Coincidences: #3 Diana & Anya

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  Ian moved some pillows behind her, helping her lie on her side. He pulled her shoes off and ran his hand through his hair at the thought of taking her jeans off. He changed into a pair of loose fitting shorts and stretched out on the bed, pulling the blankets over them both as the sunset over the water, a soft breeze coming in the large sliding doors.

  Ian closed his eyes. He knew he’d go mad trying to unravel the mystery of why one person was attracted to another. Madness. That’s what the poets have termed love for eons upon eons.

  Anya struggled against the blankets, her feet trapped, her arm stuck and her frustration growing. Even as a child, she had hated being helpless or looked upon as unable to take care of herself. Those feelings only grew as she aged and lost her whole family in an ethnic cleansing bombing raid.

  A growling curse left her lips when she finally felt the breeze upon her, her feet shoved over the edge of the bed and body pulled upright by shear willpower.

  “Anya, slow down for pity sake,” Ian threw the blankets back and was around the bed, moonlight shining through and casting shadows around him. He put her good arm around his neck and lifted her easily to stand up. “Now…the bathroom?”

  “Yes. Please,” came the afterthought pushed through her teeth.

  “There are hand rails and rails on the wall. These used to be my grandparents quarters,” Ian said through a yawn. “My grandmother has knee problems and needed them for support and balance. You should be able to manage…if not, please…call me.”

  “You are talkative in the middle of the night,” one dark brow arched, her frown curious.

  “Hmmm…never noticed,” Ian closed the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “I brought in some clothes from your van for you, but I’m not sure how easy it’ll be to get dressed.”

  “I will manage,” she assured him, teeth clenching as she shoved the jeans down her legs and kicked them free. “Handles are good,” she murmured, adjusting the simple black lace boy style panties and pulling the door wide. Anya paused in the doorway, getting the layout of the room locked in her mind before turning the light off. “I will collect the jeans in the morning.”

  “Collect…” Ian straightened up and moved to her side, his gaze noticing the expanse of leg and hip.

  “I do not like being weak,” she grumbled, her hand tight around his arm.

  “I noticed,” he guided her to the bed, helping her position herself on her good side and propping her up with extra pillows.

  Anya wrapped her arm around the pillow, her face aimed toward the open glass doors and the man now stretching out beside her.

  “I do not understand you, Ian Sheffield.”

  “At the moment, that makes two of us. Go to sleep, Anya.”

  “Why are you doing this? Because of your promise to Will?”

  “Are you going to run if I answer honestly?” Ian had been silent for a long minute, wrestling with the puzzle inside him.

  “I will not run,” she answered softly. “I know why I ran. I do not know if it was right or wrong for anyone else, but I know…for my…” she mumbled in her own language for a couple seconds. “Sanity…I had to go.”

  “He was the first friend I’d ever lost like that,” Ian said quietly.

  “It is difficult to have friends during war,” Anya noted, her sigh a soft shudder. “So very difficult,” she let the single tear fall on the pillow, her lashes down as she savored the silence.

  A soft sigh eased free, dark lashes closed and quiet settled into the room around them. Occasional sounds of passing freighters or an overhead plane intruded on the last few minutes Ian lay pondering her comment.

  It was nice to be warm, Anya decided, half in and out of sleep, her sigh eased from parted lips. She snuggled closer, freezing in place the next instant. A warm hand rested and tightened on her waist. Dark lashes fluttered as she tried to clear her vision. It was daylight. That much she could attest to, light streamed in around the room from the soft grey fog outside.

  Her sling was gone. She closed her eyes, trying to remember. She recalled going to the bathroom and leaving her jeans on the floor. Slowly she opened her eyes again, blinking at the tanned flesh next to her cheek. Her eyes did a slow scan, noticing the dark coils inches from her nose. Lashes widened slightly when the palm on her waist slowly stroked along her side.

  Anya tried to move, but it was the wounded shoulder laying against his waist and the attempt brought a low groan free.

