~6~
Now
Upon hearing the light chatter of her guests, Elsa opened the common room door. They were sitting on the couch, limbs splayed in comfort with books and wine. "How was your tour?" Elsa asked as she restocked the fruit bowl and checked the status of the tea cupboard.
"We really enjoyed it," Virginia Chatham enthused. "I thought it would be too late in the year to enjoy being out on the ocean, but October is really quite beautiful here."
"What is October like in Regina?" Elsa asked, coming to lay a new fire for them, aware that they were trying not to stare at her left hand or her throat.
"Unpredictable," Monty Chatham replied. "Some years it's mild, some years not so much, what with the snow and the cold and the sudden need for every stitch of winter clothing."
Elsa sat on the hearth and began to lay out the kindling and wood in the way she had been taught by her father. "Regina is in Saskatchewan, right?" she asked.
"That's right. A place where it is so flat you can watch your dog run away for three days," Virginia laughed.
Elsa chuckled in response to the sudden picture in her head, and continued laying out the fire.
"What are you cooking in there?" Virginia asked after taking a sip of her wine. "It smells bewitching."
"Five words, two of which are 'with goat'," Elsa said, smiling. "Don't ask me what the other words are, my partner is the one who cooks." Elsa finished laying out the fire and stood up, brushing her hands on her jeans. "Can I get anything else for you?"
"No, I think we're fine," Monty said, leaning back against the couch. "Wine, book, fire; this is my idea of a vacation."
Elsa's smile grew even larger. "I should warn you, one of our family members is coming home tonight, so we may be a little loud. Feel free to tell us to keep it down should our celebrating disturb you."
Virginia laughed. "That's rather backwards, isn't it, dear? Usually the guests are the loud ones."
"Feel free to be as loud as you wish in response," Elsa said. "But seriously, your vacation is our top concern. We'll try not to get carried away."
"Oh, well, if you do, you could always make your peace by sharing whatever it is you're cooking in there with goat."
Elsa grinned. "Deal." She pointed to the far cupboard with her right hand and said, "Remember, there's plenty of tea and coffee should you want it, and there's a stereo with a selection of music. I hope you enjoy your last evening with us."
As Elsa made her way back into the kitchen she could hear one of them getting up to peruse the music section. Not long after she closed the kitchen door she could hear the earthy rumblings of Louis Armstrong along with the sultry croon of Ella Fitzgerald.
Anna was sitting at the kitchen table with her own glass of wine. There was a small amount of light coming from the stove, where the pot of something with goat was gently simmering. The sun had set two hours ago at 5:30 pm, and Anna's foot was tapping the floor in impatience. "The natives want your food," Elsa said.
"I've probably made enough to feed an army."
"Which, as I recall, is Haley by herself, especially after she's been back home for a few weeks."
"Oh, yes. Patricia and her diet of pink grapefruits, dried pita chips and hummus. I'm just glad Haley arrived okay."
Elsa sat down next to her loved one, leaning back in her chair. Kristoff had phoned just after six to say that Haley's plane had arrived, along with Haley and her luggage, and they were about to leave the airport to come home. Depending on which of them ended up behind the driver's seat, they could be home at any minute.
They didn't have much time. 9 o'clock was coming.
Anna's hand was on the table, so Elsa curled her cool fingers over it. "Any luck with the characters today?" Anna asked.
"Silly Tara. I know she's shy, but this is getting ridiculous. I know she's a nurse, she works in a hospice, but she's really not saying much else."
"Sounds like she needs seducing."
"Is that your answer to everything?" Elsa asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I don't mess with a system that works."
"Much to the dismay of Billy Carmichael," Elsa teased.
Anna made a face and stuck out her tongue. "I don't know how you always remember little things I said eight or nine years ago," Anna pouted. "Billy Carmichael and his muscle car? I haven't mentioned him in years."
"I don't mess with a system that works," Elsa echoed impishly, tapping her head.
Anna's foot started to slide along Elsa's leg in a game of footsies when there was a strong draft accompanied by an unmusical jangle of wind chimes.
"Honey? I'm home!" Haley cried.
A grin erupting on her face, Anna leaped from the table to collide with the small, pixie frame that was coming through the door. Elsa got up somewhat more conservatively, smiling to see Haley and Anna's homecoming embrace. Anna finally let go long enough for Elsa to hug Haley; she did so with immense warmth in her heart. "Welcome home, alanna," Elsa said.
