~8~
Now
Elsa rose well before her alarm would sound, near restless for 6 am. In those last dark corners of night, Elsa replayed her conversation with Haley over and over again in mounting frustration. She paced their room the last half hour before preparing the shower, and prayed that Anna was returning from a blue night.
She and Haley had decided not to speak of what she learned in Malone. Not yet.
6:04 am arrived and she was in the hot shower with Anna, who returned to her with a sigh, not a scream, kissing her on her scarred throat and trembling with exhaustion. When Anna asked if they were alive, Elsa could barely answer her. They were alive, after a fashion.
They were both kind of dead, too.
Later as they dressed in their bedroom, Anna used the blue marker to transcribe her nightly event in the unseen world; an encounter with a wispy and frail yogi from India, who had died as he had lived, in peace and serenity.
He had tried to kiss her on the forehead. She, being revenant, could not feel his touch. He passed through her like smoke. He still blessed her before he went on his way, off to whatever afterlife he believed in.
At breakfast their guests, the Chathams, spoke of being somewhat loathe to return to their hometown; the weather report from home was not promising. Elsa helped check them out an hour later. "I hope to see you again soon," Elsa told them as they signed the guest register, smiling to think of them dancing to the tempo of the firelight and the enchanting music of luscious and chocolaty voices.
"We'll send you a postcard," they promised before they left. Elsa waved as they drove away, their rental car stirring up a tornado of fallen autumn leaves.
It was not hard to understand their reticence; the October day was stunning. Cirrus clouds were painted thinly across the washed blue sky and the sun was a pale disc of gold. The air was heavily laden with a million autumn-time fragrances, of pine needles and leaf mould and dust and flowers. Following their guests departure, Kristoff and Renee retreated deep into the groves, leaving Elsa, Anna, and Haley to the gardens. Anna was tired, foregoing a nap after her blue night in order to catch up with Haley.
Even though they were close to the house, they all wore orange vests; Elsa learned that from her father. Three of the Kelly clan were already dead and enjoying their residence in a cemetery outside of West Dresden, Maine.
"Let's see if I've got this straight," Haley was saying, turning over earth vigorously. She looked normal again this morning, with her black lipstick back on and her eyes all made up. Chains dangling from her jeans made a pleasant sound, and her black combat boots were victorious over the muck. "Mrs. Baxter is blaming me for Sherri getting a nose ring? The girl is sixteen! If that is the most rebellious thing she ever does, Mrs. Baxter should be grateful!"
"She just thinks it's part of a logical progression," Anna replied, loading a wheelbarrow full of compost. "First, a nose ring. Then a tattoo."
"Yeah, and then sacrificing babies while listening to death metal," Haley laughed. "On second thought, she's right. I'm initiating Sherri into the ranks of the undead."
"Are you a vampire now?" Elsa asked, sitting on a crate to clean and prepare spring bulbs. Tulips, daffodils, jonquils, narcissus; the fireworks of colour in the spring would come only by careful fall planting. Farmer's habits died hard.
"Zombie, actually," Haley replied, pointing at herself.
"Ghost," said Anna, pointing at herself.
Elsa sighed. There was too much truth. A mean silence ensued, finally broken by Haley. "Okay, so that's everything? Sherri got a nose ring, the Parsons dog had puppies, and there was a grass fire outside town? Nothing else happened while I was away?"
"Charlie Neesom knocked over a tombstone with his car," Elsa added helpfully.
"Stop the presses!" Haley grinned. "Not fifty year old Charlie Neesom! Not a tombstone!"
Elsa flicked dirt at her and was surprised to find she didn't have to force a smile on her lips.
Anna set down the wheelbarrow and stretched her back. "Actually, we heard from Gerda a week ago," she said.
Elsa grimaced, which Haley caught. "What's wrong? Is it Casey?"
"She's back in the hospital," Anna continued. "Renal failure this time."
