What's Cooking (9 page)

Again, he prayed for God to show him the right path.

When he was done, he grabbed his jacket and left. Today, whatever he did with Carolyn, it would be somewhere quiet, without a crowd.

An hour later, he found himself at the gopher enclosure at the zoo, Carolyn at his side, unable to figure out what convoluted process had gotten him there. Absently, his hand rose to pat the little ring still in the pouch, safely nestled in his pocket.

“Oh, look! They want my popcorn!”

“Carolyn, the sign says not to feed them.”

She sighed and Mitchell smiled. Not only was he getting used to her cute little sighs, he was becoming adept at predicting them.

She pointed to one of the big gophers, which was sitting up on its haunches, looking at them. “Look at his face. He's so cute. I wonder if they practice so people will feed them.”

“I don't think gophers practice being cute. They're too stupid to practice anything.”

He received a smack on the arm for his knowledgeable deduction.

After an unreasonable length of time watching the gophers balance on their fat, pampered bottoms, they continued on their way.

When Carolyn tossed her empty popcorn bag into the garbage can, she inhaled deeply and raised her hands. “Spring is in the air!” she exclaimed as she twirled around.

Mitchell pulled his jacket collar tighter. Wind was in the air, and it was nippy. “That's not spring. It's manure. We're next to the pony rides.”

He received another smack on the arm for his comment.

They kept walking, pausing for a few minutes to look at each animal as they wandered through the zoo.

When they stopped in front of the bighorn sheep enclosure, a large number of the magnificent animals grazed and a few bleated their opinions of whatever it was sheep thought about.

As Carolyn stood to watch, Mitchell rested his hands on her shoulders, then shuffled right behind her so they were pressed together.

Carolyn tilted her neck to look up and back at him. “What are you doing?”

“I'm sheltering you from the wind so you'll stay warm.”

She sighed again but didn't pull away, which he took as a positive sign.

A blast of wind came up from behind. Carolyn wrapped her arms around herself but otherwise didn't move. In an effort to warm himself, Mitchell dipped his head forward and nuzzled his face into the top of her head.

A pleasant herbal scent filled his nostrils. Mitchell closed his eyes and inhaled deeply in an effort to commit this moment to his memory forever.

Everything around them drifted into oblivion as he nuzzled Carolyn's forehead through her hair. The zoo in itself may not have been the most romantic place in the world, but where he was standing now, so close to her, touching her, it suddenly held a lot of promise he hadn't acknowledged before. The setting was casual, but he'd never been so close to her when she was relaxed, and all around them was quiet. She smiled up at him, and he was lost.

Very slowly, his fingers lifted from her shoulder to tip her chin up a wee bit higher. He leaned slightly forward, lowered his head, and kissed her lips. The position was a little awkward, but it was worth it to kiss her. The air around them was cool, but he ignored it for the heat of kissing Carolyn.

“Mommy, what are they doing?”

At the child's words, Carolyn pulled herself away and stepped forward to rest her hands on the railing, putting an inordinate amount of concentration on watching the sheep.

The mother's voice immediately followed the child's. “The boy sheep are butting heads. It's what sheep do to see who is the biggest and strongest of the herd.”

“Why do they have to fight to do that?”

“Because the winner wants to be the husband of the prettiest lady sheep.”

The little boy continued to ask countless questions about the sheep. Slowly, Mitchell approached Carolyn.

She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. “That shouldn't have happened, Mitchell.”

“He wasn't looking at us. He was looking at the sheep.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shuffled away.

“It's not okay. This is a public place.”

The only public around them was one small boy and his mother, who were now discussing what sheep ate for breakfast on school days; but if it bothered Carolyn, he wanted to respect her feelings. “You're right. I'm sorry. Would you like to keep going and see the rest of the animals?”

She nodded, so they continued their journey through the zoo; but for the rest of the day, he didn't make any attempt to hold her hand or touch her in any way. Eventually the tension left her, and they were able to enjoy the zoo as they had before the sheep enclosure. One thing he knew. After they left, he would never be able to think of sheep without remembering their kiss.

On their way out, since they had to exit through the gift shop, Mitchell decided to buy her something so she would remember the entire day as fondly as he knew he would. While Carolyn browsed at the souvenir T-shirts, Mitchell made his selection.

He suspected he might have made the wrong choice when, while sitting in the car before they left the parking lot, he presented her with a stuffed plush sheep.

