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He sat too. “Then you’re not much better than a sleeper, even if you can shape.”

He made it sound like an insult, and she frowned. She gathered the folds of her robe from the Ephemeros around her and pulled it over her nakedness. “You make that sound bad.”

“Would you like to go back to it? Never knowing your potential?” He got out of bed. Tall, lean, unconcerned with his nudity, he stood before her. “Then again, if you never explore it, what use is it? You might as well never have learned you could shape at all.”

“That’s not fair!” she protested. “I practice! I learn! Just because I don’t want to be a guide—”

“I’m not talking about being a guide.” Her lover knelt before her and clasped her hands.

Startled, she tried to pull away but he held her fast. “What are you talking about then?”

“I’m talking about the way you tie yourself to this form. This one way of thinking. I bet you’re like that in the waking world, too. Afraid.” His lip curled, just a little. “Scared to take chances.”

Her throat tightened as emotion rushed through her, sharp as knives. “You don’t even know me.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She shook her head, pulling at his hands now encircling her wrists. “Let me go.”

“You can be free of me. All you have to do is shape it.”

“You’re stronger than I am.”

He pushed her back without letting go of her wrists. Looming over her, he brought his mouth close to hers, but didn’t kiss. “Is that what you’d say if someone tried this in the waking world? You’d just lie back and take it? Let someone put their hands on you like this?”

He let go of a hand to grab her hip again, harder even than before.

“Stop it!” Tovah shoved him back, hard, adding the force of her will to her physical push.

Her lover let go and moved back. He smiled. “Look around you.”

The room had lost its walls. The entire world revolved around them, earth, sky, sea. He pointed outward, to the line of dark mountains along the horizon.

“What is that?”

“A mountain,” Tovah said.

“No. It’s an obstacle. Would you climb a mountain in the waking world?”

“I—” She refused to say she could not. She could. Her disability did not mean she couldn’t climb a mountain. It might make it more difficult than it might otherwise have been, but it would not keep her from doing it.

Only she could do that.

“Climb that mountain without falling, and you’ll learn something about yourself,” her lover said. “Something real. Something that will last.”

The gust of his breath caressed her from behind. After a second, the pressure of his hand on her shoulder turned her to face him. She didn’t want to, but she did, and it had nothing to do with him shaping her to do it.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered miserably.

“But you trust me,” he said in a gentler voice. “Why don’t you ask yourself why?”

Tovah shook her head. Her hair fell over her face, covering her from his gaze. Her lover, the stranger with many faces, pulled her close. He smelled the same as he always did. His hand stroked over her hair.

“You won’t even tell me your name!” The accusation burst from her throat without warning. “I don’t even have anything to call you. And you look different every fucking time I see you!”

He said nothing, for a time. Somewhere, eyes were trying to open. Her bladder had filled, her stomach emptied, her dog would be nosing her hand. The waking world tugged her with supple, ignorable fingers, but it wouldn’t be ignored for long.

“Why don’t you call me Edward?”

She lifted her face to look at him. “Is that your name?”

“It could be. If you wanted it to be.”

She stared. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“It’s my name, Tovah. Call me Edward.” His hand stroked the tangled strands of her hair and came to rest on her shoulder.

“What do you really look like, Edward?”

“I look like anything you want most.”

She sighed, frustrated, fists clenching. “Goddammit!”

“You want me to fix myself to one face? One body? No matter how I represent, I’m the same person inside. It’s the man inside you want, not my eyes or mouth or cock. Well,” he amended, grabbing up her hand and putting it to his half-hard erection. “Maybe it is my cock.”

Her anger had fled. Her stomach rumbled. One more minute, perhaps, until she woke. “Edward. I want to know what you look like, that’s all.”

“Tovah,” he said. “If it pleases you better I’ll stay that way every time we meet unless you say you want something else.”

“That’s not—”

“Hurry,” he said mildly. “It’s close to time, for you.”

“But it won’t be your face!” she cried, frustrated. “It won’t really be you!”

“It’ll be the me you want the most,” he assured her. “Think of all the faces I’ve had. Pick one. Any one of them is as to the other for me.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed the formal, somehow medieval tone of his language. “Edward—”

The waking world called her and she fought it, wanting one more minute. A second. A moment…

Sunlight stabbed her eyes and, wincing, she awoke. Max woofed from the doorway, demanding his breakfast. The blanket tangled around her ankle. Sweat dampened her pajamas. She’d slept the night through on the couch.

She didn’t notice the bruises until she was out of the shower. Four perfect oblongs on the back of her hip and a smaller one in front.

A hand.