  “You lost your sling,” Ian remarked, his palm moving over skin that was warm, smooth and silky.

  “I am trying to move…”

  “Would you like some help?” Ian’s smile was crooked, he could feel her simmering.

  “Please, would you help me,” Anya spoke each word clearly, her teeth clenched.

  “I would be happy to lend you a hand,” Ian held to her waist, sitting up very slowly and taking her body with him. He gazed around the room, locating the sling on the chair several feet from the bed and dangling off one corner. “I’m guessing you flung it across the room?”

  “I do not remember,” she answered, wincing as he carefully held her until she was sitting on the bed, blankets welled on her lap, tummy showing and the lace edge of her panties visible. “I…I just wanted to sleep and could not find a comfortable spot.”

  Ian lifted his glasses from the bedside table, running one hand through the short cropped hair. “I’m glad I could help,” he retrieved the sling and brought it to the bed, pants riding low on his hips. “There’s no way to do this so it doesn’t hurt, Anya.”

  “I know.” She held the left elbow in her right palm, her left hand clenched into a tight fist.

  “I’ll try and work fast. You can shower later and get Amber to help you. I have waterproof patches to plaster over each side,” he talked as he worked to get her arm back into the sling, pressing close to her body to keep the muscles from aggravating the wounds. “And I’ll find you an extra sling…hang the other one up to dry outside. There…are you still with me?”

  “Yes…thank you…” Anya exhaled slowly, swaying slightly and finding herself reaching to steady herself against him. “Ian…”

  He took her hand in his and dropped to his haunches, his other hand beneath her chin.

  “I know…confusion abounds at the moment,” he sighed, his lips touching the slender fingers curled around his. “Anya…we have to talk…please listen to me a minute,” he saw the confusion in her expressive eyes, his insides groaning loudly. “When we do talk…I know English isn’t your first language…it’s very good, but sometimes…”

  “So many meanings for one word,” she said quietly.

  “Exactly….and if I ever say something that is…is off…or doesn’t feel right, for god’s sake, ask me…I don’t want misunderstandings because of words. I saw too much of that in your country…I don’t want it like that between us.”

  “I understand,” she whispered with a nod.

  “Okay…” Ian drew in a long breath. He’d been practicing the words most of the night. “Will was a very big part of both of us…” his hand held hers when she started to pull away. “No, please…he was part of our lives. An important part to both of us. But he is gone,” Ian’s voice held firm.

  “I know,” came the whispered response, hot moisture burning her eyes. “That is what Bella told me…”

  “Bella?”

  “That is why Jane took me there yesterday,” a hot tear rolled down her cheek. “Bella was married very young…and he was killed. Jane said she would be able to…able to…” she rambled off in Croatian for a second.

  “Relate?”

  “Yes. Relate…Jane could relate about my parents death, but not the death of a lover. Bella…I like her…I like their friends…it was…safe…to speak of Will and have someone understand…” She accepted the cloth he held out to her, sniffling and shaking her head. “The memories make tears but are not bad, does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, hon
ey, it makes perfect sense,” Ian tipped her face up, kissed her softly and straightened up. “I have to get ready for work.”

  Anya struggled to straighten her legs and stand up, inhaling deeply and moving to the bathroom where her jeans lay on the floor. Barefoot, wearing her jeans and borrowed halter top, Anya opened the front door and went to her van. She collected personal things in the large carpet bag, found her phone and a pair of slip on sandals. Her hand was on the lever to close the wide door when a stronger palm settled over hers.

  “Let me…then come inside and let me check your shoulder,” Ian closed the door and took the handles from her left hand. “I said to take it easy. That means to try not to move or use the left side of your body for a few days at least, Anya. A few days…”

  “I know, I know…” her voice was low and grumbling. “You are trying to alter a life…I do not stop and…and think…should I…should I not…” one palm flew about expressively as she talked and followed him back inside. “This is a very lovely house. You have lived here long?”

