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“Of course,” she said, almost choking on her tea. She was already used to her husband’s formal speeches and indifferent words of reproach, but this was the first time he was expressing a sense of regret and guilt to her. She remembered their conversation in front of his sister’s portrait, the way he shrank into himself like a sick, old man. That was the first time she had the courage to speak what she had been thinking. Perhaps this helped Ethan look at things objectively.
“Miss Karnstein may stay as long as she wants,” he added. Only did he glanced at her after folding the paper, eyes shining with what she could have sworn was wickedness before he smiled at her.
The clock had just struck two in the afternoon when Miss Karnstein joined her in the parlor.
“Miss Karnstein!” Valerie sat up, leaping on the sofa in shock. “I came to your room to wake you up, but the door was locked. I was beginning to worry that you had left the house. Why don’t you sit down and enjoy a good meal?”
She was about to ring her bell when Miss Karnstein raised her hand in opposition. She tried to smile, but the effort contorted her expression into a slight pout. Her eyelids fluttered, a grimace escaping her mouth, and Valerie noticed her languid mood. There was no trace of her lively countenance, all Valerie saw was an impression of a shadow walking towards her. Her hair was tousled, hanging loosely around her waist with copper streaks at its tips, like she had strayed into the deep woods at night. Her nightgown in disarray, Miss Karnstein trudged over to the closest chair and let out a deep sigh.
If Valerie was anxious before, it was nothing to what she felt right now. “Miss Karnstein,” she cried, springing up and rushing to her side. The effort exhausted her, she pressed her hand over her eyes and did not speak. Her lips were almost invisible, a violet thin line like an incision. Her nails, Valerie noticed, were filled with dirt.
She swallowed and said, “I’ll send someone to call for the doctor.” She pressed a hand on her feverish cheek, coated with cold sweat. “You’re burning.”
Miss Karnstein tightly clutched at her wrist with a shriek of terror. Her face underwent a change, losing her original lapping sweetness, that struck Valerie with horror for a moment. The pressure of her fingers turned Valerie’s wrist white as milk. She was not the weakling she was a moment ago. Her thin face was overclouded, livid with a force that Valerie did not recognize, staring at her and baring her sharp teeth, a spirited likeness to a trapped animal.
“No,” she cried again. “I shall not let this doctor of yours examine me again.” She added hastily, “It would be considered improper. It must be the cold, Mrs. Vertigo. A longer rest should do me good.”
Valerie could not understand why she was so vehemently opposed to seeing the doctor, especially after she let her take her pulse yesterday. She did not say anything so as not to offend her guest but it was all strange, almost comical, and Valerie returned to her seat in thought. Miss Karnstein had the same languor of the infected townspeople, and although Valerie did not see any scars, she began to think that Miss Karnstein had contracted the disease as well.
Betraying her hospitality, she entreated her guest to be examined again, yet did not receive a response. “Would you like to return to your bed?” Valerie at last asked, numb with the tedium of the moment. Miss Karnstein looked up, the circles under her eyes strikingly dark, and nodded. Valerie helped her get up, throwing her arm over her shoulder, and carried her upstairs.
The candles were still burning at her bedside and the bed itself was untouched. Miss Karnstein’s chest was heaving and Valerie tossed the quilts aside to control the fever. She soaked a towel in the basin and wiped away the trickling sweat. A few stray curls stuck to her forehead, damp and slick, so Valerie moved the wet towel over them. The flickering eyelids opened, translucent and blue, and her lips softened.
“You scared me so much, Miss Karnstein! Drink this.” Valerie held the base of the glass to help and she took two quick sips. “Are you feeling better?”
“It’s passing now,” she closed her eyes and murmured, more to herself than Valerie, as her head fell onto the pillow. She noticed Miss Karnstein’s hand reaching for her over the sheet. Her heart racing, she held her fingers in hers. There was a melancholy on her face that softened her features and Valerie realized how beautiful and winning she was. It was not just the golden curls or the bow of her lips. Something lingered beneath that surface, attractive and almost alarming.
