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Ethan spins.
Pulse jack-rabbiting, I quickly conceal myself.
The near catch doesn’t stop me following him again.
The next weekend, he gets a call after lunch and, glancing at his dad—busy talking wedding prep with Mum—slinks out of sight.
He heads to the backyard, to a gate in the fence that separates Mansfield from the property next door.
When he disappears through it, I climb one of the pear trees straddling the fence. The leaves are full and the branches stretch into the neighbour’s yard.
I stand on a strong juncture in the trunk, body stretching across a web of branches. I shift to avoid the press of a jutting branch against the greenstone at my chest. Ethan is greeting two young kids in costume, a knight and a princess.
The girl, in silver armour, presents Ethan with a pink, cone-shaped princess hat with lace streaming out from the top.
They giggle when he tosses his cap, and their eager hands drag him to an ornate white picnic table set with pretty, floral teacups.
He sits and dons the princess hat, pretends to eat and drink. He laughs, they all do. I’m grinning, too.
The boy demands a story, and Ethan stands up and transforms into all the characters of a one-man play.
An evil old wizard has imprisoned the outspoken princess and locked her up in a tower, where she can never speak her mind. The princess is having none of that, and when the wizard leaves, she sets out to free herself.
Dramatically, Ethan affects all the voices. “Be careful there, a young prince cries from below. The princess glances down, down, down the tower at him and laughs. Do you need help?” —the prince again— “The princess yanks off her shoe and stabs the weapon-like heel into the mortar, continuing her descent. Impeccable timing—”
“Sounds sarcastic,” the girl-knight says.
“What’s that mean?” the boy asks.
“That means the princess is mocking the prince. Because he’s too late to offer help.” Ethan resumes his princess façade: “If you can’t see, I’m more than halfway. I’m quite capable of saving myself.” His voice deepens. “Sorry. Only . . . if you save yourself, I don’t know what my role is anymore.” The princess: “Oh my, what a conundrum—a conundrum is a problem.”
“She’s being sarcastic again.”
“Thank you, Elinor.” Ethan continues, “Suddenly, the princess loses her grip—”
“Oh no,” the boy says. “Does she fall? Does she die?”
Ethan grins, voice his own—or at least, it’s the one I’m familiar with. “You sound far too gleeful, Zach Dashwood.”
The knight laughs, shoving her brother. “The princess can’t die. That would be a tragic ending.”
“All the originals are tragic.”
Ethan plants his hands on his hips. “Not this one. Just wait, a happily-ever-after will come. Now where was I?”
“The princess was falling!”
“She was swinging, holding on to her heel for dear life with one hand. The prince watched on, quite useless, really.” Ethan swings one arm, his other fisted above his head, his clutch on the imaginary tower. “She stabs more of the mortar and secures herself. A close call. Carefully, she climbs down the rest of the tower. She reaches the ground, rightly proud of herself.”
“Is that it? The End?”
“Not nearly!” Ethan says. “Because this princess cares about more than saving only herself. She looks over the prince’s shoulder and notices a poor young man, stuck in a tree. He’s calling out for someone to come to him.”
Keeping his eyes on the kids, Ethan moves toward the fence, toward the pear tree. He lifts his head, grinning up at me.
Busted.
Stomach flipping, I press my head against the branch and peer at him sheepishly through the leaves. “Saw me, huh?”
Ethan uses his dramatic princess voice. “Why, I saw you while I was climbing down from the tower, and I just knew I had to help you.”
The kids laugh and yell for the Ethan-princess to save me.
“Fall,” Ethan commands, pitching his voice high. “I shall catch thee.”
I’m not sure about this plan, but Ethan keeps encouraging me in his princess voice, and the kids are squealing, too delighted to disappoint. I swing down, both hands clutching the branch. Ethan folds his arms around my thighs and his face mushes against my lower stomach; my t-shirt rides up as I slither to the ground.
My feet have barely hit the grass when Ethan grabs me behind the knees and lifts me like a bride.
“Let’s do this right.”
Children run circles around us, cheering for their princess.
Laughter bursts out of me toward the brilliant blue sky, and Ethan’s responding laugh tickles up the bridge of my nose and settles like a soft weight between my brows.
“Stop this nonsense.” A hardened voice cuts through the cheer.
Ethan swivels violently, his clutch on me tightening.
Tom pushes through the gate, staring at us, horrified. “Put your brother down at once.”
I slip out of Ethan’s hold and hug my pounding chest.
Tom looks between us and then at the tea party beyond. “Get inside. The tailor’s here to measure you for your suits.”