  “About three years. Like I said, it was my grandparents section, then they moved to the new wing, closer to the pool and main house,” Ian set her bag on the bed and reached for his watch and phone.

  “I need my vitamins. Do you have food here?” Anya looked around the large living area, spotted the kitchen and went to rummage in the fridge. “Perfect. Do you want juice?”

  “Please…don’t suppose you know how to make coffee yet?”

  “Put in scoop, close lid, pour water and press button,” she shot back with a brow lifted in his direction. “Rocket science that I have mastered.”

  Anya listened to his laughter as he wandered back toward the master bathroom. She had the coffee perking when a buzz began near the front door. She slid off the kitchen stool, crossed the living area and frowned at the small speaker with buttons.

  “Hello?”

  “Jane and Chloe…can you open the gates?” Jane’s voice came through the speakers.

  “I do not know,” she studied the collection of buttons, frowning until a palm came around her to press the bright yellow button.

  “Open…looks like you have some company,” he turned and went into the kitchen, filled a large travel mug with fresh coffee and briskly checked pockets for keys, phone and badge. Ian went into the back when Anya pulled the door wide.

  “Good morning!” Chloe carried a large carton with Jane trailing behind with another carton. “We’ve brought you some gifts.”

  “Gifts? Chloe that is most kind of you…” Anya felt more confusion flowing inside her, glancing from one to the other.

  “You don’t have any tops like the one you’re wearing, do you?” Jane asked in the middle of the confusion.

  “I…no, no…I have T-shirts.”

  “No girl clothes?” Chloe set the carton on the floor, her frown curious.

  A dry laugh left Anya’s lips. “Girl clothes were not safe for where I grew up. I have jeans and tee shirts.”

  “What were you married in?” Jane asked curiously.

  “Camouflage cargo pants and one of Will’s Army tee shirts,” Anya recalled with a quiet chuckle. “Very unconventional, I was told.”

  “It wasn’t a safe place for girls,” Chloe said, her voice sadly thoughtful.

  “No…no, it was not…you learn very early to avoid…to not cause attention to being very girl,” Anya searched for the right words.

  Ian had been listening, recalling his time in Croatia and the people he had met and situations he had observed. He entered the living area, a greeting smile at the two women.

  “You’re out and about early, ladies. Anya, I will call you and this,” he handed her a small pager. “Press the button and Amber will call and see what you need, alright? Ask for help, Anya,” he said firmly, ignoring the wrinkled nose she offered with rolled dark eyes. “Cute. I’ll see you later. Have a great day, ladies.”

  “He’s cute,” Jane said with a chuckle when they were alone again.

  “He is enough to make you throw things,” Anya waved her one good palm over the cartons. “What is this?”

  “I told you, gifts. We went through our closets and found you some easy things to wear. I didn’t know you didn’t have girl clothes, so these will be very different than what you’re used to,” Chloe told her with a nod. She lifted the light carton and looked toward where Ian had come from. “Is this the bedroom? We’ll help hang things up and then we have to get to work.”

  “You did not…this is really most kind of you…” Anya followed, feeling overwhelmed, her mouth falling open as they opened the cartons and began hanging several simple halter dresses, several tops in a wide array of colors and a couple pairs of elastic banded shorts. “Chloe…Jane, this is…thank you.”

  Chloe came to her, hugging her carefully. “You don’t live there anymore, Anya…and I don’t know you that well yet…but I have seen your designs. I think you miss being allowed to just be a girl. Lace and satin and silk and a ruffle or two…even a pair of glass slippers,” she said with a smile.

  “And these will be much easier than messing with tee shirts…and since the heat wave is just beginning, cool will be really good,” Jane hugged her and waved. “We have to get to work. But we’ll be in touch, I promise.”

  “Thank you…both…” Anya moved to the big chair and just sat staring at the closet for a long time. The girl in her came out in her designs, she knew that. In her world, the only place you allowed the girl in you to thrive was your underwear.

