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 said 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.

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.

“She was still so wonderful when we were in public, with friends. She would hang on my arm and look so very interested. She was pretty, you know, and everyone told me how lucky I was. I thought I must be, and I tried to believe it. But when we got home she was so cold with me. It dawned on me that she liked me for my money, my job, for the image we could present to the world together. But that she’d never really seen me. I felt used, but I felt trapped too. I was frightened of her anger, and I was frightened what people would say. I thought they would blame me.

“And a big part of me still wanted to make it work. I thought that maybe if I let her see a little more of the real me, bit by bit, she could learn to love me. How stupid is that?”

 Anna paused and took a deep breath, looking at me for a response. I stroked my hand over her back. “It’s not stupid at all. Trying to make a relationship work. It’s love and it’s commitment Anna. What happened in the end?” I waited for her to go on.

“Every part of me I revealed seemed to just make it worse. It was as though I was destroying her image of me. She actually told me that I’d lied to her when we met and pretended to be something I wasn’t. In the end I almost thought she was right. I’m awful at making it clear how I feel, so perhaps it was my fault that she’d not understood me.”

“That’s not how it works, Anna.” I felt so much compassion for her, so much anger at the woman who could have treated her this way.

“I know that now. I didn’t then. And I didn’t think I could leave. I’d committed myself to her, and she told me how much it would hurt her if I left. Then one day everything changed. She came home and said she’d met someone else who wouldn’t lie to her. She dumped me. After all that, she dumped me. Even worse, she spent the next month telling all of our friends it was my fault. More of them believed her than you might think. She had a way of convincing people.

“And so I suppose I decided it was better that I didn’t look for committed relationships. It took me a long time to persuade myself it wasn’t all my fault. I thought the only way to protect myself from that again was to avoid the situation altogether. Because I really am bad at talking about how I feel. Sharing my real self in the early days of a relationship even though there’s nothing I want more. To be intimate in that way. Maybe I’m not made for it.”

“You came here with a bunch of mistletoe on Christmas Day and seduced me, and you’re worried you’re not made for intimacy?” I asked, smiling and hoping the memory would make her return my smile.

“I didn’t say sex, Ros. I can do sex. It’s really being close to someone I’m less sure about. Letting them know how I feel. If I don’t do that, how will anyone ever see the real me and want to be with me? I mean I really feel like I’m close to you—but what if I can’t ever show you in the way you deserve?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned lately,” I said, moved by the emotion in her words, “it’s that you can’t define yourself by your history. Stuff happens, and a lot of it hurts. But you keep living, you learn from what happened in the past, but you have to think a lot more about the future. And you have to live in the present, as well. You taught me that.”

“I know, I’m a hypocrite,” she conceded. “It was partly why I found it difficult to deal with everything you were suffering, of course. When you told me about Francesca, it made me confront some of my own ghosts. I was so ready to throw myself into a relationship with you, I was taken aback when you weren’t too. And then I began to wonder why you ended things, if it was really all about your own insecurities. I guess I was angry with myself as much as hurt by what you said. Hurt enough to avoid your phone calls. Here I was, prepared to enter a relationship, and you weren’t ready to even risk beginning.”

“You were prepared to take a risk on me?” That revelation meant more than anything she’d said. Careful and intellectual, frightened, Anna had been prepared to venture onto uncertain ground on my behalf, having only encountered me those few times. No wonder rejecting her had hurt her more than I had expected.

“I was. I thought that you saw me. Truly saw me.”

“I did. And I’m so sorry I didn’t return the favour, Anna. I was so frightened of myself at that point.”

“It’s okay now, Ros. We’re in a different place now. Thank God for rotten floors.”

“Are you still prepared to take a risk on me?” I looked at her earnestly.

“Absolutely. But I have to tell you, Ros, it doesn’t feel like a risk. I’ve never had that before. I don’t feel I have to pretend to be anything with you.” Her trust in me moved me so very greatly. Finally I knew I could tell her the true extent of my feelings for her.

“You don’t. Anna, I see you as you are. That image never fooled me, and I don’t care about your car or your money or being on your arm in public. None of that’s important to me. What’s important is that I love you.” My heart soared as I said the words and knew it was safe to say them, a step forward, the final proof I was back, alive and in control of my emotions. Happiness wasn’t something I needed optimism to envisage now. I was happy, and the main reason for that was next to me on the spring grass bathed in dappled light. I finally felt I knew her completely. I was safe, and I was in the happy future I’d longed for. I grinned at Anna who once more looked as though she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words. I pulled her head towards me and kissed her, hoping to make the reassurance more complete. “And you know, you’re very eloquent without words,” I said softly.

“Really?” Anna asked, starting to smile but still seeking my affirmation.

