She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Her hand was already opening the car door and her feet were swinging out in front of her. It seemed that no matter how hard she tried to stop it, Helena could not deter her body from approaching that bed & breakfast.
Her boots met that familiar crunch of the gravel and her hair instantly felt the warmth of the sun. Her head tingled and sent a rush of warmth down her body.
It was strange, she noticed, wishing that you wouldn't have to be in the place that you most adored. It was strange wishing that you could come back, without the gut wrenching conclusions you had drawn weighing down on your stomach, and without all those pressing questions taking a hold of your brain. Helena pictured her return to the Warehouse as a return home, she pictured Pete and Artie and Steve and Claudia, waiting for her, smiling at the sight of her, their looks would have been looks of admiration, of friendship, of kindness. She pictured Myka.
A thousand times a day she pictured coming back to Myka.
But today won't be that day, she thought bitterly and her heart swelled with the same sadness she felt every time she and Myka would separate; that feeling that propelled her through life knowing that her heart and her whole body yearned for something that she could not yet name.
She paced along the side of the inn quietly, her footsteps were calculated and light, her ears were attentive to any sounds that seemed out of place. She made it to the side entrance by the patio. She knew, because of the lack of cars and Leena's bike that everyone must be out. She knew Artie wanted to meet her discretely and away from the others, so the place was probably deserted. She was early, and her finely honed skills at avoiding detection were wasted on an empty bed and breakfast. And yet… she thought. But before that thought could fully form in her head, she waved it away, to the extent of actually shaking her head, as to dispel the thought's solidity in her mind.
No darling, one mustn't touch what isn't ours, she told herself in the same tone of voice she used with Christina once.
She thought of Christina, and her wide eyes, and her nimble fingers tangled in her mother's jewelry; the necklaces snaked along her knuckles where she had placed every single ring Helena ever owned. She wore the long earrings that were reserved for exaggerated gowns and parties. The elegance and extravagance of the diamonds clashed with the little girl's casual sundress, but the shine of them lit her face and accentuated her delicate nature.
I only meant to look, mother, I swear! Christina's childish and apologetic voice echoed in her head, the memory of that afternoon, quelled Helena's anxiety for a minute. And a minute was all her brain needed to revisit her previous idea.
I won't touch, she told herself, as she pushed the door open. I only mean to look.
She made her way through the breakfast nook, across the hall and up the stairs, pausing now and then to look at the comforting familiarity of the place; the phone, the table runner, the paintings – one slightly crooked because Claudia's shoulder would consistently make contact with the frame as she rounded the corner. Helena smiled at herself. This was a lot like coming home. She felt the twinge of sadness when her brain reminded her she hadn't come home. Not really.
She should have seen it coming, she really should have. The moment Helena pushed open the door of Myka's room; she was overcome by memories: a fleeting kiss by the bedpost, her arms around Myka's waist, their foreheads touching as they whispered delicious nothings into each other's lips. She took one step and breathed in the familiar scent: a faint combination of rose water and cherries. She stood at the threshold of the door, her hands rested on the doorframe and she leaned her body in without moving her feet.
This is a really bad idea, she told herself.
She stepped inside. Her footsteps were soft, but the rest of her senses were on overdrive. She tried to picture Myka that very morning: getting out of bed, her bare feet sinking into the carpet, shaking her hair out, and stretching her arms and her back, God, how Helena loved watching Myka in the morning.
"Why are you smiling?" Myka asked, she was wearing boxer shorts and an inside-out tank top, her hands were interlocked and raised above her head. She tugged her arms towards one side, then the other, and then she arched her back. She continued her routine, but was looking directly at Helena, her big doe-like eyes waiting for an answer.
"I like watching you stretch," Helena said softly. Her head was still heavy with sleep and dizzy with love.
Myka smiled, leaned in close and kissed her softly on the lips, then her nose.
"What? Me?" she asked in a tone of mock flattery and knowing, after all, that Helena was looking at her with the same eyes that took in her whole body the night before. Those eyes that met hers with such intensity that without warning ––
"I love you," said Myka. The words just flew out of her mouth, and when they reached Helena, she knew that they were true.
"What? Me?" Helena said, smiling, and pulled Myka back in bed, wrapping her arms around her and covering her skin with kisses.