"Why didn't you tell me before?" Haley asked, indignant, pausing over her shovel. Elsa was really rather amazed that Haley could act so normal in front of Anna, as if their conversation the night before had no drastic implications.
The Oscar for Best Actress goes to...
"There's not much any of us can do about it," Elsa said. "It's rather amazing that they can make batteries out of bacterial cells but there is still no cure for cancer. Just like we discussed, it's not like Santa can bring her a new kidney for Christmas, even if she could last that long."
Both Anna and Haley looked at her, trying to mask the shock of Elsa's cold words.
"Is she back in Bangor, then?" Haley asked, trying to jump start another conversation.
"Yes," Anna replied, finally looking back at Haley.
"Can we go see her? Just in case?" Those last words Haley spoke were deflated, and Elsa knew why.
Just in case this was really the end. The girl had spent her entire life in and out of hospitals for her leukemia. It was no way for a child to grow up, but this was better than the alternative: a tiny corpse in a shallow grave. Somehow the girl always pulled through. It made Elsa mad that God would toy with her so. Sometimes God was no more than a cruel joke.
Anna didn't believe in God at all. It was fate she despised, nearly as much as the fortune teller.
Elsa glanced over at Anna, whose face was hopeful. They had no guests arriving for two days. They could take the risk of the two-hour drive to Bangor tomorrow to visit her. "I think we'll go tomorrow," Elsa said. Anna clapped her hands and grinned.
Later in the afternoon, after eating heftily of the leftover biryani, all three women hooked up their laptops on the kitchen table, Haley to update the inn's website and to blog about her latest paranormal experience on the Prestwood Bridge, Anna to start planning the menu for the following week, and Elsa to the shy unfolding of her latest novel. It was a quiet time, made sacred by love.
Her characters were on strike. They stayed away, and Elsa could not force them back.
Anna thumbed the narrow gold ring on the ring finger of her left hand as she looked up at Elsa, a mischievous impish gnome of an idea inside her eyes.
"What?" Elsa asked warily.
"I think it's time to celebrate being Irish. I just found a recipe for a beer-battered cod made with Guinness."
"You know I can never say no to fish and chips, especially if there is Guinness involved," Elsa replied. "But will you also include Shepherd's Pie and Irish Stew?"
"Can't be Irish without meat and potatoes, can it?"
"Perhaps we should celebrate both sides of my heritage," Elsa said. "It's been ages since you made me krumkake."
"Your wish is my command," Anna proclaimed, bowing to Elsa from her chair. Elsa flicked a potato chip at her and smiled.
That evening, after they had eaten far too much spaghetti and meatballs, Kristoff rubbing his expanding paunch and Anna groaning in contentment, Haley piped up, "Okay, guys, it's game time. I vote for Trivial Pursuit, the Lord of the Rings Edition."
"I'd stand a better chance of winning if it were the Star Wars Edition," Renee said.
"Star Trek for me, unfortunately," Anna said, making a moue.
"Is there an edition for Buffy the Vampire Slayer?" Kristoff asked. "I'd totally win."
"That's because you taped every episode and watched every scene that had Buffy in it," Elsa remarked to her brother. "You were obsessed with her."
"I've got a new obsession now," he laughed, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. Renee turned her head and returned the kiss, this time on his mouth. Elsa made an exaggerated moan of disgust.
Everyone laughed. "How about just the Movie Edition?"Elsa asked. "It would give us a more even playing field."
"Bring it," growled Haley.
An anthropologist would have been amazed at how quickly they went from civilized humans to degenerates, howling like monkeys while they laughed and laughed. "These mashed potatoes are so creamy!" Haley giggled as she read the clue, staring at Renee, who was twirling a plastic pie piece in her hand.
"They talk about leaning!" Anna mock-whispered.
"And Cesar Romero," Elsa whispered as well.
"Was he tall?" Anna asked Elsa innocently, quoting from the movie.
"No, he was Spanish."
Haley glared at all of them. "You're cheating! Stop it!"
