The wind seeped in through the old cockloft windows on the top floor of the Inn. And although Victoria was warm under the saffron scarf she had found inside the wooden Indian and the bison hide that she and Richard shared, the constant rattle awakened her from her current reverie. She looked around for something to jam into the windowsill that might render the panes immovable. There was nothing in sight except the glimmer of small fires that danced across the East River and the gleam of the moon as it reflected on the surface of the water. Richard was in a deep sleep and she hoped not to disturb him with her restlessness. She noticed he had a small thread---a remnant from her scarf---wrapped around his index finger. She found it curious and endearing. In the crisp winter moonlight she could see the gray hair that burnished his temples. His countenance seemed wise and distinguished and she could not remember noticing the wisps of white before tonight. She could feel the slight ‘in out’ of his breath against her and the simplicity of it set her mind meandering. Only five days before she was in the Grove Street house opening her eyes to a delicate vase of brilliant yellow crocus. The warmth of spring kissed her skin and the promise of an extraordinary day lay before her. Her life had changed in the span of a few hours when the great white storm descended upon them. She felt like Persephone taken down into the depths of the underworld. Held hostage by the forces of nature and the wrath of a tempest. Richard was her Hermes, the messenger, the rescuer, the man with wings on his feet, the conductor of souls. Without him she would have surely died. It was a miracle that they were both alive sleeping peacefully in an old hotel. Somehow she knew that the moment would stick in her memory until the end of her days. The entire experience would be her Eleusinian mystery. And she pondered the idea of writing it down for future generations.
The sound of bare feet padding across the wooden floorboards jostled her from her current musings. She stretched out her arm and swept back the make-shift curtain that separated her and Richard from her governess and the butler. To her great surprise she found Mrs. Hopkins nestled peacefully in the heavy sleeping arms of Mr. Watkins. She had a keen feeling that Miriam fancied Henry for years. And now the hardship of crisis had pulled down the walls of propriety that Mrs. Hopkins had clung to like a life raft. Finally she wore a look of resignation, peace and even contentment that seemed to warm Victoria’s heart to no end. Victoria had felt the woman’s loneliness for many years and even when companionship presented itself she would turn her back and claim that her duties required her full attention. Even when Victoria tried to persuade Mrs. Hopkins that happiness lies in a fulfilled life and not in the endless days of dutiful service. They were in America now and Victoria regarded Miriam as a surrogate mother in a way, not a servant. As she gazed at Henry and Miriam in an almost identical embrace she could see the stable boy hiding behind and old trunk.
“Pssst.” Victoria tried to acknowledge. “I can see you…come out.” She whispered hoping that her words would not stir the sleeping help. She saw the boy lean forward and peek over the trunk. It was his wool socked feet that she had heard a few moments before. She lifted her hand and signaled with her finger to come out. The boy sat back and held his breath nervously. He did not want to be reprimanded.
“Boy.” She whispered again a bit more agitated. He finally leaned forward and their eyes met. The jig was up. He stood up quietly and tiptoed towards Victoria. She didn’t need to ask what he was doing. The questioning look in her eye gave way to a deeply Irish accented babble.
“I’m sorry, miss. I just need to get the hot water bottle back before the bartender wakes up. He gets up just before dawn and he’ll be awful mad if he canna find it. He’ll beat me with the horse whip because he’ll know I took it and even if I dinna take it he’d beat me anyway to teach me a lesson, so the blackguard says. I wasn’t here to pinch nothin’, sure, Miss. I swear it on me mammy’s grave, sure.” He said in a whisper and his eyes began to well up with tears as his whisper quivered with upset.
“Shhh, shhh, shhh.” Victoria said softly. Then she got up and padded over the Mr. Watkins and Mrs. Hopkins. She looked up and gazed at the boy then motioned for him to wait just outside the door. She hated to disturb either of them but she knew if she put her hand down by their feet where the hot water bottle was she’d be intruding upon their reverie. She decided to try and wake Henry first. She softly touched his shoulder.
“Mr. Watkins.” She whispered. He did not move. Mrs. Hopkins tucked herself deeper into the concave space within Henry’s chest.
“Mr. Watkins.” She repeated a bit louder. His deep snore erupted and he sputtered for a moment. Then opened his eyes. He seemed shocked that Victoria hovered over him in her skivvies. He was speechless.
“Shhhhh. The boy is here for the hot water bottle.” She whispered praying Mrs. Hopkins would not be disturbed. Henry looked puzzled and confused.
