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.Why wouldn’t you take them up on that?”He took another bite of the bread and chewed slowly, thoughtfully, and when he spoke, it were the old Hammer, the one without the loose tongue, that gave me his piece.“’Cause fucking’s fucking.But that first time? That’s a promise.Lots don’t keep the promise, and lots carry ’round little bits of pain.Didn’t want that to be you, that’s all.”There will always be Hammer and Eirn.I would have followed him around the world, and twice over.Turns out, he only needed me to follow him into his bed with an open heart.My brow furrowed, and I would have said something then.I had a great swelling thing in my chest that needed to be spoken, but no way to give it voice.Hammer and me; on the surface of it we were so simple.I had no words to tell him that it were more than fucking, more than comfort, more than habit, even more than simple, schoolyard loyalty.It were a sleeping word, maybe one I’d known as an infant, nestled in my mother’s arms, but like that memory, the word had gone with it.Maybe, like that memory, it were a word Hammer had never heard.He finished a piece of bread and the preserves, but fell asleep in the middle of the second piece, and I were grateful.He were still sick—so sick—but the women at the orphanage had always held that no one died of fever on a full stomach, so I clung to that.I took our leftovers to the kitchen and wrapped the bread in cloth and capped the preserves with the wax seal, then put it back in the cupboard, but not before saying a surreptitious thank you.“That were nice,” I whispered, “and I’m grateful to you, whoever you are.If you could have this waiting in the morning, I’d be grateful too.”There were no answering sound, but I had a little faith and left the magic cabinet alone.I wanted nothing more than to climb in bed with Hammer then, but two things held me back.One were that he were right—I never did like climbing in bed rank and soiling my sheets.The other thing were that he were sick.I couldn’t sleep next to him when he needed my nursing, when I feared for each breath.I took my time in the privy—stood in the tub and let the warm water run—then washed myself as it came.By the time I felt clean, the water lapping at my shins were brown and thick.It left a ring around the copper tub that I resolved to clean up the next morning.Since Hammer were naked, I figured I may as well be the same and emptied our clothes out of our rucksacks then, into the enormous tub, and ran some fresh water and left them there to soak.Then I wrapped a linen sheet around my waist and went back to watching Hammer and praying for the real miracle that this enchanted little cottage might just give me.I took my seat beside the bed and felt Hammer’s head.He made a child’s sound then and leaned into my hand.“Lay down beside me,” he grumbled.“Our whole lives, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed.I cannot sleep with you just sitting there beside me now.”I were going to tell him “No” because I wanted to be able to do for him if he needed anything, but then he threw in the kicker, for a man who never asked for anything because he could make it happen himself.“Please, Eirn?”“Right,” I murmured, shooing him sideways.He had enough strength to roll to his favorite position—on his side—and I shed my sheet and climbed in next to him.He wrapped his burly long arms around me, and I clung to him, furnace-heated skin and all, and prayed that should Hammer die this night, that I would die with him, and our bodies would be found just like this, twined together like roses that had grown together for too long.The morning found him no better but no worse.I helped him to the privy, and he asked me with wonder where I’d found the wherewithal to wring our clothes out to dry and hang them on a line above the tub, and I told him, with a little bit of wonder myself, that I hadn’t; the cottage had done that all on its own, thank you very much [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]