“Are you with me, Mrs. Vertigo?”
“Yes, Miss Karnstein, I am.”
Valerie did not know why tears pricked her eyes or why a flood of relief washed over her whenever Miss Karnstein’s chest rose and fell, but the thought of losing this woman she had yet to know dearly tormented her. She wanted to talk to her just as they did at the dinner party, to get lost under the spell of her soothing words. How could she ever describe this tantalizing, fearless hope of knowing someone for the first time and falling in love with them? For this was love, surely, not in the shape of a lover, but shooting forth unexpectedly like grass among the cracked stones. It was a healing balm that Valerie needed all these months, passing in a blur of hurt. It was a beloved soul who sought her because she knew she was made alike with the desperate desire to belong. To somewhere, to someone.
“I saw you in a dream last night,” Valerie said in a hoarse whisper. “You came to me and I awoke in my bed. I watched you in horror as you climbed on my bed. It was the most strange occurrence because then, I dreamt not. It was cold. You were with me when the deepest agony pierced through me.”
“I saw you in my dream too.” She sat up, blinking slowly. “You were looking at me and I held you as you cried.”
“How wonderful and strange! The face was a blank slate at first, then I made out the hazy outline of your face like fragments falling into place. I wanted to call out your name, ask why you visited me but I could not speak. I am most certain you sank your teeth into my flesh. Then I was bound with a woe so unfathomable that I forgot where I was. If it did not hurt me so much, I would have found it very amusing!”
“What did you do then?” Miss Karnstein asked, a flash of fire in her eyes. She gave her hand a tight squeeze.
“I came to myself in complete darkness, I think.” Valerie did not want to admit she was looking at her wound in the mirror. There was no use further troubling the sick woman. She scratched the spot where the cotton pad was. A hint of a smile tugged at Miss Karnstein’s lips. Valerie could see her teeth flare through the opening of her mouth.
She then replied, “Were you afraid? I shall be miserable if you had felt so.” Valerie believed that the memory pained her, and also there was something of a bursting candor that enthralled her. Her eyes did not stray from her face as she shook her head. “I was not afraid. I was glad, for I believed I found a friend.”
Miss Karnstein’s eyes welled with tears. Valerie wiped them away with the towel in her hand.
For someone like her who grew up in the shades of loneliness, this confidence, this fondness was almost suffocating. She thought she could do nothing but accept and grow this affection within her, and though unexpected, carry it with grace. Miss Karnstein sank into her pillow with a sigh, still holding her hand.
14
The next few dayswere spent with Ethel bringing in fresh linen, steaming soup, and buckets of water, and Valerie sitting at the end of the bed, chatting with Miss Karnstein. December was in full swing. It was an unending period of frosted panes, reddened cheeks, eyes swollen by sleep, and an absolute quietude. She wanted forgiveness, an idyllic existence; she wanted the crunch of her footsteps on the frozen ground, vapor curling around her mouth, security. The blizzard had gotten worse and the snow still fell, severing their connection with the town entirely.
One of those days when it was impossible to realize the passage of time and the mind was untroubled by the prospect of adventure, Valerie found Ethel helping Miss Karnstein change into a new nightgown. Ovals of sweat had left a blot on the back of the dress, shaped like a shallow lake, but the gray, deathly pallor had disappeared from her face. She was standing on her own, leaning on her bedpost, and staring out at the thick clouds of the wintry air with a serene look on her face.
Valerie stepped in. “I’ll take it from here.”
Ethel turned to her with an unfocused expression and disappeared in the hall with a quick bow of her head. The room, affected by the encrusted, moldy wallpapers and moth-eaten books, was already sultry and almost oppressive, and smelled like something had died or decayed. The air lay completely putrid, so Valerie cracked a window open to let the crisp air in.