“Hot water bottle.” She mouthed silently and pointed to their feet. Henry nodded. Victoria moved back behind the curtain where Richard and she slept. She peeked around the blanket as Henry moved and Miriam was disturbed from her slumber. Miriam looked about in confusion not sure where she was. Victoria pulled her head back behind the blanket hoping that Mrs. Hopkins did not see her.
“Go back to sleep, Miriam.” Henry cooed. He pulled the hot water bottle out from under them and laid it on the floor.
“Whatever is the matter?” Miriam asked in a sleepy haze.
“The boy needs the hot water bottle. Go back to sleep.” Henry said softly and she laid her head back down and dropped into a light doze. He wrapped his arms about her and in the blink of an eye they were both sleeping soundly. Victoria moved deftly and scooped up the water bottle and slipped just outside the wooden door. The boy stood there hugging himself, shivering since the hotel was cold and drafty.
“Where’s the privy?” She asked as she began to tremble herself. He tucked the hot water bottle under one arm and then took her hand to lead her down to the landing. There he lit a candle and escorted her to the back of one of the dining halls. Just beyond the kitchen on the back porch was a built in privy. She might as well have been urinating in the backyard, she thought. The cold wind whipped through the shoddy boards that were constructed more for farm animals than humans. She wondered if she would even be able to make water in the freezing cold. She pulled her step-ins apart and relieved herself. Even in the freezing cold privies carried an odor so unpleasant as to induce the gag reflex. She finished quickly and sprinted from the back room through the kitchen and back to the staircase. The boy waited for her with the candle to make sure she got up the five flights without incident. She crept into the room quietly and as she walked toward the blanket and Richard she could see quite clearly that Ashley was reclining where she had last left her husband.
Ashley tried to sleep. But she was overcome with doubt and worry and the unending feeling that perhaps she had made a mistake. The antique canopy bed was exquisite and heavy and felt almost like a shell. It encased her tomblike with her own multiplying thoughts. She wondered if she had been there before. Chelsea was downstairs talking to the father of her unborn child. The permutations of it sent Ashley down a slippery slope of second-guessing and unrequited love. She questioned her judgment and even her sanity at times as the hours of the day passed by in rapid review. The room was so quiet that she felt as though she were experiencing another time. As she systematically ran through her various choices the one thing she knew she would have to do was stay long enough in London to research the Rhys Sea Paintings at the Tate. She had no real resources and she could not ask Felix. Certainly he would finance her adventure but she decided she wanted to do this on her own. She needed to build her confidence and figure out a way to sustain herself while she concentrated on the masterpieces. Tomorrow. She could rent a Vespa and drive back to Essex and visit Dame Chelsea Thornton. There she could persuade Mrs. Thornton to let her stay at the Hyde Park estate. She would have to figure out how to feed herself and get around town. She might be able to purchase a second hand bike. She needed to study Richard’s art in the combination Mrs. Thornton gave her. So much had happened in such a short span of time that she felt as though everything had been compressed. At once she and Chelsea seemed to be in sync and the next minute she was acutely aware that a kind of triangulation was happening and a complete disconnect would ensue. Her wounds were deep and distressing and with each wave she felt herself submerged and overwhelmed.
She heard the distinct click of the card key in the lock. It echoed through the cavernous room bouncing along the stone walls like a lost symphonic note. The light from the hallway illuminated the otherwise subdued room. Ashley pulled the linens close around her and held back the emotions that sought escape. The door closed suddenly and then the room was enveloped in silence. Ashley pretended to be asleep but realized there was no movement. She rolled over to see if Chelsea left again. In her peripheral vision she could see Victoria standing on the threshold about to enter the room. She sat bolt upright and stared at the vision. Victoria was exquisite in her white shift.
“How did you get here?” Ashley said startled and breathless. As her question escaped, the orange scarf that seemed to give her comfort fell gently to the mattress.
“The elevator.” Chelsea replied. As the sound of Chelsea’s voice reached Ashley the vision had dissipated and Chelsea stood in the exact spot where Victoria had appeared.
Ashley could not think of a single word to utter so she slowly moved back to her prone position. Victoria was in New York. Was she hallucinating? Was she losing her mind? Was it the thai soup?
“You count.” Chelsea said softly as she moved to her own canopy bed. She turned on a small table lamp in order to undress. A wave of fatigue washed across her jet-lagged face. The clink of British pence broke the silence as she placed loose change on the wooden bed stand.
“Did you eat something?” Ashley muttered from her ensconced bedchamber. Her back still turned to Chelsea.
