“Careful!” She protested, as her bowl wobbled on the counter and almost spilled.
He jerked away from her, picked up the knife and resumed his chopping.
“Dov, please. You surprised me, that’s all, and I didn’t want to drop the bowl. Oh, don’t turn from me. I like surprises, at least one as pleasant as that. Please give me another kiss.”
Not her words, but the sound of them, the throaty melody of a mischievous giggle, pulled his heart to her, lightening it, lifting from it burdens he didn’t even know he carried except for the sense of relief at their absence.
Her kiss tasted of laughter: fresh, playful and generous.
He stirred the fruit into the batter while she greased a hot griddle. The fragrance of sausages sizzling and berrybakes frying was too tempting to resist. She dangled a half-cooked fruit cake into his mouth, then bit off a juicy portion before it disappeared completely. Their lips met and lingered.
“Mmm, that’s great!” he said.
“What? The fried cake or my lips?”
“Your lips, of course.”
Tayar slapped at his chest. “You rogue. Do you think so little of my cooking?”
“Hey, wait; what would you have done if I said that it was the berrybakes?”
“I would have reprimanded you for thinking of anything but my lips, of course.”
“So whatever I could’ve said would’ve been wrong. There’s no way I could win.”
“But, Dov, think about it. There’s no way you could lose.” With a flourish, she flipped the fruit cakes onto dishes. They sat down to breakfast, remembering to put aside choice pieces for their offering, then hungrily devoured the rest.
“You’re not an easy woman to predict,” he said.
“Good.”
Dov waited for her to continue, but all she did was sip some juice. “That’s what I’m saying. What does ‘Good’ mean?”
Taking another bite of berrycake, Tayar closed her eyes, focusing on the flavors. She swallowed and opened her eyes. “That I liked what you were saying.”
Why couldn’t she just speak clearly?
“Actually, it was more than your words,” she said. “How do I explain?” Tayar put down her fork. “You were telling me that I’m full of surprises. I can interpret that in many ways, all of which are pleasing to me. That I engage your mind, make you think and question, am challenging. Great! So it should be whenever you deal with another. That you are feeling confused, off balance? Well, we did just have sex. I’d be disappointed if it were otherwise, if you were thoroughly clear-headed.” She paused, then added, “Though, now that I think of it, sex can sometimes be a great whetting stone for the mind, but we’re not at that stage yet.”
“Okay, okay.” He waved his fork in a reflexive gesture of dismissal, uncomfortable with having the morning turn yet again to lessons. Then he used the fork to spear a sausage and put it, whole, into his mouth.
“So, Dov, what are you are thinking? About the weather, our plans for today, the inner room, the fruit cakes?”
Unable to answer with his mouth stuffed, he quickly swallowed.
“Please take your time. I wouldn’t want that sausage to get lodged in your throat.”
Dov was amazed at how the sound of her voice, the vibration of humor and sex that filled the spaces between the words, seemed to change their meaning. In that breath of a moment, what he would have taken as a criticism or insult from anyone else, baiting him to take offence and crouch within himself, readying an attack… Well, somehow, Tayar made it feel more like an intimate touch, like when a woman bends her knees to make it easier to enter her. He didn’t understand how she did that. It made him feel confused, unfocused.
They ate in silence for a few bites. Then, in a less challenging, more everyday tone that had just a twinkle of mischief, she asked, “Have you looked outside this morning, Dov? It’s beautiful, all blue and white, with silver glints.”
He turned toward the sunshine streaming through the window above the sink. “Yeah, nice day. The snow’s piled high, though.”
“Yes, exactly,” she said.
“Okay, I get it, we’ve got some shoveling to do.” Why couldn’t she just come out and say it, directly, without trying to sound like a Storyteller? She’s got some work for me to do. I knew that was part of the bargain.
“Yes, that, too. In fact, I think we should first go to dig out Le’a.”
“Sure. I guess she’s too old to take care of it herself.”
“Oh, don’t underestimate our Le’a. I just thought it would be pleasant to surprise her. Wouldn’t it be fun traipsing through the high snow to get to her house? First snow always brings out the child in me.”
“Well, I know I love playing in the snow with you.” He used a deeper, modulated tone, hoping it was suggestive, seductive. But it seemed to have no effect on her.
“Great! Then that’s settled. We’ll go right after washing the breakfast dishes and tending to the animals. We can do our other chores when we get back.”
He didn’t know what else to do or say, so he concentrated on his plate, attacking the remainder of his meal. He was surprised when she didn’t fill the quiet with more questions or lessons or plans.
Tayar got up and began clearing the table. When he didn’t move to help, she glanced at him briefly. It was enough of a cue to lift him from his seat and into their after meal routine.
After the dishes were washed, Dov reached up to put away the last pan onto a top shelf when Tayar kissed his cheek. “Dov, dear, I’m going to feed the goats and chickens, and then change into proper clothes for shoveling snow. I’ll meet you outside in about a half hour.”
She was gone from the room before he could think of a response.
Chapter 28
Dov paced outside the house, kicking snow out of his way.