Tovah wasn’t much for peeking out windows, but she couldn’t help herself. Martin’s appointment had been set for the afternoon, but evening was already creeping into the sky and he still hadn’t arrived. With her work to keep her occupied, Tovah managed to keep from checking the clock every five minutes, but when another hour passed with no sign of action from next door, she gave up and went to the kitchen to start Shabbat dinner.

Maybe he’d cancelled. Maybe he’d found another place to live. The house next door was probably overpriced. Hell, she knew it was. He’d probably found something he liked more, in a better neighborhood.

Her hands smashed and kneaded ground beef into a simple meatloaf that she put into the oven along with some red potatoes and a green bean casserole. It was silly to make so much just for herself, but she could eat the rest for lunches next week. She was not, she told herself, hoping for company.

Though of course she really was, and when she saw the dark car pull up next door there was no denying the way her heart fluttered suddenly. It didn’t belong to the Realtor, who drove a kicky little Miata. This car had seen a lifetime of loving neglect. Dents, bumps, dirt, a missing hubcap. Not the car one might expect a doctor would drive, but when Martin unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and closed the door with a careful shove, Tovah found it hard to imagine him in anything else.

He looked toward her house first, and she moved away from the window though he couldn’t have seen her. She laughed at herself. Looking like she was hiding would have been more embarrassing than being caught staring.

The red Miata pulled in behind Martin’s car. Beth Richards got out. It was interesting to watch the dance she did, patting down her hair and clothes and offering him her hand. They shook, and she gestured at the house next door. Martin nodded, and with another glance at Tovah’s house, he followed the Realtor inside the home for sale.

They were in there a long time. As she wiped down counters and set the table and looked around her kitchen, trying to see how it would look to a stranger’s eye, Tovah kept an eye out the window over her sink. Lights came on and went off next door as they moved through the house. She thought it was a good sign it was taking so long.

By the time her meatloaf was done, the lights next door had gone out. She looked out the window again. The red Miata was gone.

Her doorbell rang. Martin. Max leaped to life, woofing and galumphing down the hall to skid to a stop in front of the door. Tovah muscled him out of the way, into the living room, where she slid closed the pocket door to keep him from overpowering her visitor.

“Hi—” Max woofed from behind the door. Martin turned, startled as anyone would be by the enormous bark. “—I’m hoping it’s not too late to take you up on your offer for coffee. Wow. What do you have behind that door, a wildebeest?”

“Something like that. And absolutely not. C’mon in.” Tovah held the door open for him to step inside.

Max thudded against the pocket door, shaking it, then gave up and trotted around the dining room to the kitchen doorway, where he stood and woofed some more.

“Max, stay.”

And for once, a miracle, Max obeyed. He barked again and backed up, shaking his head. Tovah looked at Martin in apology. “Sorry. He’s very friendly.”

“He’s big.”

“You’re not a dog person, I take it?”

Martin hesitated, but then nodded. “I was bitten as a child.”

Tovah grimaced. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He shrugged and gave her a small smile. “I’m a big boy now.”

She made a show of tilting her head to look up at him. Way up. He took up a lot of space in her narrow hallway. “No question about that!”

They laughed. She led him to the kitchen. “I actually was just getting ready to have dinner. I hope you’ll stay.”

He stared a moment, then nodded. When he smiled, it was like watching sunshine on water, small bright ripples spreading outward. He had a great smile. She was caught in it for a second before she pulled herself away and busied herself with taking the food to the table.

“Did you do all this for me?” he asked as she pulled her set of Shabbat candlesticks from the cupboard and placed the small white candles inside them.

“I wish I could impress you and say I did,” Tovah said.

“You could say it anyway,” Martin told her. “Flatter me.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, pausing before lighting the match. “It’s better than just coffee, isn’t it?”

He smiled. “I think so.”

She hesitated again. “I’m going to light candles. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Candles? Of course not.”

After she said it she wondered if he thought she meant she was going to light them for some romantic purpose. She lit the candles and said the short blessing, then sat at the table and poured wine for both of them.

Martin watched her, curious. “This is nice. You do this every week?”

“Yes.” She murmured the blessing over the wine and then the challah, tearing off a piece and dipping it into some salt, then giving it to him.

He took it and chewed. Tovah waited for the questions, but either he already knew about Shabbat or he didn’t want to ask. Either way, his steady acceptance of the rituals Kevin had always scoffed was a relief. Like talking about her leg, Tovah didn’t mind answering questions about her faith. She simply didn’t want it to be all she was.

The conversation was easier between them than it had ever been. He had a good sense of humor and wasn’t overbearing with it. He was smart and didn’t seem intimidated by her being smart too. After an hour talking with him on subjects as varied as literature and thrift shopping, Tovah had stopped worrying about her hair and lipstick. It was easy talking to him. Easy and nice.

