CHAPTER TWO

ANNA:

On most mornings, Kai has to pound on my bedroom door (for several minutes) in order to wake me up, but on this particular one I opened my eyes on my own...and, to my amazement, before seven am.

Why so early? Probably because I'd passed out the previous evening before nine pm.

While I remembered the prior day well, including how it had ended, I had no idea how I'd landed here, back in my own bed. Had Kai carried me here? Or had it been Elsa herself? Was she strong enough to have picked me up in her arms? Maybe.

I wrestled with these questions for several minutes, but no explanation seemed absolutely certain, so I turned my attention to a far more "productive" activity: being mad at myself for falling asleep while I was with her (even though there was no real reason to be).

That soon became boring, so I glanced at my clock again.

Well, well, well. Seven a.m. An entire extra hour to myself...but how should I spend it? I was eager to see Elsa again, but after everything she'd been through yesterday, I didn't want to wake her up; and I definitely wanted her to be well-rested for the upcoming tea party that afternoon.

I sat up and stretched, stifling a yelp as I did, and realized that I was now officially stiff and sore from yesterday's activities: running around while nearly frozen, getting physically abused by Marshmallow, and punching Hans had all finally caught up with me.

Fortunately, I knew of one way to alleviate the pain, at least somewhat, so I crawled out of bed with a groan, grabbed my bathrobe, and then headed down the hall.

Ten minutes later, I was in Papa's shower stall, hoping that the cascading hot water would work out some of the knots. Relief did come, but slowly and, knowing that I was going to be in there for a while, I used the time for thinking...

...mostly thinking about how wonderful my first day and night with Elsa had been!

As I limped back toward my room, I encountered Kai in the hallway. He looked more than a little surprised to see me up and about.

"Good morning, Kai. I kind of, uh, woke up on my own this morning. Is Elsa awake yet?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I knocked on her door nearly an hour ago."

I was stunned. Nearly an hour ago? How long had I been in the shower? I had no idea so, with a philosophical shrug, I walked back into my bedroom.

Looking across to its far side I noticed, for the first time, the plaid blanket in which Elsa and I had wrapped ourselves last night, now tossed over a chair. It wasn't folded, so I pondered that fact or a moment. If Kai had brought me back to bed, he probably would have folded it, not just tossed it there. Did that mean Elsa had brought me here and put me to bed?

Still, despite my best efforts at deduction, I wasn't sure. Finally, I gave up on the question completely and turned my attention to stretching again, this time in all directions, and was relieved to realize that I felt decidedly better.

I dressed as quickly as possible and then, eager to wish Elsa a good morning, I ran down the hall to her room.

As I approached the door, however, I stopped short, because I heard someone on its other side talking, non-stop, in a low voice.

Who could possibly be in there with her?

I waited patiently for a break in the conversation, but when there wasn't one, I began to worry. I know I should have knocked, but instead I opened the door a crack and peeked in...

...to see that the person talking was Elsa...

...and that the person she was speaking to was herself...

...non-stop, as she paced back and forth, obviously distraught, while looking down occasionally at something she was holding between her hands.

"I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-"

"Elsa?"

"I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-I can't-"

Now alarmed, I entered the room, crossed it, and planted myself firmly in her path.

She didn't seem to notice, so to prevent her from running into me, I grabbed her shoulders with both hands.

"Elsa? Elsa!"

Finally realizing that I was there, she looked at me, startled, then bit her lower lip and shook her head.

"Anna, I can't!"

It wasn't hard to figure out why she was upset.

"It's going to be all right, I promise," I told her, without actually mentioning the party. Looking down at what she was holding between her palms, I immediately recognized it as a small, oval-framed portrait of me, with an easel-type back, that had been sitting on Mama's desk for the past five years. I'm guessing that she was looking at it as a deterrent to keep her fear from freezing the room.

I took the picture from her hands very gently and set it on her dresser, then I looked back at her, trying to decide what I should say next. I felt strongly that a gung-ho, 'you-can-do-it' speech from me would only start an argument, one that I wouldn't win, so I decided to try a different approach. Wrapping both of my arms around her, I pulled her close to me, giving her a warm hug.

