Hot Potato

30. Of Bonding

Dunc turned and swept me into his arms. "I know you do, Gigi. Love radiates from your entire being."

"I wish I could sense it more often. More consistently."

"That you sense it even occasionally is thrilling."

"Ummm. Will you tell me what it feels like to you? Maybe I can watch for similar signs of my own."

"Each and every bit that I learn about you increases my love."

"Maybe you can tell me about you, then. Give me more things to trigger it."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I can do that while we eat, and you can tell me more about you. First, though, let me go get some oyster mushrooms for your creation."

By the time I was ready to sear the scallops, Dunc had set the table in the dining room and moved the wine and our glasses into there. Then, after he had watched me plate, he said, "How wonderfully artistic. That looks almost too good to eat – emphasis on almost. It has me salivating. Come." He picked up the plates and led the way.

I followed, then stopped just inside the door, in awe of the elegance. Richly varnished wainscoting rimmed a room with four tall windows nearly filling one wall. Through them, fairy lights moved and twinkled as the tree branches swayed in the gentle evening breeze. A massive oblong crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling's ornately sculpted plaster, offering subtle illumination, and allowing prominence to the candelabra at one end of the long dining table.

As tingling spread through my body, Dunc asked, "Is this too dark? I can adjust the rheostat if it is."

"Oh, God! It's perfect. From my tingling, I've fallen in love with it."

He chuckled as he set the plates on the table. "That's more of your buried romanticism begging to be set free."

"Yeah, probably."

Dunc pulled a chair out for me, and when I had been seated, he sat at the head of the table and said, "Dad told me that a gentleman wears his lady on his left, and I thought sharing a corner like this would satisfy that."

"Wears? On their left?"

"He said it's from the days of chivalry, swords and all that. It leaves the right hand free to protect and defend her."

"Umm! Just being near you makes me feel safe."

"Hearing that makes me love you all the more."

We gazed into each other's eyes for a long while, then he asked, "Do you say grace before eating?"

"Only when I'm with Grandma."

"Fine, then." He picked up his glass and raised it toward me, "Let's begin with a toast." When I had raised mine, he continued, "To us and our happily ever after."

"Like in the fairytales."

"Indeed, but let's make this one real."

"I would like that."

After we had sipped, he nodded toward our plates. "This looks splendid; we should begin before it cools."

I watched him slice a piece from a scallop, add a bit of the mushroom sauté and put it in his mouth, his sublime expression thrilling me. "Appears you like it."

He nodded, and when he had swallowed, he said, "Absolutely superb! I've never managed to perfect this. Mine always end up a bit rubbery and bland."

When I finished savouring my bite, I said, "Cooked too long, then. The secret is a very hot skillet. A minute per end is sufficient to sear a golden crust and retain the moisture and complex flavours. Longer, they sweat, toughen and lose their subtlety."

I took another sip of wine, and while I revelled in its aftertaste, I said, "Far and away, the best wine I've ever tasted. I can see the need to charge a high price for this, but why so much?"

"It's from a tiny vineyard, only two hectares in size, and the vines are severely pruned to reduce the yield and increase the concentration. The annual production seldom exceeds sixty hectolitres – eight thousand bottles."

"Aha! To filter the clientele, like John does at Cardinal's. Raise the price beyond the point of affordability of all but a few."

"Exactly! Those who want the finest must pay for it. There's an exponential price escalation at the top end of quality and rarity."

I paused another bite short of my mouth and said, "So, tell me about you."

"Where should I start?"

"At the beginning." I grinned at him. "If we're going to share forever, that makes sense."

He chuckled. "Indeed. I was born in Germany's Black Forest."

"With an Irish name? I would never have guessed."

"Your intelligence again, Gigi – most people think it's Scottish. But to explain, my father was a pilot, and I grew up as an Air Force brat, moving back and forth across Canada."

"And Germany."

"No, I was still an infant when he was posted back to Canada, so my conscious life began in far less exciting places – Cold Lake, Alberta; Baggotville, Quebec; Gander, Newfoundland and Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan. Then in 2001, he was posted to Comox on Vancouver Island."

"Ooh, I love the Island. How old were you then?"

"Fifteen. That's when the confusion with my sexuality began."

Hmm! He's thirty-two. "How so?"

"I had made it onto the football team at school." Dunc paused and shrugged. "It began with the talk in the locker room and showers. What they'd do if they had one like mine. That sort of stuff. Later, it evolved into my being called a wimp and a prude. Then, when one called me a closet gay, most of the others jumped aboard and called me a fag – made it obvious they were avoiding me. The word spread."

"God! That would have been horrid."

"Ignorant attitudes. Small-town mentality. Amazing how those have changed since then."

"Yeah, except in the United States and the Middle East."

"True. But I questioned whether I was."

"Was what?"

"Gay. But my interest was in girls, not boys. Dad explained that it was nothing more than I hadn't yet met anyone to turn my crank."

"Wow! That's close to the mark."

"Yeah, looking at it now – with my realisations the past few hours – he had nailed it."

"That must have relieved your confusion."

"Today, yes. Completely. But back then, it didn't. I couldn't understand why the others were making out, and I was striking out. I began withdrawing. While others dated and partied on the weekends, I headed into the mountains to climb."

"Ooh, I love the Island mountains – the Elk Valley, Marble Meadows, Flower Ridge –"

"Wow! You know those?"

"I'm tingling again, Dunc. But, yeah, when I was young, we hiked and scrambled almost every weekend. Felt so free, so alive."

"From where? Where did you live?"

"Gold River. We had them in our backyard, so to speak. Dad worked at the mill, and when it closed in 1998, we moved to Squamish."

"Aha! So that's why Mount Tanta..." Dunc clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oh, God! So sorry to remind you."

"No, it's fine. I'm over it now." I paused and nodded. "Yeah, it's behind me. But more, it excites me to think again of the mountains. Been so long since I've allowed myself to."

We paused our conversation for a while to enjoy more bites and sips, then I said, "So, tell me about your climbing."

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Points to consider in this chapter:

What does the dining room tell you about Dunc?

Do you sense an increasing bonding between these two?

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