“I promise. But just so we’re sure, tell me how you feel now.” I knew it was okay to make the demand. She wanted to tell me, everything in her expression spoke of the words just waiting to be said.

“I love you, Ros,” she said, and my heart soared high above the trees and into the blue sky above. “You’ve come to mean everything to me.” Her tone was so heartfelt, I couldn’t help but hold her even tighter and kiss her again, hoping to tell her I felt the same without words.

“Was that so hard?” I asked her, in between kisses.

“No,” she replied. “But you knew anyway, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” I teased. “But thank you, Anna. For telling me as well as showing me.”

“Are you happy, Ros?” she asked.

“Yes,” I replied, delighted to be able to give such a simple answer to her question. “Are you?”

“Completely.” The blissful expression on her face left me in no doubt she meant it.

She kissed me with more intent now, shifting so her body covered me and sliding one hand under the waistband of my loose trousers. “Shall I show you now?”

“Anna, we’re outside!”

“So? I don’t think anyone’s going to disturb us.”

“I thought you were respectable.” She slid her hand lower, apparently undeterred by my protests.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Her fingers found their target. “Besides, it doesn’t feel as though you’re thinking respectable thoughts.”

“You have me on that one.” I inhaled the fragrant air as she began to massage me with her fingers. I groaned and looked up at the criss-cross of branches above our heads, the patches of blue sky between the fading blossoms. Her other hand reached for my breast, caressing softly. Arousal surged through me at her touch. I turned back to Anna, her desire very apparent in her expression, still hardly able to believe she was mine, she wanted me. Feeling wanted by Anna turned me on every time I thought about it. I gave myself up to it, covering her hand with mine and encouraging her to press harder, as our tongues twined together, as I undulated my body against hers as she lay above me.

She noticed when my whole body tensed, and I virtually stopped breathing, so close to the edge, and she slowed her caresses.

“Oh God…” I moaned, and she teased with her fingers. I gasped for air and pushed my hips towards her hand. “Anna, please, oh God, I’m going to…Oh God.”

She slowed her touch even more, until she was stroking me so lightly I could hardly bear it. “Anna…I have to…please.”

“I love you. Come for me now, my love.”

The breeze stirred in the trees, and I did exactly that.

*

By early June, Winter had a fully functioning kitchen downstairs, with the original range and huge table still in place. The bathroom was completely finished, in an art deco style. Much of the decorating was still underway, but the Blue Drawing Room had become a perfect living room, with powder blue walls to suit its name, the white marble fireplace and beautiful moulded ceiling restored to their original bright purity. The furniture was all dark wood and royal blue upholstery, including an antique chaise longue I’d fallen in love with in an antiques shop in Durham. Anna insisted on buying it as a house-warming gift. I’d only accepted when she’d informed me that she fully intended to help me put it to good use.

Anna was spending a lot of time at Winter, although by mutual agreement we were in no hurry to move in together. She loved her own little cottage, and I wasn’t lonely at Winter when she wasn’t there, though I was always keen to see her again. Our mutual agonising over our relationship potential might have eased, but we were both aware that small steps were safer than great leaps forward. For me, I was growing accustomed to the new feeling of being happy in my existence, and having finally made choices I truly felt were right. Anna, I knew, was growing used to the idea that I would not judge her silences as lack of caring, and that, when a relationship was based on real love, commitment did not mean being trapped. She visited nearly every day, and she stayed more nights in the week than she was away. For now, the situation suited us perfectly, and the lack of pressure about domestic arrangements left room for our relationship to flourish.

I’d also made one of the upstairs rooms a priority, and I finally had a real bedroom. One sunny Saturday morning I relaxed in my bed, thinking how much I loved the delicate green swirls of the wallpaper on the wall above the wrought iron headboard. Anna had climbed out of bed early, returned shortly afterwards with a cup of coffee for me, and informed me I wasn’t allowed to leave the bedroom or look out the window until she told me I could. She’d been unmoved when I’d tried to make her tell me what was happening with promises of a most improper nature if she did so, and left me mired in my curiosity.

I was still smiling now, an hour later, as I thought about the look in her eye as she’d blown me a kiss and slipped out of the bedroom. I’d heard a vehicle pull up outside the house and men’s voices, but I’d not been able to make out the words. I stretched contentedly in the soft cotton sheets and sat up in bed. I was smiling to myself a lot these days, and probably appeared like some sort of lunatic to many people I met.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror of the rosewood dressing table, which faced the bed. The Ros who looked back at me appeared much the same as a year ago, the frizzy curls hadn’t changed. But so many other things had been transformed. I knew myself now, and I knew what I wanted from my life. I could see a new determination in my own expression, a confidence I’d learned from Anna. My past still had its painful memories, but I knew now that it was the past. Wounds healed and life went on. A scarred heart didn’t stop beating. I looked forward to my future with real hope, knowing Anna was a fixture in it, and I belonged here at Winter.

