“I could not ask you… I am too damaged. I have never... Never even had a friend, really. I do not deal with people well. The therapists tell me I will learn but I have never managed to reach out.”

“I think I have to contradict you on that one Kadijah. You reached out to me, just now.” He reached over to touch my forehead with the inside of his wrist and I flinched away for a moment before allowing it.

“You’ve warmed up enough to sit in front of the fire.” He reached over and popped the lever to drain the tub and grabbed a huge fluffy towel.

I hesitated for a moment, my old modesty demanding I ask him to leave the room. He saw even though I didn’t want him to and began to turn and rise before I reached out to take his hand.

“Don’t, please?”

He looked at me, the lack of understanding clear in his eyes.

“I… I have to learn. I have to allow myself to be more open, to not hide. It took me years to get out of a burqa…” I automatically looked down as I spoke, not meeting his eyes until he grasped my chin and gentle but inexorable force lifted my gaze to his.

“You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable Kadijah. If its difficult for you I will be happy to leave.”

“No… I need to do this.”

I rose from the tub acutely aware that I was only wearing scraps of cloth and was surprised when he wrapped the soft bath sheet around me. It felt… warm but not just physical warmth. Something I didn’t recognize, something entirely new to me.

Was this what it felt like to be cared for, really cared for by someone who wasn’t a nurse or a housemother or…?

The question occupied my thoughts as I followed him into a spacious room dominated by a large fireplace. He drew large comfortable recliners over to sit in front of the fire and I gratefully took one, opening the towel to allow the heat to find chilled flesh. Absalom vanished for a moment and reappeared with a cup of hot herbal tea, floral but pungent. For himself he had coffee that smelled so strong it took me back to my years in Amalfi.

We sat for a time, sipping our respective cups and enjoying the warmth of the fire without the need for speech. It was me who finally broke the comfortable silence.

“Absalom?”

“Yes?”

“Would it be inconvenient for me to stay here for a while? I find I like this place very much and…” I had to pause for a moment, I was about to jump off the cliff, metaphorically speaking. “and I find that I like the company very much as well.”

I couldn’t look at him directly but in the corner of my eye I saw him move toward me and I automatically flinched, then cursed myself for doing so when the movement stopped and withdrew. I was beginning to realize that I wanted him to touch me and this too was new, frightening.

“Inconvenient? The inconvenience would be if you went back to your cottage since I would be travelling to Provence every day.” I looked over and he smiled at me, causing some sort of flying creature to have spasms in my middle. “I find that I like the company very much too. I would be pleased if you would consider this your home, no strings.”

“Strings like thread? I don’t understand. I need my loom to make cloth and for that I need thread.” I was confused and beginning to wonder if I’d made a mistake.

I got even more confused as he laughed at me for a moment before explaining, still chuckling. “I’m sorry, I’ve never heard anyone misinterpret that expression in quite that way. I meant that nothing will be asked or required of you in any way.” He sobered. “I have not watched a woman weave since before I left home. I’m looking forward to it and I’m afraid my own skill is… somewhat lacking, as are my sewing skills.”

I had to laugh at myself a little. “I am sorry I misunderstood. I was not going to say anything about…” I gestured at his shirt.

He grinned back at me. “This is actually my best effort. I tend not to wear much in the way of clothes when I am at home alone and I buy most of what I do wear. I’m not sure why I wanted to wear this… and the hat. It seemed important.”

“It fit the moment well, I think.”

“Does it fit the moment now?”

I had to think about that one for a moment. What was he asking me, really? He had donned his shirt while I was in the tub but left his shorts off and would be wearing only those tight swim briefs if he removed it. Did I want that?

A flush of heat in my face told me that I did, very much. “I think… no, it does not. Now that I am warmer, this towel does not fit the moment either.”

I stood and folded the towel neatly, laying it on a nearby ottoman before sliding back into the welcoming embrace of the recliner. I was aware of his eyes on me as I did so but what I had told him earlier was true. I had to allow others…. this particular other… to see me, unvarnished.

