Broken Magnolias| Do You Mind?
I watched all of this with trepidation as it was one thing for him to be lying in bed unable to move. It was another to have him moving about doing my daily chores. It was nerve-wracking him harmlessly moving about my kitchen in silence. I waited for a time and even tried the stew, which was delicious. However, my curiosity finally got the better of me. He poured me another cup of tea, and I blurted the first thing I thought of to say. “Do you have a name?”
He stopped filling his bowl and shook his head. The look of sadness in his eyes was so deep it made me want to brush it away. He sat down and silently began eating. I did the same. I hadn’t asked him to stay, I doubted I would be able to voice such a request. He seemed disinclined to leave, and that was fine with me.
“Do you mind if I give you one?”
He looked up from his bowl with surprise plain upon his features. He nodded slowly causing his silvery locs to fall around his shoulders rather than behind his ears where he had tucked them.
“How about Percival?” I laughed at the disapproving look on his face. “Thomas?” Another laugh fell past my lips as the look darkened. He seemed to feel like I wasn’t taking the informal naming ceremony as seriously as I needed to. I looked over his broad shoulders and lithe frame, and my list twist in thought. “Jonathan?”
The slow nod that he gave me was a bit distracted but accepting. The meal finished peacefully afterward. Jonathan cleaned, and I retired to my sewing. I still had not figured out what to do with the yarn I had been sent. I didn’t even know if the ones I had sent were acceptable. I was never sent any instructions on what the receiver liked. Though I assumed that they enjoyed the tapestries as there had been no message to stop either.
After Jonathan was done cleaning he surprised me by picking up a set of reed pipes that Lady Gwen had sitting around. He began playing, and the room was filled with sweet music. We spent many evenings through the spring and into the summer this way. My fingers were busy with strings, and his playing the pipes. It was a peaceful routing that made me feel safe and warm, even as the nights began to cool towards the end of summer.
Jonathan made it easy to ignore the whispers of the townspeople. If He heard them he gave no sign. He seemed content and so was I. Eventually, we built him a bed on the other side of the room, so he could stop sleeping in the chair. Though every once in a while I would dream of being held, his presence was enough. I dared not ask for more.