  Anya finished the slice of toast and boiled egg, staring through her meal at the pager Ian had placed in her hand. Thinking she was alone, she threw back her head and screamed, loud and therapeutically.

  Loud knocking on the front door made her jump, breath caught in her chest as she crossed to reluctantly open the door.

  “Miss Miller? I am Amber Conner,” the soft British accent accompanied the greeting smile.

  Anya stepped back to allow her inside. “Anya Miller. I…hope that I did not…Ian said we were alone out here…” Amber wore a simple light blue blouse and black slacks, a white pinafore apron over top and a little white cap on her head.

  “Did it help?”

  Anya exhaled and sat on the kitchen stool. “It did not hurt,” she admitted after a long minute, relaxing when the older woman chuckled.

  “Then it was worth it. Dr. Sheffield asked me to check on you.”

  “I was going to ask for your help,” Anya admitted, a sheepish glance at the pager she’d been staring at for fifteen minutes.

  “I completely understand, it must be incredibly frustrating to go from being an independent woman one day to having to ask for help just to zip your jeans the next.”

  “Exactly.”

  Amber looked toward the bedroom. “How about a long shower? I brought some patches to keep the wounds dry.”

  Anya nodded, walking toward the large master bath, turning at the last minute to the carpet bag she had set on the bed. She upended the bag, sorting through for fresh panties, toothbrush and fragrant soap and shampoo.

  “A couple towels,” Amber laid out two very large towels on the spacious counter. “There are very solid bars and a large tiled bench in the shower, Miss Miller, but I will wait outside in the bedroom. Let me apply these waterproof patches and open those back buttons for you.”

  Anya sat on the bench, holding her top in place as the clear patch was placed over the half dozen stitches. She waited while the back one was positioned, standing up carefully, aware of the gentle hand on her elbow.

  “Thank you, Amber,” Anya met her quiet smile with a nod.

  She sat for a long minute on the bench in the large bathroom, slowly working the jeans down her legs, panties following before she eased the halter from her to fall to the floor. Anya sat on the tiled built in bench beneath the hot water for a long time, letting the steam and fragrant soap scents surround her.

  Toweled hair feathered and fell naturally into place as sh
e struggled to remove the sling, letting it fall to the shower stall as she tucked a thick towel beneath her arms.

  Ask for help, she heard the mantra repeated inside her head as she eased the door to the bedroom open. Amber was on her feet and at her side right away, helping her to the bench seat at the bottom of the bed. Together they managed to get her panties on and clean bandages.

  “We’ll make the bandage a little lighter today…let some air get to those wounds,” Amber walked to the large walk-in closet.

  “Not an easy choice,” Anya chuckled nervously. “My…my friends brought me clothing that would be simpler to wear.”

  “A dress? The weather is supposed to be very nice today,” Amber held up a halter dress in shades of green, outlines of tropical leaves patterned throughout.

  “Alright,” Anya inhaled slowly, stepping into the circle Amber laid out on the floor, mindless of her semi-nudity as the dress was fit around her and beneath the sling.

  “Very lovely, Miss Miller,” Amber smiled, satisfied with the effect. “With your dark hair, this green is perfect for you,” her gaze drifted to the floor. “Hmm…”

  “I have sandals that will be fine, thank you, Amber for all your help,” Anya heard the door close and walked slowly to the full length mirror, turning and staring at the stranger in the glass.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The girl inside.

  Bare toes stepped outside the bedroom, onto the sun heated stones that built the wide patio. Anya eased into the cushioned beach chair, staring out and watching the sun sparkle over the water fifty feet away.

  She was dozing half an hour later, drifting in a world far different than the past haunting her memories.

  They sat beneath the wide umbrella, watching the young woman doze when she stirred, blinking and remarkably not moving when she saw them. Bright welcoming smiles tipped the older faces. The woman had sparkling white hair, neatly bound at the nape of her neck and the man wore his silver hair in a distinguished clean taper cut.