She hid her smile until Spencer finished explaining. With everything so different in this world, as compared to her home, Hild worried that there was something she could not see complicating matters. The last thing she wanted was to misstep: embarrass or upset Spencer, or shame Luke. Men and women were complicated creatures and their motivations, while obvious most of the time, were varied. And she wanted to know. She was young, by the standards of most of the people in the city, but that did not mean she wished to be innocent. Not about any subject, sex and love included. In most subjects, she watched and absorbed or tried and practiced. She could watch men and women flirt with each other at cafes, hold hands as they walked down the streets, kiss in public, but that was only one side of the coin. But to act without having some idea of the expectations would doubtless mean hurting someone.
Better to ask. Thankfully she had Spencer to ask and who would answer frankly.
She wanted to laugh for joy when Spencer admitted his feelings so plainly. But she hid this amusement as well, muffled that giddiness of knowing how things would turn out. Her mother's advice, instruction, echoed in her mind: Show them the pattern. Give them permission to do what they wanted all along. It would suffice, she knew, to simply say that Luke held some affection for Spencer, but that did not mean Spencer would believe it truly. It would be something that Hild said, not something that might be true. He was not looking for love, did not expect a relationship, had been hurt before, had lost himself before. There were reasons, plenty of reasons, for him to fabricate excuses for what Hild might say, to lessen the truth of it, to hide the obvious. He needed the freedom to act more than the knowledge of love.
"When he looks at you..." Hild shook her head. "You see how a flower will turn toward the sun and follow it through the sky? You see how it opens and - pretty before - it is beautiful then?"
Edwin would need more. He was never savvy to Hild's metaphors, did not understand what she was trying to say unless she said it outright. But surely Spencer could see: a flower was a delicate thing. It needed the sun. It needed to be cared for. Luke himself was far from delicate. He had withstood many hardships in his life. But stronger men then Luke, or Spencer, had been crippled by their hearts.
"You are like reflections of each other in this," she said with a wry smile.
no subject
Better to ask. Thankfully she had Spencer to ask and who would answer frankly.
She wanted to laugh for joy when Spencer admitted his feelings so plainly. But she hid this amusement as well, muffled that giddiness of knowing how things would turn out. Her mother's advice, instruction, echoed in her mind: Show them the pattern. Give them permission to do what they wanted all along. It would suffice, she knew, to simply say that Luke held some affection for Spencer, but that did not mean Spencer would believe it truly. It would be something that Hild said, not something that might be true. He was not looking for love, did not expect a relationship, had been hurt before, had lost himself before. There were reasons, plenty of reasons, for him to fabricate excuses for what Hild might say, to lessen the truth of it, to hide the obvious. He needed the freedom to act more than the knowledge of love.
"When he looks at you..." Hild shook her head. "You see how a flower will turn toward the sun and follow it through the sky? You see how it opens and - pretty before - it is beautiful then?"
Edwin would need more. He was never savvy to Hild's metaphors, did not understand what she was trying to say unless she said it outright. But surely Spencer could see: a flower was a delicate thing. It needed the sun. It needed to be cared for. Luke himself was far from delicate. He had withstood many hardships in his life. But stronger men then Luke, or Spencer, had been crippled by their hearts.
"You are like reflections of each other in this," she said with a wry smile.