Renee clapped her hands. "While You Were Sleeping!"
"Bingo," Haley said.
"Actually, this is Trivial Pursuit," Kristoff dead-panned. He got lightly punched in the shoulder by his wife.
The next hint revolved around 18 decapitations and Christopher Walken. "Sleepy Hollow!" Anna said, crowing with delight as she took the dice for another turn. "You know, he plays such a creepy bad guy. I almost can't watch him when he plays a good guy. You know the movie Hairspray? I kept waiting for the minute he would start eating his wife."
"You mean John Travolta," Kristoff said.
"See? John Travola in drag? Secret horror movie."
"It's Jack Nicholson for me," Elsa said. "Once he played the Joker in the older Batman movies, I could never take him seriously ever again."
"Ooh, and the whole, 'Here's Johnny!' moment from The Shining, when he's chopping down the door with the big axe?" Haley replied.
"Did you ever see the Simpsons remake?" Kristoff piped in. "For their Treehouse of Horror spoof?"
"No pizza and no beer make Homer something something," Renee said, smiling at him.
"Oh, yes, this is the woman of my dreams," Kristoff said.
"Are you trying to get lucky tonight?" she asked.
"I'm lucky every night I spend in your company," he said, bowing to her, taking her hand and kissing her fingertips.
"Good answer, brother," Elsa said. "That's one way of keeping out of the doghouse. Not that Cub would want to share it with you anyway."
The dog, who had been sitting on Renee's feet, thumped her tail at the mention of her name. "We are so getting another dog," Kristoff said. "A boy dog, and a real manly one, like a Great Dane or a Greyhound."
"No poodles?" Haley asked sweetly.
"As long as I could name him Butch or Killer, I'd consider it," he replied loftily.
Elsa laughed until her sides ached, and they were all so caught up in the game that Anna's watch alarm that signalled four minutes to 9 o'clock went off while they were all still at the table.
There was an immediate shock of silence; they could barely hear the music in the background.
Anna's face fell. "I don't want to go," she said softly, looking down at the pieces strewn over the table, the bits of popcorn and glasses of beer. "I just want to stay up with you guys, and laugh and cheat and get silly as it gets late. I don't want to go." Elsa, her heart tearing, slid her hand over to touch Anna, but Anna recoiled, abruptly got up from the table and turned away to scream, "DAMMIT!"
Robbie Williams sang in the background, a jazzy tune that grated on their nerves. What right had he to be happy?
"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" Anna screamed.
Elsa got up without a noise and went to the cupboard. They had a huge stack of plates, as their inn was a common destination for weddings in the summer. They had good china, the not so good china, and the ten cent china for children and in-laws. Elsa pulled out a small stack of the ten cent china plates, placed them on the counter, and then took one to Anna, who was standing with her arms folded, her lips thin and tight, high spots of anger on her cheeks.
"Smash it," she said, handing Anna the plate.
Looking at Elsa, Anna's eyes slowly went from venomous to weary. "I'm sorry, Elsa." She rubbed her eyes with her balled up hand.
"Smash the damn plate," Elsa repeated, smiling a grim little smile to show that she, too, hated this, just as much as Anna did.
Anna took the plate and threw it on the ground. It sparked into pieces like a mini-bomb among the freakish silence. Without a word, Elsa handed her another plate, which Anna promptly threw on the ground. Two more plates met their untimely death, shivered apart and broken.
"Twenty seconds," said Haley.
Anna faced Elsa, tears in her eyes. "How do you always know how to make me feel better?" Anna asked, grasping Elsa's good hand.
Knowledge was a weapon of the unseen world.
"Ten seconds."
But Elsa didn't answer, for she was out of time. Kristoff got up to assist, but Elsa shook her head, wrapping her arms around her partner and holding her tight. "I'll see you in the morning," Elsa whispered into Anna's nicked ear.
Then the brilliant flash of light, the slumping of Anna's limbs. Her heart ceased its ticking, her chest immobile. A strand of hair fell over her face. Elsa held the ragdoll body for a few minutes, remembering.
