“I am really sorry, Anna. I’ll always feel so lucky we got a second chance.”
“So will I,” Anna was quiet, and she appeared to be contemplating her shoelaces. When she looked at me again I saw very real emotion in her gaze. “You know, when I saw you on the floor that evening...Oh God, Ros, I thought you...well...you know. And the thought that I’d been indulging how hurt I was instead of trying to understand where you were coming from...God...it made it so I couldn’t breathe for a moment.” Anna’s emotion was so vivid in her tone as she spoke. I could even see the gloss of tears forming in her eyes. I didn’t like having made her recollect something so distressing for her, but I felt the relief in my own heart when I saw those emotions break through the surface and show themselves.
“It’s okay, Anna,” I said. I leaned in to kiss her briefly on the lips and took her long, cool fingers in both of my hands and held them tightly. “I’m here. You got there in time to be sure of that. And now I can really work on getting to know you...I really want to know everything there is to know about you, Anna.”
She looked at me, and I saw something like hope in her expression. A vulnerability that was unusual in Anna. She appeared to be assessing whether she believed me or not.
“You do?” she said. Her voice carried a heavy strain.
“Of course I do. You’ve come to mean so much to me Anna. I want to understand you. I want to know— ”
“You know a lot already.”
“I know you’re a brilliant architect. I know what turns you on. I know that you cook wonderful Italian food and like to listen to both Mozart and the Eurythmics. I can make you laugh, and I know which perfume I should buy you.”
“Isn’t that enough?” Anna shrugged and ended her question with an awkward laugh as though she wasn’t enjoying this focus on her.
“You know it’s not, Anna. I want to know what makes you cry. I want to know what frightens you.” I’d said it and felt a rush of relief. I waited for a response, pleased she didn’t look at all upset. Just uncomfortable. As though there was something she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how. Was she going to trust me and take that step now?
“You know...” She faltered.
“Yes?”
“I sometimes find sharing hard.” I gripped her hand to comfort her and persuade her to go on. I wanted to hear what she had to say so desperately. “What I’ve said about commitment—I didn’t mean to make it sound like I never want to commit to anyone again. It’s not even really commitment that worries me. That’s just the easiest way of explaining it. What frightens me is losing myself.” She paused and pursed her lips as she considered what she’d said. “Or rather, not being seen for me. I’m not good at sharing and I know it makes it hard for you—or anyone else. And it’s just that—”
Anna’s attention was suddenly drawn away from me and her revelation, towards the driveway. She fell silent, and I was reluctant to force more words from her. Seconds later, I heard what she had: a car approaching. Inwardly, I cursed whoever it was who had chosen that particular moment to arrive. But my heart felt lighter too. Anna had begun to reveal how she really felt. I’d heard enough to begin to be reassured. To want to comfort her and ease her fears. What had happened to make her feel that way? I knew it was more than simply my rejection of her at Christmas. Now we’d begun the conversation, we would find time to continue it. But not now. Anna’s expression was a confused mixture of relief and frustration. Now she’d started to talk, and she wanted to go on. I hoped the urge remained with her until we were alone again.
“We’ll talk more later,” I said to her, hoping she would hold on to the need to confide in me. She blinked, as though she was a little surprised she’d said so much already, and smiled her acknowledgement briefly. I looked to the driveway as the car appeared. I recognised it at once as Maggie’s little blue runabout. “It’s my neighbour Maggie,” I told Anna. “I’m glad you’re going to have the chance to meet her.” I smiled as Maggie pulled up, her car an odd contrast to Anna’s sleek model, and Anna gave me her hand to help me to my feet. Maggie was one visitor I couldn’t resent, however bad the timing.
Maggie climbed agilely out of the driver’s seat, glancing at Anna’s Audi as though there was nothing remarkable about it at all. “Hello, pet.”
“Hi, Maggie. Perfect timing! You can meet Anna.” Maggie turned keen eyes on Anna’s tall figure and smiled warmly.
“Anna Everest, the architect,” Anna said, shaking hands with Maggie.