“No.” Chelsea whispered and her voice betrayed her burden. “I’m going to see a doctor in the morning.” She sighed. Ashley slowly rolled over and at that very moment she saw the silhouette of her friend’s lithe form emerging from her underclothing. The soft glow of the lamplight bathed her ivory skin in a fiery orange. It seemed as if time slowed as Ashley studied her brilliant contour. Color, the play of light and shade on her flesh and the intense shadows cast on the castle-like walls all led Ashley down a path of ubiquity.
The more she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening the more she found her logic slip away replaced with an ineffable grace. As the opacity of Chelsea’s figure moved against the light Ashley could see brief splinters of Victoria floating effervescently in the ethers. Fear plants the seeds of doubt and here she felt as if a spark of the divine had landed in this quiet corridor of London. She had definitely been in that place before with Chelsea. The tactile sensation of memory loosened the grip of fear and as she breathed in and out drinking in the elixir of faith, she knew somehow that she stood on the precipice of profound change.
Chelsea reached over and turned the light switch. The room was cast in an inky black. For a moment the only sound was breath and a slow exchange of inertia. Faced with the illusion of choice she could feel the weight of her emotions bearing down. Whatever happened to the life she was leading only a week or so ago, she wondered? The pregnancy was both an intense joy that she secretly kept to herself and an impediment to what she truly wanted. She found herself trapped in the maze of “either-or” and there was no winning. In the quiet of the expansive room she silently weighed her decisions. And as she leaned into a definitive plan the grief seemed to overtake her. In the quiet sea of sleep the waves of silence were disturbed by hushed sobs. Chelsea was surprised to find the lamentation coming from deep within. If she intellectually reviewed the situation, which seemed to be the way she moved through life as she knew it, then a determination would be made and all other alternatives cast away without a thought. But now in this intensely raw moment she realized that the sadness was in leaving an old way of doing things. An old way of thinking and outmoded emotional constructs. Something inside her had shifted and she was left to her own devices on an ocean filled with the ephemera of the unknown.
“Hey”. She heard from the darkness but close enough to feel Ashley’s breath. She was startled by Ashley’s presence even though they shared the room. As she moved to the curtains that cloaked her bedchamber Ashley stood there with the same forlorn look as before.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me.” She said softly as a tear rolled down her face. “Aren’t we a pair?” She chuckled as she wiped her nose. Then she pulled the linens up and crawled in beside Chelsea. She could feel the warmth of Ashley’s body through her t-shirt and underclothes. Chelsea lay there unsure of herself completely transparent and feeling helpless in her dilemma.
“Talk to me.” Ashley whispered in a pleading tone. Chelsea could not find any words. She lay there silently her throat constricting at the mere thought of uttering any kind of concern or confidence. Ashley moved close almost spooning her and the comfort of her sent Chelsea. As her emotions piqued and the tears flowed she could not distinguish between sorrow and ecstasy.
“Do you love him?” Ashley asked quietly.
“No. I don’t even really know him.” Chelsea replied as the words seeped out and her voice cracked. She could not discern whether what she said was a long-lasting truth or a passing state of mind. The real truth was that she really knew very little about Scott. The fact is that her beliefs about family and tradition were changing before her very eyes. The essence of identity was in question and here she was faced with who she really was to herself and to the world.
“You don’t have to do anything.” Ashley whispered. And the words seemed to penetrate Chelsea to her core. She was right. She realized she did not have to be with Scott. She owed him nothing. Choice was the operative word. She could create her own life the way she wanted and all the barriers she had run up against before could dissolve with one change of perception.
Chelsea turned over and whispered, “I want to be with you.” And her words were charged with a kind of ferocity as if she were clinging to a vanishing dream. And she kissed Ashley with a gentle passion that ushered in a new kind of understanding. She gazed into Ashley’s light brown eyes and fell. She was so exquisitely handsome and her scent was incredibly familiar that it inaugurated a heretofore unknown sensuality. She let her hands move through Ashley’s dark, thick hair. Suddenly Ashley pulled away for a moment. She lay on her back and gazed upward at the intricate pattern carved into the canopy bed.
“I’m not sure I can do this.” She murmured. The words stung. Chelsea propped herself up on her elbow for a moment. She moved close and let her palm rest on Ashley’s belly. “If this is something fleeting then…I feel…I feel like…it could be devastating.” Ashley whispered. Chelsea could see Ashley fighting her own fears. They were both in the same dilemma with different worn out structures that dictated survival. Chelsea moved to kiss her but Ashley gently pulled away.
