~25~
Now
Anna became aware of the singing of the water as she transitioned from the unseen world to the seen world. The moment she felt it, it's heat, it's presence, she also recognized the other constant that came with the dawn: the hands of the beloved woman that held her, one upon her waist, one upon her head, the hands that anchored her again in the world of the living for the next fifteen hours. Those hands had healing powers after the horrific hours in the Marketplace of Souls, and many times Anna felt unworthy of them. Her gratitude was palpable; she was alive again, even if only for a day.
An Elsa day.
The voices within the water also whispered that something was fundamentally different, and while she remembered the astounding events that had recently occurred in the unseen world, she was convinced this difference was not entirely to do with her.
Something had changed.
Everything had changed.
All of this took only one moment for Anna to recognize. She still had one foot in the unseen world; she wasn't entirely reborn. Voices and faces from the unseen world crawled around her, yet they were as nothing compared to the one voice, the one face that had comforted her in the night.
He had called her his beloved child, and it was not her earthly father.
Before Anna could entirely let go of the unseen world, she felt two things near simultaneously. Damp lips pressed against her shoulder, and like a bolt of celestial fire ignites a tree, Anna felt herself explode into being. A near concussive force followed the wake of that meekest of kisses, and Anna's rebirth under the water was not what it had ever been before, for it had never been this powerful, this charged, this complete.
Elsa actually reeled back from this invisible force, and while Anna opened her eyes she could feel her own body, a vessel for love, marked with wounds and sheltering pain. Her memory was still cloudy, so she relied on the constant that was Elsa, Elsa's hands, Elsa's soul.
Elsa felt different. Before Anna could begin to fathom what those differences were, she looked at Elsa's face, into Elsa's eyes, and understood a fundamental truth that had always eluded her.
After all, if mankind was made in the image of God, and this beloved woman, her lover, her partner, was the most beautiful being she had ever had been blessed to encounter, it only stood to reason that God was love.
And this woman chose her, and would never leave her in the dark. That's why she was here, at the cracking of the dawn, under the sighing of the water.
Words were meaningless, so Anna kissed her. Long and tender and deep Anna kissed her, and then she felt the knifings of pain throughout her upper body, the short bristles of stitches on her skin and the fiery rage underneath. She did not care; she adjusted her embrace and begged for Elsa's mouth from another angle, again and again and again, for they were separate no longer, they followed the same path now, and how could she ever despair again?
They both deserved heaven.
Anna remembered the voice that had come to her, and whispered to Elsa under the influence of the water, "I've made my peace with God."
As they kissed again, Anna realized that so had Elsa.
It was difficult to leave the warm embrace of the shower; they stayed inside until all the hot water was gone. Yet they finally came from its womb, and Anna found the aching exhaustion where it always had been. She had to towel off carefully, and she poked and prodded those long stitched and waterproof bandaged wounds. Anna gently touched the worst one and said, "Uh, we have a lot to talk about, don't we?"
"That would be the understatement of the year," Elsa agreed.
A surprise awaited her in the bedroom, where the walls were stark and newly painted. Anna let go of Elsa's hand long enough to touch the wall and it was completely dry. "How long was I gone?" Anna asked.
"It was three days," Elsa replied, and her voice shook on the words, even as she moved to her dresser to get out clothing for the day.
Anna turned to face her again, and Elsa continued dressing herself, as if trying to prove her bravery by deeming three days a little thing. Anna knew better. "Did you miss a morning?" Anna carefully asked, moving to her own dresser, trying to decide what to wear that would be easiest on her wounds, and wishing she didn't have to get dressed at all. What good were clothes when she and Elsa were rejoined?
The pause was frightening.
"No," Elsa replied. "I didn't miss a morning."
Anna stopped. A cascade of ice water rocketed through her veins. "You mean it didn't work? I didn't come back even under the water for three whole days?"
Elsa nodded, her mouth a thin line.
"What is going on?" Anna asked, exhausted and bewildered and only wanting to hold Elsa forever.
