A/N: Sorry for the delay, but the teaching schedule this September has been crazy! Here's a nice long update for you, I hope you enjoy it! Believe me, some very good things are coming up in the next few chapters...
Chapter Ten – Awry
And that was the last that Anna saw of her nurse for the next ten days. Ten days that felt infinitely longer, time stuttering along the broken slags and heaps of her ruined routine. At Anna's insistence, Elsa had packed her bags and left around midnight with Kristoff, who drove her all the way to Oslo to catch the boat to London. That was all he was able to report when he returned to Iskall Slott by midafternoon the next day.
Anna had slept poorly that first night; she was more anxious that she had let on. Not simply in sympathy for Elsa's impending loss, but also for Elsa's absence from her life. She was nervous to be without the singularly unique services that Elsa had provided to ease Anna's pain and rehabilitate her injured back and legs. Those beautiful adjustments, the many massages, the aromatherapy sessions, the exercises for her wasted legs, the spontaneous moments of poetry and drawing and painting, the special desserts and coffee; Elsa had not only taken away Anna's pain, but she had filled Anna's life with rediscovered beauty and joy.
Both Lily and Johan came to visit her as she ate her breakfast that morning. She felt irritable and out of sorts, yet she tried to retain her good humour for their sake. She nibbled her toast and disdained the eggs entirely, yet spooned a bit of caviar onto her toast.
Apparently Lily had had to convince Johan that it was imperative for Wolff to leave, to take this time off to see her dying Master. He came to Anna's bedchamber with faint but distinct worry on his features. For his part, he had seen his mother improve in leaps and bounds over the last month of Wolff's persistent and highly unorthodox care, and he hoped and prayed that all her progress wouldn't stop completely while Wolff was away. Or, even worse, that her mood would once again blacken and her willpower fade.
Part of their conversation that morning concerned a temporary replacement for Elsa Wolff. Anna wished that she required no replacement; she wanted no other person to enter her room or her life. However, it was too much to hope that she would withstand Elsa's absence without any assistance. Pain would come. It always did. On a more practical side, she needed assistance daily with bathing and dressing, and these activities were outside the scope of Gerda's services.
After her son and his wife had left her, Anna sat in her bed and stared at the walls. Normally Elsa would be here just now, discussing the schedule of the day with Anna and Gerda, and beginning the morning rehabilitation.
So when Gerda came to take away her breakfast tray, she found Anna sitting up in her bed, stretching and limbering her back and arms. Gerda helped her into her 'training gear' and Anna performed leg extensions by grasping the hem of her pants and moving her legs and knees about.
While she congratulated herself on showing initiative, she already missed Elsa greatly.
That first day passed very slowly.
Lily was dispatched to the hospital in Larvik to chat with Mother Magda, and came back to Iskall Slott with a thin, smiling, older woman named Mother Marte. Anna approved of the choice: Mother Marte was now retired from nursing, and lived on a small pension in the village. Mother Marte hadn't the stamina to serve as Anna's nurse full time, but this temporary posting would suit her. She was not qualified to administer laudanum, but she could do almost everything else Anna would require. Anna was already acquainted with her, having been part of this community for so many years.
Anna managed to go downstairs for family tea that afternoon, spending time with her grandchildren and her daughters-in-law. She stayed with them for nearly two hours before her head began to ache, so she retreated back upstairs. Mother Marte closed the shutters, Anna took a powder for her headache, dismissed her nurse, and then she applied some of Elsa's ointment to her temples before trying to breathe through her pain.
By the end of that first day, Anna was viciously reminded of just how much time she had been spending in the company of her therapist. She had whole acres of empty time now, great fields of it filled with desiccated husks of autumn grass, the soil grey and arid. Time Anna scarcely knew how to deal with; how could she reap a proper harvest from such infertility?
She had a surprise visit from both her daughters-in-law that evening, late at night, after dinner. They were still dressed in their evening gowns, and entered her room as if girded for battle. Lily didn't waste time before suggesting that it was time Ingrid came for a visit, bringing the baby with her. Her husband might not be able to come from Oslo, but Ingrid could certainly leave the city to spend some time with family.
Anna wasn't sure. Of course it would be lovely to see her only daughter again, but she feared to do too much and awaken pain that she could not then pacify, even with assistance.
Helene championed the idea. "She's family, Anna," she said in her pleasant French lilt. "That means that you could ask her to leave you in peace whenever necessary. She would not need to be entertained, not like other guests. And should you require rest, she would not take offense."
Anna lifted her hands in surrender. "All right, ladies, you've convinced me. Lily, you'll issue the invitation?"
Lily nodded, smiling broadly in pleasure. They said their farewells, but then Helene paused by the door. "Anna, you look pale and ill at ease. Is there anything wrong?"
"Nothing that either of you can fix."
A pause. Then.
"You miss her already, don't you?"
No one needed to clarify of whom Helene was speaking. The emptiness in this room was palpable. "Yes," Anna simply replied. "Miss Wolff has been a tremendous help. More than any of you can understand."
"You've spent so much time in her company," Helene went on to say, "that we worried for this empty space in your life. Loneliness… can be devastating, Anna. I did not want that for you. We do not want it. We are here for you. Say the word, and we will come."
A lump of wax gathered in Anna's throat. She could not respond. She daren't acknowledge the loneliness, for it would only consume her greater.
Helene seemed to have one last thing to say. "You've improved so much in the last month, ma mere. This August… we worried for you."
Lily nodded her head in agreement.