"Glory, I missed you guys," Haley said in a huff. Kristoff and Renee were behind her, carrying her bags, and Cub was enthusiastically wagging her tail and licking Haley's hand. Haley dropped to her knees to give the dog a hug and a thump on the rump. "I'm also starving. I don't care what it is I'm smelling, but it better be nearly ready to eat."
"It's camel," Elsa said with a grin.
Anna smacked her lightly on the butt and said, "Forgive my partner. It's because she actually can't pronounce what supper is."
"What is supper?" Renee asked, moving to the stove and lifting the pot. A sultry and steamy exotic scent arose, whispering of elephants and ivory, of snakes dancing in baskets to the piping of flutes, of sterling light hitting the curved domes of the mosques.
"It's Hyderabadi Katchi Biryani with goat," Anna said, guiding Haley to the table and pouring her a glass of wine. "I'll be serving it with raita and pita."
Kristoff, outnumbered by women like usual, called out, "Hey, I understood the pita part!" as he took Haley's bags down to her room. Renee rolled her eyes with a wide smile and began setting the table. Elsa sat next to Haley while Renee and Anna set out the dishes and appetizers.
"How are your parents?" Elsa asked softly.
Haley's hair was entirely bubble-gum pink, and silver studs crawled up one of her ears. She wasn't wearing any makeup, probably because it was a travel day. Her lips looked almost odd without the black lipstick. "About the same," Haley replied. "They didn't really recognize me. I thought that they might, with the bright hair and all, but mom just called me a punk teenager and dad lectured me on my earrings."
Elsa sighed. Her mother fell victim to dementia first, and fate showed her sadistic hand when her dad developed Alzheimer's soon afterward. Every time Haley went home, she got lectured by Patricia on the duties of family, and how Haley should come home and take care of them as she was supposed to. Family loyalty went deep in the South.
Patricia never realized that she had given up her rights to Haley a long time ago. Haley was part of Elsa's family now. Sometimes blood wasn't a requirement. Only love.
And seawater.
"Did you get a chance to see any hauntings?" Anna asked as she set down a decorative bowl filled with the main course, the meat tender enough to fall from the bone, and the rice cooked to perfection. Renee, right behind her, set down the raita, a bowl of thick, creamy dip adorned with fresh mint.
"Went home to Andalusia to check the burial mounds, and then tested the story of the Prestwood Bridge," Haley said as everyone sat down around the table. She looked sideways at Elsa, a very careful and quick glance, and Elsa felt her heart sink. Haley had discovered something, and if she was not revealing it here, then it wasn't likely good news.
Anna, thankfully oblivious for once, began to serve the biryani, with the creamy raita dip on the side, and pita triangles for dipping. "What's the deal with the Prestwood Bridge?" Anna asked, serving everyone.
"You drive on to the bridge in the middle of the night and then stop on it. Legend says that someone will come and bang on your car."
"Did it work?" Renee asked.
"It actually did. Made Trish a little mad, seeing as I was borrowing her car at the time. Most of it was pretty light, more like tapping, but there was one loud thump that spooked even me and left a tiny dent in the hood."
"I don't know how you have the guts for that," Elsa said. "I'd be terrified."
Haley laughed in between mouthfuls and then brought out her lucky rabbits foot. It had been dyed green a long time ago, so now it was this washed out half green, half white colour. "I'm never scared when I have this with me."
Dinner continued with the small, light chatter that warmed Elsa's heart. When they realized just how much leftover biryani there was, Renee took two bowls to their guests out in the common room. She was beaming as she came back in. "They were dancing!" she whispered to them. They all paused to listen for a moment, and heard the melodic croon of Frank Sinatra, and smiled to think of their guests dancing together as if Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
All too soon Elsa had to tap Anna's shoulder, pointing at the clock. 8:45 pm.
"You guys go on, we'll clean up," Renee said, touching Kristoff's shoulder.
Haley hovered for a moment, unsure, but then Anna grabbed her hand. Elsa led the three of them down the private hallway to their living room. A fire was already laid out, and ignited easily when Elsa set a match to it. Then she sat near the end of the couch, and Anna curled inside her arms, facing Haley who sat down with them. Cub had followed them and turned three times before curling herself into her dog bed. Kristoff really wanted another a puppy, a boy this time, so there would be just a little more manliness in the house.