"I think we were hoping you could answer that," Elsa replied. She began brushing her hair and Anna turned to her own clothing, pulling on panties and loose skirt. When she tried to put on her bra, the stitches clenched in her skin and she gasped. Elsa was instantly behind her, drawing her luscious red hair back, and doing up the clasp of the bra before kissing her again on her shoulder.
Anna felt Elsa's hands tentatively encircle her waist; at the solid reality of her partner, her love, Anna sighed, placing her hands above Elsa's and just halting for a moment. She rested her head against Elsa's shoulder and felt the distinct glory of Elsa's breasts pressing against her back, the warmth of her breath on her neck. "I don't ever want to put you through that again," Anna breathed, cocooned in the beauty that was her love.
Another distinct pause, and Elsa said, "There's something more we need to talk about."
"Do we have to talk? Can't we just stay like this forever? Just me and you and this," Anna breathed, snuggling as deep as she could into Elsa's arms, feeling the twinge and pull of the stitches and the aching cuts beneath.
Elsa kissed the side of her neck and said, "I think I'm finally growing up, Anna. No more trading in reality for fantasy. There is no more time for anything but truth, and all of the truth, and for that, we need all of our family."
Anna turned, and Elsa's hands slid over her barely clad body. She lifted her hands to Elsa's face and whispered, "Then you need to know that I'm in love with you, even more now than the day I first saw you in the library. How is it possible to love you even more, when already it's all I feel?"
Elsa looked terrified and elated at the same time.
"Because you'll need to remember our love when I'm gone again," Elsa whispered, a chasm of fear in her voice.
Powerful words, sound over intention, and Anna reeled with the force of them. "What are you saying?" she asked, a hard fist of panic striking her in the stomach.
"Probably what I shouldn't, but I've never been able to speak. The written word is my word; I could never say anything right. Anna, I would walk through fire for you, and I would do anything to see you happy, but a lot of things have happened while you were away. We have a lot to talk about, and the whole family needs to be there. This is beyond you and me, because it affects everyone. Nightfall will come too fast, just as it always does."
Anna's mind was spinning as Elsa helped her put on a loose fitting blouse; they were mirrors for each other as they inspected their clothing before going out into the hallway, hand in hand.
"Anna?"
Anna turned and saw Renee coming from her doorway, her face shiny with tears and her arms outstretched. Soon she was cautiously engulfed in Renee's embrace; she knew whose hand it was who did the stitching. All their medical emergencies were handled by the dark-skinned Fijian woman. Renee had always been affectionate, but Anna couldn't remember the last time she had been hugged so insistently by her sister-in-law.
"We were so scared," Renee said as she pulled away, wiping ineffectively at her eyes.
When Anna put her hand down, it was immediately taken up by Elsa, who held it closely, and warmly.
Elsa, who was leaving her.
"We need to have a family council," Anna said, her voice wavering. "Is Kristoff up?"
"Astoundingly, yes," she said, and then they all heard a crash of cascading pans from the kitchen.
"Everything's fine!" Kristoff shouted from the kitchen. "Don't mind me!" Another tinny rumble, and they heard him murmur, "Stupid cupboards."
Renee laughed, but to Anna it seemed a tentative and shallow laugh, a thin skin over a deep wound that Anna still didn't understand. She held Elsa's hand tightly as they entered the kitchen, where Kristoff was knee deep in pots and pans and pancake batter dripped from bowls. When he looked at them with a sheepish grin, Anna smiled in genuine delight, and stepped over the disembowelled cupboards to place a light kiss on his cheek.
"Do you need any help?" she asked.
"The manly part of me wants to say no, but I believe the right answer would be yes," he said, staring down into the bowl of batter. "I think a leprechaun got in here and messed with my batter. I could have sworn it wasn't this lumpy a few minutes ago."
"Isn't there a repellent for them somewhere?" Anna asked innocently, and there was laughter in the kitchen, and the sun was rising, and there was a knife on the counter that had a memory of thirst and blood.