“And my girlfriend,” I added, feeling a flush of pleasure, which only deepened when Anna smiled warmly in response. Maggie grinned broadly at me.
“Good for you, pet,” she said, patting my arm. “Lovely to meet you, Anna. Nice to see more than just Ros here at the old place.”
“You have to come inside and see what we’ve done. It’s looking fantastic now, Maggie, I think you’ll be pleased.” My pride and excitement surged through me.
“Miss Everest is clearly a very good architect in that case,” Maggie said. “And I have every faith in you, Ros, to make sure everything is in keeping.”
“Thank you. It means a lot that you trust me like that,” I said. “I’m so glad you’re here Maggie, we even have some lemon cake left from my sister’s visit this morning. Not homemade, I have to add.”
“No doubt good with a cuppa though,” Maggie said. I saw her pleased reaction to the news Jeanne had been to Winter, and we exchanged a private smile. I felt as though she was proud of me too.
“That’s decided then,” I said, turning to make my slow progress up the steps towards the front door. “Come on in.”
We made our way up the steps. When we reached my stony friend Phoebe, I paused. “Maggie, do you think this statue looks happy?” She didn’t seem to think my question was at all odd.
“Not happy, exactly,” Maggie replied. “But content. Like she’s looking for something else, maybe missing something, but satisfied.”
“I think she looks expectant,” Anna put in. “Like she knows something we don’t.”
“Do you think so?” I pondered Phoebe’s expression for a moment longer. “Knows what, though?”
“I don’t think she’s going to tell us, pet,” Maggie said, laughing.
“Now we’ve demonstrated we’re as crazy as you, Ros, how about that tea?” Anna said in an amused tone. We all laughed and headed into the house. I noticed the way our mirth-filled voices echoed in the hallway, and my spirits soared, knowing I had brought life back to Winter. My interrupted conversation with Anna gave me hope that happiness could finally be restored to my life in a similar way. So the architect needed a little guidance on this particular restoration. But I felt it now for the first time in months: I had the strength inside me to be there for her too. I had that to offer her, and more. Now I just had to make her understand that if we were to truly have a happy relationship, she would have to trust me with her heart, reveal what was holding her back. She could trust me, and she could depend on me. I had to understand just why she was so reluctant.
Chapter Fourteen
I did not induce Anna to talk about her feelings again on the night of my sister’s visit. Maggie stayed well into the evening, admiring everything we’d done to Winter, and by then, it was far too tempting to simply succumb to Anna’s invitation to join her in bed.
In the morning, as we ate our breakfast, I watched her closely. I knew she hadn’t forgotten the conversation we’d started. The tension in her body language suggested to me that she was both looking for an opportunity to resume it, and hoping I wouldn’t press her on it. If I’d had all day to wait, I might have made myself content with the step we’d already taken, of how much more I already knew about Anna. But she was leaving after breakfast to meet with a prospective client. I wanted to take the opportunity of talking to her before her professional mask descended once more.
“Anna?” I saw her flinch at my serious tone.
“Yes, Ros?”
“What you sa
id yesterday. About being seen...” Anna’s eyebrows drew together and she looked down into her mug of coffee. “Anna, please, look at me.” She did so, and I saw how vulnerable she felt with her heart exposed. “I see you Anna. I don’t understand all of you yet, but I’m not going to let it stop me seeing you. Not the wealthy architect in the designer suit. You. Anna.”
The colour rose in her cheeks and she looked down at her fingers as they trembled. I didn’t know precisely how I’d done it, but I’d hit a nerve. Was this really the cause of all the distance between us?
“Ros.” She drew in a shaky breath. “No one’s ever said that to me before. No one’s ever tried to see me. They’ve all just believed what they see on the surface.”
“That myth you’ve constructed so very well, you mean? That Anna is unapproachable, coolly intelligent, maybe a little decadent in her tastes but otherwise restrained? I never believed it Anna.”
“I know.” She managed to look at me again. “It’s one of the reasons you’re so special to me, Ros.”
