The Paler Shade of Autumn by Jacquie Underdown

taken place, the residue of spices still lingers in the air, but the tables have been completely cleared.
    “We have to rely on the goodness of the locals, pilgrims and visitors to the region to donate the food or money. When we are really short, I will dip into my bank account, just to make sure the kids have something to eat.
    “You get paid for working here?”
    He smiles and shakes his head. “I keep money in a bank account for the harder times we encounter. When I first arrived I went crazy, shelling out for much needed renovations, supplies and books until I learnt that it’s a never-ending need that one person alone can’t fill.”
    Autumn follows Jet into the kitchen where he grabs a freshly, hand-washed tray of cutlery and carries it back out into the hall. He starts laying out mismatched cutlery, Autumn helping him. “I’m always torn,” he continues, “whether it is more beneficial to give my time to help these children, or to give my money. Unfortunately in this world, it’s hard to do both in commensurate value. Money doesn’t last long when you’re not helping it grow and always taking from the pool.”
    “How do you know what’s right?”
    He stops, fork in hand, and shrugs. “I don’t, and depending on what kind of donations we’re receiving, I swing from one to the other. But then I hear a kind word from one of the kids, or see them laughing and smiling when we’re playing cricket on the back field and then I’m convinced that I’m doing the right thing donating my time.”
    “And it makes you happy as well.”
    “Exactly.”
    Autumn smiles, her own body overtaken by the contentedness emanating from Jet. “I have a question,” she says, when the tables are all set.
    He raises his eyes to her.
    “What was that look I saw between you and Jennifer earlier?”
    He smiles. “You saw that, huh?”
    She nods.
    “It’s ridiculous really,” he says, then breathes in deeply. “Jenny had heard about this woman on the outskirts of Gaya who is a fortune teller. A couple of months ago she made me go with her to meet this lady and have our fortunes read.”
    “What did she say?”
    He lowers his eyes, bashful. “She said that I was going to meet a beautiful girl from my homeland, who will make me question my work here at the orphanage and make me want to go home.”
    Autumn gasps. “You think I’m that girl?”
    Jet laughs. “Jenny thinks you’re that girl.”
    “I would never want you to give up what you’re doing here for me. I mean, honestly, we kissed, but I’m going home tomorrow.”
    “I know,” he says, nodding. “Believe me, I don’t give the fortune teller much credence, as much as I’d give that decrepit woman today who said you’re cursed credence. Jenny’s just superstitious because a few things that were told to her actually eventuated. And if you ask me, the things that did come true were by pure pot-luck.”
    Autumn’s stomach tenses. “I should see about eating and staying somewhere else tonight.”
    “Autumn,” he says sternly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
    She welcomes his rebuke, even as she was saying the words, leaving is the last thing she wants to do, despite her feelings of unease. If Jet finds her mesmerising, then Autumn can admit that she finds him magnetic. He draws her in to him, if not physically, mentally; if not mentally, spiritually. She lethargically nods and her shoulders slump on a long exhale. “You’re right. Besides, I don’t think I could have left you.”
    He steps forwards, his mouth drawn in a serious line and strokes his finger gently along the flesh of her cheek. “There are worse things that can question my being here.” He kisses her once, twice on the lips. “Plenty worse. In fact I’ve encountered a lot of those things already.” He takes her face between his tender hands and kisses her again, more slowly, lingering at her lips. “Believe me, I welcome your presence now and any subsequent mental turmoil that I