Falling back into a normal pattern was the easiest way to avoid thinking about things. It felt safe and boringly routine to do household chores or sit with Russell whenever I could. Later in the day, I got to watch the old woman instruct Bucky on how to rearrange her furniture now that she had someone strong enough to move whole cabinets in one go. She changed her mind at least three times. And when I caught her smiling, I got the feeling she didn't really care where anything went. She just liked watching him move things. So I joined her.
Later in the afternoon, she sent Bucky back out into the yard to feed the animals and lock them up for the night. Then she pulled me into the kitchen to attempt teaching me how to cook. I didn't want to be impolite by telling her how much I hated cooking and probably wouldn't remember a single thing. But I let her explain anyway. It was more of a bonding experience. And I think she needed it more than I did. So I did the best I could to follow along until Bucky finished with the chores and joined us. Mostly because he realized I was struggling. So he acted as a translator and she liked having him around because he could reach the tall shelves without needing a stool.
When we were finishing up, she said something I couldn't understand. But whatever it was, it made Bucky visibly tense. He had his lips pinched for half a second, until she turned to him and he masked it with a smile and a nod. Then she took a plate of potato cakes and went to set the table for dinner while we finished cooking up the rest.
"What did she say?" I asked. He looked at the wall for a long time before speaking.
"She was telling me that—draniki was Beata's favorite. And that cooking it with you makes her feel like she's back in Sokovia with her daughters and her husband."
"Why did you tense?" He shook his head.
"Because she didn't call her by name."
"What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath and reached across the counter for one of the dishes we'd already prepared. He put his metal hand on my back and his chest touched my shoulder as he leaned over me. He smelled like that floral shampoo from the upstairs bathroom. Only warmer.
"She referred to Beata as your mother. And said she was her 'little girl.'" I nodded and chewed the inside of my lip. His hand moved up my back and he held my face against his palm. He was wearing a glove again, but it was nice to feel him. His touch was gentle.
"I've been trying not to think about it, to be honest," I admitted.
"I haven't stopped."
"Why?" He looked down at me.
"How do you think they'd feel if they found out I was there when she died? I was who she was running from." I nodded slowly. I hadn't thought about that. I remembered when he told me how badly he'd wanted to kill her. And how angry he'd been at her for taking that from him.
"It wasn't you. Not you you," I argued.
"You might believe that. But they won't."
"You don't know that." He sighed.
"You honestly think they'd be this kind to me if they knew?" I shook my head.
"No." He moved his fingers down my cheek and I moved my eyes to his chest. He was standing very close to me. Still not crossing the boundary he'd set between us. I wanted him to cross it. I only ever felt human when he was touching me.
"You're more forgiving than most people. Don't let that cloud your judgment." I only nodded. "We don't have to talk about it. You don't have to think about it. Just remember that—you have a family here. An aunt and a grandmother who want to know you."
"I don't think Dana likes me very much."
"I think she's still hurting."
He gave me one of those half-smiles and I looked up just so I could watch it change his face. My heart began to beat faster and I couldn't stop myself from returning it. But then the woman said something from the kitchen table that forced Bucky to laugh and take a step back. His smile was wide and genuine.
"She says this is improper behavior for a kitchen," he explained. I laughed too and his eyes immediately dropped to my lips. "Was that a real laugh?" he asked. I didn't get the chance to answer. She said something else and his expression looked mildly shocked. "Now SHE'S behaving improperly." The next laugh that came out of me was a lot easier. His eyes moved to my lips again and the smile lingered on his face. "It's good to hear you laugh again," he whispered. "I didn't even realize how unfamiliar it is to me. I barely know what it sounds like." I put my hand on his chest and guided another plate into his hands.
"It's your turn now," I told him. Then I went to help her set the table.
