Caroline

Chapter 6

Still feeling nervous herself, Caroline sat down on the sofa, then quickly stood again.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Nope!  You brought dinner.  I'd say you've already gone above and beyond."

Michael handed her a plastic cup with an Asheville Tourists baseball logo on it.  His own cup was obviously older, but she thought she could make out the name of a convenience store.  "Nothing fancy," he said, "but I hope it'll do."

"The food isn't fancy, either.  This should be just right."

He stood looking at her long enough for her blush to return,  but then gestured to the sofa, and said, "Have a seat."

As he poured tea into the cups, she opened the container of broccoli salad and stirred it around with a serving spoon.

"I thought you said it wasn't fancy," he accused with a half smile.

"It isn't."

"It's got raisins and stuff in it.  Looks pretty fancy to me."

Caroline stopped before putting a spoonful on his plate.  "I'm so sorry... you don't have to..."

He covered her hand on the spoon with his own.  "Don't take it away.  I want to try it."

She made the mistake of looking into his eyes and seeing sincerity there, and it shook her.  She knew her judgement about such things was flawed.  She no longer trusted her ability to read a man's face.  But damn it, they were only talking about broccoli salad. 

"Are you sure?"

He guided her hand to hover above his plate, then tipped the spoon so it's contents fell down.  "Watch me," he grinned.  With his free hand, he grabbed his fork and speared some of the broccoli,  making sure to get a raisin as he did, then took the bite and chewed it slowly.  Watching the motion of his lips, she wondered about the contrast of their softness with the roughness of his chin.

"This is good," he said between chews, taking her out of her reverie.

"Yeah?"

In response, still holding her hand on the spoon, he served himself another portion.  "Gonna need more of that."

"Oh.... good then."  She extricated her hand from his, then served a small portion of salad to herself.  Next, she unsealed the lid to her mother's old thermal casserole carrier.  As the steam and aroma escaped, she heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Is that.....?" he whispered.

"Macaroni and cheese," she answered, wondering what he would do next.

He leaned over until his face was just a few inches from it, and inhaled deeply.  Closing his eyes, he moaned, then inhaled again.  "It's still hot," he said reverently, as if a miracle had just been put before him.

A quick giggle escaped her (a giggle of all things).  "I took it from the oven just before I came over."

He appeared to make a frantic search over the table before she handed him the second serving spoon.  "There you go, Hermit."

He wrapped his hand around hers with the spoon again, and with a pleased expression on his face, said, "Thank you, Jelly."  She had the odd feeling that he wasn't thanking her for the spoon.

With their hands still together, noodles and cheese were dished out for them both.  She then sat with her hands folded on her lap, watching him as he scooped up a fork full and blew on it.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so entertained by watching someone eat.  He took the first bite and closed his eyes again.

"Ommm..... mmmm...."  He sat back against the sofa and completed his chewing with a contented expression, then sighed.  She couldn't help it; another giggle came out of her mouth.

"Good, huh?"

He raised his hand to his chest and slowly shook his head, as if he had no words.  Then he flashed her a wide grin, sat forward, and began eating in earnest.  Smiling herself, that she had been able to put a smile on the face of another, she joined him in the meal.

Several mouthfuls and a rapturous moment over tea later,  he asked, "Do you always make this much food for yourself?  You're just a little bitty thing.  Not that I'm complaining, mind, if I'm the beneficiary."

"Not always," she answered after a quick chew and swallow.  "But I do like having leftovers to warm up the next day.  Then if I get too busy to cook, I can still have something good,"

He put his fork down on his plate.  "Am I eating your dinner for tomorrow?"

"Uh, uh...no,"  she assured him quickly.  "Believe me, I have plenty of time on my hands right now.  I can make another meal, no problem."

"Oh, ok,"  He resumed eating, then asked, "So why so much time on your hands, if you don't mind my asking?"

Her shoulders slumped, and the lightness she had been feeling fled away.  She looked down at her plate and poked absently at a noodle.

"Let's just say that the things that used to occupy my time are no longer an issue."

Gently, he placed his hand on her shoulder.  "Hey..... forget I even brought it up, OK?  We're just enjoying our food and the company.  This is nice, right here.  Don't you think?"

Forcing herself to show him a small smile, she nodded, but set her fork down.

"Oh no, nuh uh.  We ain't havin' nunna dis," he said, picking up her fork and holding it out for her.  "Don't you be wastin' dat good food my nice neighbor went and cooked for us."

Amused, she took her fork from him.  "And what happened to the boy whose mamma taught English lit?"

With a smirk, he answered, "Well, Mamma couldn't be everywhere, now, could she?"

"I sense a story in there somewhere," she said, before absently taking another bite from her plate.

"Oh, there is, and one day I might tell it to you.  But right now, we're having a pleasant conversation over a delicious meal.  We can worry about picking apart each others' brains some other time."

She had to raise her hand to her mouth to keep from spitting her food.  "Well, that was a lovely picture to put in my head while I'm eating."

He laughed, placed her cup in her hand, and said, "Just wash it down.  I promise, we can finish eating without another inappropriate word from me."

So they did.  And it was the most comfortable silence she had had with another person in a long, long time.