"I've known you for a short time, but you don't strike me as someone who runs away."
She thought of Ursula's words.
"This one is too big," her words were whispered because the threat of the breaking dam of tears was sharp. "Anyways, Ursula slipped away because of a cruel, unkind and boring man. I ran away because I couldn't handle facing the grief of losing my dad while also losing her." She shrugged. "And we haven't dealt with it all yet."
A warm hand wrapped around hers in the perfect offering of steadiness. Sulphur was asleep next to her, her warm body purring against her leg and Taylor sat on her other side with her small hand curled into his large one. She didn't need to explain anything else, didn't need to tell him why she would sleep under the canopy of the tree when she asked if she could. He simply tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, his blue eyes running over her face like a warm caress and then leaned in to kiss her softly on her forehead.
And she thought, is there anything more delicately intimate than a forehead kiss? She felt it like a wave of warm water lapping over her body the moment his lips pressed against her skin, held for a few secret beats, and then released her. When he ran his rough thumb over her cheek she felt a lurch inside of her at his intense gentleness. She wondered if his hands had become roughened by building his cabin on the hill. If he sometimes looked at his hands, empty, the regret of never being able to fill them a lament that had somehow not made this man's heart rough.
"I wish I could say so many things to you," he said gruffly as if the words had passed over sandpaper before being released from his mouth. As if there were things inside of him trying to hold them back.
And she wouldn't ask which words. She wouldn't dwell or hope. She knew that would pain him.
"Can we let the other night be," she bit her bottom lip and implored with her eyes what she wasn't sure she wanted to say.
His eyes flickered to her lips. He blinked and then they were staring into hers again. "Yeah," was all he needed to say.
A tremulous smile, a sad mirrored expression and then he got up from the ground.
He parted the curtained willow and looked down at her looking up at him. "Eloise?" His mouth melted into a soft smile. She wasn't sure if it was sad or honest or both. "I wouldn't take it back."
She didn't need to ask what he spoke of. The passionate moonlight kisses where for a spell of time she felt seen and like she was a part of him. She wondered if he'd felt that way too. How far can a heart go and feel before it butts up against love?
Neither of them were smiling, but they stared at each other in that simple way of soft desire before it is muddled with the mindand world. It was only a few moments, but it was theirs. "I'm just up that way if you need anything."
She nodded and watched as he left her underneath the weeping willow. The night swallowed the world in its darkness and gentle, lulling sounds. As she lay down, finding the perfect patches of thick Kentucky bluegrass as a pillow under her quilt, she willed her heart to find rest tonight. Rest from the darkness of her past, the losses, and the wound between her and her dearest friend. Tomorrow was a new day.
And as she drifted off, her mind softening around the edges for a few hours of relief the willow branches shook and danced as its magic called to the surrounding world to take care of this woman who had a bruised heart and a long road of healing and dazzling life ahead of her.
And the world answered without hesitation as the stars twinkled a little brighter that night. The wind carried the perfect warmth that would keep her tucked in and asleep. A cooper's hawk nestled into the tree above her, keeping a golden eye open and sharp. As her mind emptied the loving and anxious thoughts of her friend, they slipped into the ground where they stirred and grew roots.
When she woke the next morning, a rejuvenation of the kind of deep sleep she hadn't gotten in so many years, she was surrounded by bluebells, their periwinkle heads bowed to the ground. Thousands of them had popped up overnight. She ran the tips of her fingers over their velvety petals and smiled. When she parted the curtain of the willow tree the sunshine, still low and rising as it brought along the young golden day, highlighted the sea of bluebells covering the field. Her smile spread into the perfect stretch as she laughed giving back to the earth her gratitude in mirth and hope. Before she and Sulphur walked the mile back to The Lost Souls house, she gathered a perfect armfulof bluebells, placing one in her hair which had been braided by the mothering branches of the willow tree.
"I'm ready," she said to no one, or perhaps to the world and its magic that had so lovingly taken care of her when she needed it most. And then she was on her way to face an old wound and start healing.
19. Bluebells and Apologies
There is something quite magical about two friends who share such deep pieces of themselves that they are more themselves when they are together than when they are apart. That's not to say that one cannot be fully herself without the other. There is simply a relieved sigh that happens when two soul friends find each other's company. Whether it be after along day and they can breathe freely with a glass of chilled wine and good conversation, or after a few years - having dug a trench of separation and they finally have enough inside of them to face the emptiness.
And so, with each step up the porch of The Lost Souls House and an armful of bluebells, Eloise Willow felt a great well of hope, not fear, at facing that trench with her dear friend.
When she found Ursula sitting on the porch with two mugs, a French press waiting to be pressed, and a plate of peach vanilla scones and clotted cream she smiled. And when Ursula's face showed relief at seeing Eloise walk up those steps, both friends laughed, tears in their eyes, arms quickly wrapped around each other, holding each other's pieces together for a space of time.
Apologies were tripped over as if it were a race to out-love the other. Then they were sitting, Ursula with her ghost mug and Eloise with a black cat, the slightly crushed bluebells placed in a milk glass vase and Casper pressing his lanky body against Eloise in his own canine relief.
The words and apologies spoken weren't what mattered. Not really. When you have a love this deep and this honest, the words were simply wrappings around the true gift which was knowing that the other side of conflict wasn't going to be found by way of self-indulgent argument with the goal of being right. This kind of love required laying that down for the goal of being better and stronger together. There was a beauty in that kind of humility, and a pain as well, letting go of that basic human need to be faultless.
But what friends like these learn through years of mistakes and silly pride is that owning your fault, nodding to your own fragility, opens a different world that is far better than being faultless; being seen for exactly who you are and loved, sometimes in spite of it.
Ursula was on the edge of her seat just as Eloise was; their words and their devotion to their friendship were filling them to bursting with energy that wouldn't allow them to sit back.
"I hate fighting with you. I feel more alone and independent in a way that is earthly and like a beacon for an attack," Ursula said with a laugh.
"I've idolized independence," Eloise replied solemnly. Her smile was tentative but honest. "I think I'm better with you."
"I know I'm better with you," she replied adamantly. "I shouldn't have pushed you with your dad," Ursula lamented shaking her head. "I had no idea how to walk through that grief with you and I took on the bulldozer approach. And I was only half of myself because of my part in a bad relationship."
"I did miss you," Eloise said with the gentleness of dandelion petals. Her dear friend had let pieces of herself ghost away for a man who didn't see her.
