Of course, Tûk had followed me to discover the source of my sorrow. He asked me nothing at first, merely held me while I wept and wailed upon his shoulder, offering me his kerchief when I began to sniffle. Finally the storm had passed, and for a while he rocked me back and forth in his embrace, and then he placed a kiss on my brow, and tilted my chin up to look into his eyes.

"Now, my heart, tell me why you were so upset."

He took the confession of my ignorance of cooking well. "For someone who has never cooked, but only observed, you did well. But cooking must be taught and you never had a teacher. I will be your teacher." He grinned. "It will be fun."

After that, at least twice a week and sometimes more often, the two of us would cook for the family. Only Tûk and I were in the kitchen, so no one knew what role I actually played in preparing the meal. At first, Tûk gave me simple tasks: cutting vegetables, paring potatoes, slicing bread, measuring out flour. But I also watched him as he explained what he was doing and why he was doing it; very gradually I began to take on the tasks which he had been doing one by one, until our roles were reversed and I was doing most of the cooking and he sat by cutting vegetables, paring potatoes, slicing bread and measuring out flour— talking as he worked, and passing on advice to me as I worked.

Soon I was able to cook meals on my own, and as the children arrived, was able to teach them in turn. But always my greatest delight was when the two of us could cook together once more.