He bit his bottom lip as she held it in her hand, staring at the poor thing like it was made of something toxic.

“Come on, you've got to admit it's cute.”

“It's cute,” she mumbled.

“And it's nice and soft.”

Cautiously, she petted it, then smiled just enough to give Mitchell some faint glimmer of hope. “Yes, it's soft.”

“It's cuddly, too. Just like me.”

She whacked him over the head with it before he had a chance to raise his arms.

On the way home, they chatted about the animals they had seen—every animal except the sheep.

His plan to give her the ring today didn't quite work out, but he'd managed to give her something else as a reminder of their time together. With any luck, tomorrow would present a better opportunity.

Again, she didn't give him a chance to kiss her at the door, but before the door closed, he did have the chance to say that he would pick her up for church, and she didn't turn him down.

Mitchell smiled the entire way home. As always, God had provided a way.

Nine

“Good evening, everyone. We've got a lot of things to do today, so let's get started quickly.”

Carolyn prepared the pastry dough, warning everyone to work slowly to prevent it from tearing during the rolling process. She specifically cautioned Mitchell that too much handling would make it tough, but he took being singled out with a smile and a wink.

Next, she demonstrated making the strudel, rolling it and shaping it, and showing how it was different than the previous project, then sent everyone to their kitchenettes to do it themselves.

As she walked from group to group, several times conversations stopped. Carolyn had already noticed many of the ladies glancing back and forth between herself and Mitchell all evening, and the combination gave her cause for concern. It appeared many of her class members thought she and Mitchell were an item.

Even though she hadn't meant it that way, Carolyn now realized that she had fueled their thoughts when she kissed him on the cheek in front of the class. She'd only meant it in jest, but it had backfired on her. And, if the class took it the wrong way, she was afraid to think of how Mitchell felt.

She certainly didn't want to encourage him in whatever it was he thought he was doing by hanging around her so much. It was neither fair nor realistic for her to be spending so much time with him. She hoped and prayed that her actions had not given him the wrong impression, but she feared they had.

The truth was, she really didn't know exactly how she felt about Mitchell. She would have been lying if she tried to tell herself she didn't like him; but she was more than ready for a permanent relationship. Such a relationship had to be based on more than simply liking someone and being easily amused by them.

She forced herself to ignore the whisperings and pushed the class forward. Soon, everything was done, and the only person left to clean up his mess was Mitchell. He tucked the last baking sheet away as Carolyn gathered up her purse, bag of utensils, and cookbook and headed for the door.

The cupboard door closed with a bang, and his footsteps echoed behind her. “Can I walk you out?”

“The custodian will be watching to make sure I get to my car safely,” she called over her shoulder, not slowing her pace.

“But I need to talk to you.”

She didn't want to talk to him. She was too afraid she would weaken if he started talking about anything besides cooking, which he probably would, since cooking class was over.

“I'm sorry, but I have to go,” she mumbled, not slowing her pace.

Carolyn didn't slow down until she reached the friendly custodian, who was standing dutifully beside the door. She nodded and mumbled a good night to Mr. O'Sullivan as he held the door open and she stepped outside into the brisk night air. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mitchell starting to exit, as well.

“Hold on, young man, wait a minute.”

Mr. O'Sullivan blocked the path to the exit. Mitchell's sneakers squeaked on the tile floor as he stopped abruptly. Carolyn kept walking.

“I think I recognize you. Didn't you used to attend here?”

“Uh, yeah, I did, but—”

“Wait. Farris, right? I ran into those friends of yours at the coffee shop, Gordie Reid and Roland Carruthers. I remember the time the three of you—”

“Carolyn! Wait!”

She ignored his plea and quickened her step, managing to reach her car before Mitchell disengaged himself. She threw everything in without regard to neatness and drove off.

As soon as she arrived home, she dropped her bag on the kitchen counter, but instead of putting everything in its rightful place, she began to pace.

Things were getting out of hand, and she didn't know what to do about it.

She didn't know how it happened, but she'd been seeing Mitchell almost every day, starting not long after they met. It wasn't supposed to be this way, yet when she hadn't seen him Monday, she'd missed him.

It didn't make sense.

She was at a point in her life where she had to move forward with her future. She was settled into her career as a teacher. She was well involved in her church and the various activities there, and she was satisfied in her walk with the Lord. All else considered, only one very important thing was lacking in her life. From the bottom of her heart, she desired a special man who would love her the same way she loved him. And following that, she wanted to start a family.

