As a Fixer, it's Jane's job to go back to the past and make sure certain events happen as they should. But when her unit breaks down one day, she finds herself stuck in 15th century Korea.
With blond hair and blue eyes she soon discovers life can be...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I stare at the pot. Stirring, I can do that. Carefully I touch the handle and when I feel it's not hot yet, I lift the lid. It's pretty heavy. I place it next to the oven and slowly stir in the gruel. It's not boiling yet. How long will it have to boil before it's ready? I hope Mrs. Ho comes back before I ruin it.
Because I do all the lifting and stirring with my right hand, I work slowly. Open the pot, stir, close the pot. Open the oven, fan, close the oven. After a while the water boils and I look around me. Does it need to boil long? Should I taste it or is that considered unhealthy? I press my lips together, open the pot again, this time with a cloth over the tapered handle, and stir. I take out a spoon full and watch the grains closely. They do resemble the granules that are part of my portion, but my microwave is hardly to compare with a real stove. Should I call?
I muster my bravery, close the lid and with the spoon in my left hand, I clumsily crawl towards the door. The moment I stick my head out, I see Gi-Kyong sitting on the porch. He's cleaning vegetables.
It's such an endearing sight, that for a moment I forget what I came to ask. He senses my presence and turns his head, so I quickly blurt: "Ehm... I thing the gruel is ready, but I'm not sure and your mom's not back yet and I know I probably shouldn't be asking you this, but I've never cooked before, not like this and I don't want to spoil it."
I bite my lip as he blinks a few times, but am grateful when he sets aside the basked he was working on and comes inside. Without hesitation, as if he's done it a thousand times, he checks the food and nods. Next he grabs the round tray on legs—that I come to realize, ís the table—sets it down and takes a pile of bowls from a woven basket. He hands the pile to me, takes one back and pours a large spoon full before he sets it on the table. He repeats it three times, covers the lid again and opens the oven door to lessen the fire. After that he sits down across from me, hands me a spoon and begins to eat.
I look at the door and then at the two other bowls. I'm about to ask if we shouldn't wait for his parents, when they come in. I wait for them to sit and begin their meal and then I dig in.
Because I missed last evening's supper, my stomach is so empty the first bite lands like a brick. It almost hurts. By the time I scrape the last crumbs from my bowl, it feels like I'm not even half full. I lick my lips and set down the bowl, still hungry, but grateful for everything I'm being offered. Before my hands are completely pulled away, Gi-Kyong takes my bowl and fills it again.
He gets a raised eyebrow from his mother and I feel my cheeks ignite. My hands touch his when I lift them to accept the second bowl. There is a slight jolt that threatens me to drop the precious food. His hands remain around the bowl an instant longer until he is certain I won't spill, then his fingers slide away from under mine.
He mumbles something about a near field to his father and together they get up, leaving me to finish my meal with a beating heart. This is not good. Not good at all.