Unspoken was Anna's death wish, though the ghost of it haunted the air between them. "I know you did, darlings," Anna managed to say, speaking over that great wax in her throat. She wanted to say something more, but didn't know what to say.
A note of silence.
"Right, then," Lily said. "I'll contact Ingrid and have her rearrange whatever plans she might have made for this week so she can come for a visit. It will be so good to have the children all together." Her voice then softened as she said, "I hope you sleep well, Anna. And Mother Marte is here, should you need her."
She couldn't ever be the same, Anna thought to herself. Aloud, she said, "Thank you, Lily. Good night, my girls."
They left her to her empty bedchamber, and to the empty hours of night, and to the ravages of her misfiring nerves that spat occasional venom down her legs and into her feet.
Lily must have been persuasive, for Ingrid agreed that it was time for a visit; the baby was old enough to travel by train, and it would be good to have the family together. Her husband wouldn't be able to join them until Friday, but then he would also come down. Anna had a very quiet day, reserving her strength and energy for the upcoming visit with her family. There was pressure at the base of her spine, and her muscles felt stiff and sore. Mother Marte drew her a hot bath, and Anna looked longingly at the empty massage table. She had spent so many hours upon it, with Elsa's warm and firm touch eroding the fanged teeth of her pain.
So the second day without Elsa passed.
The third day dawned, and Anna's mind was often on her nurse. She had hoped to hear from her by now, for even ships had telegraphs, and Anna wished to know how Elsa fared on her journey. Why hadn't she insisted on some form of communication during this absence? Not knowing felt awful; she found herself gnawing at these thoughts many times during the day, as a dog worries a bone.
When the sensation of pins and needles in her legs was about to drive her mad, Anna grasped the hems of her light pants and did leg extensions in her bed, just as Elsa had taught her. Later, when her back ached and ached, she had Mother Marte bring her a hot water bladder. That evening she took a bath as piping hot as she could withstand.
It was that evening, after her bath, that Anna received a telegram from Elsa. She eagerly tore it open and read the contents.
Arrived safe in London. Stop. My master is lingering. Stop. Will send more news when I have it. Stop. Hope you are well. Stop. Yours, Elsa Wolff.
Lingering. There was grief and pain in that word. Its very essence evoked a sense of tar, black and shiny and pungent, tar being pulled through collapsing veins, tar drenched in expanding pools of bright red blood.
Leif had lingered. He had been so young, so strong, once.
At least Heidi had died fast, in only three days. Anna had not considered it a blessing at the time. Leif lingered for nearly two weeks in ever-spiralling infection, experiencing strange bouts of madness interspersed with lucidity, his pregnant bride always at his side.
Anna set aside the telegram and closed her eyes. Another would come, in a day or two, with more dire news yet.
And though she was not a religious person, Anna concentrated on the beautiful summery field of her divine consciousness, and mentally broadcast its peace and decadence to the woman who had saved her life, in the hopes that it would somehow pass the many miles that were between them, and come upon her in warmth and fondness, and provide Elsa with strength for her grief and imminent loss.
Day four, a Wednesday, and in the late afternoon Ingrid arrived with her lady's maid, her nanny, and her ten-month old daughter, Heidi. They had known of Ingrid's scheduled arrival time, so Anna had come down later than usual for tea. Even sitting on the couch, she couldn't bear to spend more than several hours at a time in the company of others. It took so much effort to keep her face and body from showing the chronic pain she was in.
Elsa had been doing pelvic and spinal adjustments every day. Now that she was gone, Anna already felt misaligned. When she had asked if Mother Marte knew anything about these special techniques, the nurse had admitted to complete ignorance (and a measure of scepticism). It only highlighted how talented and uncanny Elsa was, and Anna didn't dare ask Mother Marte to start experimenting on Anna now.
At least Elsa's constant work on her knees had caused the tendons and ligaments to elongate; Anna could now fully extend her legs, which meant she handled sitting so much better.
Elsa had accomplished so much for Anna in only a month. Could walking again truly be in Anna's future?
Anna's thoughts were interrupted as Kai came in to tell them that their guests had arrived. Anna immediately steeled herself to see her daughter as Ingrid and not as her dead identical twin, Heidi. Six years had gone by since Heidi had passed away, yet Anna still saw her inside her other daughter.
Oh, how her girls had gone through stages of trying to look like each other and confuse their nannies and parents, and then they had done the complete opposite, trying to be unique and distinct from each other.
Ingrid had ignored every doctor's attempt at isolation during the Spanish Flu, and helped nurse her twin sister through the fevers, the nose bleeds, and the final coughing fits that eventually stole her breath forever. Both she and Anna had been in the room when Heidi finally died.
Heidi died knowing she was loved. They had that, at least. They had been together. They had known the end was coming, though three days was little enough time to reconcile oneself with the spectre of death. Would it have been any easier had it been months instead of days?
Probably not.
Anna's steadfast heart twinged yet again for Elsa and for the loss of her Master. Days alone she would have, with this man who had helped to shape much of her inner character. The man who had become her surrogate father.
Of course her thoughts had turned to Elsa. She missed her therapist so much!
Ingrid came into the room, and Anna smiled in delight and appreciation of her daughter's beauty. Yes, there would always be a twinge of Heidi in her features, but that was also a beloved sort of sediment, tying the twins together.
Anna wished she could stand and embrace her daughter. Ingrid brushed past everyone else to sit on the couch next to her and wrap her in her arms and kiss her cheeks. "Dear mamma," she said quietly, for Anna's ears alone, "I'm so very glad to see you."
Then Ingrid pulled away and smiled for the company, saying in a louder tone, "You are looking so well, mamma!"