My heart swelled. I knew in that moment that we did have a future. More talking was needed yet. But now we had something to build on. Now the connection we shared was explicit. I saw her pain and wanted to soothe it. Why did she hurt so much? Why had she constructed this myth of herself when it only seemed to cause her to suffer?
“What happened Anna? Why do you hide?” I asked, before I could think too much about it.
“I didn’t always,” she said. “It just seems safer. Since my last relationship.” Tears welled in her eyes. Then she appeared to shake the emotion away and glanced down at her watch. “Look, Ros, thank you. I don’t have the right words to tell you how much what you just said means to me. And I do want to talk to you about it. But I have to work today, and I need to keep it together.” She stood up and came to me and kissed me tenderly. My pulse sped up as it always did. “I promise we will talk. You are so special. You make me feel I don’t need to hide.” With that she left the room. Minutes later she was rummaging through her briefcase and ensuring she had the paperwork she needed for her meeting. I watched her thoughtfully, my heart alive with emotion. Professional Anna was back. But I saw beneath it now, I knew I would soon understand the whole woman at the heart of the superficial image, her joy and her pain. And, as spring came to Winter, I could begin to allow my surging love to blossom.
*
Some of the trees between the house and the river at Winter were ornamental cherries. I hadn’t noticed them in the depths of winter, but once April arrived, their pink flowers emerged and the graceful, serene beauty was breathtaking. There had been snowdrops, crocuses, sunny daffodils, and now tulips and bluebells in colourful waves, reminding me there had been life at Winter all along, stored away in those bulbs under the ground, just waiting for the plentiful spring rain and warming sunshine to bring it forth. Buds were unfurling into fresh green leaves all over the park, and just the day before, a white butterfly had strayed into the hallway. The dark depression of the winter months was almost impossible to remember with so much life stirring all around.
The grassy area beneath the pink canopy of the cherries was relatively flat and sheltered. It proved to be the perfect place for Anna and me to practise yoga together. On one warm day I sat cross-legged on a mat and watched her demonstrate the routine she’d devised for us with the particular design of strengthening my leg. I was no longer wearing the plaster cast, but my leg still felt weak and ached occasionally. With my doctor’s blessing, Anna had taken matters into her own hands and prescribed yoga lessons.
The mild spring air was laced with the floral scent of the cherry blossoms and filled my senses until I couldn’t help but feel calm and energised. Dressed in loose cotton, the gentle breeze touched all of my skin. Before me, Anna moved slowly from pose to pose. She began with her knees bent and her arms straight up by her ears, her back perfectly straight. The muscles and tendons in her bare, toned arms showed the strain as she held the position. I glanced from her fingers over those slender arms and down her body to her taut backside. Her muscles didn’t tremble at all as she breathed in deeply, perfectly balanced.
“Utkatasana,” she said softly, giving the pose its correct Sanskrit name. It sounded as though she was chanting magic words, as she began to move into the next position, murmuring, “Garudasana.” She straightened her back until she was upright, arms still overhead. Slowly, she wrapped her right elbow under her left, pressing the backs of her hands together, pulling her forearms tight to her body. Bending at the knees, she lifted her right thigh over her left, wrapping her foot around the back of her calf. She lifted until her back was perfectly straight, every muscle in her torso taut. She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. I recognized the Eagle posture but found my gaze drawn to her calm face, the way she parted her lips as she exhaled. Her balance was perfect. Just watching her was relaxing.
From the Eagle she moved into the Tree posture, standing straight with her right foot on the inside of her left thigh, her palms joined in front of her chest. Her heel was right at the top of her thigh, demonstrating her flexibility. I saw the muscles in her supporting leg twitch slightly, and watched as her smooth stomach rose and fell with her deep breaths.
With a slow lunge, turning her hips and shoulders to the side, extending her arms, and looking over her fingertips, the Tree became the Warrior, which merged into the King Dancer, as she extended her sleek leg backwards, catching hold of her foot and balancing, free arm outstretched, in the most elegant pose I could imagine. I was transfixed by Anna before me, astonished by her calm, the grace and flexibility of her long, sleek limbs, the obvious muscular strength. And though the exercises were physical, I felt Anna really connected with the spiritual essence of yoga, and this drew me to her powerfully, another part of her mystery laid bare in front of me.
