NO OTHER EXPLANATION

The jeans fit him very well as did the shirt. Looking in a mirror, he combed his fingers through his hair. Didn't help all that much, but was the best he could do. As soon as he opened his door, the smell of cooking food hit him and he almost staggered under the sudden power of his hunger. He had no memory of when his last meal might have been, but whatever it was, whenever, he doubted it had smelled as marvelous as this.

Hurrying down the stairs, he found the only three people he knew in the world in an enormous kitchen. The one known as Maximus was choosing a bottle of wine from an ornately-wrought rack and the other, what was his name? Oh, yes, Reverend Harris, was just finishing setting the table. The woman, Joimus, was by a large device that he figured must have something to do with cooking and which was the main source of the delightful scents.

"Afternoon," he said, dipping his head slightly.

"Ah, Cort, come on in," Joimus greeted as though she were entirely accustomed to his arrival at dinnertime. "Have a seat there at the table."

He pulled a chair out on one side and sat, feeling rather awkward. "Smells fine."

"Beef," Joimus smiled. "Genuine cow."

Maximus chuckled and began to open a bottle of red wine. "Do you like wine, Cort?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'll sure give it a try, though."

The large stove had a built-in grill in its center, and Joimus had three large and one small steak on it. Potatoes were baking in the microwave and a large salad already sat on the oak table. Giant, flaky biscuits were rising, golden and hot in the oven. His mouth was watering and he could hardly bear the few minutes longer it took to prepare the meal. When it was all on the table, his steak already on his plate, he bowed his head.

Alistair smiled. The man was used to grace. Quietly, Alistair said a short one, then quickly opened his eyes just in time to see Cort cross himself. Ah, some things were so ingrained that even trauma did not erase them. Cort seemed entirely unaware of what he had done and eagerly cut off a large bite of his steak.

Joimus filled his salad bowl for him, moving a selection of dressings closer. There was butter and honey for the biscuits, butter and sour cream for the baked potatoes. Cort ate intently, not interested in polite conversation. His belly felt almost concave and he set about filling it with pleasurable determination. He worked at it for some minutes then seem to realize he might be being impolite.

"Sorry," he said. "Guess I'm not all that much at being a dinner companion right yet."

"No matter," Maximus smiled. "You need nourishment more than talk."

Swallowing a large bite of biscuit, Cort nodded toward Joimus. "Mighty fine cooking, Ma'am. Mighty fine."

"Thank you, Cort. Would you like another biscuit?" She held the basket out toward him.

"Don't mind if I do," he grinned, taking two.

"There's pie," she said. "I made a peach pie this morning."

He closed his eyes. This was too much. He was adrift, lost, and these folks were being so kind. He pressed his lips together a moment then murmured, "Thank you. Can't tell you folks how obliged I am for what you're doing for me."

"We just want to help, Cort, in any way we can," Joimus said softly. "This has to be unimaginably difficult for you."

"You can stay here," Maximus added. "We have plenty of room and it would be our good pleasure to have you accept the hospitality of our home."

"I...I don't know what to say."

"Just say you'll stay, Cort," Joimus smiled.

"Doesn't seem like I have much of any place else to go right now," he replied. "This...this is everything."

"We shall work on finding more for you, Cort," Maximus stated. "When it is time. There is no hurry. You just stay and we shall see what fate brings."

Cort blinked, sudden tears stinging his eyes. "I...."  But his throat closed up and he couldn't speak.

Joimus, at the end of the table to his right, put her hand over his. "You're among friends, Cort. That will do for now, all right? "

"Thank you, Ma'am," he managed.

"Joimus," she smiled. "Please."

"All right, Ma'am. Joimus."  Somehow it didn't seem right, calling a married lady by her first name. He didn't know the why of it, but it just didn't seem right. He'd have to work at remembering to do that.

After dinner they took pie and coffee, tea for Alistair, out to the patio. The evening air was cooling nicely, a full moon just beginning to rise. The scents of dinner were replaced by those coming from the surrounding gardens. Cort, his hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, inhaled deeply. He'd never smelled so many flowers all at once. That was something else he knew, though he didn't know the how of it. He had died and this was paradise. There was no other explanation.