Where was the unabashed woman who had not even thought of covering herself when he first approached in the meadow back in Provence? Had not done so until it was time to travel? Had that even been me?

Those thoughts fled my mind as he stood and removed his shirt and I saw him from the front for the first time with his arms over his head, almost naked. The flush that had heated my face before ran all the way down to my toes. I was no stranger to the male body from either a medical or artistic viewpoint but never had it had this sort of effect on me and I worried that I was becoming ill.

“I didn’t realize a person could blush with their whole body.” He smirked at me with a little rise at the corner of his mouth, teasing.

“I… I didn’t either. You have very sharp eyes.” I was amused to notice a flush creeping over his face, much more readily visible against his fair skin than mine had been. He didn’t look away though, and neither did I.

“I… I cannot do more than this, for now.” I saw the look of understanding in his eyes and was grateful for it.

“Will you eat if I cook?”

The abrupt change of subject took me off guard and it took a moment for me to make the sounds into words. I hadn’t realized I was hungry until he mentioned it but now I felt the familiar pangs and for once did not push them away. I had eaten more than I usually do in a day with the sandwich earlier and though the part of my mind that always punishes me for eating my fill was silent for now I wondered how long that would last.

“I think I could eat, yes. I do not have any special dietary requirements. I put those aside with the niqab.”

It was like I could see him file the word away so he could look it up later and decided to let that lie.

“May I help?”

He smiled at me happily. “Only if you wish. Have you ever had a bacon cheeseburger?”

“A what?” Bacon I knew but cheeseburger? That part wasn’t so clear.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He beckoned me to follow and led the way back out into the… I guess you’d call it an atrium of sorts. We were on the lower level, beneath the shelf of stone that formed the upper deck and the sunlight was slanting in almost diagonally, just above the mountains to the west. He busied himself with lighting a large charcoal grill and left it to burn down, making his way into a spacious and well-appointed kitchen with gleaming stainless steel set into stone everywhere but the intricately tiled floor and the work surfaces which were smooth stone polished to a high sheen.

Within a few moments he had gathered his ingredients. He set me to mincing half of an onion and slicing the rest while he busied himself with ground meat, adding various spices and a sauce of some kind to it before mixing it all in with his hands, adding the minced onion before forming it into 4 large patties. I watched this with interest, beginning to understand what a ‘Cheeseburger’ might be but having no clue still just what the sauce he’d used was. He called it Woostershar but the bottle said ‘Worcestershire”.

I tasted it and wasn’t sure I wanted it in or on meat but I’d try it. He melted butter while I sliced a huge heirloom tomato and minced garlic, then he made garlic butter and brushed it on the insides of 4 round loaves of bread with sesame seeds on it and it looked like onions baked into it which he’d cut in half like a cake to make 2 layers. Obviously this was going to be a sandwich then.

With all of this prepared he put quite a bit of bacon on the griddle, tending it until it was brown and crispy. The grease from the bacon was scraped into a small hole on the edge and he removed a cup from beneath it, having neatly saved it for later use. While he did this I prepared lettuce as he directed, large mostly intact leaves with the stems removed.

We carried all of the prepared foods out to the grill and he oiled it before plopping the patties on, right in the hottest part. The smell and sizzle was bewitching and he grinned at me as I sniffed appreciatively.

“It gets better.”

My stomach picked that moment to rumble loudly and he laughed while I snuck a fingernail sized piece of cheese. It was extremely pungent and my mouth watered so hard I worried I would drool.

He flipped the patties and covered each of them with a layer of cheese and bacon before putting the bread onto the grill, buttered side down. The bread toasted quickly and he removed it, then spread mayonnaise from a jar onto it. He followed with a generous amount of coarse ground mustard, then chopped pickles. A layer of lettuce on each side of the buns and then he scooped two of the patties onto buns and put the other two on a plate to rest.

