Her fingers tightened around the arms of her chair.
He swallowed.
“I remembered my wife.”
Her expression changed.
He looked toward the shirt.
“She used to mend my clothes by the fire.”
The woman closed her eyes.
He continued.
“For a moment, I felt like I was back in our house before she died.”
He paused.
“And I got frightened.”
She opened her eyes.
He looked at her.
“But that wasn't your fault.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
He crouched beside her.
“I shouldn't have taken the shirt from you that way. I shouldn't have raised my voice.”
She looked toward him.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, “I thought you were ashamed of me.”
The words struck him.
He stared.
She looked down.
“I thought perhaps you'd suddenly remembered how enormous I am. How difficult it would be for someone like you to make a life with someone like me.”
He shook his head immediately.
“No.”
She continued.
“I thought you were finally seeing what everyone else sees.”
He took her hand.
“Darling, look at me.”
She hesitated.
Then she raised her eyes.
He spoke carefully.
“I wasn't remembering your body.”
Her lips trembled.
“I was remembering my grief.”
She stared.
He continued.
“And I handled it badly.”
The woman began crying.
He squeezed her hand.
“I'm sorry.”
For a long time, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “I can understand that you're grieving. But I won't be spoken to cruelly because of it.”
He nodded immediately.
“You shouldn't be.”
She watched him.
He continued.
“If I get frightened again, I'll tell you. I won't grab your things or shout.”
Her expression softened.
“And if I need space, I'll say so without making you feel unwanted.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
He lowered his head.
Then he gently kissed her hand.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Finally, she looked toward the shirt.
“Would you like me to finish it?”
He shook his head.
“Only if you want to.”
She smiled faintly.
“I do.”
He handed it back.
Then he sat beside her.
For the next half hour, he remained quiet while she repaired the seam.
When she finished, she held the shirt up.
“There.”
He examined it.
The stitches were straight.
Strong.
Beautifully done.
He looked toward her.
“Better than new.”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
He laughed.
Then he leaned closer.
“May I kiss you?”
Her expression softened.
“Yes.”
He kissed her gently.
When he drew back, she touched his cheek.