Chapter 16

John noticed Anna hadn't received gifts from her family the previous Christmases, and now that he knew why, he wanted to make up for it. He knew he was going to give her jewelry, but once he got to Ripon, he couldn't decide between the cameo set in filigree with seed pearls or the locket with flowers engraved on the cover. Lest he make the wrong choice, he went to the bookshop to clear his head. Ripon had a proper bookshop. He spent an hour browsing the newest titles and left with two volumes by D. H. Lawrence: Sonsand Lovers and LovePoemsandothers. Upon returning to the jeweler's, John selected the cameo. He liked the delicacy of the setting, and thought the soft pink would be radiant against Anna's skin.

John wrapped the cameo in the piece of lace his mother had made for Anna and wrapped that with an ornate volume of Petrarch's Sonnets. He had intended to give her the Lawrence poems, but once he actually read them, he realized they were among the most dispiriting love poems he'd ever read.

They met late on Christmas Eve or early Christmas morning in the servants hall. The snow was too heavy for the yard, but they waited late enough that everyone else was in bed. Anna came in her nightgown and sweater, which was gift enough for John. They hadn't seen each other much during the day as the family was busy preparing for parties and Anna was bustling between doing hair and helping with decorations in the house. She looked very tired, and John momentarily felt guilty about keeping her up. All guilt vanished when she smiled and put her arms around his neck. As he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, he hit a spot of tension on her spine. It cracked, and as Anna's knees gave out she collapsed against him. The feeling of her wilted body pressed against him was delicious. She was so delicate but so solid. Anna sighed and looked relieved as she looked up at him. John ran his hands along her back and kissed her head before placing her on a chair.

"That sounded like it felt good."

"It did. My corset always digs on these long days."

"I can think of a couple of cures for tight corsets." John grinned devilishly. He placed his package in front of her before his mind turned too far in a different direction. Anna had a small package for him as well. John felt a childlike joy well up in his chest when he saw her gift to him. He hadn't expected anything.

John opened his first. Walden orLifeintheWoods. He knew Thoreau, but hadn't read much of his work. Anna always managed to surprise him. She was smiling at him.

"Anna, this is wonderful." John smiled.

"I was re-reading it, and it reminded me of you."

His eyes met hers. "You've given me so much." He felt his voice softening and lowering. Anna's smile grew. She seemed to melt into her chair. John began to flip idly through the pages. A passage was underlined. Live so that when it came time to die, it could not be discovered the dying had not lived. Inside the cover she'd written December251914,Yoursalways,Anna. Anna was gift. Such an expected, wonderful gift. Suck the marrow out of life. John promised himself he would try, for her sake, for his sake.

"Your turn."

Anna's eyes grew as she undid the paper.

"Mr. Bates…it's all…so…beautiful….and wonderful."

John smiled. "Perfect. I had hoped to return to you some of the beauty you've brought to me. And my mother made the lace for you."

Anna didn't respond. She was running her fingers over the cameo, as if afraid to pick it up. The carving was a half-profile of a young woman with a rose in her hair. The hair's bright tresses, full of golden glows…

"I've never…it's so beautiful." John was struck by the wonder in her voice.

"If I have my way, you will only ever have beautiful things."

Anna smiled again. The soft lightning of the angelic smile…

"And there is not a poem in there that does not remind me of you."

John picked up the brooch.

"I'd like to see this on, if you don't mind."

John unhooked the clasp as Anna leaned towards him. He put his left hand beneath the left side of her open sweater so the pin wouldn't stick her through her thin nightgown. There was the hint of shoulder, the neck, the collar bone. Anna caught her breath as his knuckles gently grazed her breast. She looked down to watch his fingers secure the clasp. It took only seconds, but it seemed like time had stopped. John felt the underside of her breast swell slightly, the nipple harden as he lightly passed over it. Anna's mouth was slightly open. John met her eyes. Perhaps his fingers lingered longer than necessary, but this was an idea he dearly wanted to pursue. But not there, not then.

John swallowed hard and withdrew his hand. He pulled the sides of her sweater together and smiled.

"Even more beautiful." He whispered.

Anna looked down again. She lightly touched the border of the brooch, about where John's fingers had just been.

"I think we should get to bed. We've another long today tomorrow."

They stood. Anna put her hands in his and looked up at him. John smiled and sighed. Those eyes, beneath which my passionate rapture rose…

He kissed her lips softly, gently. "Sleep well, Anna."

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Bates."

Was Anna the marrow of life?

(Things sounding poetic are either from Walden, Henry David Thoreau, or Gliocchi dich'ioparlai, Francesca Petrarca, my translation.)