more. “I’m glad you’re better. You had me a bit worried. Want me to take the dog?”
The dog, at the moment, was resting her chin on the edge of the mattress and gazing up at me in a worshipful sort of way, her tail wagging as if she’d forgiven me already for my cruel rejection. I asked, “Do you think she’d go?”
“Well, no,” Daisy said. “Probably not. Love is a many-splendored thing. Do you want your jeans?”
They were on top of the tallboy, I realized. Folded. “I want you to leave,” I said, “so I can get dressed.”
She was leaning against the door frame, her bare ankles crossed. Her hair was loose, her T-shirt was on the snug side, so were her jeans, and she had a light in her eyes that I might have wanted to see, under other circumstances. “Who rode in the truck with me, then,” she asked, “when I had no trousers on, and, as you may have noticed, no undies, either, and didn’t say, “Here’s my jacket?”
I attempted some dignity. “That was different. I didn’t think of it, was all.” I didn’t say that I hadn’t noticed. She’d know it wasn’t true.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Well, like I said—soup downstairs. If you don’t actually want me to be a ministering angel.”
“Does any man want you to be a ministering angel?”
“Well, no,” she conceded, pushing herself off the door frame. “Generally, they’re narky about it. Like you.” She looked over her shoulder, showing me a trim waist and those tight jeans that showed off exactly what she had going on back there, smiled sweetly, said, “Fortunately, we don’t generally do bedpans in Emergency,” and shut the door.
I came downstairs with the dog at my heels five minutes later, partly because I’d been asleep more than three hours, which was long enough, and partly because … well, because I wanted to go downstairs. I was curious.
The girls were at the table with Daisy, who seemed to be making a list. When they saw me, they jumped up and looked at the floor, and Obedience put both hands to her dark hair, which was coiled into an enormous knot at the back of her head, as if I’d caught her out. They weren’t wearing the white caps or the aprons, I realized. That was what was different.
I said, “At ease, men,” and they glanced at each other, confused. I said, “Nah, it’s just that—that’s what a soldier does, that jumping-up thing. Out here in, uh … Wanaka, the man’s the one who stands when the woman comes in. Well, if he’s exceptionally polite or trying to impress a woman, he does. Not often, actually. Trying to remember when I last did that. I was trying to impress a woman at the time, I’m pretty sure, because sadly, I’m realizing that I’m not exceptionally polite.”
I ignored them, then, since my explanation wasn’t making them any more comfortable, and headed into the kitchen with the dog at my heels. I asked, “Is this the soup?” lifted the lid, and inhaled. It smelled fantastic, and it was a bit mashed, thick and appetizing. “What kind?”
Daisy said, “A bit of ham, some veggies, and a couple cans of beans, that’s all. I made scones as well, as your mum had some dates. Hope she doesn’t mind. I like to be busy, and there wasn’t much that needed doing.”
“Smells amazing,” I said. “Anybody else want some?” I grabbed a bowl out of a cupboard and looked around inquiringly. Fruitful looked back, or at least in my direction. Obedience was still looking down. I said, keeping it gentle, “It’s OK to look at a man, you know. Not so much difference between men and women, really.”
That had them both looking at me, though Obedience looked down again fast. Fruitful asked, “How can that be? Is that what people believe, though, Outside?”
“Yeh,” I said. “Of course they do. At work. In, uh, families, I guess, most of the time. I’m trying to think. In everyday life, daily interactions. You’re all just people, after all, and most work isn’t gender-specific, is it?”
They stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head, and I said, “All right, my jobs have been, but normally, work isn’t, either the kind you do at home or the kind you do at … well, work. If it’s a social occasion, though—romantic, especially—there’s more difference, because … uh, romantic, eh.”
I was starting to be sorry I’d brought it up. How did I