I gave her a few moments to settle into my arms and, once she did, I said in a low voice, "Since you're up and dressed, let's go have breakfast. I'm sure you'll feel at least a little better after you've eaten somethi-"

"I-I don't feel like it," she mumbled against my shoulder.

"It's okay if you don't," I replied, "but in the long run, skipping meals only makes you feel worse. It doesn't have to be much – just some tea and toast. Will you please do that for me?"

She didn't reply, so I added, "Will you at least try?"

I felt a tiny nod.

"Thank you, Elsa. If you'll do that for me, then right afterward, you and I..."

I stopped speaking abruptly.

She leaned back and looked at me, then asked, "You and I...what?"

To be honest, I hadn't really thought about how to finish the sentence. I suppose I should have said, "you and I will talk," but instead, I grinned broadly and announced, spontaneously, "...right after, you and I are gonna have some fun!"

She looked at me, curious, and then asked, "We are? How?"

I smiled slyly, in an effort to buy time but, unfortunately, I had already aroused her curiosity.

"How?" she repeated.

I merely shook my head and replied, in my most mysterious tone of voice, "You'll see."

Truthfully, I had absolutely no idea, but since I had almost an hour to figure it out, and was confident that I'd eventually find something fun for us to do, what I said wasn't really a lie.

I glanced out her window.

Rainy morning. Whatever I came up with, it would have to be an indoor activity.

Reaching over, I took Elsa by the hand and led her down the hall to the Sun Room.

Breakfast was already on the table when we sat down, and I immediately pulled my footed glass dish of fruit salad toward myself with one hand, while grabbing a crescent roll from a nearby basket with the other.

Elsa added some sugar to her tea and took a tiny sip.

Well, it was a start.

By the end of the meal, she had eaten most of her fruit, one roll, two pieces of bacon, and her cup of tea.

Enough.

I looked across the table at her and asked, "Do you feel a little better?"

"I guess," she replied, although without much conviction, and then she asked, again, "So, what fun thing are we going to do?"

Crap!

I had been so busy eating, and making sure she herself was, that I had completely forgotten to plan something!

Elsa was looking at me expectantly while I wracked my brain, and it seemed that there was no way out but to confess that I had absolutely no idea, but suddenly, as my darting eyes came to rest on the painting of a mountain that hung at the far end of the room, inspiration struck...

...and less than ten minutes later, Elsa and I were walking, arm in arm, into our family's Picture Gallery. I led her over to one side of the entrance, and then we slowly began to make our way around the room. As we stopped in front of each painting, I told her its name, the artist's name, and the date when it had been created (when known). Having spent had so many years alone - and thanks in part to the many excellent art reference books in Papa's library - I was well-acquainted with every single one of them.

"The Peasant Dance, by Bruegel the Elder, circa 1659.

"The Picnic, by Auguste Serrure.

"Dancing Couple, by Gerard Terborch, 1660.

"El Jaleo, by John Singer Sargent.

"The Swing, by Jean-Honore Fragonard, 1767.

"Potiphar's Wife Show's Joseph's Gown to her Husband, by Lucas van Leyden, circa 1512."

Not to brag, but my wealth of knowledge clearly impressed Elsa.

"What a lot you know!" she exclaimed.

"Riders in Carrington Park at Sunrise, by Fredrick Thompson, 1834."

I took two steps forward, but then an unexpected – and potentially dangerous - thought occurred to me. I stopped walking and, turning to my right again, I stood facing the area of blank wall next to that last painting, and thinking hard.

Dare I tell her?

What would she think of me if I did?

As I wrestled with these questions, I felt Elsa's right arm pressing against my left one; and I saw, from the corner of my eye as she bent forward slightly, staring intently, at the same blank patch of wall.

I knew she was teasing me, but I didn't mind, because it meant that she wasn't stressing about the impending party.

I wanted to tell her, badly, but I wasn't sure what her response would be. Finally, I decided to test the waters and, with my eyes still on the wall, I asked, "Elsa, can you keep a secret?"

"Of course I can."

Immediately, I turned to face her and exclaimed, "No! I don't mean a regular secret...I mean an Honest-to-God-Never-Tell-A-Living-Soul-Secret?"

"On my honor," she replied, extending her hand.

I extended my own, and watched as she shook it solemnly.

But, still, I wasn't sure.

"Okay, tell me," she said.