“Did you like the house?” she asked finally, when the coffee’d been served and the cookies she’d made for dessert began disappearing.

Martin nodded, mouth covered in crumbs. “Yes. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors.”

“Really? Wow.” She stirred sugar into her cup of herbal tea.

“Yes. Thanks for guiding me to it. It’s just what I was looking for.” Martin brushed his mouth clean and sipped coffee.

Tovah looked up at his word choice. Guiding. She looked automatically at the clock, then away and back again, checking to make sure the numbers hadn’t scrambled. Martin followed her gaze.

“It’s late, huh? I’m keeping you up.”

“No, no. It’s not that.” Tovah shook her head. She didn’t want him to go. This was nice, sharing conversation and cookies over her worn kitchen table. “But of course, if you have to go—”

“No, I’m okay.”

They both laughed. Martin ducked his head in a way she found totally endearing. Why was he so shy?

“Unless you want me to go,” he added, and she bubbled with laughter.

“Martin,” Tovah said.

He looked at her. “Yes, Tovah?”

“I think it’s great you’re going to be my neighbor.”

That slow, bright smile rippled across his mouth again. “Me, too.”

This was nice, she thought.

“This was nice,” he said suddenly, echoing her thoughts. “Thanks.”

“We’ll have to do it again.” She stood when he did.

They stared at each other over the table until he broke and inched toward the doorway. “Now it really is late. I’ve got to go.”

He paused in the hallway to look at the row of photographs she hadn’t yet bothered to take down. He turned to look at her, face open with curiosity. “This is you?”

He pointed at a snapshot of her and Kevin on their wedding day. It showed her laughing, head tipped back, as Kevin bent to kiss her hand. The photo had captured one perfect moment, one she couldn’t even remember except for how it had been frozen in time by film. She’d put away all the formal pictures a long time ago, shoved the album in a box in the attic, but that picture had been too hard to take down.

“Yes. That was my husband, Kevin. We’re getting divorced.”

“I’m sorry.” Martin looked embarrassed to have asked.

“Don’t be.” She smiled to ease the awkwardness.

Martin nodded twice, slowly, and looked like he meant to say more, but stopped himself. He headed for the front door, but paused. He looked back at her.

“What happened? Do you mind my asking?” Martin shook his head. “Never mind. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t his business, but his instant apology softened any retort she might have given. “We were in a bad car accident,” she said. “Kevin was driving. I was permanently injured. Kevin was unable to deal with the consequences of what happened…and…the marriage ended. I’m told it happens a lot like that.”

Martin looked out the front door to the ramp at the side of the porch, and more astutely, at the door itself. His eyes took in the brightly lit hall, the scuff-marked walls from where, clumsy and angry, she’d banged the arms of the wheelchair. It had only been a few times. She hadn’t been in the chair long, but it had been long enough.

“What happened?” he asked again, quietly.

“He fell asleep at the wheel. We ran into a tractor-trailer parked on the side of the road. He suffered a concussion and walked away from the car. I…didn’t.”

He waited.

She lifted her chin. “My left leg was crushed beyond repair in several places. They had to remove it just above the knee.”

Martin looked, as she’d known he would, immediately toward her leg and the foot showing beneath the hem of her long skirt. Then he looked up at her. “They did an excellent job fitting your prosthesis.”

A doctor would say something like that, she thought. It wasn’t the worst reaction she’d ever had. “I did my share of limping around until I found something that worked. But I’m happy with it, now.”

As happy as she could be.

Martin nodded again, like he understood something she hadn’t explained. “You’re right. Lots of marriages don’t last when something like that happens.”

This wasn’t what she expected him to say, and her stomach twisted like a fist had clutched it. Before she could respond, not that she knew what she was going to say, Martin spoke again.

“He was a fool, Tovah.”

She still didn’t know what to say, so only nodded as he had a moment before. “I know.”

“And it’s better to know that early on, when you still have time to live your life, than waiting until later.”

This was still somehow so intimate an observation, so unexpected, she could only stand with her mouth parted to speak but with nothing to say.

While she gaped, he leaned in to take her hand, shaking it firmly as he barely brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Thanks for dinner. Good night,” said Martin, suddenly cheery, and left her standing in the doorway.

“Good night,” she managed after he’d already reached his car.

Tovah, hand cupped over her cheek like she meant to hold his kiss there, watched him drive away. She wasn’t sure if she should squee or be insulted he’d kissed her the way a dutiful nephew busses a maiden aunt; the heat from his lips was still too distracting.

Max appeared at her side, pushing his shaggy head into the palm of her hand. “Hey, boy. Where’d you disappear to?”

Max woofed once, low. She scratched his ears and shut the door. Martin had kissed her. Kissed! Her!

Okay. It was a squee.