What started as a playful nothing, a release of excess energy, grew with each kick into a focus of frustration, a building fury that the soft flakes denied. A hard wet snow would have been more to his liking, resisting with a weight that clumped and thumped and echoed his anger, which seemed to surge from nowhere, go nowhere.
How could the morning have gone so wrong, especially after last night? Damn that woman! She doesn’t know how to relax, to bend with the flow. Where’s the soft yielding of a woman won?
She’s just too old, he decided, too set in her ways. It takes a young woman, like Lilla.
How wondrous the first time with Lilla had been, in that pile of autumn leaves. Her sighs and surrender of will to his, the change from skittish virgin to full-blossomed, pliant woman, for the touch of his hands, his lips, his stick. The two had become one. But that went wrong, too. Lilla had sent him away, to this valley of sex witches.
No. He refused to believe it was Lilla. It was her damn mother!
So, for the sake of one old woman, he had to wait out here in the snow for another old woman.
Not that it was all bad, he had to admit. Last night was… He couldn’t think of words to describe the delights of the inner room. And I got to her. I know I did.
Of course! That’s the problem. I got to an Allesha. She lost control, and it was only our first night. Poor old thing. How embarrassed she must be. I’ll have to be more gentle with her until she learns to be comfortable with the idea of being mastered so easily.
Continuing to pace the furrow of snow that he had plowed with his boots, the boy had found one reassuring thought among the jumble. He surveyed his surroundings for the first time, seeing the wintry transformation of The Valley. Dotting the white landscape were other boys and their Alleshi. They were too far away for him to see much more than their silhouettes.
Was that boy down the lane Sim? The height, bulk and carriage seemed right, but it was hard to tell. Ryl hoped Sim had been Blessed. He deserved it, like none of the other boys, certainly more than that wimp Aidan.
Ryl couldn’t imagine Aidan in the inner room; probably wouldn’t even know what to do. His Allesha has her wor
k cut out for her, unlike mine. Mine can just lie back and enjoy herself. I bet mine is wondering who blessed who, right now.
He heard the door close behind him. Turning, he caught Tayar by the waist and lifted up into the air.
“Dov!” she squealed in mid-giggle as she hung there against the blue sky above his head.
He silenced her with a kiss as he pulled her into his arms, letting her feet touch the solid ground. Satisfied with the impact he’d made, he began to withdraw, but she pressed deeper into his body, while gently teasing his lower lip with her tongue. He felt dizzy, breathless and, once again, uncertain.
She’s old, but what skill! Maybe, she does have a few things to teach me.
She spoke first, with a much calmer voice than he had expected or hoped to hear. “Phew, Dov, you certainly know how to greet a woman! Come, let’s get our shovels from the barn. There’s work to be done and fun to be had.”
Could there be any more vivid picture of pleasure than my Allesha in the snow? he wondered as he sprinted after her.
On the walk to Le’a’s, they played and chatted and stamped a path through the snow. She knew the problems were just below the surface, ready to erupt. But for the moment, Dov had turned his mind to life beyond his own skin, giving her the freedom to enjoy the brisk, clean day.
She lowered her shovel to the walk some distance from Le’a’s, clearing the common path along the way. The boy followed her example. While she plowed and threw off the top half of the snow, he followed behind, scooping up the bottom layer.
Soon, Tayar began humming, as she usually did when she worked. Recognizing the tune, Dov added his voice to hers with a counter-rhythm that lifted the song in pace and tone. Her hum and his “ta, ta, ta’s” blended in the cold air as puffs of energy that raised their spirits. When they reached Le’a’s gate, they stood face to face, leaning on their stilled shovels as she hummed and he ta-ta’d a full cycle of the melody.
“Hurrah!” Le’a called from the doorway, clapping her gloved hands while slogging toward them, slowed by the snow and her heavy boots. “Thank you for the serenade. What a joyous greeting on such a beautiful day!”
“Hello, Le’a,” they called back.
The two embraced the one, each in turn.
“I was just coming out to clear my walks.”
“We’re going to do them for you,” the boy said. “So you can go inside, stay warm.”
“What! And miss the fun? I’ll have the pleasure of your company, and the work will be finished that much sooner. Here,” Le’a said to the boy, “give me your shovel and get another from the barn.”
When he was out of earshot, she grinned. “Well?” she asked.
“How did you know?”
“Because it was time. And I knew you knew it, by the way you had called us out to see the snow yesterday.”
“Yes, it was time. And you were right about him. He does have some surprises in his manners and ways. But he knows almost nothing about a woman’s body and little more about his own. And he’s so tiring. Always testing, posing, prodding.”
“That’s why he’s here, and why we gave him to you.”
“I understand that now. But you’ll have to forgive me if I continue to have uncertainties.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. You will be a formidable Allesha.”
“Formidable? I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Shush, he’s returning.”
The boy found the two women shoveling side by side, with big smiles plastered on their faces. He had no doubt what they had been talking about.
She’s told the old woman about last night and how good I am.
The three shoveled close to one another for a while, but in the pattern of paths, they separated: Tayar to the left, Le’a and the boy to the right.