Their faces were all tight, but the levity wasn't entirely forced. It brought back memories of better days, yet Anna could hardly wait until they could reveal all the secrets. There seemed to be so very many of them, waiting in line to be uncovered and poked into life and hurtfulness.
"Let's call Haley," Anna suggested once they had finished eating and had cleared the dishes to the counter. "What time is it over there?"
"Two hours difference, so not quite six in the morning," Elsa said, bringing over the phone. "We shouldn't wait. She's been wanting to hear good news."
Good news. Anna supposed all that Haley had heard lately was bad news.
Elsa dialled, then put it on speakerphone. It rang only twice before being picked up. "Hello?" Haley asked.
The sound of her voice sparked Anna's eyes, she grasped Elsa's hand as she said, "Haley, it's Anna. Are you all right?"
"Oh, Anna! You're back? Say something else so I know this isn't just a dream."
"Would a dream-Anna tell you you've probably got your teddy bear pyjamas on and your hair is likely a mess?"
"Touché. Anna, we've been worried. Are you okay? What happened? Is everyone there? What's going on?"
"Breathe, Haley," Anna said, chuckling softly. "We're all here, we're all okay, but we all certainly need to talk. Something big is happening and we all need to be strong. No more time for secrets."
Even as she said the words, her heart was tight and apprehensive. She looked at Elsa, and squeezed her love's hand, and the words that Elsa had just said were itching, like a new wound.
Because you'll need to remember our love when I'm gone again.
Anna wondered if she was strong enough to lose Elsa again, as she had before. What fear was now laying siege to Elsa's heart?
Then
And the funeral was the deepest torment of all.
Anna held Haley's hand, gripping it as tight as she possibly could. Her knees were weak. At the viewing she had seen Elsa for the last time; her face was pale and peaceful, her hair a white halo about her head. Her hands were resting upon her crushed bosom, her left hand above her right where all the world could witness the evidence of her sufferings at the hands of God, a crow, and a winter day in the marsh.
In the church in Richmond she sat in the row behind Elsa's extended family, and she could feel the insistent and amazing presence of the hundreds of people who packed that church.
So much of Elsa's life had been unknown to her. Who were all these people whose lives Elsa had touched? What connections had they had with the greatest love of her life? What did Elsa mean to them?
It was obvious that they all had been graced by her. Anna's heart swelled even deeper with love as she heard the muted sniffling and weeping of the crowd; she herself continued to weep in a low and endless river.
Kristoff delivered the eulogy. His voice cracked again and again, and he kept a handkerchief by his side. As he spoke, Anna dissolved even further; he had parts of Elsa's life that Anna had never known of.
How Elsa took guitar lessons until she tired of them and quit; when a friend from school proved a better guitar player, Elsa began practicing again, until she could say she was better.
How he and Elsa used to sneak out into the blueberry bushes and gorge themselves on the sweet juice; their little brother a bother.
Sunday evenings with the Disney movie of the week, and a popcorn blanket. Their father's favourite movie had been Pollyanna and they all learned to play the glad game, especially as times got tough.
Elsa's life, so beautiful, and so over.
Then the greatest farce of all, the casket gleaming under cheery and sunny skies, a zephyr wind stirring the autumn leaves upon the ground. There was her headstone, bearing the name Asanna Elsa Kelly, the date of her birth, and the date of her death; it was right next to her brother's grave, which was right next to her father's. Anna looked at the ashen face of Elsa's mother and wondered if she would be next; by this time in the services the woman had no more expression. She stood next to Kristoff and Renee, holding his hand as if a puff of wind would blow her away.
By this time Haley was practically holding Anna upright. The casket that bore the body of her lover was lowered gently into the ground, and all Anna could think of was Elsa's goodness, the touch of cocoa-warmed fingers upon her cheek, the silky delight of Elsa's body at midnight, the aching cry of Anna's name on Elsa's lips.
