Western Virginia 1860
My musings grew quite loud, resulting in a sleepless night wondering what Anna was doing in her room down the hall. She'd been staying at our family home for a month over the summer while working on her novel taking place in rural Virginia. My Papa knew her father from the Union Presbyterian Seminary and they currently resided in Richmond out east. Anna was two years younger than me at twenty-five, but she acted as if she'd lived a full life already at such a tender age. When she arrived at our doorstep, I felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over my head. My body trembled and every sense was heightened as though darkness loomed around the corner.
Oh, she was so beautiful in her fancy dress and perfect chignon of gold. It made me feel rather lifeless in my unkempt hair and rolled up sleeves. But she never once acted above her raisin. Shortly after arriving, she rolled up her own sleeves and began helping Mama and I in the kitchen. I asked her when she found the time to write her book, to which she replied that she felt most inspired late in the night.
Our voices were so very different from one another. Where I spoke with the inflection of someone from the mountains, she had a softer tone that resembled laying your head on the pillow after a particularly onerous day. Before I had any time to feel insecure about it, she stopped me to say that my voice was as colorful as a double rainbow in the sky. I'm sure I couldn't hide the red in my cheeks.
But then again, I was always so very flushed in her presence. It was like my words jumbled up inside my throat before I had a chance to say them, though she was patient when I struggled to articulate my thoughts. At first, I wondered if perhaps it was a case of desperately wanting to be her friend, but she offered that upon arriving. I pushed it away for as long as I could before realizing it was more than that. I was utterly,
hopelessly
infatuated with her.
After I accepted my feelings, I began to notice some things: the shape of her mouth when she spoke, the rise and fall of her bosom as she laughed, or even the never ending glint that lived inside her viridescent eyes. I noticed these things as though they were secrets that Mama or Papa or even my brother George didn't see-they were just for me to discover.
The day my brother invited Anna on a walk, I watched them from my window with an uncomfortable pit of melancholy in my stomach. I was quite envious, though it didn't occur to me that I could invite her on one as well. But the prospect of doing so frightened me to my very core, like somehow I wouldn't be able to contain the newfound sweetness I had for our guest. She must have picked up on it, because a few days later she suggested we go down to the river. I grabbed my bonnet before she could even finish talking-I'm sure I made a fool of myself.
When we made our way outside the village, we strode alongside the water speaking of unimportant things. That is, until she asked me if I had any plans for marrying. When I expressed disinterest, she said, "But you're so very fetching. Any man would be fortunate to have you as his bride."
I didn't respond as I could think of nothing to say, but she continued.
"You know Caroline, being here over these last couple weeks, I've noticed you in a certain way that's been very beneficial to my story. The way you laugh, the way you speak, the natural shine of your chestnut hair...it's like hearing a song that moves me. And your soft features are much too beautiful to not write about-I reckon you could say you've become my muse."
I admit, I had to break away from her gaze for a few moments. The only thing I could think of in response was telling her I wished to hear some of her other writings. She smiled and thought about it before asking me to visit her in her room after settling in for bed. My heart burst into flames and I sharply inhaled, which she found to be humorous. When I finally gathered the courage to accept her invitation, she took my arm and we continued walking along the path.
That night, after I'd undressed, I paced in my bedroom doubting whether or not I misheard her. I knew I didn't, but something in me prevented me from stepping out into the hallway. I washed my face over the basin and took a few deep breaths, suddenly becoming incredibly aware that I would see Anna wearing only my chemise, but I didn't want to keep her waiting. With a final exhale, I left my room and tiptoed down the hall until I reached her door. Following a brief knock, she answered and ushered me inside.
The spare room was simple, but it held something I didn't have in mine-a beautiful writing desk with cabriole legs. She had obviously been working, as her lamp sat on top of the mahogany next to a thick stack of papers scribbled on in pen.
"Did I interrupt you?" I asked.
She grabbed a journal and motioned for me to follow her. "Not at all! Come lay down next to me and I'll read to you."
The bed wasn't large by any means and was intended for one person, meaning our shoulders touched by the time we went under the covers. When she inquired what I wished to hear, I had to ask her to repeat herself, as the sound of my pulse echoed inside my head. But I told her to read me whatever she was comfortable with and I would be an enthusiastic audience.
To my surprise, she began a poem that nearly brought a tear to my eye. It was about a woman crying out to God for his help as she navigates the expectations of her family. It was so heartbreaking and beautiful at once. When she finished, she looked towards me for a reaction.
"Anna, that was remarkable," I exclaimed. "The feelin's that arose in my chest can't be described in words. Just know I'm in awe of you."
Anna chuckled and asked if I wanted her to continue, to which I begged her to do so. I felt my head drift onto the pillow, and I watched her recite more until I could hardly keep my eyes open. I smiled as she closed her book and laid down to face me with equally tired eyes.
"I reckon that's enough for one night. Will you visit me again soon? Perhaps it's my ego, but I love to share my work with others."
I felt my body quiver and gave a nod. "Of course, I'd love to."
After holding my gaze for a few moments, Anna placed a hand on my cheek. It was soft and warm like the bread Mama made. "I'm glad I came here this summer," she whispered. "And I don't just mean because I've completed most of my novel."
Her stare was dark and intense in the dim light of the lamp. At her touch, I felt myself holding my breath, but her words provided fresh air to my lungs before speaking. "I'm glad you're here as well. We all are-myself and my family. But...especially me." I placed my shaking hand over the one on my face and stroked it with a few fingers.
Anna bit her lip and looked as if something inside was begging to come out, but she stayed silent while staring into my soul. Eventually I knew it was time to go, and I cleared my throat to break the tension. I bid goodnight and climbed out of her bed, waiting until I returned to my room before groaning at the complexities of this very ambiguous relationship.