What's Cooking (6 page)

Gordie and Roland blinked and stared at Mitchell.

“No. Why?” Gordie asked.

Roland grabbed Gordie's arm and encouraged him to stand. He nodded and smiled again at Carolyn. “We were just on our way out.” He gave Gordie a pull to get him moving, then escorted him toward the door.

Mitchell couldn't help hearing them whisper as they walked away.

“What's he doing with the home ec teacher?”

“Gordie, you doofus. No wonder you're still single.”

“What do you mean?”

The door closed, ending any further insight into Gordie's love life.

Mitchell quickly turned to Carolyn. He'd thought his worst problem was Hank, but he was wrong. Carolyn wouldn't
look at him. She kept playing with a crumb on her plate, not
touching the other half of her dessert. He didn't know what to say, so he pushed his mug and plate to the center of the table and stood. “Are you finished?”

She nodded, and they left in silence.

The ride home was short, but he didn't want a cloud hanging over their heads, and he certainly couldn't leave her for the night without saying something.

He walked Carolyn to her door. When she unlocked it, he didn't wait to be invited but quickly stepped inside. She blinked when he closed the door behind him but otherwise didn't speak.

“Carolyn, ignore them. It doesn't matter.”

“It does matter. You could have been my student. This is so wrong.”

He stepped closer. “That has nothing to do with anything. We're both adults now. I know you feel awkward about it, but it really doesn't matter, and it doesn't affect how I feel about you.”

She looked up at him. As she raised her head, her glasses slipped down the bridge of her nose. He shuffled closer still, until he was directly in front of her, and gently pushed her glasses back into place. Instead of letting his hand drop, he cradled her face in his palm. She'd never looked so pretty or so fragile as she did right now. All her doubts showed in her eyes.

He wanted to find a way to tell her that age didn't matter to him; it was Carolyn the person who mattered to him.

She made one of her cute little sighs, but this time, for the first time, he was touching her when she did it. The movement and the feeling of her breath on his hand touched something deep inside him.

He couldn't stop himself. Mitchell rested his other hand on the side of her waist, pulled her closer, lowered his head, and kissed her. She felt small and delicate in his arms, and her lips were soft and gentle. He was lost. What little was left of his heart left him, and he kissed Carolyn the way a man should kiss a woman he was falling in love with.

When they separated, he couldn't take his hand off her cheek, nor could he make his voice work properly. His words came out too low and gravelly, but he was past caring. “Since we didn't have one today, can we have a cooking lesson tomorrow? At my house this time?”

His heart seemed to stop beating in the wait for her reply.

“Yes,” she finally whispered.

Mitchell smiled, then slid his index finger down her cheek and off the side of her chin. He backed up a step, making the separation complete. “Great. Tomorrow then. Good night.”

He walked away before she could change her mind.

During the drive home, a million thoughts cascaded through his brain, but nothing came together.

Jake and Ellen were in the living room watching television when he walked in. For the first time, he didn't stop to chat. He grunted a greeting and continued into his bedroom without breaking stride, shut the door behind him, threw his clothes on the floor, and climbed into bed.

All he could do was stare up at the ceiling in the dark.

A knock sounded on his door, but it didn't open. Jake's voice drifted through the wood. “Mitch? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just need to think,” he called back, then rolled over onto his stomach.

The problem was, he didn't know what to think.

Mitchell closed his eyes and buried his face in his pillow. “Lord, what should I do?” he said aloud.

He couldn't deny that Carolyn had many hesitations about going out with him, most of which concerned his age, but there was also her mysterious relationship with Hank.

He could have been angry with Gordie and Roland for making the difference in their ages so obvious, but something else would have happened to bring it up. They'd only sped up the timing of when he had to deal with it. Unfortunately, when he tried to talk to her, he was the only one with anything to say. Mitchell didn't consider that a good sign.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling again.

Regardless, Carolyn had still kissed him. The experience was everything he thought it would be and more. He closed his eyes, remembering, then stared back at the ceiling.

Whatever happened with that kiss, there was still the major hurdle of Hank between them. He took solace in the fact that Carolyn would never have kissed him if she were truly serious about Hank.