She returned to a solid upright position, before she moved seamlessly into a position where her right hand was on the ground and her left leg extended parallel to the ground, opening her hips and looking to the sky. “Ardha Chandrasana,” Anna said, between deep and controlled breaths.
She held the pose for nearly a minute before folding forwards and resting, bent double with her face against her shins.
Eventually, she stood up straight and looked at me with a hint of challenge breaking through the perfect serenity of her expression. “Care to join me this time?”
“I would,” I replied, “though you’ll have to remind me what comes after what, and I’m going to wobble a lot more than you.”
We went through Anna’s routine, and I had to admit I could feel the strength returning to my injured leg. But it was far more than the health benefits that reignited my love for yoga. Sharing these moments of relaxation, of near meditation, with Anna, moving in synchronisation with her, was so very intimate. I found it extraordinary how focused Anna could be on simply the act of relaxing. I supposed her martial arts training helped her mental focus, but some of her studied serenity infused easily into me. I never felt more connected with her than when we moved through our poses and meditations together. I began to hope that this new bond would advance our relationship further still. She’d told me so much already. I understood the basis of her reluctance now, but we’d still not had the completely honest talk we needed. In case any of her fear remained, I assured her of my affection and desire for her as often as I could, and didn’t feel any lack of those sentiments in return. But there was still a last layer to strip away. Why was Anna so afraid she wouldn’t be seen? Why did she put up a wall that almost ensured she would not be? I’d given her some time and space, wanted her to begin that conversation herself, but it was getting to the point that I knew I would have to broach it again. My feelings for her were growing too strong, and I needed the barriers gone.
One day, at the end of a yoga session, unable to concentrate on emptying my mind as we relaxed, I opened my eyes and looked at her. She’d removed her glasses and her eyes were closed. Her face was perfectly smooth and calm.
She was dressed in simple white cotton, her skin pink in the outdoor air. Her breathing was slow and steady, her shoulders only rising slightly with every deep breath. She’d rested her hands on her knees, her legs crossed, and her fingers curled in relaxation. The breeze caught her hair slightly and rippled through it. She was perfect, and she was mine. I didn’t need to meditate to find my inner peace, gazing at Anna was all that was necessary. I hoped she was finding the same with me. I was more or less certain she was happy, that she was secure and committed in what we shared. I just needed her to allow me to understand her. To tell me what had happened in the previous relationship she’d mentioned. In that I was sure she would find reassurance too.
*
Eventually, it was the yoga that gave me the breakthrough I was searching for. One day, with the promise of early summer in the air, we ended our session in the Corpse pose, flat on our backs, relaxing into the ground below us, allowing the muscles to feel heavy, the eyes to close, to feel at one with the solid earth below. I breathed in deeply and tried to meditate, concentrating on visualising a white light shining in my core and spreading out through my whole body, cleansing, healing, and bringing peace. I was only partially successful. What I could really sense was Anna, on her mat just a few feet to my right. I’d never really believed in the ability to see auras, but in those moments I felt, even seemed to see in my mind’s eye, an energy wavering between red and pink, emanating from my right side. The risk of losing the beautiful colour made me reluctant to open my eyes.
The blossoms had almost drifted completely from the trees now, replaced by fresh green leaves, and a final falling petal brushed over my cheek, tickling, and the colour in my mind faded. I sighed, still contented. I felt pleasantly drowsy, dappled sunlight reaching through the trees to warm me. The air around me shifted gently, and the heat increased, as Anna’s breath stroked my lips, and she kissed me gently. I opened my eyes, and she was a blur above me. Her face came into focus gradually, and she looked at me with so much tenderness it reached right into my heart. I lifted my hand to stroke her hair and sucked her lower lip between mine. She lowered herself until she lay half on top of me, her leg wrapped around my hips, and the kiss intensified.
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