A few minutes later Anna came back into the bedroom. Even dressed in her faded jeans and baggy white shirt, her hair loose and almost—by her standards—unruly, she was stunning. She lay by my side on the bed and propped her head up on one arm, grinning mischievously, then leaned down to kiss me. “Good morning again.”

“Good morning again.” I pressed close to her. “Mmmm, you smell different,” I said appreciatively. She smelled of orange blossom, violets, and freshly cut grass.

“I wondered if you’d notice.”

“Is it the one I bought you? Vent Vert?”

“Of course. You have impeccable taste.”

“It smells better on you than it did in the bottle.”

“That means you chose perfectly.” I smiled in satisfaction that my first exclusive perfume buying expedition had been a success.

“You smell of summer. Hints of what’s to come.”

“Oh, there’s so much to come, sweetheart.”

I turned to kiss her again, feeling the heat beginning to pulse through my body. But I wanted to know what the big mystery of the morning was. “Am I allowed out of the bedroom now?”

“If you really want to get out of bed,” she said, her hand sliding over my body.

“It’s Saturday,” I said, smiling and forcing myself to resist the temptation for now, “we can come back to bed later. Right now I want to know what you’ve been up to this morning.”

“In that case, come with me,” she said, springing out of bed like an excited child. I followed her, pulling on a purple cotton robe from the end of the bed. We went down the stairs, now re-carpeted in a beautiful crimson, and crossed the hallway to the front door. She stopped and grinned at me. “I bought you a present.”

“Another one?”

“It’s my prerogative to spoil you if I want to. Besides, this one’s for Winter too.”

“Come on, put me out of my misery!”

“Okay, come here.” She pulled me to her, stood behind me, and put her hands over my eyes.

“Is this some sort of new kinky game?” I asked, giggling.

“No, but we can try it later if you want. For now, just reach out and open the door. We’re going out and down the steps, and I don’t want you peeking.” I did as she said, and we went out into the warmth of the early summer sunshine. The stone of the steps was warmer than the tiling of the hallway floor beneath my bare feet. Anna guided me down some of the steps, turned me slightly, and then we stopped. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“More than ready,” I replied. She removed her hands from my eyes, and I opened them to come face to face with a statue, in smooth white marble. A woman, with a classically beautiful face and flowing hair, bare breasted, her remaining modesty protected by a cloth she held to her stony body. She appeared to be looking—with a most provocative expression—straight at me. Then I comprehended she wasn’t looking at me, but rather straight through me. At someone behind me. I took a step back and saw how her gaze connected perfectly with Phoebe’s, on her opposite plinth. Phoebe no longer stared wistfully at an empty space, but lovingly at her own carved goddess.

I smiled broadly and threw my arms around Anna, holding her tight to me. “Thank you so much. She’s perfect. And only you would think of it. You found Phoebe a girlfriend!”

“Well, you see,” Anna said quite seriously, “Phoebe and I had a chat, and she told me she looked so sad because she’s never found the right person. She wasn’t much impressed by the fine Greek gentleman she had to stare at for so many years, and she was secretly quite pleased when he, well, fell off his pedestal. I suggested she might prefer some female company, and she was very enthusiastic about it, I must say.”

I considered Phoebe’s expression. “She looks happier, don’t you think? I thought she was missing her true love, but it turns out she’d just not found her yet.”

“Definitely happier. Funny how things turn out, don’t you think?”

“What’s her name?” I asked.

“She’s modelled on Aphrodite.”

“The goddess of love?”

“That’s the one.”

“Lucky Phoebe. I guess we have a lot to live up to.”

“I don’t think it will be a problem.” She grinned seductively.

I took Anna’s hand, and we walked back up the steps into the house, leaving Phoebe to enjoy her new view. “It might not be finished yet,” I said, “but Winter feels complete somehow, don’t you think?” We entered the hallway. “Finding Phoebe a girlfriend is just the icing on the cake.”

“It did feel like there was something missing,” Anna said, “though I wouldn’t have known how to describe it.”

“Just like the place wasn’t quite at rest—but not really alive either—half stuck in the past but existing in the present. Almost like a ghost of a building.”

“You’re right,” Anna said. “It was in limbo. It doesn’t feel like that anymore. You’ve brought it back to life.”

“No,” I said, “we have.” I wrapped my arms around her, pulled her warm body close to mine, and let my lips melt into her kiss. “Do you think we’ll haunt this place one day?”

“If being here’s always this good, I can’t imagine something small like death stopping me from staying,” she replied.

“I love you, Anna,” I said softly. Her kiss was her eloquent reply.