Mitchell rolled over and punched his pillow. Even if she wasn't serious about Hank, the way things were now, she wasn't serious about Mitchell, either.

He couldn't change his age, but in order to compete with an older man, he could work on maturity. He hadn't considered settling down before now because he hadn't met the right woman. But now that he'd met Carolyn, he wanted what Jake and Ellen had. Commitment. Stability. A shared faith.

Love.

He didn't know if it was possible to really fall in love so soon, but the only way to know for sure would be to spend more time with her. Serious, quality time. In order to do that, Carolyn would have to be more receptive to seeing him instead of him forcing invitations where they really weren't wanted.

There was nothing he could do to make her want to see him, but he knew Someone who could give him guidance.

Mitchell closed his eyes and began to pray.

Six

Carolyn knocked on Mitchell's door and waited. His dog barked once, then became silent as the door opened.

Another man stood in the doorway, holding Mitchell's dog by the collar. He was about Mitchell's age, but he, too, was a good-looking man. She thought of Gordie and Roland and wondered if Mitchell had any short, ugly friends. Or any that were older.

He smiled. “You must be Carolyn. I'm Jake. Mitchell had to work late. He called a little while ago to say he was on his way home, and he wanted me to ask if you'd mind waiting if you got here first.”

“I don't mind at all.” She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

“Great.” Jake released the dog, who sniffed up at her, then left.

Now that his hands were free, Carolyn reached forward to shake Jake's hand. “I'm pleased to meet you, Jake. So you're the one getting married. Congratulations. I also want to thank you for replacing the glass in my needlepoint frame.”

Jake smiled. “You're welcome. Nice picture, by the way. That means you're the brave soul who's trying to teach Mitch to cook something besides hot dogs. Good luck.”

After experiencing firsthand the extent of Mitchell's cooking skills, she perfectly understood Jake's not-so-subtle wisecrack. She grinned to herself, knowing how much Mitchell had improved, but at the same time knowing Mitchell still had a lot to learn in the remaining four short weeks until the big day.

“Does he often have to work late?”

“Actually, yes, he does. His overtime hours are unpredictable because they always involve some crisis that can't be left until the next day. He never gets any advance warning or notice. It just happens.” Jake checked his watch. “And speaking of late, I hate to be rude, but I have to take care of something for the wedding, and I'm already late. Would you like to watch television or something? Mitch shouldn't be much longer.”

“That's fine; I don't mind.”

Jake escorted her to the couch, turned on the television, handed her the remote, then left.

Carolyn started flipping through the channels when Mitchell's dog, who she knew was inaptly named Killer, entered the room. Killer looked at Carolyn, sniffed once in the air, then jumped up on the other end of the couch, curled up, and fell asleep, apparently quite comfortable with her presence.

Carolyn's finger froze on the remote's button while she stared at his sleeping dog, wondering how much longer she would have to wait for Mitchell to come home. She couldn't help being impressed that he was apparently dependable on the job. Still, she didn't know if the reason he had to often work late was because he was so good at what he did that the company depended on him in time of trouble or if he was the junior man and got stuck with all the dirty work no one else wanted.

Before she could think about it any further, the screech of tires sounded in the driveway. She stood just as Mitchell burst through the door.

At the sight of him, her hands flew to her mouth to cover her gasp.

“Don't worry, the blood's not mine. I'm fine.” Mitchell was covered in dirt, his hair was streaked with a mixture of blue and orange, and a smear of blood marred the front of his shirt.

“You don't look fine.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “One of the guys in the warehouse had an accident, and I had to take him to the ER, then drive him home. He's fine. It's just some heavy bruising and a few stitches. Do you have any idea how to get blood out of upholstery?”

“What about you?”

“I need a shower, but I think I should take care of my car first.”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

He ran his fingers through his hair, studied his hand, then rubbed his fingers together. “Except for my hair, I'm fine. It'll probably wash out, but if not, I'll have the most trendy hair color at the wedding, don't you think?”

She blinked and stared at him. Now that the panic was over and she knew he was unhurt, she could look at him more objectively. “What is that? Or should I not ask?”

