andhiswife | (Reply)

There is a surprising stretch of silence, which Greta refuses to break. There's still a tell-tale flush to her cheeks, but her apparent focus is on the form in front of her. She does need to fill it out, after all, and if Demelza's that curious, she can ask outright. Rushing to defend herself would just make her look as if she was hiding something. And she's not. Sam is a dear friend, and if the prospect of discussing him with Demelza is embarrassing, it's only because Greta can already tell how willing -- eager, even -- she is to get the wrong idea and run with it.

She almost wishes her friend were a little less like the people from her Village. Modern folk seem less keen to see anything inherently fraught in a friendship between two adults who just so happen to be a man and a woman. Back home, of course, there'd be no end of gossip. But that's one of the things she likes about Darrow: that she can be Sam's friend without everyone else making it out to be more than that.

(And if some small part of her wonders if it is more than that, it's still not something she wants to try and work out with a host of curious friends and acquaintances peering over her shoulder.)

Demelza's first question is innocent enough, and Greta's pulling in a breath to answer plainly when the second one lands. She presses her mouth shut and lets out a soft, exasperated huff, her blush deepening. "His name is Sam Flynn, and don't start," she says, pointing her pen sternly. "I met him not long after I arrived. He has a sweet little girl named Jordan, and she took to me." There's a heavily implied 'and that's all there is to it,' though she doubts she could say anything that would put an end to the conversation. She stubbornly returns to the form, anyway, filling in the rest of her name and address.