"Thank you, my darling," Anna replied. "You're looking marvellous yourself." It was true; her daughter hadn't shed all of the baby weight, so she looked incredibly matronly and warm. Ingrid rose to greet her sisters-in-law, also ensuring that the nanny deposited ten-month-old Heidi on Anna's lap. Anna gladly took her squirming grand-daughter and shut away all thoughts of Hans and trains and frozen snow gleaming with drops of bright red blood.
The rest of the grandchildren came down from the nursery, and for the next two hours Anna was completely surrounded by her family. Johan finished his business in the village, and kissed his sister's cheek when he arrived. Everyone sat on the couches around the fire, passing around babies and watched as the older children played with wooden trains and other toys brought down for their amusement. Anna wished she could stay with them forever, for she felt completely encircled by family, by warmth and love and the telling of tales, both true and tall, that went back into childhood.
But Anna's perpetual headache gradually worsened, and pain began to radiate out from her pelvis, even sitting as comfortably as she could on the couch. So when the grandchildren began to fuss, and the nannies arrived to take them away, Anna bade her family farewell and had Johan carry her back up to her room.
Where she would not call for Mother Marte. She sat there alone and used every trick Elsa had ever taught her; cool towels, ointment, basil-scented water. Oh, if only she had Elsa's hands!
For now, however, she tried to stay calm, to ride the tide of her pain, not simply fight it away. She breathed, and she waited, and the tide rose, and then fell.
Late afternoon the next day, a Thursday, just as she was deciding whether or not to dress for dinner, Gerda came again with the telegram in her hands.
Anna was less eager to open it, for she guessed at its contents.
And she was right.
Again, the note was brief and heartbreaking. The end had finally come. Elsa's Master had died just before noon this day. The crematory vigil would take place the following day. "I begin my journey back to Norway on Sunday," Elsa wrote.
Anna read the immensity of Elsa's grief in the white spaces between her words.
So she held the telegram close to her heart for just a moment, wondering if her energy and affection could possibly transcend space and time, to land with softness and devotion upon Elsa's head. She sent yet another wish into the grey skies above her castle, to speed across the heaving sea, that Elsa would be comforted in her grief, and would return home safely.
Anna had not forgotten the story of Elsa's family, and how they had been lost at sea, as so many others had similarly perished over millennia. Surely Elsa must have a safe journey home, and not merit the same fate!
Anna dictated a reply to Gerda, a short note that would hopefully express all of Anna's thoughts and prayers.
The next day passed slowly. Anna spent as much time as she could with Ingrid, and even had tea with all three of her 'daughters'. Ingrid and Helene didn't always agree; there was some tension there that Anna didn't understand, but she didn't make it her business, either. They were cordial enough to each other while part of a company.
It was just after tea on Friday that Anna once again realized how far she had come. After her daughters had left, Anna looked down at her legs, now able to extend straight from her body. They had been in traction for so long, and Anna had despaired of there ever being a day where she could turn from side to side of her own volition. And though it wasn't all due to Elsa, most of it was definitely due to her and her unique treatments.
Treatments that Anna desperately wished to have only the next day.
On Saturday afternoon, Johan slipped on a toy that had been hidden under the couch while setting Anna down. He fell to his knees, and she landed half on the couch before falling off to strike the floor. She couldn't feel the tangled mess of her legs, but she could most definitely feel the triumphant yowl of her pelvis and spine, as well as a deep wrench to her hip. Anna cried out before biting back the cry, holding the rest of it between her teeth as she tried to use her arms to push herself off the floor. Lily was there in an instant to help her, while Johan berated any maid or nanny in reach of his voice for leaving a toy out and about as he stood up and brushed off his trousers and rubbed his knees.
Anna was helped up on to the couch. Her jaw was clamped shut as pain writhed and bent through her. "Just give me a minute," she hissed when they all hovered around her. She tried to stretch her legs, to align that horrifying wrench in her pelvis, but there was no help for it. The twinge from her hips and pelvis was insanely deep, like meat hooks snagged in the depths of her buttocks that pulled all the way up her spine. Johan seemed about to launch into another condemnation of the maids when Anna said, "Please stop, Johan. What's done is done. Let it go."
There was strained silence for a moment or two. In the distance, she could hear Kai abruptly stop berating the maids in charge of cleaning the room.
"What do you need, mamma?" Ingrid asked a few minutes later. Her husband, Tomas, was standing next to her, having arrived from Oslo late the previous night.
I need Elsa, Anna mentally despaired.
She was taken back up to her room. Mother Marte was there, to help undress her and look at the damage. And two hours later Mother Magda came from the hospital in Larvik to attend to her and administer a dose of laudanum. Mother Marte had tried everything else, and nothing had worked. Bruises were forming on Anna's knees, and another large one was upon her one hip she had landed on, and her pelvis and hips were still wrenched and awry.
Mother Magda clucked over those bruises, asked Anna a few questions about the pain, and prepared the dose of laudanum. Anna gladly sipped it down. Then she used her hands to pull her knees closer to her chest and waited for the downy mouth of the opiate to swallow her. Thank the gods it worked this time, and she felt it quite rapidly take hold of her. Soon she was only peripherally aware of Mother Magda checking her pulse, and then everyone left the room.
Anna hadn't wanted her to stay. She didn't have that inner pool of stillness that Anna so craved. Mother Magda was warm and incredibly competent, but she was also thin and restless as well.
