“Why should you cook?” she asked. “I am the woman. I will cook for you.”
His look turned stubborn. “I have cooked for myself for the last five years, and I am pretty darned good at it, if I say so myself. And I am not used to someone doing for me what I can do for myself. You are not my mother or my wife, so why should I expect you to cook for me?”
Polina smiled, mollified. “Well, you don't know how to do it here anyway, so how about I teach you?”
Together they managed to make a breakfast which was more than edible. Once taught, Bill was able to toast bread on a fork over the coals in the wood-burning stove. Polina made porridge, which they ate drizzled with honey and butter, with cool milk to drink.
Bill pushed his bowl away and sighed. “Hot food is a wonderful thing.” His eyes twinkl
