Caroline

Chapter 5

After folding the salad ingredients together, Caroline checked the oven. A few minutes more, and the eggy-cheese of her macaroni dish would be just the right bubbly consistency. Pleased, she filled a glass with ice and tea, and turned to set it on the table. She had picked some late-blooming wildflowers and placed them in an antique apothecary bottle that now acted as a centerpiece. A single placesetting sat in front of the chair closest to her. These little touches of domestication had felt important to her as she did them. She desperately needed a feeling of belonging here. Too much of her life had been uprooted and reassigned, some by choice, some by necessity.

Looking down at the solitary plate, she couldn't help but recall the many evenings she had set a table for two but ended up dining alone. All those times, had Derek really been working late? A timely recollection while she was still in Charlotte had spurred her to make an appointment with her doctor. Derek had either been very careful or very lucky. No, she amended, she had been lucky. Whether or not he came away clean was no concern of hers.

A number of the evenings without Derek had ended up creating good memories for her. Before the deterioration of her father's health, she would sometimes pack up her dinner and drive to his house to share. When the weather allowed, they would eat on his screened porch. Often they would take their meals in front of the television, not ignoring each other, but holding a running commentary of whatever was on. More times than not, her father would have her laughing to the point of tears, and they would part with hugs and promises to do it again soon. But too soon, the treatments started, and his throat became so raw he could barely sip broth or nibble on a popsicle. And Caroline's meals became solitary again.

The glimmer of a strange, wild idea flashed through her mind. She didn't do strange and wild; the move to the cabin all on her own was the wildest thing she'd ever done in her life. And it wasn't as though she could call ahead. How could she even find the correct number? But the thought was persistent, the urge to do the act completely irresistible. All the while wondering what insanity had taken hold of her, Caroline began to pack up her food as she had those evenings spent with her father. Once everything was secure in the back seat of her car, she took a deep breath, got behind the wheel, and maneuvered her way to the cabin of her neighbor.

As soon as she pulled up next to the truck in his yard, she began second-guessing herself. What kind of person did things like this? She had only met him that very day. What if he'd already eaten? What if he thought she was crazy? What if he wasn't alone? What if he was?

Frozen in her fear and indecision, she saw a section of blinds in one window part briefly. This was followed by the opening of the front door. And then, there he was. He walked quickly over to her car, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

She heard his muffled voice through her window. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"
Lowering it, she answered. "I... nothing's wrong. I just.... I made some dinner, and it seemed such a shame to sit and eat all by myself... and I remembered... in the grocery store... "

Before she could say anything else, he smiled at her. "You brought me dinner?"

"Um... yeah.... to share..."

He opened her door and extended his hand to her. Dazed, she took it, and allowed him to help her out of the car.

"Is that it in the back?"

"Uh huh..." Where the hell had her vocabulary gone?

Michael released her hand and extricated the large box of food and drink from the back seat. Closing the car door with his knee, he asked, "Can you get the house door, please? I don't want to slosh or drop anything here."

She rushed ahead of him to prop the screen door open with her body and hold the main door open with one arm. As he slid past her, she caught a scent of something clean and fresh, as if he had just stepped out of the shower. Only then did she notice that his hair was damp. The thought of what she might have interrupted had she come any earlier made that awful blush start to warm her cheeks. Angrily, she tamped it down.

"What made you think of this?" He asked cheerfully, as he set the box down. The tone of his voice told her that he was glad she had.

"It seemed such a shame to have to eat this all alone... especially when I remembered that you were probably eating alone, too... and.... well... I... I'd like to get to know my neighbor better."

She let her eyes wander the room. It was the main room of the cabin, with a kitchen and living area combined. One wall held an entertainment center with several gaming systems and a fairly large television. Near this was a desk and side tables holding various pieces of computer equipment, most of which she knew neither the name nor the function. She finally allowed her eyes to go back to his face, to find that, once again, he had already been looking at her.

"Lucky me," he uttered softly, then seemed to shake himself. "I know I've got a couple of plates put away up here," he said over his shoulder, going to the kitchen cabinets. "Don't use them a lot myself. Sandwiches do just fine on paper towels. I do keep a couple of cereal bowls in rotation, though."

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Nothing that couldn't be interrupted. I was getting frustrated with a game and needed a break. Do me a favor and drop those magazines on the floor?"

Caroline looked down at the stacks of periodicals taking up residence on his coffee table. With very few exceptions, they seemed to be all about video gaming. As she moved the piles from one spot to another, she said, "Call it a hunch, but I get the impression you like games."

His genuine laugh rolled through her, soothing her in a way she'd barely been aware she'd needed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Let me wipe down that table and we can unpack the food. Sorry I don't have a regular kitchen table for this. Never really needed one before."

"Why would you? It's part of the job description that hermits don't entertain much."

Again he gave her that wonderful laugh. She knew she wasn't funny, so it had to be his own nature. Why, then, would he choose to shut himself away?

Together, they emptied her box of its contents. To her amusement, he hefted the container of tea in the air as if he were offering it to the gods. "And this, sweet nectar of life........um," he glanced at her and asked, "It is sweet, isn't it?" She nodded.

"Sweet, sweet nectar of life, for you, I am most profoundly grateful!"

A small laugh escaped her; she couldn't help it. "It's just tea," She said.

"Woman!" He gave her a disapproving look. "You will please refrain from blasphemy in this house! Just tea..."

This caused genuine laughter to overtake her; the first, she realized, in months. Michael's expression softened from mock disapproval to one of gentle approval. "There you are," she barely heard him say. Before she could think to ask what he meant, he had gone back to his kitchen cabinets. "I know a plastic cup is unequal to such a gift as this, but I'm afraid it will have to do. We could use coffee mugs.... they don't hold enough, though. We'd spend all our time refilling...." Why was he rambling? Was he... nervous?