A few hours later, Anna was just rising from the depths of opiate induced sleep when she heard Mother Magda come into the room. Lily was with her; Anna heard their whispered conversation, "What Miss Wolff has accomplished in such a short time is miraculous," Mother Magda said. "I worried for Lady Skaldenfoss."
"We all worried for her," Lily whispered back. "Thank you for helping me find Miss Wolff."
"When is she back from London?"
"She leaves on Sunday, and should be here Tuesday evening."
"That's good to hear. Lady Skaldenfoss still needs her."
Anna didn't want to hear any more; she stretched in her bed and inhaled, and the quiet conversation stopped entirely. Lily left the room, and Mother Magda stayed to conduct the post-laudanum examination. Anna couldn't suffer her presence, nor anyone's. As soon as Mother Magda was sure that Anna had passed through the painkiller safely, Anna dismissed her.
Anna was thoughtful and quiet the remainder of the evening, spending it alone.
For it was becoming obvious to Anna as well that there was only one person's company she craved, and it would be days yet before that sweet presence would return.
The thought made her feel quite wretched; not only for missing Elsa, but also for allowing herself to care so deeply for someone who would only leave her someday.
Lady Skaldenfoss still needs her.
Yes, she did. But would the death of Elsa's Master be a passage into a new life? When Elsa returned, how long would she stay? Anna had enjoyed the services of a talented young nurse while still in Oslo, the only person who came close to Elsa in style and temperament. Within two weeks she had been hired out to a hospital in Trondheim. Would Elsa stay long enough to see Anna healed? How deep was their bond? After a month together Anna felt quite connected to her therapist, but did Elsa feel the same? Was their relationship doomed only to be that of lady and nurse?
Maybe it was. Perhaps Anna had to get used to the fact that Elsa saw her only as her charge. That Elsa would leave her should a better opportunity arise. At the latest, Elsa would leave once Anna was healed, whether or not that included being able to walk.
Besides, what else could there be? Once Anna was healed, there would be no place in her life for someone like Elsa, no matter how much she might wish it.
Her thoughts as restless and dark as the midnight sea, Anna finally slipped into a troubled sleep.
…
Sunday came, and Anna stayed in her room the whole day. The hip she had fallen on still felt horribly wrenched out of place, the bruises like thunderclouds under her skin. Missing Elsa's company more than ever, she asked her family members to come visit her for short bouts throughout the day. Helene was even kind enough to just sit and read from a book of poetry while Anna held the sheets in her hands and tried to breathe through her pain.
Throughout the day, Anna wondered where Elsa was on her journey back to Norway. Had she left London yet? How was the weather out there on the sea?
And then it was Monday, and Anna forced herself to dress for breakfast. It was to be an elaborate affair, as a farewell for Ingrid and Tomas and baby Heidi. After Anna had been carried down to the breakfast table, she saw there a veritable feast of food that everyone had enjoyed as children; the fruits had faces cut into them, the thin pancakes were made into animal shapes, and the caviar on the crackers had smiley faces.
Anna smiled as she ate with her adult children; Johan and Ingrid were in paroxysms of delight over the meal, for this was something that Anna had ordered twice or three times a year as they were growing up. Hans had hated it each and every time, but Anna well knew how magic could be formed from the most humble offerings.
She hadn't ordered this feast, however, and by the surprised delight on her children's faces, neither had they. She stared at her family members until she thought she recognized the culprit: Helene sat there with a contented smile on her face.
How thoughtful of the foreign young woman, to provide something so whimsical and youthful for their last meal together as a family. Anna often forgot that Helene came from much humbler surroundings, as the third daughter of a tenant farmer near Reims. Helene must have made her own requests, for there were fresh buttery croissants among the breakfast offerings, which she made much of and obviously enjoyed.
Everything was delicious, and the company was so light-hearted and free, that Anna forgot she was in pain. It was only after she had hugged Ingrid from her wheelchair, cuddled little Heidi, and allowed Tomas to kiss her on the cheeks that she realized she was on the edge of exhaustion.
Still, she was wheeled out to the entranceway of Iskall Slott so she could wave goodbye to the company. Only then did she have Johan carry her back up to her chambers where she passed into a deep and pain-filled sleep.
When she woke in the mid-afternoon, still wretched with pain from her hip, her head still clanging like old church bells, she forced back her tears and visualized Elsa's journey instead. Mother Marte brought her a powder for her headache, and Anna looked out on the slate blue waves and thought of Elsa upon them.
Anna was delighted that evening to receive a telegram. Elsa had written to report that the seas were mild, and that the ship was scheduled to arrive in Oslo early on Tuesday morning. There was a train that should bring her to Larvik by 2 pm, and the following, should she miss it, would arrive at 4 pm.
Gladness filled Anna's heart. She held that telegram close to her breast and closed her eyes, breathing out a silent prayer of relief. Elsa was so close; surely she would make the rest of her journey in safety!
Anna had a restless night Monday night, and her dreams were strange and vivid. Hans appeared in them again and again, until she woke with a sense of guilt that, deep down, she recognized. She had never craved his presence like she craved Elsa's. The anticipation of his homecoming was never this sharp, this glorious.
Anna pondered those dreams and her feelings as she ate breakfast alone in her room on Tuesday morning. As before, she vacillated between wanting to forge an even stronger connection with the woman who had provided her with such healing joy and delight, and wanting to maintain a certain distance from this woman, who was destined to leave her one day.
The day passed slowly. Anna had given orders for Kristoff to go to the station in Larvik for 2 pm. Should Elsa not be aboard that train, he should use the newly-installed telephone at the train station to notify them, and then wait in Larvik for the next train.