“I have to know.” And her gaze was penetrating. Chelsea took in a deep breath. She could see the fragility in Ashley’s visage.
“I’m here.” Chelsea said simply. “I’m not going anywhere.” She studied Ashley’s face in the dim blue of night. How the trace of light lit up her familiar like the tiny sliver of a moon. Then she leaned in to kiss her and the gesture was returned. She pulled Ashley into her arms and they lay there face to face taking in each other’s countenance and gleaning the fragments of their prior lives. Ashley moved and kissed Chelsea and to Chelsea’s surprise it sent her entire body into a heightened state of awareness. Ashley kissed her with such intensity that every inch tingled.
“Get on top.” Chelsea whispered and she became the architect of initiation. Ashley moved deftly and Chelsea felt her soft hands move beneath her t-shirt. Soft strokes along her ribcage and then the sensual cupping of her breast. Chelsea let out a sound that she had never really heard before and as she moved in tandem with Ashley it only heightened the pleasure. She found herself letting her own hands softly interpret Ashley’s form. She was muscular and taut and yet soft and feminine. Ashley quickly pulled away her shirt and let Chelsea drink her in. It was new and surprising and not at all what she had expected. Chelsea admired women with attractive curves. She had seen plenty of them naked in the gym and only took notice in relation to herself. Comparisons. But now there was something primitive and beautiful, exotic and intoxicating, everything in perfect balance. For once her deep feelings connected with a physical form and she was amazed and aroused. She let her hands slowly move along the fluid features that held her captive. Ashley softly kissed the side of her neck and slowly with increasing intensity moved down to Chelsea’s breast taking in the most sensitive part. Chelsea felt her body erupt. She was breathless and attuned. Before she knew what was happening she had let her fingers move just below the waistband of Ashley’s nightware.
“I want to see you.” She whispered.
“I’m a little shy.” Ashley replied. It was endearing and sweet and Ashley stopped as she became a bit self-conscious.
“You don’t have to be.” Chelsea said softly and she let gravity take over the weight of her fingers and she could see Ashley’s face flush as she was completely revealed and the soft cotton fell away. A myriad of emotions played across her face as Chelsea realized she was still clothed. She began to remove her nightgown. Up and over her head as Ashley lay beside her taking in every nuance, their eyes meeting and searching for that place of in-dwelling.
“I’ve never done this before.” Chelsea whispered and her cheeks went red and she felt the overwhelming need to turn away, but she did not.
“Neither have I.” Ashley replied and she let loose a giggle. “But I like it.” After a short respite Ashley began to kiss her again and again, skin against skin and the exhilaration of the moment blurred their beings until after intermingling for what seemed hours Chelsea felt herself reach a kind of bliss she had never known before and then cupped Ashley’s face in hers.
“I’ve dreamt about this moment for so long.” She said dreamily and her voice moved across Ashley like the sun across the waters.
“So much has happened.” Chelsea said breathlessly. “I did not know I could feel something so profoundly…”
The words echoed through the room and bounced off the walls and Ashley was keenly aware that she had heard those very sounds before. Somewhere in the upper room of the heart there lay a remnant of the arcane. In that moment of clarity Ashley knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what was happening had a direct relation to the Rhys paintings. Ashley held Chelsea’s face in her hands and kissed her and then she slid down and gently moved her legs apart. Chelsea was a bit nervous as she did not know what to expect. Ashley kissed the inside of her thigh and inch by inch moving a little closer brought her friend almost to the edge of ecstasy. She moved in tandem and with each kiss her breath grew more expectant and ready. Until suddenly she kissed her there gently at first and Chelsea thought she might faint from the sensitivity and the pleasure. She unknowingly arched her back and as Ashley’s skill quickened Chelsea felt things she had never thought possible. Ashley moved deeper and with precision. Now Chelsea was fully awakened beyond anything she had ever experienced even with every other relationship she had ever had. Ashley buried herself in Chelsea and Ashley let her acumen climb to ever greater passion. She kissed her in that place with a zeal even she did not know. And Chelsea tasted sweet. Everything about her slid into a part of Ashley’s soul that would be intertwined forever, even beyond death. And then it dawned on her. Ashley could ‘see’ beyond the sun. She finally understood what lay beyond the deep blue black of night, the blue of the sea, what the thin orange line in the painting was. The world as they knew it faded away and they lived for a brief time in a bubble of golden light – the shekinah, the great mystery, the deeply abiding succor…the edges of the godhead.
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