The Smallholder Pt. 02

He made the same critical assessment of the living room. Again it was spartan and plain, though he thought it had a rustic charm. He wondered how Angela saw it.

He realised what was happening to him and he laughed out loud. Bob gave him a puzzled look, and he realised that while he was usually happy in himself, he did not normally laugh out loud. It relaxed him. She was coming because she wanted to, that was all that mattered; what happened later would happen or not. It was not in his hands. He relaxed further.

Later that afternoon he assembled the ingredients for a Lasagne al Forno and also made a Tiramisu, which he hid in the fridge. He decided on a ham and pea soup for a starter, slices of melon to follow. He went to the cellar and found a robust Italian red for the main course, and a Sauternes for the Tiramisu. Then he prepared the Lasagne and put it in the oven to slow cook.

He laid a pristine white linen table cloth on the kitchen table and placed a vase of flowers in the centre. Then some more flowers in the living room, and still more in the bedroom. There were chocolates on the living room table out of Bob's reach. He smiled. He had made the right purchases.

At five he heard the car, and went to the door to meet her. He could feel his heart beating. As she got out of the car and pulled her cabin bag from the car along with a carrier bag, he suddenly felt quite shy. What had happened to him?

She turned, saw him and smiled, her face lighting up with pleasure, and he immediately felt totally at ease. It was Angela. She came to him, and he stood back to allow her to enter. She put her bags down and turned to him.

"Welcome," he said, "Are you really staying the whole weekend?" This with a wicked grin.

"Oh yes, no distractions this time!" she said gazing up into his eyes, "Hello!"

She raised herself on tiptoe and with her hands on his shoulders she kissed his lips, and he kissed her back, holding her waist. Gentle. Peaceful. Relaxed. No hidden agenda.

Then, "You've been spring cleaning!" she said with a laugh. It was that musical laugh he loved so much. Bob arrived, tail wagging in greeting, and had to be petted before he would go back to the living room.

Joseph picked up her bags and took them to the downstairs bedroom, she following.

"Oh, no!" she said. "You're not giving up your bed this time. I'll sleep in the study."

"I've moved to the bedroom upstairs for the weekend, so you don't have to worry about me."

"But the bed, it's not very comfortable," she protested. "You told me that."

"It's comfortable enough," he parried, "Please let me do this for you."

She put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You're too good to me," she said.

"You're worth it," he said, but she was already distracted.

"Flowers!" she exclaimed. "Oh you shouldn't have!"

They moved to the kitchen. She preceded him and stopped short at the door. The kitchen table had that pristine white tablecloth, and was set for the meal with the flower display in the centre.

"Oh, Joseph!" she gasped. "Beautiful!"

"It'll be ready in three quarters of an hour," he said. "Just time to sort out the chickens. I already milked the goats."

"I'll come too," she said, tucking her arm in his, and smiling up at him. The evening was warm for winter and the snow, even where it had drifted deeply, was practically gone. Angela watched him as he worked and took note of what he did.

When they returned to the house, he offered her a gin and tonic as an aperitif, and they went to the living room where she again exclaimed at the flowers and the chocolates. He poured her drink with ice and a slice of lime, and they sat before the fire, Bob once again coming to her for attention.

"Oh, Greta went to see Gerard," she said. "She went straight from here. I'd suspected Gerard was going to dump me, and she said there was a woman in residence, well, she was there anyway. Greta gave him the message. She told him you'd put the car under cover out of the snow, and told him to get his finger out and move it."

"How is he?"

"Do you really care?" she asked.

"We put a lot of effort into saving his skin, so yes, I care."

"Greta said he was back to his usual self, and seemed to be fine. Made some remarks about dumping my cheating arse and being well rid of me."

"He would say that," said Joseph, smiling at the thought. Angela nodded.

"From what I've heard," she added, "He's said nothing about being rescued. Apparently he had to abandon the car and got a chill walking to the road where he got a lift. I ask you!"

"Angela," he said quietly, "He puts on a confident front, but he seems quite insecure; he's very frightened of losing face. He has to succeed, to beat the opposition, that's how he deals with it. We can leave him be."