They wouldn't have too long to wait. Just like Gerda's daughter Casey, Cub was dying.
Haley looked vulnerable here, where the only light came from the snapping fire, her pink hair seemingly darker, secretive. Anna grasped her hand. "Are you all right, Haley?"
"Got real lonesome down in Alabama by myself," Haley admitted.
Elsa smelled the richness of Anna's hair and knew exactly what Haley was really afraid of. Her hair, her earrings, her clothes were all a charade, designed with a specific purpose: to see who would take the time to look further. Haley was nearly thirty years old now, and despite all her talents, all her love and devotion, she was alone. Only once had someone looked deeper than the reflection, and he had nearly ruined her.
Sometimes people were so obtuse. Blinded by the surfaces of things.
"Come here," Anna invited, opening her arms. Haley smiled and scooted in, the three of them all in a tangle of arms and legs on the couch in front of the fire. "We missed you, too," Anna said.
Silence now, punctuated by the hissing and popping of the fire, the not quite synchronous breathing of the three women. When Anna's watch alarm sounded, she turned it off without a word. Haley made to get up, but Anna held her tight. "Stay, Haley? Please?" Her voice, usually so confident and full of life, was tinged with the knowledge of a dead night, so imminent.
So Haley stayed, snuggling even deeper into the combined embrace.
Elsa shut her eyes. She couldn't bear to see it happen again.
The brilliant flash of light, the cosmic police whisking Anna's soul away, imprisoning her in the Marketplace of Souls, where only the dead had a right to walk, where the recently dead would cry out to her in voices of red or blue, screaming of violence or mere accident.
Dead for now, Anna's arms limply fell away from Haley's body; Elsa opened her eyes in time to see Haley drawing Anna's hands back over her and holding them in place. "Will it ever end?" Haley asked softly. There was an extra catch in her voice, some deeper sorrow as yet unspoken.
Fear made a fist of Elsa's heart, the fingers of it like ice and seawater. She could make no reply.
Then
In her first couple of weeks at the library, Anna discovered some very interesting things. First, there were nine full-time staff at the library, most of them matrons who liked to gossip in the staff room and vilify their husbands and neighbours. Anna didn't exactly feel like one of them, and Haley stuck out like a dandelion in a patch of roses. They bit their thumbs at Haley's often outlandish hairstyles, but none of them could deny the inherent sweetness of Haley's nature.
Haley didn't speak very often of herself. Anna respected that, for she didn't speak of her own past, either.
Second, Anna found an astonishing affinity for the computer system. Her comment to Gerda in her interview had been made of hope and supposition with a hint of BS, wanting to believe that she could ease a computer system from its tantrums the way she could soothe a car engine. That talent shone through, and she began the monumental task of putting the library catalogue online.
She never debated the worthiness of the long-time project, even though there were some who believed that the year 2000 would cause every linked computer system in the world to crash. It was only October, but New Years Day crept closer and the tabloids invented more and more outlandish reasons to prepare for the worst.
Third, the woman behind the book wall came every Tuesday and Thursday with military regularity. She wouldn't ever sign out the books, nor would she interact with the other patrons. She was never disrespectful or rude, just uninterested and distant. She also seemed to know the library better than just about anyone, Gerda and Haley included.
"Do you know her name?" Anna finally asked Haley one morning as she sifted through the pile of returned books and assorted litter. There was always a gum wrapper or a receipt or worse dropped through the return chute with the books.
"Whose name?" Haley asked, moving her mouse on the screen in the creation of a new library promotion. She was a wizard with web pages and graphics.
"Her," Anna said, determined not to point. She gestured with her chin instead.
Haley followed her chin's lead and looked at the girl with the platinum hair who was walking slowly down an aisle of books, searching for some sort of title. "Oh, that's Elsa Kelly. She keeps to herself. We think she's from out of town, because no one here knows her."
Anna was about to ask Haley to expound on Ms. Kelly with more detail, but Haley was called away by a carrot-haired kid who had a crush on her and needed her to explain how to feed quarters into the copy machine. With a long suffering sigh and a small roll of the eyes, Haley departed, leaving Anna to her mess of books.
