‘Oh!’ she said.
‘Better?’ he said.
‘So much,’ she said, even though they stung as warmth drew back into them.
‘Oh God, are you really going? Now?!’ she added. She looked up at him.
‘Oh, my mother would be disappointed if I don’t. My sisters will think it is funny.’
‘Yes, but it’s not like you’re going home for Christmas, is it?’ she said, inching closer, her hands warming and unable, it turned out, to stop themselves from running up and down the smooth brown skin of his muscular back. Jesus, she found herself muttering under her breath.
‘Is this very Quakery?’ she said as she touched him.
‘Do I have to keep explaining?’ he said, smiling.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I see it.’
‘What do you see?’
She looked up.
‘A religion. Without a church.’
The rustle of the leaves in the wind, the quieting sounds of the birds, the deep muffling of the snow.
‘This is your church.’
He nodded.
‘This is my church.’
‘There are things you shouldn’t do in church,’ she said, suddenly mischievous. He looked at her, eyes glinting.
‘Well,’ he said. ‘This is my church, nobody else’s.’
‘That’s true. So you can make your own rules.’
He smiled.
‘I should tell you my name,’ he said.
‘Oh, you should!’ said Carmen.
‘It is not a very good name for me.’
‘I’ll be the judge of that.’
‘It’s Obedience.’
‘Obedience is your name?’
‘It is. My sisters called me Obi and I thought they were saying Okay and, well, here we are.’ He grinned. ‘So I have left my family, travelled across the world, studied nature, and … ’ He stroked her face very gently. ‘Well. It turns out I am not a very obedient person.’
Carmen smiled.
‘Oh, me neither.’
‘Is your mouth cold?’ he asked softly.