The time passed in strange spurts. Mother Marte was there to help bathe and dress her; the bruises were still livid on her pale and freckled skin. Anna hadn't worn one of the adapted shifts in over a week; she donned the silky undergarment with keen anticipation of Elsa's hands once again on her skin! Atop the shift was a pretty embroidered robe, chosen to accent her hair and the colour of her eyes.
Unable to bear being alone, Anna asked Lily and Helene to join her for afternoon tea and conversation just before two o'clock. The ladies came and talked animatedly about Ingrid's visit, and how the grandchildren had played so nicely together, and did you see the latest fashion that Ingrid had been wearing, and that hairstyle!
It was just the sort of empty, mindless talk that Anna craved, the kind of talk that was a voracious beast, gobbling minutes and spitting out absolutely nothing of consequence. She needed it, especially as Kristoff phoned to say that Miss Wolff hadn't been on the 2 o'clock train, and that he would wait for the next one.
Anna succumbed to the conversation, bobbing along its meaningless waves, occasionally joining them with just the right word, just the right exclamation, and so the time passed as she so desperately needed it to.
They were not completely oblivious. As they left her close to 4 o'clock for their visit with the children up in the nursery, Lily hung around the corner long enough to smile mischievously and say that she hoped they helped to pass the time before Miss Wolff's arrival.
…
As the time drew ever closer for Elsa's return, Anna found that she was both excited and anxious. She wanted her therapist back in her life, that much was certain, but she was also quite concerned for the grief that Elsa must still be feeling. From the very few stories Elsa had shared about India, her Master had played an important part in her life, filling the roles of father, mentor, and friend. To this moment, Anna didn't quite understand this relationship between Master and disciple; the words themselves felt antediluvian and yet somehow exotic. Yet she had only to remember the palpable grief on Elsa's face to know that the loss of this man was the loss of one of the pillars of her life and soul.
Elsa would have much to adjust to, to keep the castle of her life stable and strong after such a loss. And Anna knew all about that, didn't she?
She remembered the sight of her husband with his throat slit by window glass, the blood dark like winter cranberries against the winter snow.
Finally Gerda ducked in to tell her that Kristoff had returned with Miss Wolff, and that Miss Wolff had refused all offers of rest and refreshment in favour of coming right up. Anna felt a growl of pleasure vibrate through her breast at hearing those words; was it possible Elsa had missed her as much as she had missed her therapist?
Anna thanked Gerda and dismissed her; she didn't want to share this reunion with anyone. She wanted the opportunity to look into Elsa's face and see her as she truly was.
Her heart was thumping thick and hard in her chest. Anticipation made her veins thin, and her headache abruptly worsened.
Then came the knock on the door, and the pause that proved it was Elsa on the other side. "Come in," Anna softly called.
The door opened, and Elsa came into the room. She softly closed the door behind her and then stood there on the far side of Anna's bed, her kit looped over her elbow.
Anna's heart wrenched to see Elsa standing there once more. Their eyes collided, and within that collision Anna finally understood something that had been eluding her ever since Elsa's arrival over a month ago.
This is no coincidence, Anna thought to herself, for surely the universe itself has brought her to me!
There seemed to be the slightest softening of Elsa's posture as she took in the sight of Anna in her bed, as if she had expected to see Anna ill, or in great pain, or even worse. Relief crept into Elsa's features, and Elsa began to walk around the bed.
Anna watched her as she walked, and understood something else. Elsa seemed incredibly altered by her time abroad, but it wasn't simply the alteration of emotion and spirit that was to be expected of grief and heartbreak. No, there was a slight faintness to her step, a slim hesitation to her movements, and these things spoke of a malady that wasn't simply emotional. Was Elsa ill? Or had it only been a wearisome journey?
Elsa's eyes stayed fastened on hers. Her smile began small, yet broadened with each step she took, as if she were genuinely glad to see Anna again. Yet Anna also perceived new walls inside Elsa's gaze, new defences that had been erected in the last ten days. "My dearest lady," Elsa said as she set her kit down by the bed, "I am so very pleased to see you again."
Oh, her voice was silk, her words were gloss, but here her low and faltering spirit was even more evident!
Anna had to touch her.
"Come here so I can greet you properly," Anna commanded, holding out her hand.
Elsa seemed slightly shocked by her imperative tone, but did as Anna bade, sitting right where Anna patted the edge of her bed. Anna leaned forward so she could take Elsa's cool face in her warm hands and she kissed each cheek; firm, grateful kisses right on Elsa's skin.
There. Yes. Anna truly felt something within her companion, something dreadfully awry. Something as cricked and askew as her own pelvis and legs. But this malady within her therapist was spiritual, not physical, and therefore would not be as easy to fix. Still, Anna was determined to do what she could to aid her, and heal her.
Anna couldn't release her so quickly. She held Elsa's face in her hands with her eyes closed and breathed her in; she inhaled deeply of the scent of sandalwood and rose, the faint tinge of sea salt in her clothes. Cheek to cheek she held herself close to Elsa and once again felt that minute trembling in Elsa's limbs. "Welcome home," Anna whispered.
Elsa slowly exhaled. Her hands, motionless a moment ago, tentatively moved to grasp Anna's arms, just above the elbow. Those hands, they trembled, as if they yearned to hold an entire body, just as they once had done.
And there they stayed, for several precious moments in time.
Yet the ache in Anna's heart soon grew too immense to manage; she could not bear the sweetness of Elsa's return, nor the feelings these kisses on Elsa's cheeks had engendered. Her lion's heart was already roaring with a sense of protectiveness for this younger woman, and she had to quell the urge to gather Elsa in an embrace and hold her tight, hold her forever.