"I still can't understand how you can be so... understanding!" she exploded.

Joseph laughed. "I told you, it's a long time ago, and I've let it go. And let's face it, indirectly he brought you to me! I'm not grumbling."

He laughed again, and she coloured and felt warmth spreading over her body.

"Come on," he said, "Let's eat."

"I feel I ought to dress for dinner," she said, "after all you've done to make it special for me."

"Well, as long as you're quick," he smiled. "I'll do the same."

She made to protest but he was already up the stairs and down again while she was still changing. She did not have time to vacillate. The little black dress and pearls would have to do. It was mid-thigh and showed enough cleavage to arouse interest. No time for adding make up, just a little touch up. Then she left the bedroom and went to the kitchen.

Another surprise. More than that, an arresting surprise. She realised she had never seen him in anything but working clothes. He even went to the pub in jeans, tee shirt and roll neck jumper.

Now she could see the executive company director from the past. His dark blue trousers had a knife edge crease, the pale blue shirt open at the neck peeped from beneath a navy blazer. His hair, usually tousled was neatly combed.

"You scrub up well," she said eyeing him up and down, noticeably lasciviously she hoped. He really was gorgeous! He coloured at her appraisal and she knew she had succeeded.

"You look beautiful," he replied with a smile, "but then you always have a head start in that."

She went to him and put her arms round his neck, kissing him gently. "Thank you for all this," she said.

"Wait till you taste it," he joked, "You may change your mind."

She laughed in derision. She had tasted his cooking before, she told him. He sat her at the table and the meal began, Joseph serving her and then sitting for each course.

She found the red wine complemented the ham and pea soup as well as the lasagne, and the sauternes was perfect for the tiramisu and for the cheese and crackers to finish. He offered her port, cognac or liqueurs with the coffee, and she opted for cognac.

They cleared the table together and loaded the dishwasher, leaving the rest on the side next to the sink. He told her he would wash up in the morning.

He ushered her to the living room and brought the coffee and brandy on a tray, adding the chocolates from the table.

They were sitting each side of the fire, and she fervently wished Joseph had a sofa. She felt a little giddy from all the wine.

"Joseph, I'm used to men taking me out to expensive restaurants, even Michelin Star ones, but none were any better than your meal tonight. You've really pushed the boat out, flowers and a lovely meal, thank you so much."

"Well," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "You were the first person, and I mean person, to stay the night in this cottage with me in eight long years. No one I know ever needed or wanted to stay over. You are the first woman who has visited me at all, and you came twice, though both previous times it was because of someone else, and both times you had to leave early."

"I didn't want to leave," she said pensively, "either time."

"Now you've come back without any other reason than to see me," he went on. "We did say this was a date, after all. I'm not in a position to take you out, so I had try to give you a treat here at home."

He sat back and sipped his cognac.

"I feel so much at home here," she said, "It's so peaceful and it's a house that seems to love me. I feel sort of comforted."

"Did you feel like that at home, with your parents?" he asked, out of the blue.

She looked at him questioningly.

"You said before, you remember shouting at your parents to get what you wanted. You said your father gave you money without your mother knowing. What's their relationship like?"

Angela was surprised. Joseph had listened, really listened to her, and what is more, remembered what she had said. She couldn't remember any of her previous lovers doing that. Indeed they never were all that interested in her as a person. He deserved a thoughtful answer, not a glib retort.

"I've been meditating every day since I started doing it here," she said, "and that keeps coming up. At first it seemed as if life was all arguments and struggle. Dad and Mum arguing, she finding fault with him, he telling her to get a job. I fought with Keith; we never got on. I think he resented me from an early age when I arrived. He was always creeping to mum, doing little things for her and I thought it was to get what he wanted. I got what I wanted from dad.

"Gradually I've seen other things. Most of the time we were happy, I think. They stood by me about the abortion and they do love each other. Keith and I still don't get on, he thinks I'm a slag and I think he's a prude. I don't know whether I love him or not, or whether he really loves me.

"So we were generally happy. But relaxed? Peaceful? I can't get that feeling from their house. Not like here."