Not entirely convinced that I should, I nonetheless decided to take a leap of faith...but when I opened my mouth, absolutely no sound came out.

So I tried again, with the same result.

And then again.

On my fourth failed attempt, she took pity on me.

"Anna, how many sentences is it?"

After a moment's consideration, I held up one finger.

"All right," she replied, "this is going to be easy. Now, all I want you to do is to just say the first word...just the first one."

"Sometimes..."

She nodded, then said, "Okay, and now say just the second word."

"...I..."

"All right, now say just the third word."

"...like..."

"Very good. Now say the fourth word."

"...to..."

"Okay. Now the fifth word."

"...go...into-Papa's-room-and-play-dress up-with-his-clothes!"

The instant I finished telling her, I regretted it. I was sure that her reply to this would be that I was either weird or sick (or both), and I cringed as she opened her mouth and replied...

"Oh. That sounds like fun."

My stunned reaction to her answer lasted only a few seconds and, greatly relived, I gushed, "It is fun! So much fun! I mean, I've never tried on any of his military uniforms, because that seems like it would be disrespectful, but all of his other clothes are wonderful! Men's suits have an amazing number of pockets in them; and some are even inside the jacket!"

She smiled and nodded and, now feeling encouraged, I continued, "It's so incredible to walk around freely, without having to drag skirts everywhere you go!"

I backed up a few steps and gestured to the painting I'd just shown her, of the two gentlemen on horseback, wearing English riding habits.

"I mean, look at these guys! I've never tried it, but it must be so much easier to ride a horse when you're wearing trousers than it is in a dress. What's even worse is trying to ride one sidesaddle. Believe me, the human body was NOT designed for that!"

"I'll have to take your word on that...for both scenarios," she replied. "You'll never get me up on a horse!"

Turning to her, I began, "Oh, come on, Elsa, never say nev-" but stopped speaking abruptly when I saw the expression on her face.

She was clearly terrified at the prospect. I had no idea why, but I didn't want to find out by drawing her into a discussion of something she found so frightening, not when we were so close to the party, so I dropped the issue, and led her to the next painting.

"Skaters on a Frozen Pond at Sunset, by Martin Vandermeer, circa 1827."

I sneaked a sideways glance at Elsa and was relieved to see her smiling.

I really like this one!" she exclaimed. "I love the way sun slants through the trees at the edge of the pond and casts their long shadows over the ice. It's beautiful, but also a little sad, all at once." She was silent for a moment, and then added, "Before the gates were closed, Papa took me ice skating several times. Even though I was a beginner, he said that I was surprisingly good at it."

"Did he take you out skating on the fijord?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"No, over to a lake that's just east of here. Because it's a small body of water, it froze harder and was safer."

"Was Papa a good skater?"

She pondered this question for a moment, then replied, "He was pretty good, but I'm not sure about fancy figures. I do think he could do a figure-eight, though."

"I see."

"Did he ever take you skating?" she asked.

"No! And that's okay with me!" I exclaimed, adding, "You'll never get me up on ice skates!"

I expected her to argue the point, and was fully prepared to defend my position but, much to my relief, she didn't. Still, eager to change the subject, I led her to the far corner of the room and exclaimed, "I really love this one, Elsa: Young Man by the Sea, by Hippolyte Flandrin, 1836."

The instant I told her that I loved it, I regretted it, because of the question it undoubtedly raised in her mind: Why do you like it, Anna...because he's completely naked?

Actually, I loved it because of the man's pose. The way he rests his head on his drawn-up knees; the sense of despair and absolute isolation he depicts exactly mirror my own feelings of loneliness that I'd felt for years. But I didn't want to make Elsa feel bad by telling her that.

We stood in silence for a bit, then she asked, "What do you love most about it?"

Fortunately, I now had an answer ready: "Because it's so funny! It looks like he's trying to remember where he left his clothes!" I replied, then hurried her forward before she could ask any more questions about it.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my favorite painting in the entire collection. I'd deliberately saved the best for last.

"Joan of Arc, by Sir John Gilbert. He painted it in-"

A knock on the gallery's open door caused us to look in that direction.

"Your Majesty, lunch is ready," Kai informed us.

Ten minutes later, I was thoroughly enjoying a heaping plate of chicken salad with celery and walnuts on a bed of Boston lettuce.

