Frozen Hearts
By- An Unknown Foreign Beauty
Chapter 11- Put on a show
Soon after the mysterious disappearance of Sofia Westergard, the death of Anna Kingsley made both Westergard and Kingsley families the talk of the town. Sofia's previous relationship with Hans Westergard was well known, and the argument between the Kingsley sisters was witnessed by many of the employees, and the media turned it into some kind of power play. Now they began suspecting Elsa Kingsley behind the disappearance of both women.
Hans never experienced the demerits of being famous, but he did as soon as he arrived at the Kingsley mansion. By the time he reached the gate the news of his arrival already spread, making him the object of interest of the servants, the security guards in the lobby, and even the parking lot attendant. His i-phone was full of messages from reporters, from friends, and from distant acquaintances who rarely called—all of them, Hans was certain, eager for more of the juicy details. He picked his way to the staircase leading upstairs and walked towards the master bedroom. He ignored the curious glances of the servants, and headed straight toward Elsa's room.
He knocked the door; but when no one answered, he cautiously pushed it open. He walked into the darkened room, and his heart leapt in pity and alarm to behold the formerly beautiful, confident woman in the other side of the room, looking like a ghost of her former self. The room was in a mess. Hans cautiously picked his way toward her through the jungle of papers, sculpting equipments, photography albums, broken flower vases, and miscellaneous debris that covered every surface of the room. She was sitting in a chair in the middle of the mess, with her head in her hands, and her thin body was shaking horribly.
"You shouldn't keep important things lying around like this, Elsa." Hans said warmly, picking up some papers from the floor, and placing them back to the table. "They might get lost."
His voice startled Elsa. She raised her head from her hands, and Hans was shocked to see how much Anna's death made her to suffer. Beneath her crown of silver hair, Elsa's face was chalky and her blue eyes were glazed with pain and sunken into deep, dark hollows. A sign of recognition registered in her eyes as Hans pulled another chair, and sat down beside her.
"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a feeble, rasping voice he scarcely recognized as hers.
"Just checking over you." He smiled, gently placing the flower vase back to the table. "Mr. Kai and Gerda kept calling you since the last week, but you're not picking your phone up. Listen, Elsa, the company really needs an."
Elsa flinched with the sound of the word "heir", and nodded, "I've given up my position to Anna."
"But Anna is dead. According to your father's will…" Hans tried to drive some sense into her thick head.
"I don't care about the will."
"But…"
"Don't…"
There was so much firmness in her voice that effectively shut Hans up. She only gazed at the floor for a while, and then again fell silent. Her silence frightened Hans once more. Once she was taken by grief after Anna's accident, and isolated herself for seven long years. His childhood dreams were shuttered under her burden of grief. And this time he feared that she was going to isolate herself forever.
And that thought frightened him. He already lost Anna. Sofia was out of picture. He didn't want to lose Elsa now. So he took her hand, lying limply on her lap, and gripped it firmly, "Oh, Elsa, you must not go on this way," he leaned close to her, and said with a compassionate whisper, his eyes pleading with the grieving girl to listen to him. "You must not. Anna would hate to see you like this." When he got no reaction at all, his desperation grew and he squeezed the fragile hand tightly. "Have you any idea how proud she was of your brilliance and spirit? Have you? I know she was, because she boastedof those very things to me. She told that you'd be a wonderful president."
The faded blue eyes never wavered. Not certain whether Elsa hadn't heard him, hadn't believed him, or simply didn't care, Hans redoubled her efforts to convince her. "It's true. I remember the occasion very well when you convinced Anna to ride with me. After the ride, I told her that you're the most expert rider I've ever seen. She smiled when I said that—you know, one of her special smiles that made you feel like smiling in return? Then do you know what she said?"
Elsa closed her eyes and a moment later two tears rolled slowly down her pale cheeks. But Hans continued, "She said, you're the best sister in the world. And she hated to see you crying. She will hate you to see you like this."
Elsa's eyes were opened and she looked at Hans with anguished pleading and doubt. "But…" Her voice chocked as she whispered, "I killed her, Hans. My decision killed her. My fancy for you killed her."
"Oh, no you didn't." Laying his hand upon the heartbroken woman's cheek, Hans tried harder to convince her he spoke, "You tried to protect her, Elsa."
"But…" Elsa chocked.
"Anna always loved you." Hans continued, taking out an old photo from his pocket, and handed it to Elsa. "Police found it in her pocket." With shaking hand Elsa took the photo from Hans, and looked at it. It was faded from being under water for so long, but the faces in there were still recognizable. It was the photo taken on Anna's twelfth birthday party. Elsa was kissing her cheeks while Anna was feeding her the cake. Tears welled up from her eyes as the memory flashed in her mind.
Anna loved her so much. And she let her die.
Guilt consumed her once again, and the photo slipped from her hand. It rolled aimlessly for a few seconds, before finally settling at Hans' feet. Cautiously he picked up the battered piece of photograph, and gazed into Elsa's eyes. "What do you think, Elsa?"
Several silent minutes later, Elsa swallowed convulsively, and lifted her eyes to meet Hans'. In a broken voice she asked. "She carried my photo with her before her death. Did she truly cared for me so much? Why didn't she tell that before?"
"Anna had enough tricks in her sleeves to annoy you." Hans nodded and tried to smile, but tears spilled from his eyes, and dripped from his lashes: "I loved her, always, you know," he chocked. Reaching up, Elsa put his arms around the grieving man who had lost the love of his life. "Hans," she sobbed, "You told me to tell her that I love her. But I didn't. Instead I drove her to the path of death. Can you forgive me, Hans?"
"Oh, yes, Elsa." Hans held her, "I forgive you."