"Do you go to see them?"

"Usually once a year at Christmas. Gerard was the first boyfriend I've taken home. Needless to say, Mum loved him and Dad was not very impressed. Mum always wants more; we have to keep up with the neighbours and display her success writ large."

"Do they miss you?"

It made her think. Did they?

"I don't know," she said, "Sometimes I feel guilty I don't go and see them more often."

"Easily fixed," he said.

She remembered he had lost both parents long ago; he had no one.

"You miss your parents?" she asked, then felt guilty at probing.

"Yes," he said, "I didn't appreciate what they'd done for me until it was too late."

Once again he had implied that she needed to repair her relationships. He didn't tell her what she should do but found ways to bring her to understand what should be done. It was the delicacy with which he did it that was so endearing. He never seemed to direct, always to support and offer a way. It seemed that he immersed himself in others and almost lost himself in them, or at least in her.

She simply knew in that moment that she wanted him.There was no concern for the future, no reservation. She just wanted to be with him.

For his part he could see her staring at him seriously. He could not tell what she was thinking, but the intensity of her stare made her look even more beautiful than before, and he was gripped with desire for her.

Then came his own rebuttal: she would not want a recluse like him permanently and he certainly did not want a short affair or a weekend fling.

She saw his expression change, but in her turn could not read him, though she could see he did not look happy. He looked disturbed, almost defeated. She did not know why.

"What is it Joseph?" she asked, expecting the brush off: 'nothing'.

It did not happen. Instead she could see him thinking. She almost told him to forget it, but for some reason she did not. She waited patiently and at length he spoke.

"All week I've been looking forward eagerly to you coming this weekend. That's never happened to me since I began dating Susan. We seem to fit so easily together; we are just so comfortable with each other. I've thought about you every day; you float through my meditation every time.

"Though your life is so different from mine, you wanted to come back here and stay longer; unfortunately Trevor interrupted it. I was happier than I ever remember when you said you'd come back this weekend, and I think you said you'd have liked to stay longer if your holiday allowance hadn't been used up. I can't understand the attraction this has for you except as some sort of holiday. Does that make any sort of sense? I just wonder what it is you want."

He sat back, wondering if he'd said too much and whether it would frighten her off. Now it was her turn to sit in thought.

What was he saying? She had felt a surge of hope when he spoke of his looking forward to her visit. It did not seem to occur to him that she wanted him, rather than the place or the quietness, though these had an attraction in themselves.

Another man might have said he was falling in love with her, she thought, they had told her that often enough and it meant little to them or to her, apart from their lust for her body or her lust for theirs. He could have said glibly that he loved her, but she knew already that that was not Joseph.

She remembered how analytical he could be. When Greta asked if he was happy, he distinguished happiness from contentment and those other feelings. Hadn't he said in so many words that he wanted her: he thought about her every day? He felt so comfortable with her? He hadn't felt like this since Susan?

What to tell him? Easily answered: the truth.

"Joseph," she began, "I don't think you realise what an effect you've had on me. I've never felt quite like this before. It's not the place that I've come back for, it's you. I told you I've always been selfish with the men I've been with; it was always some sort of transaction with them. Even with Trevor it was what he could give me, but I never gave myself to him totally, or to anyone else; never total commitment of the heart - I never thought any of them would be permanent, nor did I want them to be. Perhaps it was too great a risk.

"With you, I don't want anything from you. I don't want clubs, restaurants, foreign holidays, parties. I've done all that, and it's never realIy satisfied. I don't know where this will lead in the end, but I'm open for the first time to go wherever it leads. I want us to get closer and deeper. I suppose it's another way of saying that I'm beginning to fall in love with you. So I want to be where you are, go where you go, just be with you, that's all."

Joseph replied, quietly reflective, " 'Wherever you go I will go; wherever you will live, I will live; your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I shall die, and there I shall be buried.' "

"Pardon?"

"It's a quotation from the Book of Ruth in the Bible," he explained. "She is a sort of lesson in faithfulness: she left her own country, culture and religion to care for her mother-in-law after both their men had died leaving them widows. She would not abandon the older woman."