“I enjoyed your singing.” Le’a said to the boy. “Was it a song you know from the Birani, or did your Allesha teach it to you?”
“I know the tune, but I bet it doesn’t have the same words as hers.” He grinned mischievously. “It’s a games song we use to taunt and trip up the other guy.”
“In my region, our young people participate in very different kinds of games. We play in teams to strengthen our bond, and for the fun of it.”
“Le’a, I guess I should have asked before, but I never thought about it. Who are your people?”
“My village is one of a confederation that rings the lakes about a thrity-day walk southeast from here. We’re called the Terrali; those of my village are the Serterrali.”
“What’s a confederation?”
“During the Great Chaos, when war ruled our lands, and there were no Alleshi in this Valley or anywhere, some villages banded together for mutual protection.” Le’a spoke between exertions, after she had tossed the snow on her shovel toward the side of the path, before bending to dig up some more. In the silences between, she sometimes grunted, but otherwise didn’t show any of the strain he expected in one so old.
“When the wars ended, the union was already forged,” she continued. “Now we are one people, living in five different villages, sharing what we have with one another.”
“How is it ruled? If there are all these villages acting like one, who’s the headman?”
“We have no headmen, only councils. Councils within our villages and a council of the confederation. The men and women of our councils debate and discuss any problems or concerns — often quite vociferously and, yes, sometimes with contention. However, when more than half agree to the form and substance of a plan, it’s affirmed by all.”
Dov shook his head in wonder at such inefficient and leaderless leadership. “You can be darn certain nobody argues with my grandpa, once he’s made a declaration.”
“Yes, that has long been the way of the Birani. Yet, when your father becomes headman, perhaps it will change.”
“You don’t know my pa—” He suddenly stopped, his tongue tripping over the realization that this woman had been to his father as Tayar was to him.
“Knowing your father as I do, I’m certain he’ll welcome the day when his people will question the headman’s authority and share in some of the decisions. Maybe you’ll be the first to do so.”
“That’s right! I’ll be an Alleman, too. He’ll have to listen to me.”
“He has always listened to you.” She turned to touch his hand. “Your father loves you.”
“Love is one thing. Listening is another.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’m glad you understand. It’s important to listen carefully.”
The path they had been shoveling now diverged into two. Le’a took the left fork, but when he followed her, she turned to him. “No, I think it will go more quickly if we separate.”
“But the heavy parts…”
“If you hadn’t come, I would have shoveled all of it. I can handle this one small length by myself. Up ahead, it converges with the one Tayar is clearing, and she’ll help me for a while. Okay?”
“Sure, it’s your back. Just don’t break it.”
“Thank you for your concern.”
On their way back from Le’a’s, Dov was surprised at how much of the common paths had been shoveled in a few hours. Even some of the walks surrounding his Allesha’s home had been cleared in their absence. They lowered their shovels to clear the rest of her property. Working side by side, they talked.
“I guess you and Le’a aren’t the only ones who enjoy working in the snow,” he commented.
“It’s the way of our Valley to take and give pleasure.”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t talking about that.”
“About pleasure? Oh — you thought I was referring to sex.” Tayar thought for a moment, then tossed a handful of snow into the air. “Snow falling onto a path can be beautiful and great fun. But it’s also a responsibility, a weight to move out of the way. Does that diminish the essential joy of being out on a crisp winter day?”
He hated being cornered with questions that had no ans
wers — at least none that made sense to him. “Is this still about the snow, about how everyone got out and shoveled, not only their own paths, but the common ones and others? You seem to be saying more than your words.”
Tayar hugged him, then continued shoveling.
“What was that for?” He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was trying to push him to do or say something.
“I do enjoy your mind sometimes. I know it is just the beginning, but you will be a true Alleman, listening to what a person really means, and not just his or her words.”
He wanted to enjoy the moment, to accept what, on the surface, could be taken as a compliment. But he felt that damn cocoon descending again, separating him from her, from everything around him. “Le’a was talking about listening, too. Is this a continuation of some lesson she told you to give me?”
She stopped shoveling and faced him. “Dov, please don’t do that.”
He saw the warning in her eyes, and readied for her attack. “Do what?” he demanded.
“No, Le’a did not instruct me to discuss this with you. We — you and I — were simply talking while we worked, and I was enjoying being with you. But then you had to put a stop to it by challenging my purpose. Please learn to accept my friendship for what it is.”
“Yeah, something that I’ll be paying for the rest of my life,” he mumbled.
She threw her shovel into a snowdrift and stormed toward her house, yelling into the wind so that he had to strain to hear her words. “I don’t want to be with you right now. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out here until you understand what you’ve just ruined.”
Glowering at her back, he attacked the snow with his shovel, tossing it this way and that into a mess of drifts.
Damn these women! Damn ’em! Damn ’em!
She watched him from her kitchen window. It was important that he try to understand what had happened, to learn from the experience. Of course, she knew he’d remain reactive for weeks. But such flashes of conflict, controlled carefully, would give seed to new ideas for him to consider and, eventually, become.
The Winter Boy Page 15