His voice changed, deepening when the conflict arrived, in the form of a fanatical monk who believed that all shape-shifters were demons and must be destroyed. He dedicated his life to eradicating them, using his powers to create a staff with hanging beads that rattled whenever shifters were near.
Doris opened her eyes to see Joey sweeping his gaze around the circle—assessing his audience, she recognized. She felt his gaze like sudden sunlight as he whispered, “And so, the monk came to the village where the student Xu Xian lived. The very day the young student and Lady Bai agreed to marry, the monk passed near, and his staff rattled. . .”
Though he was speaking to the room, it felt like he was personally telling Doris the story. It was the effect of his voice, she told herself. She did her best to just listen to the words, separate from who was speaking.
It sounded like the story was going to take a turn toward tragedy, as so many myths did. The fanatical monk was determined to see the gentle Lady Bai as a demon, because her other form was a white snake.
Joey’s warm, lovely voice went on with Lady Bai’s adventures as the monk did his best to trap and kill her, convinced he was doing the right thing. Doris reflected that myths persisted as long as they had because they spoke to a variety of experiences. The young might only hear a story of star-crossed lovers, while older people like herself might understand more.
,” . . . many versions end tragically, but not all. It depends on who is telling the story,” Joey said. “And when. In my version, that last battle ends with the monk, who was willing to destroy anything and anybody in order to catch his ‘demon,’ being eaten by a giant crab. Lady Bai, her beloved Xu Xian, and their son, who could transform into a snake, all lived happily ever after.”
Doris understood the message: the power of love brought different people together, and gave them a happy ending against the odds. And she felt as if it had been directed at her.
No, that couldn’t be. It was just a story, from which anyone could take any meaning. She was letting the effect of his voice get under her skin.
She caught sight of Bird watching her with a puzzled expression.
“What?” Doris mouthed the question.
Bird blushed a vivid red. “Um, Doris, you left yourself to the last. Does that mean you brought something to test on us?” She spoke too quickly, as if she’d had something else on her mind, but what? Maybe it was Chinese myths.
Doris raised her thermal lunchbox. People looked up expectantly. Doris firmly wrenched her mind to her new project as she said, “Last offering of the evening! Flódni is a traditional Hungarian Jewish confection. It’s a four layer pastry, like the four seasons of the year, with fillings of poppy, walnut, apple, and plum jam. I’ve printed up the ingredients for anyone with dietary concerns.”
As slices of pastry were passed around, Doris explained, “My new project is a historical recipe book. My criteria are easily obtainable ingredients, simple tools, and recipes older than the twentieth century. The older the better. My grandmother passed down a little wooden box full of recipes written in Yiddish and Hungarian, so be prepared for more culinary trips to Old Hungary’s Jewish Quarter. All reactions appreciated.”
Food always brought the group back to life again. With long practice, Doris shut out the “Ohmigod is there gluten in it—everyone says gluten is fattening!” and “How many calories is it?” and watched reactions to the taste and texture. She could always tell when people were enjoying a food item, and when they were forcing it down. She looked for the upper-lip crimp of too salty, and the grab for water of too dry.
She consciously avoided looking for Joey’s reaction. But when she turned toward the coffee, she found him standing at her left.
“This is wonderful,” he said, holding up his plate with crumbs on it. “The thing I appreciate with old recipes that are still popular is how generations have refined the balance of flavors. It’s all the more remarkable because they usually rely on just what is immediately available.” His beaming smile hit her like a sun-splash.
Her breath caught and she stepped back, away from him, saying, “Uh, yes, thank you.”
His reaction was subtle. No, say it honestly, his acceptance of her inadvertent step back was very subtle. No more than his pupils losing the reflection of the light overhead, which made his eyes seem to darken and his smile dim a fraction.
Next moment she was blinking at the place he’d been standing and he was on the other side of the room, putting in a contribution to defray the cost of the pastries and coffee.
Had she hurt him? Her swirling emotions jolted at that horrible idea.
Impossible. She was imagining herself more important than she was. They were total strangers. He surely forgot her the second he turned away.
She began to collect the used paper plates, to discover her hands were shaking. She rubbed them down her sides, then groped for the manila envelope full of votes.
“Are you okay?” Bird asked, so softly no one else could hear.
“I’m fine,” Doris said quickly. “Just—you know. Long week. School.” She turned away, aware that she sounded unconvincing. She began packing up the leftover paper plates, keeping herself busy, while hyperaware of Joey’s voice as he thanked Linette for hosting.
And then he was gone, taking all her strength with him. She was suddenly aware that she was tired, even on the verge of a headache.
To get control of her still-shaky hands, she plumped down on a chair and slid the papers out of the envelope. She was pretty sure she knew how the vote would go, but she went through the votes anyway, until the only people left in the room were Linette, Mikhail, and Bird. He stacked chairs, and Bird swept.
“Thanks so much for helping,” Linette was saying. “Whew. A full house tonight!”
“I really like where your romance is going,” Bird responded.
“Thanks.” Linette laughed. “I’ve been reading the hero’s dialogue to my boyfriend, and he tells me what a guy would really say.”
Bird sent a glance her way, then smiled. “Since it’s just us, I take it we’re talking to our new moderator?”