She wanted to trust that God knew what was best for her and that whoever He sent would be the man she could be happy with for the rest of her time on earth. She'd even started praying for God to send such a man not long ago, and it was about that time God had sent Hank into her life. Yet as much as Hank matched all the things she was looking for in a husband, Hank had made it known he wasn't ready for marriage.

She thought the answer was simply to get to know Hank better, and the relationship God planned for them to have would work itself out over time. Yet, instead of spending her time with Hank and developing things there, she found herself spending nearly all her free time with Mitchell, a man who was wrong for her in every way that she could see.

Carolyn closed her eyes to pray for direction when the sudden jangle of the phone startled her. With a trembling hand, she picked up the receiver.

“I think we should talk. You ran off on me.”

“Mitchell,” she stammered. “We both have work in the morning. It's late.”

“It's not that late. I think you were avoiding me.”

Carolyn squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to tell him the truth but knowing she had to. “I think the class is starting to make assumptions about us. . . .” She let her voice trail off.

She waited for him to say something, but he was strangely silent for the longest time. When he finally spoke, his voice was strangely soft. “Tomorrow is Bible study night. You promised me that this week we could go together again.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. If it hadn't been for that promise, she would have told him she'd changed her mind. Hank had promised her that he would be a regular attendee at the meetings, but in the last few months, he'd only been to one. She knew what it felt like to have a promise broken, and she couldn't do that to Mitchell.

“All right. Pick me up at seven.”

“Great. Since we won't be cooking, let's go out for dinner, too. Oops. Killer's outside barking. You're right; it is getting late. I can't let her disturb the neighborhood. Gotta run. Bye.”

The dial tone sounded in her ear before she completely mumbled her good-bye.

She lowered the phone to its cradle and buried her face in her hands. What had she done?

Ten

Mitchell rang Carolyn's doorbell and raised his hand to wiggle his tie, then patted the pocket containing the little ring.

God's timing was perfect. After Tuesday's class, he had started to get a little nervous; but even though they rushed to be on time for the Bible study on Wednesday, they'd had a lovely dinner.

Mitchell smiled to himself. Tonight, neither of them had anything else to do, and neither had to get up early in the morning. Later, over candlelight and a juicy steak dinner, he would give her the little ring and tell her that he was falling in love.

The door opened. “Hi, Mitchell. Come in.”

He wiggled the unaccustomed knot at his neck. “Sorry I'm so late. I often get stuck working overtime on Fridays.”

“I'm finding that out, aren't I?” She smiled, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. Instead of her favorite fuzzy pink sweater and denim skirt, tonight she wore a pretty light purple dress and matching colored shoes that made her a little taller than usual.

His smile widened. “You look nice.”

Her cheeks darkened, which he thought was kind of cute. It also told him she didn't hear enough compliments, something that was about to change. “Thank you. I was wondering, after dinner, would you like to see a movie? I saw a commercial for a new comedy that looked really good.”

Taking a woman to a movie after dinner sounded more like a real date than ever, but he wasn't going to point that out quite yet.

He checked his watch. “I'd like that, but I think it's a little late to do both. What time is the late showing?”

“I don't know. Maybe we should check the paper.”

Instead of taking Carolyn out to the car, he sauntered into the living room and planted himself on her couch while she spread the newspaper on the coffee table.

“Here it is. It starts at. . .” Her voice trailed off, and she pressed her finger to the newspaper. “Mitchell! Look!”

The sudden voice inflection made him jump. He leaned forward and looked at where her finger was planted.

“It's the Annual Cooking and Kitchen Showcase! It's this weekend, and the doors open at nine tomorrow morning!” As they made eye contact, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared. Her voice dropped. “Never mind.” She turned back to the paper.

“What do you mean, never mind?”

“It's too late to ask anyone to go with me. I guess there's always next year.”

Mitchell grinned. After all he'd learned about cooking in the past month, Mitchell thought that perhaps there might be something to interest him, too. “I'll go with you. It's probably just like the marketplace, and that was fun.”

Her lips tightened. “It's not really like that at all, Mitchell.”

“Even better. Something different will be fun.”

Her head tipped to one side, and one eye narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Tickets are cheaper if you buy them in advance.”

“Okay.”