“It's some kind of dye or pigment used in paints. I don't know if it will come out.”

“I think you should wash it right away, just in case. If you'll get me a sponge and a bucket, I'll see what I can do about your car.”

While Mitchell was in the shower, Carolyn did the best she could to sop the blood out of the passenger seat. It wasn't a particularly expensive car, but it was sporty and fairly new, and she hated to see the interior spoiled, especially as a result of his helping someone else.

Only a small discoloration remained by the time Mitchell appeared.

He ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I didn't get much of the color out, but I'll need a haircut before the wedding, anyway. How's my car?”

She tossed the sponge into the bucket. “Pretty good. I think if we rent a steam cleaner and buy a good upholstery shampoo, the blood should all come out. It helps to get at something like this right away.”

Since she didn't want to sit in the wet seat, they took her car to the supermarket to rent the unit.

“Now that we have a few minutes, can you tell me what happened?”

“The forklift driver tipped over a piece of machinery onto a skid of paint. Ted tried to run out of the way when everything toppled, but he didn't quite make it. I've got a first aid certificate, so I did my best to contain the bleeding and took him to the hospital myself rather than calling for an ambulance, since it wasn't life threatening. The next shift is going to clean up the mess, but tomorrow I have to fill out the accident and worker's compensation forms.” He turned to her. “I also have to do an internal investigation on this. I used to drive the forklift before I got promoted to dispatcher. I know from experience that either the forklift driver was being irresponsible or the machinery wasn't packaged properly. It shouldn't have tipped over so easily.”

“Does this kind of thing happen often? You had to work late one day last week, too.”

“No. It's something different every time. I have to consider it an adventure or else it would drive me crazy. Did I ever tell you about the time one of the trucks got wedged in the underpass in rush hour?”

As they worked to wash the seat, he told her amusing stories of the various disasters that happened in his workplace over the years that sounded funny now, although she doubted they were even the least bit amusing at the time.

Before long, the seat was as good as new. After they returned the steam cleaner, Carolyn pulled into the driveway behind his car and checked her wristwatch.

“I think it's a little late to be starting a cooking lesson.”

Mitchell turned his wrist and also checked the time. “I guess. What about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Friday.”

“Oops. You're right. But if you don't have other plans, I'd appreciate it if you could come over tomorrow and we'll try again.”

Carolyn closed one eye and tilted one corner of her mouth to think. She didn't know if spending so much time with Mitchell was wise, but she'd committed herself to helping him. As his teacher, if he couldn't do as he'd promised, his failure would also be her failure. She also wanted to bring him up to the skill level of the rest of the class—for the sake of her other students.

She grasped the steering wheel with both hands, sighed, and turned to him. “Your house or mine?”

❧

Carolyn knocked on Mitchell's door. As usual, the dog barked once and the door opened.

Carolyn tried not to let her mouth hang open. “Don't you think you're a little overdressed for a cooking lesson?”

One dimple appeared in Mitchell's left cheek along with his lopsided smile. Instead of jeans and a T-shirt, he wore gray dress pants and a neatly pressed white shirt. Leather shoes replaced his worn sneakers, and his hair was meticulously gelled into a very attractive style. Carolyn narrowed her eyes and looked closer. She could still see some of the blue and orange from the day before, but somehow he'd managed to hide most of the damage. Also, unlike any other evening, night school classes included, he had recently shaved.

“I'm really hungry, and I'm tired of eating snacks. I want real food, so I thought maybe we could go out.”

Carolyn crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “You don't intend to do any cooking tonight, do you?”

“I do so, but I gotta eat. Don't you believe me?” He splayed his fingers, placed his palm over his heart, and pretended to look wounded.

She wasn't falling for it. “No.”

“Well, you're wrong. I just wanted to go somewhere nice, not too fancy, but not the local hamburger joint, and then we'll come home and get down to business. Please?”

Carolyn let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“You're doing that sighing thing again. I thought we could go to the new steakhouse. I've heard good things about it, although I haven't been there yet.”

“All right, but you had better be prepared to do some cooking when we get back.”

