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Following on from Legacy 11 we have a little domesticity.
Baranyi woke once in the night. She checked on the girls, stood outside Buldaveho’s door for a few minutes telling herself that she didn’t need to check on him, and then took herself back to bed. Her guest wasn’t, she reminded herself, an ill elderly man like her father who’d needed careful monitoring and nursing through the last few months of his life. He didn’t need monitoring or nursing.
No, he’s not like Father at all, agreed part of her mind that hadn’t spoken up in years. He’s not your brother, or your cousin. He’s sleeping in your house tonight. He was naked in your bathroom….
Baranyi rolled over, moved her pillow around and tied to ignore the imagined images parts of her brain seemed far too eager to consider.
She got up early and made parsnip patties to go with smoked fish for breakfast. For four. Making breakfast was a nice, straight forward, non-wayward thought process.
Then she got the girls up, dressed them in their own clean, dry dresses, and braided their hair for them. They’d objected, until she’d proven that it really had grown long enough to be braided, but when she’d shown them the results in the mirror she thought they were both rather pleased.
Buldaveho got himself up, dressed and down to the kitchen. After agreeing gravely with the girls that his hair was far too short to be braided, he sniffed suspiciously at his first parsnip patty, tasted it, smothered both his patties and the fish in butter, then ate the lot. The girls looked astonished when he asked if there were anymore. Baranyi cooked up the rest of the mix that might have gone towards lunch and kept feeding him.
It was somewhere around there that Baranyi realised that this scene, or something close to it and maybe with the same players, was something she wanted for herself. It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it was definitely on the list.
She just wasn’t sure how to make it happen. Or if she could.
Baranyi woke once in the night. She checked on the girls, stood outside Buldaveho’s door for a few minutes telling herself that she didn’t need to check on him, and then took herself back to bed. Her guest wasn’t, she reminded herself, an ill elderly man like her father who’d needed careful monitoring and nursing through the last few months of his life. He didn’t need monitoring or nursing.
No, he’s not like Father at all, agreed part of her mind that hadn’t spoken up in years. He’s not your brother, or your cousin. He’s sleeping in your house tonight. He was naked in your bathroom….
Baranyi rolled over, moved her pillow around and tied to ignore the imagined images parts of her brain seemed far too eager to consider.
She got up early and made parsnip patties to go with smoked fish for breakfast. For four. Making breakfast was a nice, straight forward, non-wayward thought process.
Then she got the girls up, dressed them in their own clean, dry dresses, and braided their hair for them. They’d objected, until she’d proven that it really had grown long enough to be braided, but when she’d shown them the results in the mirror she thought they were both rather pleased.
Buldaveho got himself up, dressed and down to the kitchen. After agreeing gravely with the girls that his hair was far too short to be braided, he sniffed suspiciously at his first parsnip patty, tasted it, smothered both his patties and the fish in butter, then ate the lot. The girls looked astonished when he asked if there were anymore. Baranyi cooked up the rest of the mix that might have gone towards lunch and kept feeding him.
It was somewhere around there that Baranyi realised that this scene, or something close to it and maybe with the same players, was something she wanted for herself. It wasn’t everything she wanted, but it was definitely on the list.
She just wasn’t sure how to make it happen. Or if she could.