"What's the story?"

"You want the whole thing? It would be better to read it."

"Tell me the outline and I'll go and read it afterwards."

"She left her own culture and homeland and went with Naomi, her mother-in-law, to care for her. She committed herself to Naomi; she would never return to her own home.

"When they reached Naomi's country and her place, a relative of Naomi, called Boaz, noticed Ruth and I think he immediately fancied her. Then he found she was a widow, a relative of his by marriage, and that she had supported Naomi on her journey home, leaving her own country and family. He was so impressed by her character that he found ways to help her.

"Naomi realised this was an opportunity. She told Ruth to wait until Boaz went to sleep and then slip into his bed with him. She did so, he awoke, and seeing who it was, covered her with his cloak; in their society that was a sign that he loved her and would marry her.

"There's a lot more to the story; you can read it in the Bible."

"I'd like to read it," she said. "Is it a long book?"

"The Bible? It's huge!" he grinned.

"No, idiot, Ruth!"

"No, it's one of the shortest in the Bible, just before 1 Samuel," he said, still smiling. "There's a Bible in the study."

She immediately got up and went to the study, found the Bible and the story. She brought it back to the living room and settled to read it.

Joseph was left with his own thoughts. What was it she said? It was he for whom she had returned, that she was falling in love with him? How could she after so short at time? Even with such misgivings his heart jumped at the thought.

Perhaps I'm falling for her as well, he thought. It was a happy thought, and he felt content.

She had questions about Jewish marriage customs and land transfers, and their discussion went on until Joseph said it was time for bed.

Angela agreed, "No meditation tonight."

"No meditation," he replied, then after a moment's thought, "We've just done a sort of joint med."

-------

TWELVE

She lay in bed, quite still, in her silk pyjamas, but she was not going to go to sleep. She had a plan.

They had stood opposite one another at her room doorway after she had used the bathroom.

"Good night," he had said.

She had pulled him to her and kissed him and he responded. They pressed their bodies together and his hands roved over her back, hers in his hair which pushed her breasts against him, her nipples prodding his chest. They broke and she kissed his throat downwards, until she reached his open shirt. She looked up at him.

"Good night," she said. It was on the tip of her tongue to say 'I love you', but she somehow couldn't say it. The three words had a weight she had never felt before; she had often used the phrase lightly. She could not do that with Joseph.

They had disengaged and she entered her bedroom, and with the door ajar (for Bob, she told herself), she stripped and put on her pyjamas, and then climbed into bed.

Bob had plodded in after Joseph had let him out for his toilet break, and had made himself comfortable. She had heard Joseph prowling round the house locking doors, making up stoves to last the night and putting out lights. Then she heard him in the bathroom, then walking up the stairs.

She waited a further ten minutes, and then slipped from the bed. Bob raised his head and then relaxed again. She stepped lightly up the stairs in the darkness, quietly opened his door and entered his room. The room was quite dark but there was a moon that night and with the curtains opened, it gave enough light for her to see which side of the bed he was on.

Her heart was beating rapidly and she felt a little afraid: this could go horribly wrong. She steeled herself and walked to 'her' side of the bed, lifting the duvet and climbing into bed.

Joseph had his back to her, but was only half asleep. He came to full consciousness with a start.

"Wha? Ugh? Who? Angela! What are you doing?"

It was at that moment, as she touched him, that she realised something. He was certainly naked above the waist! No wonder he was flummoxed!

"Ssh!" she crooned, "It's all right. I'm only doing what Ruth did in the story. You don't have a cloak to spread over me, so you don't have to marry me. You don't have to do anything at all, except..."

He turned to face her in the dark. She could just make out his face. He was confused. "Huh?"

"All you have to do is cuddle me. Hug me. Then you can go to sleep with me. I love you Joseph, where you go, I go. OK?"

Silence, then his hand was on her side as she lay facing him, a gentle pull. She scooted into his arms and he held her fast, her head on his shoulder, his arm round her shoulders, as she stroked his naked side. His free hand caressed her back from shoulder to the small of her back, but no further.