“See Bernard? Up there, near the rock? Our property deed goes all the way up there. Isn’t that fantastic? Imagine it – our house there, next to the creek, where there will be a garden. A little barn will go there. Goats and sheep across the mountain. Once it’s built, we’ll buy some of the flock off your father and have our own place. Just us.”
Bernard sighs. “It sounds perfect, but I still don’t think the village is going to accept us once they realize we’re living together, without wives. Even though I’ve grown up here, I’m scared they’ll cast us out.”
Jean kisses Bernard’s cheek. “They will think we are odd. But we will maintain our presence based on the reputation of our fathers. And, once the housewives in town see the wool you’ve spun from our sheep, in the beautiful colors you create like magic, they will be swayed. Once they spend a winter warm in sweaters from our wool, they will change their minds.”
Bernard smiles at Jean and leans against him. “That’s the fairy tale I want. Spinning wool, fire to my back, watching you sketching into your books.”

“The fairy tale will be a true story, Bernard, I swear. And one day, there will be word from the church of an orphan who needs a home. And we will be the first to volunteer. No one will be able to argue we are not pillars of the community, even if we are odd. We can still be a happy family even if we are odd.”
“It sounds perfect. I could make love in this field every week for the rest of my life and not be tired of this valley.”
“Bernard, I will test that theory and hold you to that.”
Bernard nuzzles Jean. “Good. I want to go again.”
“Again?” Jean repeats. “Twice in a week? Won’t you get sick of the valley even faster?”
“No, I’m making up for the weeks before this when we couldn’t get away.”
Jean just looks at Bernard, helpless, and in love. He guides him back down to the blanket and moves on top of him.

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Captions are fictional.