It was like learning a new language without words and without trepidation or concern.
And when finally, after time she couldn't have kept if her life required it, he pulled back, they looked at each other in the kind of awe that is born from something bigger than this world.
She didn't think of his curse as he looked at her and she would think later that evening that for the first time his eyes didn't hold thoughts of the curse either.
They spoke of things with their eyes and their uneven breaths what they couldn't say with words. The moon and stars had pulled back the blackness of the sky to shine a little brighter for their starcrossed moment in time.
For it was starcrossed; a burning sparkle that could only last for a moment.
He walked her home, holding her hand in his, neither of them saying anything because they had said enough.
And when she went to open the front door, he pulled her back into him like an old romantic movie, kissing her again. She felt like they were saturated in black and white and almost kicked up a foot at the loveliness. When she pulled back from their kiss for the second time that night he was staring at her in disbelief.
And she wondered if he regretted it.
And she hoped that he didn't.
And when he kissed her forehead in the most gentle of touches she knew he wanted to say he was sorry.
The sadness of that settled inside of her like a butterfly sinking with wet-dappled wings.
She let herself inside of the great big house, where Casper was laying on the couch with Ursula as she read a book with her ghost mug of tea. She didn't tell her of her movie kisses; for now, she would keep them for herself. So she joined her on the couch with sleepytime tea, her silky peach pajamas and face scrubbed of the night.
"Did you have fun?"
She looked at her dear friend as she pet the grey wolfhound and smiled. "Thank you for inviting me into this little world."
"Always. Thank you for coming."
That night she ran her hand over the waxy black leaves of the willow tree. It had grown three feet already and though ominous, it was rather lovely and a striking addition to the garden. She spoke kind words to it, telling it she hoped it grew strong and tall and wild and good, and then she curled up underneath the peach tree, finding sleep waited to take her into its gentle arms to quiet her mind for the night.
The next morning Eloise came inside from her deep sleep to make them coffee. As she pressed the grounds there was a knock on the front door. She wrapped her thick, caramel cardigan around herself tightly and peered out to see a tall man in a uniform. She stepped back and frowned looking down at herself in leggings and peach slippers with feathers. Her hair was a mess so she twisted it up with a clip it as she pulled the door open and smiled.
"Hi, how can I help you?"
"Ma'am. I'm Officer Craig Peterson with the SPD. Is Ursula Cambridge home? I'd like to ask you and her a few questions."
Panic filled her chest but she nodded slowly as her thoughts raced. "Sure, I'll go get her. Why don't you come inside?"
But as she opened the door wider, the door moved half an inch and then wouldn't budge as if stuck. She frowned and pulled harder until it finally gave and she smiled at the frowning officer.
"Uh, if you want to have a seat here," she waved to the cognac velvet couch as she made her way to the staircase. She hurried up the steps, keeping her feet light until she walked into Ursula's bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Ursula popped her dark head out of the bathroom.
"Hey, what's up? Please tell me you made coffee. I did not sleep well last night."
"Yeah. But I may need to make more because we have a visitor."
"Yeah? Kind of early," she said as she pulled on jeans.
"An officer Craig Peterson with the SPD."
Ursula paused buttoning her jeans and looked up at her with concern. "Great," she said. "Think there are more weird things happening around town? And why don't these jeans fit? They," she tugged, "fit," tugged again with another grunt and then held still as she got them buttoned. "Yesterday."
Eloise shrugged. "Weird things, probably," she said then pointed to where Ursula was holding up her shirt with the jean waistband digging into her pale stomach. "You look great. Hormones suck. Let's go hormone-jeans shopping later." Then she told her to hurry. "But don't like, be too fast. Don't want him to think we're trying to hide anything."
"Right. Chill. Nothing has happened." She threw on a grey chunky knit sweater and threw her hair up into a ponytail. "Why do I feel like we hid a body?"
