Ghosts of Winter (39 page)

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.

Eventually we paused to catch our breath. “Feeling relaxed, sweetheart?” she asked softly.

“I was feeling very relaxed thanks to my excellent yoga instructor. However, now my girlfriend has me feeling rather worked up again.”

“You make it sound like I’ve got multiple personalities.”

“You can add outrageously talented architect too. But it’s all one wonderful personality. You’re just ridiculously good at too many things.”

Anna’s eyes grew serious suddenly, and she moved slightly back from me, as though she wanted to see me properly. “I’m not good at everything.”

“No?” I said, smiling. “I’ve yet to discover anything you’re bad at.”

Anna looked, as she often did, as though there was something she really wanted to say, but didn’t know how to articulate. Her expression grabbed my attention at once, snapping me out of my lazy contentment and into hopeful alertness. Did she finally feel it was time to confide in me? “I know you’ve noticed,” she said.

“Noticed what?” I saw the tension return to her body and attempted to lighten the mood.  “Admittedly I’ve not heard you sing, or played chess with you yet. You might be terrible at those things.”

“Well, you’re right, I can’t sing. And I don’t have the patience for chess.”

“See, I knew we were meant to be together.”

“There, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“What?” I asked, confused. From her expression I knew she was telling me something of great importance to her, but I couldn’t quite work out what she meant.

“You say things like that so easily. It just doesn’t come so naturally to me.”

“Like what, Anna?”

“Like expressing the way you feel. You’re always saying things that make me feel special, and sometimes I think I’m letting you down because I don’t.”

“Are you saying you’re bad at talking about how you feel?” I saw that trace of vulnerability in Anna, that edge of insecurity behind the confident façade.

“I guess so,” she said, shrugging awkwardly. “I’ve never been able to really tell you how much you mean to me.”

“You just did.” I tried to pull her close again. She looked so frightened of what she had revealed.

“I want to explain something to you,” she said.

“Go on then,” I said gently. I knew instinctively this was the moment Anna had chosen to tell me her story. She didn’t need my questions, just my attention.

“My last serious relationship ended two-and-a-half years ago,” she said abruptly. I knew at once I was being allowed into the place in Anna’s past and in her heart she had been scared to allow me before. I stayed silent and allowed her to continue. “It was with a woman called Louise, and we’d been together for nearly two years. We got together very quickly. I suppose I couldn’t help myself. She was just so into me, showering me with compliments and attention. And pretty good sex too. She even talked about getting married. When I told her I wasn’t sure, she got so angry. I’d never known anyone to lose it with me like that. So I reassured her how much I loved her, that I would be happy to marry her. But even when I said it, I knew it was a lie. I loved her, but not enough. What I really loved was how she made me feel. Successful, beautiful, and powerful. She played to my ego so very well.

“A few months later, all the passion had died. I felt as though she was punishing me, not wanting sex with me because I’d suggested that I might not commit to her forever. But I didn’t dare complain and risk another explosion of all that pain and anger.