Page 15 of Rainshadow

“We have two dishes tonight, the filet mignon and the fish,” he said, and before he could even describe them, Ethan interrupted to say they would have them both, steak rare.

“And to drink?”

“Water is fine,” Flora said, looking down at the incomprehensible wine menu. She did not know a fumé blanc from a pinot noir.

“The lady will have a glass of the chenin blanc,” Ethan said. Then, looking at Flora, “You’ll like it.”

She felt a warmth creeping over her skin. “That sounds wonderful,” she murmured, looking into his hypnotic eyes.

It wasn’t until the waiter brought a basket of steaming, pillow-soft bread that Flora realized how very hungry she was. She smeared creamy, pale butter across a thick slice and the smell of the bread, yeasty and sweet, was incredible. Ethan watched her as she took her first bite, his mouth twitching at the corner.

“You should try this,” Flora said, pushing over the basket of bread. “It’s the best I’ve ever had in my life.”

His mouth curled into a full smile, and he closed his eyes, breathing in. “It smells great, but I’m not hungry.”

“I’m starving,” Flora admitted.

“Then you must eat,” he said, pushing the basket back.

Flora shrugged and spread a thick pat of butter on a second slice of the soft bread.

When her wine came, the server waited for her to have a taste. She lifted it to her lips and breathed in the jasmine and pear scent, then tasted the honeyed nectar, crisp and complex. Ethan closed his eyes and breathed with her, as though enjoying it as well.

“It’s perfect,” she said, looking at Ethan instead of the server.

Two dinner plates arrived, placed silently by the unobtrusive server, and Ethan pushed them both into the center of the table, as though they were sharing, eating family style. Flora had an extra plate in front of her and took small bites at first, of flaky white fish in a lemony cream sauce, and the tender filet, cooked so that it was a fleshy pink with a bloody red ribbon running through the center, nestled in a dark reduction of red wine and butter. Flora had never eaten so well, and as she brought bite after bite to her ever-hungry mouth, Ethan watched her, delighting in her pleasure. It was, she thought, as though she were eating for both of them.

“You’re really not hungry?” she asked, slicing another thin, perfect morsel of the steak and swirling it in the rich sauce.

“Really,” Ethan said, “I would eat if I could.”

It occurred to Flora that he might have some condition that prevented him from eating. That would explain, perhaps, why he seemed to sleep for much of the day. He smiled at her, his arms crossed and resting on the table, and she felt awash in his attention.

“How long are you planning to live on the island?” Ethan asked. “A girl like you should be in college, shouldn’t you? Or pursuing some kind of… life… somewhere?”

“I couldn’t afford college,” Flora admitted. “And the only time I’ve ever been happy was at Lavender—I mean Rainshadow. I want to just… keep working for you. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Ethan said. “I love that you’ve come to us. I hope Sylvia treats you well. And if she doesn’t you can tell me, and I’ll have a talk with her.”

“She doesn’t seem to take orders from anyone,” Flora said, and Ethan raised an eyebrow.

“Sylvia will do what she must to keep her lifestyle. If she and I were to part, she could not afford the horses, the farm. We are not legally married, and it’s all really mine.”

Flora opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. It was a sort of startling admission.

“You wonder why I am with an older woman who sometimes treats me cruelly?” he asked, tilting his head.

“No,” Flora lied, “I didn’t say that.”

Ethan chuckled. “Sylvia understands me and takes care of me the way no other woman could. I am sure of that. I simply cannot live without her.”

Flora nodded and returned to her food, not wanting to betray any other inappropriate questions or emotions.

After they had declined dessert, the server did not hurry them out, but neither did he attend to them. He did go through the dining room, blowing out the candles on the other dozen or so tables, making the room, and the darkness beyond the window, seem to grow, as if, apart from their little, candlelit table, there was nothing, no one, but a chasm that expanded into infinity.

“Thank you,” Flora said, feeling dreamy and satisfied after such a lovely glass of wine and fortifying meal.

“Of course. I just wish we weren’t being rushed out.” For a moment he glanced over at the server, and Flora couldn’t tell if it was anger or candlelight flashing in his eyes. Then he smiled. “I guess we’ll just have to do it again,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

---