A creak in the floorboards startled Helena out of her daydream. She paused to re-establish where she was and what she was doing there. She had no idea what she was doing there. She was sure that the disturbance was little more than the settling of an old house, and continued to pace around Myka's room. Her finger trailed along the edge of her dresser, feeling the smooth wood finish and gazing over the items that lived on its surface. Myka hated clutter so everything was were it should be. Except for a small box Helena hadn't seen before, next to her hairbrush, by the box that held her bracelets and rings. This box, this new expensive-looking, antique box was definitely jewelry, otherwise it wouldn't be in this area. Suddenly, her head was racing: why did Myka have this fancy new box? Who gave it to her? Myka had impeccable taste but this would have been difficult to track down, and she's busy tracking down more important things. Helena knew a few things about antiques, since she was there when they were just everyday objects. This box was definitely from around that time period. Helena looked around again. She was alone. She took in a deep breath and steeled herself to do something she wasn't going to be proud of, but whoever gave this to Myka clearly cared a great deal. Helena wasn't the jealous type, she was just, curious.
She picked up the box and held it in the palm of her hand. She undid the small metal clasp, and opened the box on its hinge. Helena's breath caught in her throat, and tears sprung to her eyes. On top of a gorgeous pewter necklace with a black stone, was a note that read,
H,
Here's to life. And our endless wonder.
M.
She placed the box on the dresser carefully and took the necklace out. It was absolutely perfect. She admired it for a minute. She took another minute to admire Myka's note. She looked at the loops in her handwriting and thought of the last time this present had been held, it had been held in her hands.
Helena had an idea.
She knew that the events that were about to pass were going to mean less and less time with Myka. In fact, the situation at hand was so delicate she didn't know if they would even get to see each other, let alone live out their lives together like they always talked about, in the quiet stillness of the night, when their limbs were intertwined and their breaths mingled together. They had made so many promises between their 'I love you's. But, there was one promise that Helena intended to keep.
Helena awoke to the sound of a sharp gasp, and realized that Myka was sitting up in bed, hugging her knees. She realized Myka was crying just from hearing her ragged breathing. The clock on the nightstand read 5:09AM.
Helena sat up and instinctively wrapped her arms around her. She picked her up and settled Myka against herself. Her head rested on the crook of her neck and her legs were perpendicular to Helena's.
Helena meant to say, I've got you, and I can take care of you forever. You don't have to be this strong all the time.
Myka's tears flowed freely and it was a few minutes before she gained her composure. Helena waited patiently, stroking her hair and making soft reassuring noises.
"What's the matter, darling?" Helena asked quietly, tilting Myka's chin up so she could look in her eyes.
"I just…" Myka started. She paused when she finally made eye contact with HG. She buried her head in Helena's shoulder again, "I just don't think I could ever handle losing you," she said in a barely audible whisper. She spoke slowly and softly, as if this could happen at any moment.
"Oh my darling," said Helena with a little bit of relief, "that is never going to happen. I promise."
"How can you promise that?" said Myka with a childlike desperation. She clung to Helena's shirt and tightened their embrace. "How can you do what we do and promise me that we'll be together forever?"
"Because you're the owner of my heart, Myka Bering," she said. She pressed a kiss on each of her knuckles, and then turned to look at her face. Their noses were less than an inch apart, and Helena could see the fear in Myka's eyes. "I take you with me wherever I am. You're the best part of me."
"How do I learn how to do that?" Myka asked.
"We'll find a way, my dear. We'll find a way."
Myka rested her head against HG and her breathing grew calm. Helena stroked her hair and hummed a few of the old lullabies. She rocked Myka gently until her embrace slackened and she knew she was asleep. She held her like that until the dawn broke, and sunshine filled the room. They stayed like that until the warmth and the light and the hour woke Myka up slowly. She saw how HG had held her the rest of the night, and now her head rested against the headboard, she clearly hadn't gotten more sleep.
Still wrapped in Helena's embrace, Myka stretched her neck and met her lips with HG's. Her eyes flew open and her face broke into a smile.
"I carry your heart," Myka said. "I carry it in my heart."
Helena unclasped her locket; the one she wore every day with Christina's picture on the inside. Another picture was facing Christina now, one of two women, their eyes are closed and they are laughing at the camera. Helena loved this picture because it was hard to tell where she stopped and Myka began.
She took the locket off and replaced the necklace inside the box. She picked up Myka's gift and placed it around her neck. It was absolutely gorgeous. She turned Myka's note over and scribbled one of her own.
I carry your heart.
I carry it in my heart.
H.
She replaced everything to its original and designated place on the dresser. She took the box and placed it right in the center, right where it didn't belong. This was her strategy. She would have to look inside.
She placed a kiss on top of the box, and before she could dispense any more tears, or before she was overcome by yet another memory, she turned on her heel and took four giant strides out of the room. She closed the door, without looking back.
The air that wafted out as the door shut behind her smelled faintly of rosewater and cherries.
She breathed in deep.