For the rest of that day, Hans remained with the Elsa, who seemed to need to talk about Anna almost constantly, now that the dam of grief had been broken. Two grieving souls found comfort in the company of each other. Elsa partially closed her eyes and leaned her head lightly against his shoulder, her tears soaking his shirt. It was the first time she had ever voluntarily touched him, touched anyone since Anna's death, and she instantly knew from the way Hans swiftly turned his head to look at her, that he was surprised by her gesture. She could not tell, however, what he thought of it.
"Sleepy?" he asked.
Elsa opened her mouth, intending to save face by saying no, at the precise moment Hans lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. "Stay," she said instead "I have nightmares since Anna's death."
She felt the slight stiffening of his body as he registered that she had just directly told him she wanted him to share her grief, and her heart pounded as she wondered what he would do next.
She did not have long to wait. Hans' hand shifted from her shoulder and came to rest against the side of her face, his fingers gently caressing her cheek as he cuddled her closer to him and then began slowly stroking her hair.
"Then sleep well Elsa." He said. "I'm here with you."
Slowly a grin crossed his lips as she cried on his shoulder. He knew he just found out her weakness.
.
.
.
.
Miss Kingsley's death had been a hot topic since the last week, and Kristoff was tired of reading all the rumors and news about the Kingsley girls. It had been a typical love triangle- two sisters falling for one man, ending up killing another. Unfortunately no newspaper was able to publish a photo of the dead girl. The Kingsley family kept it highly secret. Yawning he closed the online news page in his mobile, and threw a bored look in the direction of the doctor who was now leading him to the female ward. He had no idea why the police and others called him in the middle of the night to identify the girl he rescued. She was in coma for almost a week, and he had no idea who she was, except the name she managed to say before losing her consciousness.
"She is suffering from amnesia, which means she has no memory of her past." Dr. Peebie informed him before entering, "She was nearly drowned, and we've no idea how she survived. She can only mention her name and something about her fiancé."
"But I can do?" Kristoff threw a puzzled look at the doctor, "I don't even know her."
"Who knows?" Dr. Peebie smiled jokingly, "How can we be sure that you're not her fiancé? May be you've dumped her here because you wanted to ditch her."
Kristoff rolled his eyes, and followed the doctor inside the ward. They walked past several beds, and when they stopped near a bed in the corner, Kristoff immediately recognized the girl from last night. She looked paler than before, with a big white bandage around her head, and her eyes were closed. Kristoff knew her eyes were deep blue behind those closed lids.
"Miss Anna?" Anna sensed the presence of people in the darkened room as she floated in a comforting gray mist, drifting in and out of sleep, her mind registering neither fear nor concern, only mild confusion. She clung to that blissful state, because it allowed her to escape the nameless fears and haunting questions nagging at the back of her mind.
"Miss Anna?" The voice was very near her ear, kind but insistent and vaguely familiar. He was calling her. She was drifting back to sleep, but she forced her eyes open, trying to stay awake. In the haze that was created by the morphine running into her system, she registered two faces- one very familiar in white coat, the face she saw every time she woke up, and another one unfamiliar, much younger, with a head full of blonde hair. She gave them a confused look, as if asking why they were disturbing her in the middle of the night.
"Do you recognize me?" The man in white coat asked.
Anna started to nod, but movement made her head hurt so horribly that spontaneous tears burned her eyes. She stopped moving her head, and moved her lips to answer his question. 'Dr. Pebbie." She said. She felt that the process didn't make her head hurt, so she decided to ask her own question, "Where am I?"
"In hospital." The good doctor said reassuringly, and Kristoff gave him a concerned look.
"Why?" the next question nagged her mind.
Two men exchanged worried looks, and then the doctor smiled, "Alright, dear. All you said last night that you had a bad argument with your fiancé."
"Oh!" Anna processed the information, although she had no idea when she said that. She gazed at the men in front of her. A fiancé, she thought…that meant she was engaged...to the other man, she decided, because he was currently talking with the doctor about something. Her fuzzy brain couldn't register most of the words, but she knew they were talking about her. Maybe he came to apologize. She shifted her gaze to the younger man and gave him a warm, reassuring smile, but he was frowning at the doctor, who was shaking his head at him in some sort of warning.
"She seems to know you." Dr. Peebie said, gazing at Kristoff, "Are you sure that you don't know her?"
"I'm sure. She must have mistaken me for someone else" Kristoff shook his head, and turned his gaze towards Anna's hopeful eyes, and said, "I'm sorry."
She wondered why her fiancé was suddenly apologizing to her, and then for the first time in her recollection, she heard his voice—deep, confident, and incredibly soothing. "Don't worry. Everything will going to be fine. All you need is a little time and some rest."
Anna obeyed. Exhausted, she closed her eyes, and suddenly an irrational fear of being alone engulfed her as the men began to move. She raised her weak hands, and clutched her fiancé's hands. "Stay." She said in a faint whisper that was draining the last of her strength. "Please." When he hesitated and looked at the doctor, Anna wetted her cracked lips, and drew a labored breath, "Please." She managed to say, clinging to his hands.
Kristoff was determined to leave. He gazed at her carefully for the first time since their meeting. Everything about her was appealing and wholesome, and yet he sensed there was something about her that other girls lacked. She had hair the color of strawberry and a pair of startlingly large, long-lashed eyes—clear, luminous, mesmerizing blue eyes that were now full of plea. They were expressive eyes, bright with honesty, and yet filled with a sweetness that made Kristoff to change his decision. He sat in the visitor's chair, and took her hand.
"Alright, I'm staying." He said, gazing at their entwined hands, "But remember I'm not your fiancé."
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Partly inspired by "Until you" by Judith McNaught. Errors are all mine. Consider them kindly.