Did Elsa's mom understand why so many people were making condolences to Anna as well as her? So many of the library staff, the various people about the town of Bath that had come to know her; they all came to Anna as well as Elsa's family to speak of their regrets.
Anna's head was blazing. The smell of the flowers was nauseating.
Finally there were only the few of them, the survivors of free will. Kristoff hugged her fiercely, and she wept into his suit. Renee hugged her as well, and Anna remembered what Elsa had said concerning that day in the marsh. She wouldn't have changed a thing; wasn't her accident in the marsh now compensated by Renee's devotions?
Finally Gerda and Kai, and he had a strange expression on his face, and did not hold Gerda's hand. Casey was not with them; Haley whispered that she was still in the hospital. Haley dropped Anna's hand long enough to embrace Gerda.
Then Gerda was in front of her, and then Gerda held her, and it was like the embrace of a true mother, warm and constant and enduring. Stout and strong Gerda, able to bear this burden even as she bore the burden of her own dying child. Gerda, a tower, and Anna was rubble.
She embraced Anna for long minutes, and Anna melted under the constancy of her affection. She kept weeping, for her future was blighted now, and Elsa was gone.
Into her nicked ear Gerda finally whispered, "All is not lost, Anna. Sometimes goodbye is a second chance."
Anna didn't believe her. Haley eventually had to drag her home, and stuff her back into the life she had made with Elsa in it. The void was unbearable.
Time passed, as uncaring and oblivious as her father.
Of all the tumult of words Anna heard on the day of Elsa's funeral, the words of her employer she remembered most. She tried to forget everything else, the way the sun shone too bright, the muted sobbing of so many unknown people, and the absolute lack of emotion on the face of Elsa's mother. Anna understood her, though she doubted the woman wanted to believe it.
What doesn't kill you doesn't always make you stronger. When life pushes you over one too many times, sometimes you just stay down. It hurts less.
It was the invisible parts of life that tormented Anna now. Like spaces between the letters in Elsa's novels, or the silence between sounds of music or rain or speech, this invisible space used to be blessed. Elsa used to live in them. Anna was at her happiest when she was within the tangible devotion of Elsa's space; reading a cookbook or a repair manual or a novel while Elsa wrote, for she always asked the oddest questions.
"What's the name of that inkblot test again? Rorschach?"
"They made bricks out of mud and straw back in Rome, right?"
"Do you suppose a cuirass was always gilded with gold?"
"How do you stuff a turkey?"
Anna had answered that last question with her hands and her mouth as well as words, tucking Elsa tight in front of her so they could stuff the turkey together.
Nights were similarly destructive; Anna could barely sleep, now that she was in their home again. No warmth to anchor her, shining hair that smelled of orchid shampoo. No mismatched hands to caress her, to hold her, to love her. She ached for sleep, for to sleep would mean to let go, just for a little while, of the world that had become such a wasteland.
And in those fatal moments, holding her pillow and shaking, Anna remembered this past spring, the months that had no Elsa in them, and how they had seemed so deep and insurmountable. That pain, so complete back then, was just a crumb compared to the terrible feast of loss that was now spread before her.
Within a week, Anna was back at the library. She was ready to give her notice within days, but Haley persuaded her not to. Not yet.
Did Haley understand what this place meant to her? People would sit at Elsa's carrel, and she would have to let them. They would sign out her favourite books. They would traipse merrily through life, never knowing the bitter taste of seawater, never hearing the blistering song of the calliope.
It was nearly impossible to actually work. Anna kept looking around for Elsa, thinking that one time she would look, and there Elsa would be. At her carrel, with a scarf about her neck, eating a peanut butter sandwich and taking notes with a pencil.
Walking home after those maddening days held no solace; through the November mists she felt much like the trees, shivering and afraid of the onslaught of winter. Even then she found herself looking for Elsa, through the fog or through the rain she would be there just as she always was, and all of this waking world just a nightmare to dissolve on the tongue upon awakening.