Though nine years had passed, Elsa could recall nearly everything about the day that changed her destiny forever. Just a two percent shift, so seemingly small; a pebble, really, to divert the course of her future. She hadn't recognized it, back then.
It was the day of the lamb and the labneh.
Then
The last Thursday of October, and the air was so fresh it must have been picked out that very morning by Mother Nature. Anna managed to get herself to the library that morning with the extra lunch that she had packed, overriding all her trembling, right brain concerns. The decision had been made, and she would stick to it.
She also managed to smile at Elsa when the blonde woman came through the doors not long after the library opened. She looked especially appealing this morning, her hair caught up in a loose bun with tendrils that floated near her ears, the lightest kiss of makeup on her eyes and cheeks. There was a silky scarf around her neck, more for decoration than any hint of a battle with winter malice. She even wore fashionable suede boots.
In short, she was devastatingly alluring, and Anna could have slunk into any corner of the library, or begged for the earth to swallow her up for daring to think of her the way she did. There was no chance that Elsa was single. There would be an even lesser chance that she would welcome the love-sodden crush of another girl.
Just who did Elsa dress up for today?
"Good morning," Elsa said as she passed her by, flashing a small and perfect smile as she walked.
"Ga-huh," was Anna's brilliant response.
Based on the failure of that conversation, Anna didn't try a second attempt; her cheeks flushed as Elsa lifted an eyebrow, but the blonde kept walking on, leaving Anna to her pile of books and dire mortification.
Once Elsa was out of earshot, Anna looked in the direction of her carrel, hidden though it was by numerous walls and stacks, and mumbled, "Good morning to you, too. You're looking great this morning. What is your boyfriend's name?"
"They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity," Haley said from behind her.
Anna jumped slightly, her ears now flaming as much as her cheeks. "How long have you been there?" she demanded.
"Just long enough to question your sanity."
"You're only insane if you answer yourself," Anna replied, regaining her wits. "Or if you start eating people."
"If you were the one cooking, I would probably eat anything," Haley said. "I do draw the line at human tartare. It might be good enough for Hannibal the Cannibal, but Haley Grant has higher standards."
"How about flame broiled with a honey garlic glaze, served with shallots and Chianti?"
"See? Sold already. Can we stop talking about food and start talking about Elsa?"
Anna looked down at her books, suddenly industrious once more. "What is there to talk about?" she mumbled.
Haley sighed. "Have it your way, Anna. Look, I just got a call from Gerda. They had to run Casey to emergency last night, some complication or another with the chemo, so she won't be in for the rest of the week."
"I wish there were something we could do," Anna said softly. "I feel so... useless at a time like this."
"You could see about smuggling your squares into the hospital," Haley responded. "The hospital food has a bad reputation for some reason."
"I could bake a cake with a file in it that would help her get out of prison, but the prison she's in isn't one she can bust out of, is it?"
Haley shook her head, pensive. The rest of the morning passed in a busy yet quiet haze, measured only by the increased gallop of Anna's heart. She nearly felt guilty for worrying about such tiny things as lunch when little Casey was in the hospital. Every moment drew her closer to lunchtime. At least her apartment and clothing now smelled of cloves and cumin, garlic and spice, instead of second hand smoke and grease.
At noon she felt almost nebulous as she walked upstairs to the staff room, to the tiny kitchenette reserved for staff use. Her hands near trembling, she pulled out the various containers that held the leftovers of her dinner last night, the leftovers made specifically for Elsa.
First she drizzled the side of the plate with light lines of balsamic vinaigrette and olive oil, then laid three round slices of fresh tomato on top, followed by bocconcini mozarella cheese. A finely chopped basil pesto was sprinkled on top. She arrayed pita triangles next to the tomato caprese and then plated two reheated skewers of lamb, sizzling and sprinkled with fresh lemon and feta cheese. Lastly the small bowl of labneh, a thick Mediterranean yogurt, adorned with a single kalamata olive.
