“But I felt so veryun-confident,” I said.
“I know,” he said, “and that was attractive, too, that you were a little shy with me. But you see—you said what you felt, and you did what you thought was right, and nobody could sway you from that. That’s what I saw, and that’s what I loved. Although the face and hair didn’t hurt. Or the body, either.”
“But this is why I loved you, too,” I said. “You weregood.You’re still good. And very strong.”
“Well, with two paragons meeting like that,” Joe said, “how could they help but fall in love?” He kissed me once more, most sweetly, and smoothed my hair. “You did great with the folks tonight. I’m proud of you, Mrs. Stark. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”
How my heart swelled! “And I of you,” I told him. “Always.”
He didn’t go against his religion that night, and I didn’t try to tempt him. But we fell asleep holding hands.
30
THINGS GO AWRY
I woke confused, and didn’t remember for a moment where I was. The faintest hint of dawn was touching the window, so it must be after six. My stomach immediately told me it was hungry—how quickly I’d become accustomed to regular meals!—but today was the fasting day, so my stomach would have to be disappointed.
I hadn’t come to my marriage with many skills the Starks thought necessary for a daughter-in-law—cooking, sewing, ironing Joe’s shirts, and running a vacuum cleaner without sucking up the tablecloth were only the start of my failings—but one thing, I knew how to do better than all of them. I knew how to go hungry. As a skill, it wasn’t the most useful, but I would cling to it for today.
There was rather a lot of activity happening elsewhere in the house for such an early hour; this must be what had woken me. One was meant to reflect on such a day, but if there was no food and no work allowed, not even studying, why not sleep a bit longer before beginning one’s reflections?
On the other hand, if we got up, Joe and I could take a long walk, and walking in beauty is very good for the soul. Later, Icould read my book in the courtyard behind the house. This wouldn’t disturb the others as they performed their own reflections, and I had a novel I very much wished to finish. It was an obscure mystery title by Dorothy L. Sayers, calledThe Documents in the Case,and I’d found it in the library last week.
Was reading a novel acceptable on Yom Kippur? It was a rather thin book; perhaps if I put it between the pages of the Bible I had brought with me but had little desire to peruse …? I wouldn’t behidingmy reading, precisely, just protecting the Starks from being further outraged.
No, I’d promised not to lie anymore. If I wanted to read Dorothy Sayers, I must read her openly.
Feet on the stairs.Gallopingfeet. Sophie, probably.
Joe began to mutter.Good,I thought.He’s waking up.He was muttering more loudly now, though, and waving an arm languorously, as if trying to swat a fly while swimming in mud. Joe dreamed the way Fred danced; dangerously.
I said, “Joe.Joe.”
More muttering. More arm-waving.“Joe,”I said, whilenotshaking him or sitting over him.
He shot upright, shouting, “What? What? I’m coming!” Then tried to get out of bed. Unfortunately, his feet were still tangled with the covers, so he ended upfallingout of bed with an almighty crash.
I scrambled around the bed to him as fast as I could. He was sitting up, blinking, groping for something. Groping for his glasses. I handed them to him.
“Th-thanks,” he said, and shivered, then pushed himself up to stand, one hand on the bed for support.
“Joe,” I said again. “What’s wrong?”
He blinked at me? “Huh? I’m …” Another shiver.
I felt his forehead. “You’re hot. A fever. Get back in bed.”
“I feel …” He sank onto the bed again. “Pretty rotten.”
“Yes,” I said. “You have flu, I think. Do you have pain?”
“Well … yeah. Aching, that’s all.” More shivering, and he lay down as I covered him. “Sorry. I’m …”
“Wait here,” I said. “I’m going to get you water and some aspirins. And hot tea.”
“Yom … Kippur,” he said.
“Bother Yom Kippur. Wait here.” I pulled my dressing-gown on over my nightgown. It was rather pretty, in cream satin with a deep vee front and wide waistband, both covered by lace, and always made me feel as if I were in that American film I’d seen back in Germany as a girl, the one where the woman was always sweeping into rooms and had feathers on her slippers. I didn’t have feathers, but Ididhave lace.