Before he could think about it, she rested her finger on the phone number listed in the ad, mumbled it a few times to memorize it, and ran into the kitchen. By the time he realized that she was paying for the tickets over the phone with her credit card, it was too late to do anything about it.

He stood when he heard her hang up. “I must be more tired than I thought. I didn't realize what you were going to do. I wanted to pay for those.”

“Nonsense. It was my idea, so I'm paying. But if you want to appease your bruised ego, you can pay for my dinner tonight.”

“I was going to pay for your dinner anyway. Where do you want to go?”

“Pedro's.”

“No.” He shook his head so fast that a lock of hair fell onto his forehead. “Anywhere but there.” He rested his hand on his stomach. He'd felt the effects of that one dinner for two days afterward. He'd taken every last one of Jake's antacids before he felt normal.

“Please? It's the last night before the mariachi band moves on to another city.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but her pleading eyes stopped him. “I give up. But before we go, I have to stop at the drug store for something.”

❧

“Look at all the cars,” Mitchell grumbled as he turned into a parking spot that had to be at least two miles from the main entrance. He estimated about a thousand cars in the parking lot, and the line of people waiting for the doors to open was already around the corner of the building.

By the time they waited in line and picked up their reserved tickets at the entrance, another five hundred people had lined up behind them. They were each given programs listing all the display booths, a list of seminars, and a map. The enticing aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the air, teasing him. He'd been careful with his selections at Pedro's last night, and he'd had an extra dose of antacids before he left, so now he was more than ready for a large cup of hot coffee.

They stood to the side to look at the map and figure out the layout of the building. He'd almost figured out where the coffee concession was when Carolyn's hand blocked his view, pointing to a list at the side of the printed form. “We get one free class with the purchase of an advance ticket, so I signed up for this one.” Her finger rested on some French person's name he couldn't attempt to pronounce. She looked up at him, blushed, then pointed to another seminar, a demonstration on some food item he couldn't pronounce either, even if he did know what it was, which he didn't. “I didn't know what you'd be interested in, but I signed you up for this one. If you don't want to go, I'll go instead.”

He smiled. “It's all yours. Enjoy yourself.”

She turned and pointed to an area in the far corner of the building. “There's a big screen television there for the guys. You can go there while I'm in the sessions, if you want. They last forty-five minutes each.”

Mitchell grinned. A guy area. Perfect. He hoped they had a large coffeepot. “Let's start walking and see how much we can take in before your first class. How long until it starts?”

“We only have an hour, so we'd better get going.”

“Only?” Mitchell scanned the area, trying to figure out what was here that would take more than an hour to see. In a room full of mainly women, he stood a head taller than most of the people there, so he could easily see almost everything. According to the map, there were hundreds of booths and displays, in addition to demonstration areas and rooms for the class sessions. He'd never seen anything like it. The annual auto show was nothing like this. However, since he couldn't imagine there could be that many ways to cook a meal, he figured that, unlike the auto show, they would be out of the cooking convention within a couple of hours, including her lectures.

Before they moved, he reached for her hand.

When she looked up at him, he gave it a gentle squeeze to stop her from protesting. “We don't want to get separated.”

“Okay. Let's go this way first.”

The first section was called Microwave Cooking. They managed to walk past the first booth with a cursory glance, but Carolyn stopped at the second one. They watched two women showing some kind of gadget that cooked rice in a microwave, then had to wait while everyone tasted a small white paper cup full of the fresh cooked rice, followed by sufficient oohing and aahing about how tender it was. Then everyone, including Carolyn, walked away without buying one. Carolyn led him by the hand to the next booth, which was also preparing some kind of food and handing out samples. He was going to suggest that if she was hungry, they could go to the food court to buy something that was more than one nibble at a time, but Carolyn's attention was glued to the demonstration.

By the end of the hour, Mitchell had learned more about how to cook things in the microwave with strange utensils than he wanted to know in a lifetime. Worst of all, he was still hungry even though he'd eaten so many samples he'd lost count.

As he stood waiting while Carolyn inspected the latest and greatest version of some gadget he couldn't identify, Mitchell glanced around him. There weren't many men present, but those he had seen with their wives or girlfriends looked as bored as he felt.

“It's almost time for my first course. Shall we meet back here at ten forty-five?”

Mitchell looked up as a man pushing a stroller with an infant in it walked in the direction of the guy area.