Anna stood back to look at her masterpiece, and when she heard Haley's low, appreciative whistle, she suddenly took the plate and tried to give it to her co-worker.
"Nothin' doin'," Haley said, grinning, pushing it carefully back into Anna's hands. "You made it for her, you give it to her." A finger pointed down the stairs in the general direction of the main library, a quick slap on her butt, and Anna found herself propelled out the door.
And down the stairs, her heart clanging against the chassis of her chest.
And through the stacks, wooden sentinels with whispering books.
Where she cowered, staring at Elsa's back. The princess in her book tower with her platinum hair and eyes as enchanting as the mists of Avalon was reaching into her bag for the dreaded peanut butter sandwich. The banana would follow, and Anna would never find this courage again.
She had to move. The smell of the food would give her away soon enough.
The dog was dead, and there was a nick in her ear.
The timid never live at all, except in fantasy worlds of their own devising. They would never swap the fake for the reality in front of them. Would Anna return upstairs with the food undelivered, and in the night-time would she dream of a Elsa that could never be? At least that Elsa, the fantasy Elsa, loved her, breathed on her skin, kissed her so fiercely.
Time lengthened.
Be brave.
Anna mustered her army of courage and walked up to the side of the carrel, hovering in the corner of Elsa's vision until the woman lifted her head to look at her. At first the eyes were surprised, then they crinkled in amusement. "I brought you lunch," Anna said unnecessarily, seeing as she was thrusting the plate of food into Elsa's hands.
Elsa had no choice but to take it. When she looked down at the plate of food, delightfully arrayed and deliciously plated with a confluence of colours and textures, Anna whipped out a knife and fork wrapped in a cloth napkin and set it on the precarious stack of books. Then she took a step back, ready to run away.
"But I - "Elsa started to say.
"I hope you enjoy it," Anna blurted, and then she fled. Speedwalking along the stacks, she could feel Elsa's eyes on her, scorching her back, so she welcomed the wall that soon came between them, and rushed up the stairs with her cheeks flushed and her eyes burning. She burst into the staff room, huffing and breathless, trying to ignore Haley's amusement.
"Well?" Haley asked.
"I gave it to her."
"And?" Haley asked. Anna just flushed deeper, so Haley deadpanned, "You ran away, didn't you?"
"It wasn't exactly running away. It was an orderly retreat, not a rout."
"So you retreated from a woman armed with a peanut butter sandwich and a banana. Remind me not to join the army with you."
"She has a pencil, too, you know," Anna huffed, sticking her tongue out at her. "Go be useful and scout for me."
Haley flicked her heels to attention and saluted her before grinning and dashing down the stairs. Anna really wanted to know what Elsa's response would be, but new bravery only went so far. Would Elsa like it? Would she hate it? Would she eat it at all, seeing as it came from someone who was nearly a stranger?
True to her resolve, Anna did not regret her decision to share the lunch. She really wanted to know what was going on down there, but her feet were clay.
Displaying feats of innocence and calm reporting skills that nearly took Anna aback, Haley popped upstairs once in a while to report. "She's eating it," was her first response.
"She really likes it," was her second.
"Anna, get your butt down here," was the third.
Wishing she could be as trusting and calm as Haley, Anna crept down the stairs to return to her station at the front desk. She stared at the stack of books to be processed and wondered if Elsa had ever touched any of them. She forced herself not to look in the direction of Elsa's carrel.
Haley cleared her throat, and Anna turned her head.
Elsa was coming to her.
It was a moment Anna would never forget.
Ignoring Haley with the softest of intents, Elsa descended on Anna with nearly frightening conviction, her pale face also flushed somewhat with some untold emotion. Anna, for all the quaking in her shoes, stood her ground and allowed the woman to approach her with that quiet and fierce attention.