So Anna reluctantly released her hold on Elsa's face and leaned back against the headboard of her bed. "Elsa, how are you, my dear? You must be so tired from your travels," Anna said. When Elsa made as if to get up and sit in the chair beside the bed, Anna said, "No, please stay, if you are comfortable. It's nice to have you near."
Elsa settled back down on the bed, and she shot Anna a grateful smile before assuming a careful, cautious posture. Before she left, Elsa had mentioned that she had been badly injured three times in her life. What part of her body had been wounded? Certainly something had happened to her back; that would explain the many times Anna had seen her rubbing it. What else had happened to her? And would Elsa never invite Anna into her confidence, and share her stories as well as her talents?
"It has been… a very emotional time, my lady," Elsa replied, speaking far more carefully than had been her custom before her departure. "Please do tell me, how did you fare? Are you all right?"
"I had some bad times, I'll admit, and I even had to use the laudanum once, but you were a good teacher," Anna replied, still carefully observing her. "I had a spare nurse from the hospital here to help me from time to time. I did some of the exercises you taught me, and used the salve and hot water bladder often. They were no substitute for you, not by far." Anna paused for a moment and then said what was actually on her mind. Her voice pitched lower, sweeter, she said, "I missed you so much, Elsa. I'm glad you went to London and were able to be with your Master, but I am so very pleased to have you back."
Anna had no idea she meant to speak so baldly of her emotions; her vulnerable heart between her teeth, she awaited Elsa's response.
Elsa ducked her head just slightly, her eyes dusky and dark, weighted with sorrow and relief, and then she whispered, "I missed you as well, Anna."
The sound of her name on Elsa's tongue spoke the truth of her words. Anna wanted to drown in the sweetness of her spoken name; it was honey and nectar.
"I thought of you often, and meditated for your health and safety," Elsa continued, taking a moment to tuck a tendril of white-blond hair back behind her ear. Then she reached out and poured them both glasses of water from the jug on the bedside table. She took a sip and then asked, "How is the pain now, m'lady?"
Anna ignored the question. "Do you need a day off, or even two? You've had so much to deal with, with the death of your Master and your long travels. I care for you, my dear. Please, why don't you take some time off and get some actual rest? Elsa, you are home again."
It was as if Anna had briefly resurrected the Elsa of ten days ago; the woman before looked incredibly stricken and vulnerable, as if the slightest touch would cause her body to crumble and her soul to dissolve.
And for the second time in her life Anna experienced this unexpected role reversal; it mirrored the day of Elsa's departure, the day of her greatest pain, and how Anna had professed to Elsa's Master's belief that there is time for all good things. Elsa had been shocked that moment, disbelieving.
It had been Anna's first glimpse into the fact that Elsa was only human, just a woman. Mayhap the most amazing woman she had ever encountered, but a woman nonetheless.
And this particular moment reinforced it once more.
For Elsa's gaze was stricken, the offer of respite and comfort unwelcome. Anna was offering salvation, a slim portion of peace, and it was something that Elsa seemed incapable of accepting. Anna's compassion in this moment was a sword, not a dove. Anna somehow knew it, and also knew what Elsa's response would be.
Her voice cast low, Elsa said, "My lady, I am adrift without an anchor. I feel unmoored, and cast upon vicious seas. Let me serve you. Let me gather my bearings, and regain my proper senses. Please."
Anna sat back for a moment longer, still able to see her therapist in this strange and somehow omniscient light. What had happened to her, that Elsa needed her so badly? She had always appeared so strong, like a titan of old. Did Elsa truly have no other life than this? Was Anna now the sole reference point to Elsa's existence?
Oh, god, was this truly Elsa's life, to travel from place to place, and give and give of her soul and sustenance, until she became no more than a wraith?
Perhaps that's why she held her history and her stories so close; she must need them as fire and coals to keep her inner spirit burning bright, giving her the energy necessary for this difficult work. If she shared them, the fire would diminish, and her very soul would fade!
Anna's head began to ache from all the suppositions, and she was forced to concede that she wanted Elsa to serve her. She wanted to be comforted. She wanted Elsa's hands on her, to banish the pain that had been gnawing and biting her the past ten days.
But even more than that, she wanted the serenity of Elsa's presence, the sweetness of her nature. She hadn't only missed Elsa's hands; she had missed every part of her nurse; the beauty of her thoughts when spoken aloud, the stillness she held like a great ocean inside her, the soulfire that Anna had so briefly shared the moment of her greatest pain.
So she tucked all these cumbersome and ungainly thoughts into a safe corner of her mind for later reflection and finally said, "Then please serve me, my dear. I desperately need an adjustment."
The relief on Elsa's face seemed to affirm all of Anna's thoughts. Elsa squeezed her hand before rising and disappearing into the adjoining bathing chamber, likely to prepare the table for use. Very soon she returned. Anna deliberately had not pulled aside the covers. Elsa looked slightly confused. "Sit down a moment," Anna said, and Elsa obeyed.
Then Anna told her about the fall she had taken on Saturday, when Johan had slipped on the toy. She peeled aside the covers and showed her nurse the bruises on her knees, pulling up her pant legs to do so. "I fell rather hard on my hip," Anna continued. "You'll see that bruise when you put me on the table. I've felt askew ever since. That's the reason I needed the laudanum, and Mother Magda was the one to give it to me."