Elsa managed to eat some, too, although not as much as I would have liked.

As I polished off my pear sorbet, I tried to figure out what to do next. There would be three hours to kill before the party, and I wanted to keep her distracted from worrying about it for as long as possible. However, I'd already "used up" the Portrait Gallery, so what should we do next? Unfortunately, I didn't have any ideas.

When we got up from the table, she said, "You were right, Anna, looking at the paintings was fun. Now, what should we do next?"

I thought it over for a bit, then had an idea.

"Would you like to see the Library...I mean, not the one in the Study, but the other one?" I asked. "There are thousands of books in there, and you could take a few back to your room. Sometimes it's nice to read before bed."

She agreed, so a few minutes later I watched in amusement as she stared, bewildered, at the huge room's many floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

"I...don't even know where to start!" she exclaimed, then added, "Why don't you pick out some for yourself first?"

"I already have two unfinished ones in my room," I informed her. "Anyway, t o get some idea of where to start, are there any subjects in particular that you're interested in? I can help you find the area where they're kept."

She pondered this, then answered, "Well, after witnessing your vast knowledge of art this morning, I think I'd like to learn a little more about that. Are there any art history books in here?"

I led her to that section and then watched in silence as she read the titles of all of them, finally deciding on a huge, heavy, illustrated volume on the Old Dutch Masters.

"Okay, anything else?" I asked.

"No, I'm pretty sure this one will keep me busy for a while."

"Since it's so heavy, would you like to put it in your room now?" I suggested.

She agreed. After returning her room, I watched as she set it on her nightstand, and then she turned to me and asked, "Okay, now what?"

Unfortunately, I was completely out of ideas at the moment, but then, glancing out the window, one more came to mind, and I asked, "Would you like to sit in the window seat for awhile and listen to the rain with me?"

She answered by promptly crossing the room and sitting there. I joined her, hoping as I did that the steady sound of rain hitting the window panes would calm her.

Next, I tried to figure out what we should talk about. I mean, sitting in silence would give her mind a chance to wander, and probably to some very dark places, so we should converse...but about what? Well, let's see. I could ask Elsa if she knew any jokes. Nah, not such a good idea. Since she'd spent all of the past thirteen years scared and isolated, she probably didn't, and I didn't want to make her feel bad by mentioning it. Then it occurred to me that I'd actually heard a few good ones, way back when I was a kid. The problem was that I couldn't recall any of them (which was understandable, I mean, who did I have to tell them to)?

As I struggled to remember, Elsa turned to me suddenly and asked, "Anna, would you like to look at Mama's jewelry?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Where is it? Locked up in one of our vaults?"

She shook her head.

"No. I have it...her entire collection. It was left to me in her will, and I received it shortly after she...passed."

"I'd love to look at it!"

I watched as she crossed to the room's far side and then knelt in front of her lowboy dresser. Pulling its bottom drawer out, she removed a quilt, then lifted out a massive, dark mahogany chest. Crossing to her desk, she moved a few things aside, then set the box over to the right-hand side, leaving the center area of the desk bare. Then she turned her desk lamp on.

Seating herself, she called, "Anna, come over here."

I did as she directed, then hesitated. There was only one other chair in the room, a huge overstuffed one at the far end, so there was nowhere for me to sit. I was just about to crouch next to the desk, but then she saw what the problem was, and said, "No, come around back here...to my side."

I did and then, after pushing her chair back slightly, she placed her hands on my hips and gently pulled me down onto her lap.

As I let out a small, surprised, "oh!" she said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let you slide off," and wrapped her left arm around my waist.

"Now, lean back against me and get comfortable," she instructed.

Once I had, she said, "Okay, I'm going to need your help with this, because it's going to be hard to do one-handed."

I knew what that meant: that she was going to keep her left arm wrapped around me...

...and, for the record, I didn't mind in the least!

Still, to be polite, I asked, "Are you sure I'm not squishing you?"

"You're not, I promise," she replied, leaning forward and, with difficulty, planting a kiss on my right cheek.

As she reached for the jewelry box's latch, I placed my right hand over hers.

"Elsa, before we begin, I just want to tell you that I'm going to handle every single item in here very, very carefully."