Anna watched Elsa for a while, until the blonde woman retreated back to her carrel, which could not be seen from the front desk. It was early in the day, but the library was already buzzing with activity. In the newly constructed children's section, Gerda was reading to a group of preschoolers, her own daughter, Casey, among them.
The toddler in the photograph on Gerda's desk had curly blonde hair. This Casey was now four years old, and she had no hair at all. There was a bright blue bandana over her head instead. She had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia earlier in the year. As soon as Anna had heard the story, she understood Gerda better, though she wondered why Gerda said in her interview she believed in fate, if fate would deal such a hand as this. Did Gerda believe in God, or had she also discovered that there was no such thing as heaven?
Then again, fate had given Anna a plain-faced gunman and a dead dog and now see where she was.
Anna returned her attention to the books, laying them all in the cart for her to make her rounds. Other people dotted the library, peering here, reading there, cursing at the computers or furtively skimming through the romance novels, looking for the juicy bits.
Anna was deeply happy.
Out from the mediocre expectations of husband and family, Anna flourished. Walking home each evening was a delight, for she had discovered a beautiful world filled with beautiful women. The truly beautiful women were not the ones who emulated Julia Roberts and worked out a million hours a day. It was the lady who lived next door with her small son and jolly husband, herself plump and glowing. The woman who worked at the grocery store, consistently amazed at the produce Anna would buy and for the outlandish items Anna would beg for, whose friendly questions and interest warmed her heart.
And the woman in the carrel by the window that overlooked the Kennebec River, who came twice a week, researching for hours, prowling the stacks for just the right books, who rarely said a word to anyone.
Whose name apparently was Elsa Kelly.
The castle of books surrounding her today was dedicated to the Canadian province of Alberta. There were books on ranching, geography, the Calgary Stampede, along with a couple of titles by Albertan authors. Anna was always surprised by something in the woman's thought processes, for it was Michael Crichton who was among the pile today, along with several other books about dinosaurs.
Did Alberta have anything to do with dinosaurs?
At lunchtime, Anna heated up some leftovers to eat in the staff room, all cozy and warm though a chill wind blew outside. The women were talking about the impending doom of Y2K. For Anna it was a different fear that haunted her, not that the world would end (how could computers bring down civilization?) but that she wouldn't find the bravery she needed for the next vital step.
She had left Hans, she had started a new life, but she still had never been truly kissed. Not one single kiss in all her years that would cause her heart to flutter, her ankles to tremble, desire and need awakened within her like a ferocious beast. No kiss with Hans or any other boyfriend had ever given that to her.
Only now, remembering the soft touch of Sergeant Carter on her hand, and the haunting beauty of the female Star Trek officers, did Anna begin to fathom what she really wanted.
The idea terrified her, so she put it away.
Anna brought out the leftovers of a carefully planned and wonderfully wrought solo dinner. Next to her, Haley was eating Chef Boyardee, cold, from the can. "How can you stand that?" Anna asked.
"At least I can identify it," Haley replied, looking at what was on Anna's plate. "I don't know if I wanna know what all that is."
"Sarmale and salata de boeuf. It's Romanian."
"Um, does that equal cabbage rolls and potato salad? Because that's what it looks like. Sort of."
"Yes, but instead of using fresh cabbage, you use pickled cabbage, and roll in the mixture without cooking the rice first. That's how it looks so compact and tight when it's done cooking, because the rice has expanded."
Anna proffered her plate and Haley gamely took a bite. Smiling, Anna watched as Haley tasted it, milling the flavours delicately on her tongue, then swallowing. She found herself hoping that Haley liked it. Sarmale had a brash, insistent sort of taste.
"What do you think?" Anna asked.
"It's good. The pickling gives it a little zing. I like a little zing."
"Thus the cold Chef Boyardee."
"Not everyone is a master chef like you, Anna," Haley laughed, taking a forkful of the potato salad next. She chewed, swallowed, grinned and took another, bigger bite. "Did you ever take cooking classes?"
"No," Anna replied. "I just always enjoyed it. I like it when people appreciate my cooking."
"I would then dare to mention that your soon to be ex-husband was someone who did not?" Haley asked.
"You're very observant, Haley," Anna accused, smiling herself.
"It's called paying attention," Haley said, returning to her Chef Boyardee.
