, her eyes tired and elated, holding a bald, red-faced newborn Aaralyn wrapped in a pink blanket. The other photo was a head-shot of himself, his eyes warm and his smile reflecting his love for the photographer. Flanking the bed on opposite sides were a matching set of oak book cases, upon which were scattered dolls, toys and books, all haphazardly piled into the lower shelves as if the owner of the room moved too quickly between activities to keep any real sense of order. Occupying a corner was a small table and chairs arranged for tea, and a large, nine-drawer French provincial dresser with a mirror occupied the short wall between the entry and closet doors.
Rumpelstiltskin reached through gauzy curtains and closed the window against the cooler night air invading the cozy room. Earlier, he had spent the better part of half an hour with the tiny artist as she pointed to the rather precarious figures scribbled on white paper and claimed they were "horsies, pwincesses, dwagons, twees and Mama and me." He chuckled at the memory of the serious tone she had used to retell him the stories she had illustrated and he thought each drawing as charming as any priceless rendering from a master painter. This artistic session had ended with Aaralyn retrieving her paper and crayons and rendering a new drawing of "Mama and Papa and me" picking flowers in the garden. He had never thought much of his own features, but he thought her impression of his "gi-normous head" with long brown hair, his purple, out of proportion suit and colossal cane quite handsome, especially in a garden with giant pink blooms and sandwiched between a crayon Belle and Aaralyn of the same size. She had gifted him with the picture, and it was now folded in his breast pocket next to his heart, the very place a dragon hoards his most precious treasure.
Belle was down the hall bathing their daughter. He listened to the sounds of playful chatter and splashing water, enchanted by the sweetness of the mundane moment. He remembered bathing Bae in a leaky, wooden washtub in their hut when he was a small lad. He had always marveled that the water that had been crystal clear when the boy entered but looked worse than a mud puddle when he exited. He had teased and laughed with his young son, the combination of water and small toys rendering it a confined playground that sparked the only imagination afforded to the poor, and signaled the end of the day's toil. He sighed. He missed his son, had missed really connecting with him when he had had the chance. He had discovered on his mission to Neverland that Bae was now in their old realm, looking for a portal to reconnect their worlds once again. Of course, as soon as the sun rose in the morning, Rumpel would begin to devote his energies to finding that portal, securing a way for all of them to go home to the world they belonged to, but this last moment of the day he intended to devote to the little stranger who had wiggled into his astonishingly vulnerable heart since the dawn of morning. The rest of the night he would give to his beautiful Belle to reconnect, to navigate his way into the world she had created in his long, unintended absence.
Aaralyn burst through the bedroom door clad in a purple nightgown liberally dusted with cartoon kittens, her little feet ensconced in fuzzy pink slippers. She clamored up to him, her arms raised, and he scooped her up in his own arms, wondering at how easily she had accepted him, hungry for the childish affection she was gifting him with. He buried his face in her dampened curls, breathed in deeply the fragrance of strawberry shampoo, lavender baby powder and minty toothpaste, evidence of her completed toilet. Reluctantly, he carried her to the bed that looked too big for her small frame and scooped back the comforter, scattering pillows and plush toys across its surface. He placed her on the bed near the fluffy pillow at the head and pinched off her little slippers, casting them onto the floor with little care. He sat on the bed nearer the foot, and, giggling, Aaralyn began arranging her toys around her, showing him how "everyone sleeps" through the night. Selecting a faded cloth doll with a threadbare blue gingham dress and tattered brown yarn hair she settled in next to the pillow.
"This is Emily. She's my bestest baby." Kissing the doll, she then pushed it up to her father's face, expectantly waiting for him to give the doll a kiss, too. Smiling, he obliged her and kissed Emily's faded, smiling face, and then returned the doll to the small girl. She clutched the doll-baby to her bosom while Rumpel tucked the covers around her as she settled in.
Belle entered the room and immediately began picking up the errant toys scattered around the floor. "Good heavens, Aaralyn, it looks like a tornado pealed through here!" she tittered good-naturedly. "Papa's going to think you a very untidy little miss!" Rumpel winked at Aaralyn when Belle stooped to pick up the haphazard slippers, setting them neatly side by side just under the bed.
He tickled the little sprites' nose. "Well, she gets that untidiness from me!" he offered.
Recognizing the truth for what it was, Belle placed a handful of plastic toys onto a nearby shelf and smirked, "she gets a lot of things from you!"
His interest piqued, he turned toward her. "What things?"
Belle selected a thick book from the shelf and settled in at the head of the bed. Aaralyn scooted up, half reclining into her mother's lap, her face expectant as she sleepily directed her interest to the familiar story book in Mama's hand. Belle placed a brief kiss on top of the silky head and looked at Rumpel. He sat across from her, a bit tense and shy as he waited for her answer. She knew that he rarely saw anything worthwhile in himself, had expressed to her over and over his flaws and shortcomings in the short time they had had together before leaving on his quest. That she could love him at all he attributed to a miracle of some altruistic flaw in her own character. Smiling, she took his hand into her own small hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
"Oh, Rum! She's smart and inquisitive. And she always has to have something proved to her. She just won't accept anything without a proper explanation." She loved the way he was looking at her now, holding his breath; waiting for all of the answers she could give him. "She gets caught up in her play, or in her art or a story and it totally absorbs her attention. She keeps at it until it becomes an extension of her. She could learn something new every day, and never be satisfied until she masters it." He stared at her, his expression perplexed. He hadn't known she thought this of him or had viewed this quirk in his nature in a positive way.
Shaking her head, she withdrew her hand and used it to push a stray strand behind Aaralyn's ear, the child silently taking in this discourse. Returning her attention back to the father, Belle continued. "She's shy, too. She doesn't give her friendship easily, but once she does, she's loyal. It's quite a surprise that she's taken to you so quickly! She must feel a connection to you."
Rumpel felt as if his chest had seized up. Belle's affirmation of his kinship to this little angel, not just his biological contribution to her existence, but her affirmation that here was a kindred spirit, elated him. "I feel a connection to her too, Belle. I didn't even know she existed until this morning, but now…I don't know how I couldn't have known it."
Aaralyn, sensing that her parents were pleased with her, but not quite understanding why this was, felt shy under their scrutiny and sought to bring them out of their reverie. "Story!" she demanded. Belle smiled and pulled her closer, then opened the book of fairy tales to a place marked by a long blue ribbon. The illustration on the page, rendered in rich tones of water colors, depicted a castle war room with a table strewn with maps, a few colorful tapestries decorating the wall and an ornate chair, evidently reserved for the king. However, on this chair sat a malicious imp, his skin a burnished gold, and wearing burgundy leather pants and vest with a poet's shirt beneath, and tall leather boots laced up to his thighs. At his side stood the ermined king, with various nights and nobles attending him. Opposite of the imp, resolute and curious, stood a beautiful princess with creamy skin and chestnut locks pulled away from her bare shoulders, her figure clad in a gleaming gown of gold. Belle raised her azure eyes to his, and without looking at the words scripted on the page began, "Once upon a time, true love was born in the most unlikely of places to the most unlikely of couples under the most unlikely of circumstances."