attendance.
Come to think of it, he'd had dark curly hair and warm eyes as well. Perhaps she had a type after all? But it was his intelligence and gentle manner that had drawn her, and she'd even spent some time writing her first name in cursive next to his last name. It was a silly thing, of course, and hadn't lasted long — she'd gotten ill and had to leave school to recover, and then be tutored at home.
I wonder where Mr. Bing is today? She had never even found out if he was Jewish, though she didn't think he was. It hadn't made any difference to her at that age, and it shouldn't matter greatly now. She only rarely attended synagogue and didn't keep kosher. It wasn't important in her family, who had so often tried to blend in with the gentiles they needed to do business with. But her faith and heritage had become gradually important to her as she grew up, and it gave her a secure, warm feeling to know she'd fallen, this time, for a man who shared her heritage. They hadn't spoken about it once, but she knew, and he knew; they were both Jewish.
That was a shared bond , whether they liked it or not. Since the War, and the great horrors it had wrought on her people, they could never again forget that heritage that would always be part of them, and was enough to make some people want to wipe them off the face of the earth.
If she had developed feelings for a gentile, she'd have had to wonder how he would look at her when he found out she was Jewish. If his expression would change to caution or disgust. With Shel that wasn't an issue.
Of course, he could be strictly religious, in which case her relatively non-observant status could become important. But even in that case, she could probably simply become more observant for him. If anything were to come of them, of course. And she was being silly yet again, rushing too far ahead in her thoughts.
Fanning her cheeks once more, she watched the washe r as it finished its last few turns and stopped with a squeak. She took the clothing out and transferred it carefully, almost in awe, to the dryer. She was holding his clothes. She was touching the cloth that touched him, day after day, that lay against his skin, as she longed to do.
Time to fan her cheeks again. I am being such a child, she thought, and hurried to finish so she could go back to his side.
*
Shel kept stealing quick glances at Ellie.
He li ked her nickname. It suited her: unpretentious, appealing, and gentle. He hadn't known such an elegant, gentle woman existed for real. But as she stepped back into the kitchen, his eyesight once again confirmed that not only was she real, she was drop-dead gorgeous.
He struggled to keep from letting his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her, and had to force himself to look away. It would be highly inappropriate if he simply sat here and stared at her. Especially since he was wearing her bathrobe.
For a moment, h e wanted to laugh. The robe was large and roomy, and quite warm compared to wet clothes, but the absurdity of it still struck him as funny. What would his family, his workmates think of him sitting here in a woman's bathrobe? Well, he knew what they would think, but all the same, he couldn't bring himself to care, or even to feel too utterly embarrassed.
He noticed suddenly that Ellie's cheeks were flushed. A chill touched his heart. "Was it too much for you?" he asked softly, gesturing to her face. "I don't want you to catch something."
Her hands flew to her cheeks, and the color there deepened.
Oh. Now he felt himself blushing in silent sympathy. Of course; she was embarrassed to have a man in her apartment, even though he wasn't embarrassed. And it was strange that he wasn't, actually. He'd always been a quiet, shy man, not the bold sort at all. But he felt perfectly natural being here with her in her kitchen. How odd was that?
"I'm sorry if I'm causing you embarrassment," he s aid ruefully, smiling his apology. "I've given Mrs. Jansen more to gossip
Come to think of it, he'd had dark curly hair and warm eyes as well. Perhaps she had a type after all? But it was his intelligence and gentle manner that had drawn her, and she'd even spent some time writing her first name in cursive next to his last name. It was a silly thing, of course, and hadn't lasted long — she'd gotten ill and had to leave school to recover, and then be tutored at home.
I wonder where Mr. Bing is today? She had never even found out if he was Jewish, though she didn't think he was. It hadn't made any difference to her at that age, and it shouldn't matter greatly now. She only rarely attended synagogue and didn't keep kosher. It wasn't important in her family, who had so often tried to blend in with the gentiles they needed to do business with. But her faith and heritage had become gradually important to her as she grew up, and it gave her a secure, warm feeling to know she'd fallen, this time, for a man who shared her heritage. They hadn't spoken about it once, but she knew, and he knew; they were both Jewish.
That was a shared bond , whether they liked it or not. Since the War, and the great horrors it had wrought on her people, they could never again forget that heritage that would always be part of them, and was enough to make some people want to wipe them off the face of the earth.
If she had developed feelings for a gentile, she'd have had to wonder how he would look at her when he found out she was Jewish. If his expression would change to caution or disgust. With Shel that wasn't an issue.
Of course, he could be strictly religious, in which case her relatively non-observant status could become important. But even in that case, she could probably simply become more observant for him. If anything were to come of them, of course. And she was being silly yet again, rushing too far ahead in her thoughts.
Fanning her cheeks once more, she watched the washe r as it finished its last few turns and stopped with a squeak. She took the clothing out and transferred it carefully, almost in awe, to the dryer. She was holding his clothes. She was touching the cloth that touched him, day after day, that lay against his skin, as she longed to do.
Time to fan her cheeks again. I am being such a child, she thought, and hurried to finish so she could go back to his side.
*
Shel kept stealing quick glances at Ellie.
He li ked her nickname. It suited her: unpretentious, appealing, and gentle. He hadn't known such an elegant, gentle woman existed for real. But as she stepped back into the kitchen, his eyesight once again confirmed that not only was she real, she was drop-dead gorgeous.
He struggled to keep from letting his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her, and had to force himself to look away. It would be highly inappropriate if he simply sat here and stared at her. Especially since he was wearing her bathrobe.
For a moment, h e wanted to laugh. The robe was large and roomy, and quite warm compared to wet clothes, but the absurdity of it still struck him as funny. What would his family, his workmates think of him sitting here in a woman's bathrobe? Well, he knew what they would think, but all the same, he couldn't bring himself to care, or even to feel too utterly embarrassed.
He noticed suddenly that Ellie's cheeks were flushed. A chill touched his heart. "Was it too much for you?" he asked softly, gesturing to her face. "I don't want you to catch something."
Her hands flew to her cheeks, and the color there deepened.
Oh. Now he felt himself blushing in silent sympathy. Of course; she was embarrassed to have a man in her apartment, even though he wasn't embarrassed. And it was strange that he wasn't, actually. He'd always been a quiet, shy man, not the bold sort at all. But he felt perfectly natural being here with her in her kitchen. How odd was that?
"I'm sorry if I'm causing you embarrassment," he s aid ruefully, smiling his apology. "I've given Mrs. Jansen more to gossip
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