A measure of anguish had entered Elsa's eyes at Anna's oration, but then she said, "Thank you for telling me. Let's fix that, shall we? After the adjustment, I'll give you a nice long massage as well. You've certainly earned it."
She helped peel aside the covers and then gathered Anna in her arms and lifted her from the bed.
Where once again she mirrored their blessed communion of ten days ago; Elsa disdained the use of the wheelchair, and she carried Anna into the bathing chamber by herself. Anna rested her head against Elsa's shoulder and breathed her in as Elsa walked from one room to another. This was no illusion. Elsa was finally home.
Dear god, she was home!
And then Anna was in the bathing chamber, and Elsa had drawn all the shutters, making the space dark and slightly cool, and what a gentle darkness it was for mid-afternoon. Anna blessed that darkness, for the privacy and security it afforded, the velvet womb of magic it engendered.
Elsa stripped her down to her smallclothes and put her face-down on the table, covering her with a light blanket. Her hands were on Anna's body, long swoops up and down the blanket, as she became familiar again with the slowly strengthening planes of Anna's muscle and bone. After a moment she lifted aside Anna's smallclothes to cluck over that bruise on Anna's hip, now yellowed and hideous from healing. Anna was glad that Elsa saw it.
"Are you ready, my dear? Shall I begin?"
"Yes."
The familiar pressure began at the top of her spine, near her shoulders. Elsa pushed and pushed, increasing the pressure, breathing in tandem with Anna, until there was that final push and crack of the spine. Anna breathed of her pleasure, her acceptance. And down and down her body Elsa continued to work in silence, one satisfying crack after another.
Then Elsa came to Anna's hips and pelvis. She began to work even slower, lavishing attention upon Anna's beleaguered hips. She took each hip in her competent hands, rubbing it gently to loosen it before lifting and pressing, increasing the pressure so slowly, so marvellously, like a morning tide kissed by a most benevolent dawn!
And there it was, that lustrous click of her bones realigning, a deep reconnection of her bones to her muscles and sinews. The moment it happened, Anna could feel the rightness of it, and she wanted to weep with thanksgiving. That glorious hive was starting to return to Anna's nerves. Such a gift it was, a gift that the Anna of a year ago had never even realized. What care had she for legs that worked, for a husband that was distant to her?
The cow on the train tracks that day… had it really been a blessing? Only after its arrival had Anna even begun to realize the glory of a whole body, the glory of a unified soul…
Elsa began to speak in low tones as she moved to the end of the bed. She took Anna's ankles, and Anna felt the pull on her upper body, once, and then twice. Elsa gently turned her over on the bed and sat on the stool behind her, taking her neck in her hands. "Breathe for me, Anna," she whispered, and Anna breathed, taking this good, blessed air deep into her lungs. As she exhaled, she felt the pull begin.
She felt the pull begin, and it was a long and gossamer thread, gleaming and golden, connecting her momentarily from the tips of her toes to the base of her skull where Elsa's hands supported her. Oh, she felt so cradled, so protected, and then there was another soft click, and oh, how her body vibrated with pleasure and contentment!
Elsa slowly released the pressure and then held Anna some moments longer, breathing with her, stroking the long muscles of her neck with her thumbs. Anna felt energized, and so incredibly treasured. She suddenly realized she was close to tears; emotions had ridden the wave of the adjustment, feelings of gratitude and overwhelming affection. "Oh, Elsa," she breathed. "How I missed you!"
The fingers still held her neck; she heard Elsa's breath catch in her throat. "Oh, honey," she heard Elsa whisper. Her thumbs momentarily stroked her once more in response.
But then Elsa inhaled, and Anna heard that self-same catch even there, and Elsa whispered, "Dare I say I'm glad? Oh, Anna, it is so lovely to be missed. How long it's been since I've been missed!"
Anna wanted to look at her, but daren't, for that great beast of protectiveness and affection had briefly roared in satisfaction and joy at Elsa's words. And Anna couldn't control that beast, not fully. If she opened her eyes, if she looked at Elsa just now, she would weep for the bliss that even now suffused her entire body.
And she somehow knew that her tears would wound her companion. Elsa had had enough grief, enough emotion, in the last ten days. Anna could not bear to wound her even further.
So they just sat together for a while longer, and then Elsa whispered, "How about a massage?"
"Yes, please."
Elsa preferred to work on her back and legs first, so she once again helped Anna turn over on the bed. She worked on Anna's legs first, murmuring to tell her what she was doing. Anna let herself drift on the music of the words, the sound of Elsa working on her legs and feet. At this moment she didn't care that she couldn't feel what was happening down there. It was enough to have those hands on her once again, after such a gaping absence as the last ten days had afforded.
Some time later Elsa finished working on Anna's paralyzed legs, and tucked them back under the sheet. She bared Anna's back, slicked her hands again with oil, and began to work. As she began the familiar, rhythmic movements, Anna settled even deeper onto the table, another vast swell of gratitude and affection again cresting inside her. She sighed aloud as Elsa found and massaged a sweet spot above her injured hip.
And at her sigh, those beloved hands seemed to falter. Anna's swell of gratitude turned into a tide of concern. Anna turned her head and put out her hand to touch Elsa's arm. Elsa paused in her movements, a look of surprise in her eyes. "I wish you could talk to me, Elsa. I wish you would tell me what is wrong. I'm here for you, my dear. Let me in, please."
The words seemed to strike her nurse like fists. After a moment, Elsa took a breath and said, "I'm feeling so sad, my lady. I lost my own father so very long ago; I was scarcely more than a child. This man, my Master, he became my surrogate father. The monks at the monastery, they became my family. To be with him again, after all our years apart, only to see him suffer and die… it was agony." She slowly began rubbing Anna's back again. Anna kept her head tilted, for there was just enough light in the room to see her.