With the addition of a layer of tomato and onion he closed them into two toweringly thick sandwiches, put 2 long toothpicks into each one and put them on a plate before cutting them in half. He handed me one and led the way over to a table and bench affair, stone like most things but with the same gleaming top as the work areas in the kitchen. While I sat he ducked into the kitchen and returned with 2 bottles, beading with condensation as he worked the wires until the corks popped free.

“Bacon cheeseburger and a beer. Can’t get any more American than that!” He smiled and took a sip.

I looked at the bottle. “American? The beer is Czech.”

I grinned at him as he lowered his bottle and looked at me with puzzlement. I took a sip of mine and was surprised at the taste. It was… I didn’t quite know how to describe it as I had hadn’t tasted much beer before. It was nothing at all like the wines and spirits I had learned to enjoy as part of my culinary curriculum but I liked the taste.

“Of course it is. The beer is Czech, the cheese is… well Canadian actually but the type of cheese is from the UK, a place called Cheddar. The beef is… well its also Canadian but of a Japanese type called Kobe.” He looked proud and I realized just how much effort and expense must have gone into this meal.

I removed the toothpick from half of the huge sandwich and pressed it down a little before I picked it up and tried to figure out how to take a bite. I managed to get an edge crammed into my mouth and bit into it.

Juices escaped and ran down my chin but I didn’t care. The burst of flavor that filled my senses only grew as I chewed and wiped at my chin with a napkin. Once I managed to swallow I took another sip of beer. It was the perfect complement and I made a little moaning noise.

Absalom watched and laughed as I did all this. “So I take it you approve?”

“How did I not know this existed?” I took another bite with almost as much difficulty as the first but this time was more successful at not getting juice on myself.

He took a moment to reply as his mouth was otherwise engaged. “You lived mostly in France, Italy and Spain, and not in the larger cities, right?” I nodded. “I can’t remember seeing a cheeseburger outside of Paris unless you count McAwful’s.”

“I have never been into one of those places. They look… disturbing.”

“The first time I ate at one I had just left home… I wondered if the food was made of cardboard. The only decent thing there are the fried potatoes but you have to eat those within 5 minutes or they taste horrible.” He grimaced at the sense-memory.

“I think perhaps I shall continue to avoid them then. I do not think I wish to taste a lesser version of this… cheeseburger. C’est manifique!”

He didn’t need any translation for that one. “Thank you! I’m really glad you like it. I tend to eat more autoprepped meals than not because it isn’t really worth the effort for one…”

I didn’t know how to reply to that so I addressed myself to the delicious food and drink and he did the same. We ate in companionable silence and I found myself studying the way the muscles bunched up at the corner of his jaws when he chewed. I could tell he was looking at me but for some reason my old reluctance to look anyone in the eye had returned with a vengeance and I couldn’t meet his gaze.

I was astonished to find that I had finished the entire burger and was draining the last of the beer as the sun sank below the mountains. That was 2 days’ worth of food for me and I was full to bursting, my stomach pooching out a little. I could barely move as Absalom got up and cleared our plates away, returning with two more bottles.

“There are more comfortable chaise lounges or we can go back into the greatroom if you like?”

I took a bottle from him and worked the strange wire contraption that held it closed until I got it open.

“I think I would like to stay out here for a while. It is beautiful.” I rose and allowed him to lead me over to a smaller sort of alcove situated so that we were at the very edge of the mountain face. He turned on subdued lighting and an insect repellent device and we got comfortable, watching dusk steal over the mountains until it was fully dark.

There were area heaters on so even though the occasional vagrant breeze told me it was getting fairly cool outside it was quite warm and I was comfortable. He had made several more runs for fresh bottles and I was getting quite well buzzed. I was no stranger to alcohol… Having lived where I had and taken the schooling I had I was quite fond of wine but I was not well acquainted with beer and I found I liked it.

Even more unusual to me, I did not feel the need to conceal myself which had always gotten stronger when I got inebriated. I thought about that for a moment after using the bathroom and stood there examining myself in the mirror. All of the glaring flaws were still there, still just as sharp as they had been earlier in the day but they seemed to matter a little less for some reason and I knew it wasn’t the alcohol, that usually magnified my insecurity.

