Breakfast

When I woke again from a mildly unsettling dream in which somebody unseen wouldn’t stop fumbling with my clothes, it was morning and I didn’t remember falling asleep. Curry and I had lain there a long time last night whispering in the dark, half bullshitting to reassure ourselves things were fine, half planning how we would talk to Blankenship later. Curry was gone, and I was curled in the middle of the bed wrapped in his mother’s crazy quilt, partway onto his side, with the chaunceyhorse corner clutched in my hand. He must have had to spend the rest of the night with me taking up far too much of the space we’d designated as his.

I pulled the covers off, wincing at the pain that accompanied the motion. I was feeling rather stiff this morning. But when I pulled my shirt up to examine my side where Lydell had slammed so hard into my left kidney, the sight of my skin mottled with purple and blue in the shape of his huge, knuckled fist made my breath catch, so I quickly pulled my top down again and decided to save further inspection for later. I’d left my boots in the front room, so I padded downstairs barefoot in search of them, except that Nan was in the kitchen and heard me.

In our whispered conversation last night, I had given Curry my leave to tell her what happened, so it was not a surprise when I heard her voice raised, calling me into the kitchen in Csoglaran. I abandoned my boots and went uncertainly in, still unsure what she would make of me having spent all night in Curry’s room. But there was no disapproval, when Nan caught me up in her arms and pulled me to her, kissing the top of my head. “Magnus told me,” she said simply. “I’m sorry. I love you, honey.”

It was making my throat **** up, for her and Curry to be so nice to me, and to top that off, Nan had never before said that she loved me. “I love you too,” I managed, and she stroked my hair and gave me another hard squeeze that she ceased when it made me yelp with pain.

“Where is he?” I asked when she let me go and turned back to the stove, where some kind of sausage was frying on a griddle.

“He decided to go run some long errands because he was wasn’t sure if you might need a chance to talk to somebody who isn’t a man.”

Even though I’d thought myself all cried out, this struck me as so considerate it made me burst into tears. Nan motioned for me to come over by her, and pulled me against her side with one arm, more carefully this time, turning the sausages with her free hand. “It’s hard,” she said, “when something like this happens just as you’re getting your confidence.” I put my arms around her and she leaned over and kissed me again. “But you’ll find yourself again, amidst all the frightened mess. It won’t be quite the same, but you’ll be fine enough. The worst will pass.”

“Thanks for being so good to me,” I said when she finished talking, and she made the little gesture she and Curry always used to mean it wasn’t any fuss. I wished there was some way to put it into words, how important it was what they two represented to my life, except I wasn’t even sure what it was, exactly.

“I’ve been considering asking you something for a couple of weeks now,” Nan said, letting me lean into her like a little kid while she cooked, “and hadn’t yet, because I remember what it feels like to be young and proving yourself and then some well-meaning old person comes along and steps on your independence thinking they’re helping. But I asked Magnus about it this morning and he didn’t laugh at the idea.” She paused to turn the sliced potatoes frying in a pan behind the sausages, then dropped a bowl of sliced bell-peppers in on top of them.

“What’s that?” I asked, hoping it was something nice like she thought I should learn to cook like a proper adult. It would mean getting to be here, to practice in a real kitchen, and spending even more time with the both of them. The notion was very appealing.

“I won’t be offended if you say no, but since you and he are both saving your money right now, I’ve been toying with asking you to come stay here with us. We hardly ever have any family visit overnight these days. It feels like a waste for the spare room to sit there being spare. It’s yours, if you want it.”

I stared at her, startled. It felt like the only proper reply was to politely decline, because much as I wanted it to be true, she and Curry were not my blood family and didn’t owe me anything. It was not proper to say yes to something so generous. Except, as soon as she spoke this possibility into existence—it seemed I had never wanted anything so badly in all my life. I would rather wake up every day in this cheerful, kind house, with good food and laughing people, than anything else in all the world. “Won’t you get tired of me?” I asked finally, because neither yes nor no seemed like a polite answer.

Nan laughed. “Gods, I doubt it, child. But if things don’t go all smoothly we'll have a family talk and sort it out, mm?”

This gave me a peculiar ache in my chest, but instead of yielding to that I said, “You’re really sure he wouldn’t mind?”

“Actually, he said yes so quick it made me think he’d been planning to put the same question to me,” she said, removing the sausages and blotting them on a sheet of newsprint. “There’s no rush. Think it over and if you like the idea, Magnus will help you fetch your things from the boarding house.”

I rather thought Nan might be surprised that I owned so few things I probably didn’t even need his help, but it was nice to have it offered all the same.

“Have a seat, child. I’m in the mood for pan cakes this morning. Do you want some, too?” When I nodded, Nan stirred up the contents of the bowl sitting next to the stove, then began pouring circles of batter onto the hot griddle. “After we eat I’m going to have a look at your side and make sure none of your ribs are worse than bruised. I’m guessing from where you winced he got your kidney pretty good. You’ll be passing blood a few days, if so. Usually that heals up fine but we’ll keep an eye on it all the same.” She set the bowl down, stepped over to the table to give me another kiss on the head, and then turned back to the stove. “You’ll be pretty tender for a couple days. It’s a good excuse for me and Magnus to spoil you a bit.”

“He said you want me to try a thing made from the whites of eggs,” I said, remembering last night’s conversation. “I forget what it was called.”

“Meringue?”

“Yeah. It sounds probably good?”

Nan smiled. “Do you like lemon curd at all?”

“Oh, I tried lemon curd once and I loved it. Do you have that?” I looked around the kitchen, thinking that must be a lovely thing to eat on pan cakes.

“Not on hand. But I told him to get us some lemons while he was out. I was going to make lemon meringue pie later, so if you like I’ll make us some lemon curd too.”

I had no earthly idea how such exotic things were made. It would be very interesting, to find that out.

“Nan?” I asked, when she set a plate with two pan cakes and a sausage link and fried potatoes in front of me, took a seat herself, and passed me a bottle of chokecherry syrup. “I do want to come live here. If you’re really sure.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t offer anything I’m not sure about,” Nan said pleasantly, and slid a fork and knife over to me. “By now you’re same as family, is how Magnus and I see it.”

There was a funny lump in my throat, and I was excited for it to go away so I could have a real conversation with her, and begin to properly enjoy my new status as a person who belonged to a family.