It was the first moment that Elsa looked at her, and only her. There was no meandering of her gaze to Haley or the stack of books; she did not deny the impact of her approach with averting her gaze at all. Every ounce of food on the plate had been devoured; Elsa held the plate and used cutlery in her hands. That cleared plate, the soft and thin sweater she wore with the silky scarf, the suede boots that lightly clopped over the carpeted floor, her hair with those soft tendrils framing her face, her blue eyes gleaming.
A real moment, not fantasy. Anna could replay it a million times in her mind and know of its truth. She could not have dreamed of a moment this sublime, not in all her nightly imaginings.
And she felt herself slide even deeper down a grassy slope of crushing love and infatuation, simultaneously excited and terrified. She still wasn't single. How long would it take to get her divorce?
Her kiss?
"Anna?" Elsa asked, the slim counter separating them. Anna nodded, not trusting words to come out of her mouth with any sort of coherence. "I don't know why you did this, but it was delicious," Elsa continued. "Now I know why you asked if I was allergic to anything." She chuckled then, a low and endearing sound, made even more alluring by the dimples that peeked from her cheeks.
Anna still couldn't say anything. There seemed to be some sort of blockade in her throat.
"Where did you learn to cook like that?" Elsa asked, after that small and challenging pause.
Answer the question!
"Ga, I-uh," she started, before halting and swallowing down some of the thickness. "I've always liked to cook," she gamely went on, slower, more in control. "I've never taken lessons, if that's what you mean."
"Kristoff is the cook in our household," Elsa said.
Kristoff? Who the heck is Kristoff?
The muscle-bound boyfriend, no doubt, to crush Elsa's butterfly wings and soft soul. Had Elsa ever known the touch of a woman, any touch, like a Sergeant Carter touch, so simple on the hand, rearranging everything?
Anna couldn't help herself; her eyes immediately flicked to Elsa's left hand, where custom placed rings to tell stories of love and devotion, symbols of marital commitment known throughout the world. The ring finger on her fair and pale hand was empty.
Anna lifted her glance as fast as she could, but she knew by the twinkle in Elsa's eyes that Elsa had seen and understood every nuance.
"Kristoff is my brother," Elsa said, rather quickly, near defensively, as if to erase any wrong assumptions.
"You don't cook?" Anna asked, trying to stay on safe subjects that would not lead her tongue to embarrassment, elated and terrified that she was actually having a conversation with the castle book girl.
"Let's just say I can mess up even the simplest recipes," Elsa said, a wry and self-deprecating grin on her face. Those dimples shone even brighter. "When I made Kool-Aid with salt and managed to burn water, I was pretty much banned from the kitchen for life."
"So what do you like to do?" Anna asked.
"I write," Elsa said slowly, looking at Anna with a strange expression on her face. Did she want Anna to challenge her on it, or not?
Anna saw the look but couldn't quite interpret it, so she manufactured what she hoped was a safe response. "That's really neat. I can't write."
"Yes, you can," Elsa immediately countered.
Taken slightly aback by Elsa's tone, Anna said, "Um, I can?"
"Everyone can write," Elsa said, "Just like everyone can sing. You just may not be able to do it very well."
"I'll leave the writing and singing to someone like you," Anna replied, smiling, trying not to fidget with nervousness. "I'll stay in the kitchen where I belong."
"Kitchen and library," Elsa replied. She had set the plate down; at her last comment she touched Anna lightly on her hand.
A devastating touch. Was it to be interpreted as innocuous, or a hint of something more?
Elsa left, returning to her carrel, leaving Anna to stare at her hand, the cleared plate, and the stack of books.
"Score one for blondie," Haley said.
Anna just kept looking at her hand and the plate, the sun rising in her heart. "Are we keeping score?" she asked softly, not really expecting or needing an answer.
"Darned if I know," Haley replied. "That's just what they say in romantic comedies."
Anna knew what she would do next. She would recall this moment a million times over, plan a million more lunches, knowing she would swim whole oceans of bitter seawater just to see Elsa smile at her again.