Something about this place… about the man who lived in this place… took the ragged edges off. I was beginning to feel comfortable in ways that I never had around another person, not even in my very earliest childhood.

Whatever this was I wanted… needed to pursue it.

In the faint glow of the concealed lighting night seemed to wrap around me as I sat beside him again and handed him one of the beers I’d retrieved from the kitchen.

“I am sorry I have not been better company. I am not used to having conversations that do not have a clear purpose.”

His voice rumbled back at me. “I’m not used to having conversations at all. I’ve been alone here for most of the past 30 years.”

He fell silent for another moment. “I like just being quiet with you. It feels comfortable.”

There was a stiffening breeze now and it was beginning to overpower the heaters. “I would like to go inside now.”

I walked toward the kitchen entry and heard the slight rustle as he rose to follow. We spent a moment tidying up the kitchen before he set it to autoclean and we sat in front of the banked coals that had been a fire. He used some fine kindling to get the blaze going again and within a few minutes a large log was blazing merrily and we were both ensconced in recliners facing the fire and each other.

“I think perhaps I should stay down here tonight. It smells like l’orage. A lovely smell but I do not think a house in the trees is a place I want to be.”

“I already got your things down. This storm was unexpected but it will give you a chance to see some of the beauty of these mountains. They’re still very wild, especially here.”

It was beginning to storm outside and we sat there in safety and comfort listening to the thunder and the sound of rain hissing down, blown into the atrium area by the winds. I have always loved thunderstorms, even as a very young child.

Young… I am very young and he? How much older is he? He said he had been building this place for 58 years and I did not think he started it as a teenager so probably at least 60 years. He must regard me as a child.

“You said you had not seen your sister for 70 years?” I had to find out just how large this gulf between us was.

“71. I left when I was 16. That is the customary age for Rumspringa. I never returned because I left that life behind me and would not have been welcomed. The answer to the question you carefully did not ask is that I am 87 years old, 64 years older than you. Does that bother you?” He took a sip of his beer and focused that amazing heterochromic gaze on me.

“I must seem like a child to you.”

“Were you ever really a child? That seems so hard to believe having met you.”

I had to look away from his eyes to give myself a moment to think. Had I ever been a child? Of course I had, I mean everyone is at some point.

But when I gave it serious thought I realized… none of my life had been what anyone else described as childhood. There had been no carefree play, no love from any adult. From my very earliest memories I had always been hiding, calculating, surviving… then my sisters came and I did my best to help them survive too.

When that nightmare was over there still was no play, no love. Caring, yes, provided by people who saw me as a patient or a client or… anything but a child. Not that I had allowed anyone in.

“I do not think I was, no. I never thought about it that way.” I managed to meet his eyes again.

“I wish I could change that for you.”

“Entropy’s arrow only points one way.”

“You know that’s not actually true, right?” He grinned at me and his eyes lit up.

“I know one thing that is true. We make our own reality.”

“What sort of reality do you wish to build Kadijah?”

The answer came more quickly than I had intended. “Perhaps the question is what sort of reality do we wish to build?”

His eyes widened and his pupils dilated. “We?”

“Is that not what you wish?” Suddenly I had to know the answer.

He took a moment before replying.

“Wish? Dream perhaps. Want definitely. Even need I think.” He took a sip from his bottle, watching carefully for my reaction.

I had this feeling, of things falling into place, a lock opening and a door swinging wide, endless vistas beyond.

“I feel the same. I think I need to be here, now, with you. It frightens me a little.”

“I will never willingly hurt you.”

“You cannot make such a promise Absalom, any more than I can. I would not ask that of you.”

“What would you ask?”

“Patience and forgiveness. I am afraid I will need a great deal of those things.”

“I think perhaps I will too.” He gently took the bottle away from me and set it on the floor with his own.

I was transfixed, unable to move as his face drew closer and then his lips touched mine, gently, a feather caress that sent a bolt of lightning right to my core. He drew back just a bit and looked into my eyes from a few centimeters away.

“Forgive me?”