The matter of food was dropped for the moment, but re-entered Anna's mind as she took the heavily laden cart out and about to reunite books with their sundered neighbours. Deep in the stacks, she looked over to Ms. Kelly, who was alternating writing with a mechanical pencil, scratching notes from one of her massive pile of books, and taking bites out of a mournful looking sandwich.
Haley had told her all about the great library food debate of 1997, when the town and the directors finally agreed that responsible adults were actually capable of eating food carefully in some parts of the library. Never the archives, mind, or near any of the rare and valuable books. Eating and drinking by children was allowed only in the play area.
So this Elsa knew that she was allowed to eat food here, yet she ate crap like peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Didn't this Elsa also know that there was this wacky thing called the Internet, which would allow you to search millions of pages for information she was torturing out of these books?
Anna got an idea, and almost immediately squashed it flat. She returned her attention to the books, almost violently placing them in their homes, trying not to look at the woman in the carrel, whose hair shone like glacier snow in the sunlight, whose skin was surprisingly fair. Anna told herself that there was no way someone like her was single. And there was certainly no possibility someone as mysterious and enchanting as Elsa could love a nobody like Anna.
With that thought, a shiver passed completely through Anna's body, a cascade of ice water over her system, following by a swift glowing heat and apprehension.
She had never articulated her desires so clearly before even to herself.
Hiding behind the stacks, making sure no one was nearby, Anna peered through the books at the woman. Watching the love affair with the sun, the books, the lead in the pencil, Anna wondered what it would be like to be the object of such affection. Those fingers that handled the books so carefully, that would never lick a page to turn it, would those fingers ever touch her in the same manner? That book loving gaze, so focused, so clear, would she never look upon Anna's face in similar adoration?
Strange hunger and desire sucker-punched Anna in the gut. She remembered the kiss of Dax and Lenara on the television and despaired. That was fiction. This was her life, and there was a vast difference between the two. She stood there and stared at Elsa Kelly, withering.
The peanut butter sandwich lifted, a napkin wiping the corners of her mouth, the pencil scritching the paper.
Books waited to be stacked, restless in the cart.
Another bite, a swallow of water. A banana emerged, slightly brown and battered with neglect.
The sounds of the library receded, the chatter of the matrons, the children giggling and singing in the play room, the beeping of the check-out and register. A precious silence emerged, sacred with intention and purpose and hope. Anna's future blossoming, hope flowering, as she looked at Elsa's face, watched her set down the sandwich, banana, and pencil.
And get out of her chair.
Flushing, Anna broke the spell by returning her attention to the abandoned books, furiously picking one up and searching for its home. Elsa stretched, then turned towards Anna, and started walking right in her direction. Anna's face immediately started to blush, even though she sent frantic signals to her brain to cease that infernal response.
Stupid brain.
So she stood there, blushing and stupid, a book in her hand.
Elsa stopped a few feet away from her, disinterested, distant. She ran her fingers along the lettering of the books at the base of the spine, the Dewey Decimal System in all its glory, and found the desired tome.
She was not wearing a scarf today. Her throat was this creamy line of unsullied alabaster. There was a thin silver chain around her neck, and upon it hung a strangely familiar type of ring. It lay just below the hollow of her throat.
"Are you allergic to anything?" Anna blurted out.
As Elsa looked at her with a fair measure of confusion on her face, Anna's cheeks turned even more crimson, her ears joining in the circulatory fracas, until she decided that spontaneous human combustion was actually caused by people, like herself, who made monumental fools of themselves in front of beautiful women.
"I beg your pardon?" Elsa asked, blinking her eyes.
Might as well go through with your plan, Blake. She already thinks you're a freak, so what could be worse?
"I wondered if you are allergic to anything," Anna said gamely, pointing at the pitiful remains of the sandwich at the carrel. "You eat the same thing every time you are here."
"You've noticed what I eat?" the girl asked, perplexed.
"Never mind," Anna said, looking down at her bin of books. After a quiet moment in which she could feel the ray of Elsa's curious gaze, the woman retreated with her new book back to her fortified castle. Flustered and angry at herself, Anna quietly finished shelving the books, finally reaching the front desk with a near sigh of relief.
Near the end of the day Anna was standing at the front, helping someone take out a pile of children's books. Elsa walked past her, a backpack sagging on her shoulders. Then she paused, and turned, and looked directly at the flummoxed new Library Assistant, Circulation.
"I'm not allergic to anything."