When the pause lengthened, Anna softly asked, "And?"
Elsa's breath hitched and her hands yet again faltered, causing an answering tremble in Anna's throat. "He asked me to return with the others to India, to take his ashes back to sprinkle in the sacred river of his birth. And then to return to the monastery and share my knowledge with others, and teach them all I know. And there, I could also spend some time in meditation, and in peace, in my true home."
Anna stared at her as her heart closed hard and tight, like a fist. The breath escaped her lungs; for a moment she could scarcely breathe. The mere idea of Elsa's complete absence from her life was intolerable.
No more massages, no more adjustments, no more waking in the middle of the night to nightmares and finding her comforting presence nearby. No more kittens, no more special desserts, no more beloved scent of sandalwood and rose.
No sudden kisses upon her forehead, nor warm body to momentarily hold.
Oh, God, no!
Frightened beyond reason, she choked out, trying to keep her voice even, "And what did you decide?"
Elsa's hands had been working near her shoulders during this brief conversation; Elsa stopped her work and then grasped Anna's neck and shoulder. Elsa knelt down so she could look Anna right in her eyes. Elsa's eyes were luminous with unshed tears, and her voice was incredibly sombre as she said, "I denied him, my lady. I denied my own Master his deathwish."
A sacred pause ensued, here in this chamber. Anna held her breath, awaiting the words that would come.
Elsa took a sip of air before continuing, "For I told him that I am yours, Anna. Only yours. I will not abandon you. My lady, you are my home now, the only place I want to be. If you wish it, I will stay with you until you have completely built the life you desire."
Her words were heartfelt; the sentiment unmistakeable; Anna's heart thundered in her breast as she absorbed those words, allowing them to break the boulder of dismay and alarm that had formed in her throat. Yet again Elsa spoke words that reached into the core of her, searing into the molten centre of her soul, and Anna knew that she would never ever forget them.
Had anyone ever told her something so simple, yet so exquisite?
I am yours, Anna. Only yours. I will not abandon you.
Anna had to touch her; she reached out her hand and cupped Elsa's cheek, noting with bewildered amazement how Elsa briefly turned into her proffered palm, relying on Anna's own strength. But when Anna opened her mouth to say something, she found she could scarcely speak. She wanted to tell Elsa how much these words meant to her, how grateful she was for Elsa's presence, how awful the thought of her absence was.
But there was such rubble in her throat that Anna could only reply, "Yes, Elsa, that is what I wish. Stay with me. Please."
Stay with me forever, she thought. But she didn't speak those words. She only thought them.
But even as she said some of her words, Anna wished she hadn't said them, she wished she could let Elsa go and be with the monks, and share the knowledge and techniques that had so greatly improved Anna's life. But these last ten days apart had only highlighted Elsa's devoted and particular care, and what a harsh contrast it had been to live a life bereft of such service, even for a short while.
Anna wasn't strong enough without her. Not yet. And yes, she would be selfish enough to keep her therapist with her until she rebuilt her life.
Besides, there would be time yet for Elsa to return to the monastery. There was time for all good things. Surely once Anna was healed, Elsa could return to the mountains of India and share all her uncanny knowledge, all her special techniques!
Anna still needed her. Yes, she did.
Elsa smiled, and Anna released her hold on her nurse's face. Elsa rose, caressed Anna's neck once more, and helped her put her head back into the unique headrest of the table. As she sunk once more into the delight of the massage, Anna thought of how she would not go back to the life she had lived before. There was only a new life to build, not an old one to resurrect. With every stroke of her hands, with every rehabilitation session and adjustment, Elsa was helping her set the foundation for this new life.
It would be strong. So very strong. Able to withstand every storm to come upon her.
Elsa resumed her quiet work, spending time on Anna's hips and lower back. Anna allowed her thoughts to drift, though time and again they came back to the words Elsa had just spoken. I am yours, Anna. Only yours. I will not abandon you. Those words tasted of baklava, of Turkish Delight, of strong Greek coffee.
You are my home now, the only place I want to be.
Could this be true? If it were, it mirrored the secret desire of Anna's own heart.
Affection pulsed and seared inside her. But it was not only affection. This emotion needed a proper naming.
Yes. There was a word for this.
This emotion was love, and it terrified her.
For their separation was inevitable. One day Elsa would take her bags and walk out Anna's door. She would go off to India or other parts unknown, to teach others her special techniques, and Anna would never see her again. It wasn't called the far side of the world for nothing.
Their loss and separation was predestined. And it broke Anna's heart to think of it.
But as Elsa continued to work on her, Anna thought back to the other words Elsa had said. She had denied her Master's deathwish. She chose Anna instead.
Just as Anna had similarly chosen Elsa, just ten days ago.
And not for one moment during the past ten days could Anna have imagined that her reunion with Elsa Wolff would be quite this heart-wrenching, quite this bittersweet. Elsa had managed to soothe away her pains, to bring her body back into alignment. Under the influence of her talented hands, Anna's nerves had once again become a glorious hive; she was no longer askew.
Then why did she feel so simultaneously beloved and treasured, and yet so awfully wretched?
Her love for Hans had never been this complex. Just what did she feel for her nurse? And would she ever just surrender to this feeling, and allow it to be?
...
There you are, my dears. I hope to have the next update ready in about ten days. Prepare yourselves for a journey unlike you've ever seen before. Now hit that review button and send me some love. -Jen