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Two months after John joins him, permanently, now, in Kolín, Samuel decides John has grovelled enough.
It dawned on Samuel, a few days after John showed up in the middle of the night, just how upset he was at John. He understood John’s fears. Of his plan falling through, of someone discovering it and dragging John, kicking and screaming if need be, back to Austria. Of putting Samuel in danger. And yet, that did not excuse what John had put him through.
“I didn’t want to give you false hope,” John whispered, eyes downcast, after Samuel had sat him down and explained, at length, what exactly it felt like to think your lover dead for a month. Samuel didn’t believe in the Hell Christians did, of course, but if it were real, then that feeling must have been the closest one could get to experiencing it while still alive.
The feeling of knowing he will never wake up with John next to him, drooling slightly on the pillow, hair messy. Knowing that his body was probably dumped somewhere with no burial to speak of. Knowing that he won’t ever get the chance to hear John’s voice again, reading a book while Samuel rests his head on John’s lap.
“If I told you, and you thought we will finally be together,” John forced himself to continue, “but something went wrong… I thought that would be,” John put his face in his hands, not able to finish, “I didn’t want to subject you to that.”
“John,” Samuel knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his knee,” I tore my clothes mourning you. Mame cried. Zayde, too, was sad. I could see it in his eyes.”
“I know, Sam,” John said, not lifting his head, “I know. I’m so sorry.”
Since then, John has taken it upon himself to make it up to Samuel in any way he could think of. Mainly by helping out in the tavern without complaining. Much, anyway. The staff already knew a John a bit- some remembered him from the time he came with them to Kolín all those years ago, some knew him only from his later visits, despite how infrequent they were. But then, John is not a person one forgets easily.
It did warm Samuel’s heart when he heard John joking one night with Eli and Chasha, after closing. While they didn’t outwardly advertise their relationship, it was still an open secret that Samuel, the tavern keeper, has a male lover, who is not even a Jew. The fact that they still laugh together is one of the most beautiful things in the world.
John also comes home with a bouquet of wildflowers at least once a week. Picked in a nearby meadow, his creations get more and more elaborate each time. When they start to wilt, he dries them out in the dark of the pantry, so their colour is better preserved. Samuel doesn’t admit it to him, but they make for a lovely decoration, both in their home and in the tavern.
He wonders where John could have learned such a trick.
Next, to Samuel’s dismay, John cajoles his mame into teaching him some of Samuel’s favourite recipes, namely rugelach. Samuel would expect John, not needing to prepare food for himself until recently, to burn down the kitchen, or at least damage it beyond repair in ways unimaginable. So it comes as a pleasant surprise that Samuel finds the kitchen not only intact, but is also presented with John, waving a rugelach roll filled with jam in front of Samuel’s face. It looks surprisingly edible.
Cautiously biting into one, Samuel finds that while it couldn’t hold a candle to his mame’s baking, John’s attempt was not that bad. Especially considering this had been, by Samuel’s estimation, the third time John had touched a stove in his life. If he was feeling generous.
Giving John a nod of approval, John returns him a sunny smile.
***
So, two months after John comes home, Samuel lifts the fake bottom of the chest where he stores some of his personal belongings. The fake bottom he crafted himself, even if it was a bit of a crude job.
It was a trick he had first heard of from John, and indeed, it had taken John about two days to remark upon it, recognizing it immediately.
“Do not pry into what doesn’t concern you,” Samuel shooed John away. John raised his arms in mock surrender, backing away. “Patience might reward you yet.”
That definitely sparked curiosity in John, judging by the look he gave Samuel. Still, Samuel trusted John to respect his privacy enough not to peek.
Samuel takes out the ketubah he made himself, almost a year ago. It was written on the best parchment he could afford, klaf, made of goat skin. He painstainkingly illuminated it himself; pomegranates with seeds of garnet, red roses around the fruit, reminding him of Shir Hashirim. A particular verse always popped up in his head, unbidden, when he thought about John and him. "My beloved is mine, and I am his, who grazes among the roses."
Due to their quite unusual circumstances, Samuel had to take some creative liberties. In the place where John’s father’s name would be written, Samuel put Adam instead. John II of Liechtenstein was dead, so his John had no father, but all humans were, after all, the children of Adam.
However, the most important contents were hopefully there.
Written in Aramaic instead of Hebrew, as was traditional, Samuel promised to provide John with clothing, food and conjugal relations. All John had to do was sign.
John won’t be able to read it, but he will surely recognize for what it is.
Samuel wanted to present John with it on many occasions, but the timing never seemed right- John’s mind always elsewhere, always thinking about the future, about the next step. He had almost given it to John on the night before he left for Rattay.
And how heart wrenching it was, living with that decision for the month he truly thought John dead. But now, Samuel would be lying to himself if he wasn’t a bit relieved, he hadn’t gone through with it. John wouldn’t have probably pulled off his “stunt”, as they had come to call it, in such a scenario. And he wouldn’t be here now.
But now, there were no more schemes, no more plans. No more distractions taking them away for one another.
Carefully unrolling it and flattening it gently against the surface of the table, Samuel couldn’t help himself but imagine what it would be like should John sign it. Would they have it framed by someone trusted and hang it somewhere in their home? Would Samuel, together with John, attempt to frame it themselves? Or would they keep it hidden, a most precious secret, just between two of them and G-d?
