“I will not love it! And isn’t it better to look like a fool with me than with Perceval? I mean, whoever your future husband may be.” Carina gave a wry grin and held out the other cucumber. “Just go ahead and grasp it and move your hand up and down with a firm grip.”
Summoning her courage, Joan reached out and wrapped her hand around the cucumber, doing her best to imitate the actions Carina had demonstrated earlier.
“You are a natural!” praised Carina, and Joan groaned at the statement. “Now it’s time to use your mouth.”
Joan dropped her hand. “That’s enough cucumber-wrangling for one day. Plus, if he were this huge, I might die,” she said, gesturing toward the vegetable.
“He might not be quite this large,” Carina conceded, “but he’s a big …show more content…
“Do I? Nah, I’m happy to have some time to spend with you. Finally. It’s been days.”
“I know.”
They sat in quiet for a time, until Joan asked out of nowhere, “Perceval? Would you tell me about your family?”
This inquiry took him by surprise. Perceval hardly ever spoke of his family. When people asked, he kept his answer simple: They’d all been killed by Urien’s men. Then he’d change the subject. Even over a decade later, thinking of his parents and sister triggered feelings so strong, his heart ached with loss.
He didn’t want to have this discussion, not now, not ever, but Joan had asked. And it wasn’t due to morbid curiosity, Perceval understood that. She genuinely cared and wanted to know about his family.
“What do you want to know?”
“I’d like to hear your memories of them – the good ones.” Joan’s voice was so full of concern and care.
Perceval hoped he could relay those memories without choking up. He didn’t want to appear foolish, or worse, weak. Nonetheless, he began his …show more content…
I remember her always seeming to be covered in dirt from the garden of our small farm. Father told her it was ‘adorable.’ I recall being very young, sitting in her lap and munching on radishes in the garden while she pulled weeds. One time, she made a weed-crown for me,” he said with a smile. Though the loneliness of loss tugged at his heart, he carried on.
“I was close to both of my parents. Father was a skilled carpenter, but he was also handy with the sword and taught me the basics.
“Mother was a great storyteller. She used to regale my little sister and me with the most elaborate tales of lords and ladies, kings and queens, knights and wizards. Afterward, Deryn and I would run around the house making a huge racket acting out Mum’s stories.
“We were a happy family; all very close. I had a great childhood and I remember my parents were so in love.”
“It sounds it,” whispered Joan.
“I haven’t spoken of the day they died, ever,” Perceval solemnly admitted.
“You don’t have to,” said Joan. “But if you want to, you can trust me, Perceval. I won’t ever tell anyone.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I know you wouldn’t.” Perceval continued, but he looked across the pond as he spoke, recalling images from long
Summoning her courage, Joan reached out and wrapped her hand around the cucumber, doing her best to imitate the actions Carina had demonstrated earlier.
“You are a natural!” praised Carina, and Joan groaned at the statement. “Now it’s time to use your mouth.”
Joan dropped her hand. “That’s enough cucumber-wrangling for one day. Plus, if he were this huge, I might die,” she said, gesturing toward the vegetable.
“He might not be quite this large,” Carina conceded, “but he’s a big …show more content…
“Do I? Nah, I’m happy to have some time to spend with you. Finally. It’s been days.”
“I know.”
They sat in quiet for a time, until Joan asked out of nowhere, “Perceval? Would you tell me about your family?”
This inquiry took him by surprise. Perceval hardly ever spoke of his family. When people asked, he kept his answer simple: They’d all been killed by Urien’s men. Then he’d change the subject. Even over a decade later, thinking of his parents and sister triggered feelings so strong, his heart ached with loss.
He didn’t want to have this discussion, not now, not ever, but Joan had asked. And it wasn’t due to morbid curiosity, Perceval understood that. She genuinely cared and wanted to know about his family.
“What do you want to know?”
“I’d like to hear your memories of them – the good ones.” Joan’s voice was so full of concern and care.
Perceval hoped he could relay those memories without choking up. He didn’t want to appear foolish, or worse, weak. Nonetheless, he began his …show more content…
I remember her always seeming to be covered in dirt from the garden of our small farm. Father told her it was ‘adorable.’ I recall being very young, sitting in her lap and munching on radishes in the garden while she pulled weeds. One time, she made a weed-crown for me,” he said with a smile. Though the loneliness of loss tugged at his heart, he carried on.
“I was close to both of my parents. Father was a skilled carpenter, but he was also handy with the sword and taught me the basics.
“Mother was a great storyteller. She used to regale my little sister and me with the most elaborate tales of lords and ladies, kings and queens, knights and wizards. Afterward, Deryn and I would run around the house making a huge racket acting out Mum’s stories.
“We were a happy family; all very close. I had a great childhood and I remember my parents were so in love.”
“It sounds it,” whispered Joan.
“I haven’t spoken of the day they died, ever,” Perceval solemnly admitted.
“You don’t have to,” said Joan. “But if you want to, you can trust me, Perceval. I won’t ever tell anyone.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “I know you wouldn’t.” Perceval continued, but he looked across the pond as he spoke, recalling images from long