He synchronized his watch with Carolyn's. “Gotcha. Ten forty-five.”

❧

Carolyn hurried off toward the meeting room area. She could tell Mitchell was as bored as she predicted he would be, but he was being a good sport about it. However, just because she had warned him in advance didn't make her feel any better. Because of the guilt, she'd separated from him at the last possible second, which meant the only seats left were in the back.

She pulled her notepad out of her purse and adjusted her glasses as the class began. The chef displayed culinary techniques she could only dream of, making her wish she had more flair in the kitchen or, failing that, a specialty she could be proud of. The demonstration ended before she realized the time had gone by, and she enthusiastically joined the rest of the audience in a healthy round of applause. On her way out, she picked up a bag containing the recipe the chef had prepared—as if she could ever prepare it with such skill—a small booklet promoting the chef's newly released cookbook, and a small taste sample of today's demonstration.

Mitchell was already waiting for her by the time she reached the appointed meeting place. He held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“Was there something interesting on television?”

He grinned then shook his head. “I didn't make it that far. Look what I bought.”

Carolyn took one look at the bag and read the logo. “Oh, no,” she groaned under her breath. “You didn't.”

“It's a Handy Dandy Veggie-O-Matic Chopper. You should see what it does.”

Carolyn forced herself to smile. She should never have left him alone. She should have personally escorted him to the men's area in the back and told him to stay put.

“It slices and dices and chops and everything. It even makes French fries, and you should have tasted them. Were they ever good.”

She highly doubted Mitchell would ever attempt to make French fries from scratch, and it would be a pretty good guess that he didn't own a deep fryer. “Mitchell, when are you ever going to use such an item?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. But when I do, I'll do the job in record time.”

“I think that in a few years the Salvation Army will have a wonderful donation, still in the original packaging.”

He ignored her as he dropped the chopper back into the bag and picked up a long, narrow box. “And look at this. I saw the guy cut a PVC pipe with this knife, and you should have seen how cleanly it cut through a big fat tomato after that. You said I needed a good knife.”

Carolyn shook her head in disbelief. “Have you ever been to anything like this before?”

He dug through the bag as he spoke. “I go to the auto show every year, if that's what you mean.”

“No, I mean something like this, where there are things to actively participate in, demos, door prizes, and booths with a million things for sale.”

He stuck his head down closer to the bag opening, continuing to rifle through the contents until he found the specific item he was searching for. “No, never,” he mumbled.

Carolyn didn't know whether to laugh or cry as she watched Mitchell pull out an assortment of gadgets, some of which might be handy to her but would be totally useless to Mitchell once he had finished the cooking class.

When he finished, she sighed and shook her head. “Come on. We still have a lot to see.”

She grabbed his hand and led him to a section where his wallet would be safe. Together they nibbled samples and wandered around until they ended up at the food court. Carolyn couldn't stuff in another bite after everything she'd eaten, but Mitchell bought himself a corn dog on a stick, and they kept walking.

A scratchy voice she could barely understand boomed over the loudspeaker announcing the other session she'd signed up for was starting in five minutes. She tried to calculate how long it would take to escort Mitchell safely to the men's area and still be on time but knew she would never make it.

Guiding him to the side so people could walk around them, she held tightly to both his hands, forcing him to make eye contact. “Please, Mitchell, promise me you won't buy anything while I'm gone, okay?”

He held up one hand. “Promise. Scout's honor,” he said while making the appropriate hand signal.

She didn't know if he had ever been a Boy Scout but didn't have the time to challenge him on it. “I'll meet you back here when it's over, okay?”

“Sure.”

She dropped his hands and dashed off. Again, she had to sit in the back, but it had been worth it to extract a promise out of Mitchell.

The demonstration on Pâté Feuilletee was fascinating, but while she picked up some wonderful tips, Mitchell was always in the back of her mind. She left the room as soon as she could, missing the opportunity to ask the chef a few questions, and hurried to the appointed meeting place where, once again, Mitchell was waiting.

“What did you do this time while I was gone?” She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to know.

“Nothing bad. I didn't buy anything. I just entered my name in a bunch of free draws.”

“Oh, no. Mitchell, they're going to phone and tell you that you won something, except you have to buy something or watch a demonstration for two hours to claim your prize, which is never worth the cost of getting there. And then they sell the names they've collected to mailing lists.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don't care. I'd never buy anything I didn't really need.”