Mitchell reached into the closet and yanked out his jacket, then stepped outside.

He opened the car door and waited for her to get in. “You look nice, by the way.”

She wore her comfortable flat shoes and her denim skirt and a fuzzy pink sweater, which would be fine for where they were going; but for once, Mitchell was dressed better than she was. It felt strange. “Thank you. You look nice, too.”

Not only did he look good, he smelled good. In the confines of the car, she could smell a spicy aftershave or cologne—something she'd never noticed about him before, which made her suspect that in his mind this was a date. And, contrary to her claims, she had indeed fallen for it.

When they arrived at the restaurant, he was the perfect gentleman.

Combining his new cultivated appearance with his polished manners, he looked and acted older, which was a perverse reminder of how young he really was.

As they talked, in the back of her mind, Carolyn thought of her own life and what she was doing when she was twenty-four years old. That was nine years ago, and she was just beginning her teaching career. So much time had passed, and she'd grown up a lot in those years.

When the waiter returned with their meals, Mitchell closed his eyes and bowed his head to pause for a word of prayer before they ate.

Something in Carolyn's heart went haywire. The young man before her, now dressed in his good clothes, ready to pray in public completely unashamed, was the same man who had given her a silly piece of tinkly cow costume jewelry only days ago.

Cow jewelry.

Hank would have given her diamonds. Diamonds and real gold were in Hank's nature. Mature. Dignified. Conservative.

Carolyn forced herself to stop staring at Mitchell and closed her eyes. Mitchell would never be conservative. It wasn't in him. He wasn't even wearing a tie to go out, which made her suspect that the only ties he owned had cartoon characters on them.

She recalled the three-piece suit with a matching monochrome tie Hank had worn to the last Christmas banquet. Hank was thirty-nine, six years older than she would be on her upcoming birthday. About six months ago, Carolyn had noticed a few gray hairs around Hank's temples and mentioned it to him. The next time she saw him, they were gone.

Carolyn didn't know how Mitchell had hidden most of the blue and orange, but it made her wonder if he would bother trying to hide any gray hairs when the time came. Instead, she suspected Mitchell would flaunt them as a sign of alleged maturity.

When Mitchell started to pray softly, Carolyn closed off her thoughts of Hank, prayed with Mitchell, and concentrated on having a lovely meal with him.

After the plates were cleared, the waiter returned to ask if they wanted dessert.

Mitchell shook his head. “No, thank you. We'll have the bill, please.”

When the waiter left, Carolyn turned to Mitchell. “You could have ordered something if you wanted.”

“We have to get back. You still have to show me enough so I don't make a fool of myself on Tuesday.”

“Pardon me?”

“The cooking lesson? Isn't that why you came over in the first place?”

“You mean you really want to cook tonight?”

“Didn't I say that earlier?”

Carolyn struggled not to raise her hands to cover the heat in her cheeks. “I'm so sorry, Mitchell. I didn't believe you. I don't know what to say.”

“This has been a real treat, not to have to grab something at a fast-food place. This isn't the kind of place a guy can go to eat alone. I got to eat a real supper today, and I enjoyed it.”

She hadn't thought about what a single man usually ate. “You must eat fast food a lot, don't you?”

His cheeks turned red. Carolyn thought it quite endearing to see a man blush. “Most single guys do, you know.”

As soon as they got back to Mitchell's house, he excused himself to change. Within minutes, except for the perfect hair and clean-shaven chin, he was back to the Mitchell she was used to.

Carolyn rolled up her sleeves and showed him how to properly separate eggs and beat the whites until they were just the right consistency. She then made him fold them into the mixture properly, being careful not to stir, resulting in the perfect texture.

“Is all this really necessary?” he grumbled as he spooned the filling into the pastry shells she had shown him how to make because he didn't know how to use a pastry cutter.

“As I recall, you're the one who said he would prepare all the food for the party rather than getting a caterer.”

He mumbled something she couldn't make out, and she chose not to ask him to repeat himself.

The baked cuplets were as good as any she could have done herself, and she told him so. She struggled not to laugh as he tried to downplay the pride in his accomplishment.

“And on that note, it's time for me to go home.”