Well, and his mame and zayde, of course. He probably couldn’t keep such a thing secret from them, anyway.
Finding John in their kitchen, Samuel clears his throat to get John’s attention. John was currently bent over the table, biting his lip in concentration, trying to get rid of a particularly stubborn stain, most likely from wine, that mysteriously appeared around a week ago. John insisted he had nothing to do with it yet made significant effort to get rid of if with all manners of cleaning concoctions, liquids and scrubs- recipes and tips probably obtained from the various housewives of the quarter with the help of his charms.
"Oh, good evening, Sam! I think the stain is finally coming off, just a bit more,” these words were punctuated with another forceful scrub. Samuel silently thought that John's efforts were most likely in vain but knew telling him that would be for naught. John had to come to his conclusion by himself. Finally looking Samuel's way, John’s eyes suddenly light up, seeing that Samuel is holding a mysterious parchment. Tilting his head, he puts on the sweetest tone he can manage, “Do you perhaps have something for me, Sam?”
“Yes, I, well,” nerves getting the better of him, Samuel takes a deep breath, trying not to get discouraged by the shift in John's expression to slight concern. „I know we already have our rings, but I wanted us to have something…more. More tangible. Irrefutable.”
Samuel knows, deep inside, that this is as much for his benefit as it is for John's. For John, because he still sometimes looks like he doesn't quite believe all of it is real, because his upbringing clings to him like resin, fresh from a pine tree. Because he doesn't feel deserving of anything good.
For Samuel, because he is still afraid all of this will be ripped from him, again and again, by the world he tries so hard to love. Because now, he will have something precious that no fire can touch. Because it will last, even if the actual parchment should be destroyed.
Taking three steps, Samuel crosses the kitchen and gently, hesitantly, hands shaking, gives John the ketubah so he can look over it himself.
John stares at it for a good long while. Samuel feels like time has stopped and the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for John to realize. John furrows his brows, then his eyes widen, and he lifts his head to look at Samuel, gaze full of some unnamed emotion, eyes flitting all over Samuel's face. Then he looks down again, no doubt trying to glean as much as he can, even unable to read it.
Just when Samuel feels like his heart will jump out of his ribcage, John puts the parchment on the table and throws his arms around Samuel's neck with such force Samuel staggers back a step. John heaves a sob, face hidden in Samuel's shoulder and Samuel runs his fingers through John's hair, hopefully calming him down.
They stay like that, basking in each other's solidness, until John lifts his head and puts his palms on Samuel's cheeks, holding his face tenderly. His eyes are red and glossy. Brushing his thumbs under Samuel's eyes, he murmurs, awed, “Do you really mean it?”
"How could I not?”
The simplicity of the answer seems to be what truly, finally, conveys Samuel's intentions to John.
That was one thing they never agreed on. John, with his somewhat extravagant persona trying for more, bigger, brighter, spinning circles with his tongue around people. But Samuel knew a few words could have more power than whole soliloquies. Some things, even the best of poets can't describe.
John's eyes search Samuel’s face again, settling on his month. Chuckling wetly, Samuel leans down to capture John's lips in a kiss, hands sliding from John's shoulders to hold his waist.
Ah, but it does feel different now. Maybe not as desperate. Maybe not as hurried.
Suddenly drawing back from Samuel's hold, John places his hands into Samuel's, "Should I sign it now?” he asks, breathless from the kiss, nearly bouncing on his feet with excitement and joy.
"We should wait until Tuesday, since it is a doubly good day,“ Samuel tells him, stamping down on the urge to kiss away John's pout. "And by tradition, we need two male witnesses who are not related to us, but, well. I think mame would be delighted. And I would like zayde to officiate.”
“Oh, oh! Of course, you’ll want your zayde and lady Sara here!” John exclaims, making Samuel roll his eyes. Certain theatrics will probably stay with John until the end of time, and calling his mame “Lady Sara” was one of them.
"We could also ask Henry to come, “ John suggests.
"From his letters, it sounds like he has his hands quite full. Looking after eight year old lordlings is no easy feat.” John hums, then steps again into the circle of Samuel's arms. "And looking after lordlings which come from Hans Capon is probably double the usual work,” Samuel grumbles under his breath, prompting a laugh out of John.
“Besides,” Samuel continues, undeterred by John nuzzling into his neck, “you would have to wait even longer then.”
“I’ll wait, if you want Henry here,” John's breath tickles Samuel’s neck and Samuel tries not to squirm. The day John learned he was ticklish was the day he lost all dignity.
“I’ll wait until the end of time,” John peers at him, eyes still wet, doe-like.
“That hopefully won’t be necessary. If I tell mame and zayde to come on Tuesday, you won’t have to wait even two days.”
“And then we’ll be,” John falls silent for a moment, looking for the right words.
“Married?” he finally whispers, voice quite small, unsure.
“Yes, John,” Samuel strokes his cheek, “we’ll be married.”
Then John all of a sudden pushes Samuel against the wall. Well, the ketubah isn’t signed yet, but Samuel might as well start fulfilling his promise of conjugal relations now.