"I know you will; I'm not worried about that at all," she replied. "Now, will you help me open it?"

I did as she asked. Upon lifting the lid, the first thing I saw was a wide expanse of midnight blue. It turned out that this was a large piece of velvet cloth. At Elsa's direction, I shook it open and laid it on the desk's surface, spreading it out carefully.

Then, I looked down into the box itself.

"Wow, Elsa! What a huge collection she had!" I exclaimed.

"Actually, you're only looking at a quarter of it," she answered. "There are three more trays beneath this one."

"I had no idea she was this into jewelry."

"Well, she didn't buy most of these herself;" Elsa replied. "A lot of the pieces were given to her as gifts, mainly by foreign dignitaries. She also inherited some, and there are several pieces in here that were gifts from Papa."

I stole a fast glance at the clock, dividing the time available prior to four o'clock between four trays, plus replacing the items, plus travel time to the Dining Hall. I wanted to make sure we didn't arrive there late.

Next, I began lifting the pieces of jewelry out of the box, examining each, and then laying them out, in neat rows, on the velvet.

"I love this one!" I remarked, showing her a necklace.

"That's called a lavalier," she replied, "which is a chain with a single pendant on it. At least, I think that's what Grandmama called it. It used to be hers."

"Is the purple stone in the middle an amethyst?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied.

"I...I don't really remember Grandmama," I admitted.

"That's understandable," she said, "She passed when you were four. I don't remember her very well myself; but I do recall that she was a tall, elegant-looking lady, and that she was very kind to both of us."

"What was her name...I mean, before she married into our family?

"It was Belle," Elsa replied. "Belle Howell. I think her branch of the family was Welsh."

As we began removing the other pieces from the box and examining them, suddenly I was very curious as to which ones Papa had given to Mama. Elsa said that she wasn't sure but, upon closer inspection, we did discover the initials I.O. engraved inside three rings and one bracelet, so it was likely that those, at least, had been presents to Mama (Iduna) from Papa (Oskar).

"Do you look at these often?" I asked.

Elsa shook her head.

"No, I only looked once before, when they were first given to me."

Understandable. Looking more frequently than that would probably have made her even more upset at losing our parents than she already was.

Once we had examined the last piece, I said to Elsa, "Thank you for showing me these. It's a beautiful collection...well, with a very few exceptions, but I won't say which ones!"

She laughed.

"I agree. There are a few pieces in there that I'm not fond of either."

"Those were probably gifts from hostile foreign powers!" I joked.

She laughed again.

"Elsa, now that you have all of this jewelry, are you going to wear any of it?

"Yes, I think I'm going to wear all of it...not at the same time, of course! I mean that, maybe I'll wear a different piece each day. Well, except for one piece."

"Which one?" I asked.

She turned me around on her lap and looked directly into my eyes.

"Anna, I'd like to give you one piece as a gift. It can be any one you want."

"Elsa, no! Mama meant for you to have this collection...every single item!"

"Please, I'd really like for you to have one," she insisted.

After thinking it over for nearly a minute, I said, "Well, then, I accept...but I'd like for you to decide which one."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"M-me?"

"Yes. You choose, and whenever you want to. It doesn't have to be right now."

She paused to consider this, and then nodded.

"All right, I will...and in the near future."

Turning back around, I carefully set each piece back into the box, then folded and replaced the blue velvet cloth. I closed the box and then, with a tiny sigh of regret, I climbed off Elsa's lap.

As she returned the box to her dresser drawer and replaced the quilt on top of it, I glanced over at the clock.

We had twelve minutes left.

And then, I immediately noticed something else: that she had seen me look, which meant that she was now well aware of how soon the party would begin.

I didn't want to get into a discussion of this, which would only have upset her further so, taking her hand in mine, I led her into the bathroom. Since it was almost mealtime, I washed my hands at the sink, then stepped aside and watched as, looking more than a little apprehensive, she did the same.

When she'd finished drying them, I smiled at her encouragingly. Unfortunately, she didn't smile in return and, as I took her hand, I felt the shiver that ran through her body. I pretended not to notice this, however, as calling attention to it would only be negative reinforcement.

So, instead, I gave her my warmest, very best smile, and then, with her hand in mine, I led her out the door and down the hall.

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