Page 90 of Hell Bent
“It could be,” she said. “Or it could be that he likes you more than he’s ever liked anyone before. I may be biased, but that makes him sound sensible to me. Which do you think it is?”
“OK,” I said, “but there’s another wrinkle. His sister’s dying, and he’s taking his nephew in. Adopting him, I think.”
“Ah,” she said. “And you think he wants you there for the boy? Is that it?”
“Yes. No.” I rubbed my forehead. “It’s too soon to have any of these thoughts, but like I said—complicated. And he has an unusual job that means he travels a lot. Again, it’s good I can be here a bit for Ben—the boy—but …”
“Are you the only one caring for his boy?” Her tone a little sharper now.
“No. Not at all. He’s got somebody—a young man—to help with that. No. I—” I broke off, then started again. “How do you know if you’re falling in love with somebody? I’ve never reallyfallen,you know? I’ve liked somebody, and dated them, and with Ned, I thought, ‘this is amazingly comfortable,’ even though I was sometimes annoyed, but you’re always annoyed, right? Especially if your mind’s a little …”
“Brighter,” she said.
“I was going to say ‘different,’ I said. “Ned’s very bright.”
“But you’re much quicker. And were annoyed by his slowness. But not this man.”
“No, and that’s bizarre, because he never even graduated from high school. He left as soon as he turned eighteen.”
“And I,” she said, “was not schooled after sixteen.”
“Oh.” Well,thatbrought me up short. “That’s right. Sorry.”
“Life brings its own education,” she said. “And a person can read, of course. Education doesn’t have to end when schooling does. Go on, then. This feeling is new.”
“Yes. I’ve never really … I’ve never felt like part of my heart’s walking around outside my body before.”
“As it does when you have a child,” she said. “Or when you love somebody so deeply, losing him feels impossible. Inconceivable.”
“Yes.And I think he feels a little … a little off-kilter too, because it’s been sofast.I met him before, you see, out with Ned, in November, and again while I was running away, and since then, it’s been crazy. And—OK. Here’s the other thing, the one that bothers me most. I need to say this. He’s an NFL player. A glamorous person. And I’m not.”
“Other than being a princess.” My grandmother’s voice was bone-dry.
“Yes, but that doesn’t count. It’s nothing I’ve done. I didn’t want anybody rich, and anyway, he’s terrifyingly accomplished. Determined. Strong. All of that. So this is probably just a bad crush.”
“Which would make him,” my grandmother said, “a good match for you. As you’re all of those things yourself. But you’re not used to a marriage of true minds.”
“What? Nobody’s talking aboutmarriage,Oma.” I was laughing.
“Americans receive almost no education,” she said. “Even in university. Why is that? That’s Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. I’m not talking about that, though. I’m talking about confidence. And kindness. You asked how I felt on my wedding day. Not how you’re saying. Not ‘in love.’ But so very much in like. Your grandfather had a quiet confidence about him I’d never seen before. Not because he was wealthy, or royal. Hewas neither of those things. Because he was himself, and he was secure enough in that to be kind. To be gentle. He spoke to everybody the same, a general or a peasant. It’s very American, I think, that confidence. He was deeply affected by the … the things he was experiencing there in Germany, in Nuremburg, but it didn’t make him hate, not the way others hated. It made him want to understand instead. To want to help. He was decent, and I hadn’t known many decent men. And on the wedding night …”
“What?” I asked. “Please, Oma, tell me, if you can. Because that part’s the most confusing of all. How Ifeel.So vulnerable. Soraw.Like we’re touching?—”
“Souls,” she said.
“Yes! Isn’t that stupid?” I was trying to laugh. “This sounds like a conversation I’d have had when I was sixteen, if I hadn’t had glasses and braces and had actually, you know, gone out with anybody. But I need to have it anyway, because this is just too confusing.”
“You don’t sound confused,” she said. “You sound afraid of your feelings.”
“Probably,” I said, and remembered Sebastian saying something like that, too.
“On my wedding night,” she said, “I found out about something I’d almost forgotten. Tenderness. Joy. And something I’d never experienced. Passion.”
“You really didn’t have sex until after you were married?”
“Where would we have had it?” she answered crisply. “I was sharing a tiny room at the baker’s with two other girls. I was sharing abed,and he was in Army quarters. And he wouldn’t have asked. Never. I had no idea what to expect, though, what it would be like. My mother had told me that it might hurt sometimes, especially if he was rough, with the bruising and so forth, but my husband would need me that way, so I should explain to him about my condition, shouldask him to be gentle.” She laughed. “I was terrified. Kissing was nice, and the bit of touching we did, too, but the part that would hurt? I wasn’t looking forward to that.”
“But it didn’t,” I said.
