Free Grimm's Last Fairy Tale by Becky Lyn Rickman Page A

Did he think it might rob him of time with her?
    Jacob sensed her bewilderment.
    “Oh, Margaret, I wish I could give you more of a reaction, but I’m not allowed to. I can only respond without emotion, which is so much harder than they led me to believe. These are rules I did not make up, but rules I must nonetheless abide by.”
    Maggie accepted his explanation, but still wore a look of consternation.
    “Let’s just move on, shall we?”
    Jacob wanted more than anything at this moment to hold her until she understood the depth of his love for her, but there would be time for that. He forced himself to refrain so as not to distract her from her itinerary.
    “It’s not that I fear dying, you know. I don’t really. I just think I owe it to myself to feel like I’ve accomplished some things before I go. I have the advantage over most people in that I know my death is imminent. People, and I’m just as guilty as the next person, seem to feel like they have forever and put things off. I have some impetus now to get things done.”
    “I understand. So, shall I leave you to your writing? I don’t want to be an impediment.”
    “Perhaps. If you are around, I want to spend all my time looking into those eyes and talking. But before you go, may I ask you another question?”
    “You really do have an investigative personality, don’t you?”
    “I absolutely do. Why didn’t you ever marry and have a family?”
    “As I said, I was so involved in my work that I guess I always thought there would be time, as you were speaking about a few moments ago. Then, as time sped by, I considered myself too old to get started. I spent a lot of time with Wilhelm and his family. That worked to an extent. There were many nights that I felt emptiness in my heart and in my bed. It just never happened.”
    “Have you loved anyone?”
    “Yes, very much . . . just not before now.”
    Maggie bowed her head in an uneasiness that made her blush.
    “Scat, Mr. Grimm, I have work to do.”
    “Margaret, I don’t want to appear forward, but may I kiss your hand?”
    “Yes.”
    She extended her right hand and smiled at the sweetness of the gift she was given.
    “Margaret, I don’t want to appear forward, but may I kiss your cheek?”
    She turned her head slightly and moved in with her offering.
    “Margaret, I don’t want to appear forward, but may I kiss your forehead?”
    She brought her face back to right and closed her eyes and waited. He delivered the most delicate kiss just above her eyes.
    “Margaret, I don’t want to appear forward, but may I kiss your lips.”
    Margaret pulled back and declined.
    “In due time, Mr. Grimm.”
    With that, he made his exit and Maggie pondered how these tiny affectionate tokens spoke volumes to her and were so much more romantic than any passionate anything she had experienced until now. She felt his love in the purest form, without overtures or ulterior motives.
    Maggie sat at the computer and began clicking the keyboard with a profusion of intent. She wrote for hours with no break. The words came so easily. It was as if the book were writing itself. Finally, she had to stop and get something to eat and to stretch her stiff, aging limbs.
    “Jacob, are you there?”
    “Yes, my love?”
    “I’m just taking a little break.”
    “It’s been some time. I wondered how things were going.”
    “Oh, my goodness, Jacob. It is as if I was possessed. You must be my muse, or at the very least, my inspiration.”
    “This was always in you, Margaret. It just took a wake-up call for you to rearrange your life and find time to do what you love doing. I’ve always known you were a writer by the way you speak to others—the stories you would tell—the way you look at life. People sat captivated by you. You never knew it though.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, it’s another reason I chose to guide you. Not just your love of my works, but your love of words and the power they possess. You know how to manipulate