Voice Of A Troubled Angel

Chapter Seventeen: Food Fight - Turkey Style

   "Erik, it's Thanksgiving."

  "I've never practiced Thanksgiving... Did you want to? Anything for you."

  "Aw, that's so sweet. Please, let's have Thanksgiving together?"

   "Alright, I'm happy to have it  with you, my love. But what is the purpose of eating until one explodes and gathering around a table? Why not the fireplace?"

                                            🌹

   Erik was being extremely difficult. All he wanted to do was help... except Christiana could not let him see the state of his kitchen right now. She had just put the turkey, potatoes, cornbread, and pie in the oven, and she had yet to start on cleaning up. Everything was a mess. He had been unknowingly distracting her every time he called from around the corner to ask if he could help - about half an hour ago he had actually started begging - and this was the product. His countertops were covered in flour, as was much of the floor, the sink was full if dirty dishes and cooking utensils. Butter smeered the refridgerator, and bread crumbs were cluttered all around. Everything smelled like turkey and the bird's innards sat in a bag on the counter, neck, heart, and all.

   "Christiana, I'm lonely, please come sit with me!" He called out again.

   "I need to clean!" She shouted back.

  "Are you going to make another mess when everything is out of the oven?"

  "Yes."

  "Then clean everything up at once!" Erik, of course, could not imagine that a mess any bigger than a few crumbs of something could be made while cooking. Who would be capable of creating a culinary catastrophe? Certainly not his tidy Christiana. If he only knew.

   "I can't  -"

   "Christiana, I am this close to marching in there and dragging you out!"

   "Coming!" She trilled, quickly untying her apron and running out the door.

   She nearly ran past him, and he caught her in his arms to stop her.

  "Hello," she said, smiling at him.

   "Hi," Erik replied. Before she could say another word she was over his shoulder.

   "Hey! Put me down! I can walk."

   "Oh no. You just spent the majority of the day in that kitchen. You need rest. Besides, I like carrying you."

   Thank goodness he couldn't see her face; the grin spread across it, caused by his spoken affection was rather goofy.

   He took her into the library and  picked out a book - without setting her down. Finally, he sat down on the sofa, positioning her partially on his lap. Christiana was surprised by this show of affection, since he usually did not allow her to get quite so close to him. He seemed funny about her nearness.

    She cuddled closer to him, savoring his warmth as always, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They had a good two hours before she had to take the pie out.

    Erik began reading Under the Greenwood Tree, by Thomas Harding.

   Their time together passed quickly, and Christiana decided to close her eyes for a few minutes... after all, Erik's bony shoulder was comfortable.

   But after five minutes, Erik waa gently rocking her awake. "It's been five hours, dear."

   Christiana laughed, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She thought for a moment he had said five hours.

  "It's six o'clock."

   Holy burnt turkeys.

   Screaming like a possessed banshee, Christiana leapt up, and somehow managed to bang her leg on the glass coffee table and fall backwards onto Erik. Keyword on.

   "Ow," he muttered as the back of her arm wacked his face.

   "Sorry, I -"

   But Christiana couldn't finish her apology. His face was an inch from hers, and his captivating eyes, well, captivated her.

   "Um." She said.

   "Um," he agreed, using the word for the third time in his entire life.

   Hoping he'd kiss her, Christiana could not look away. Then the smoke alarm started blaring.

   "Turkey!" She shrieked, jumping up again, and hitting her leg again on the coffee table. Luckily this time, however, she stayed on her feet, to Erik's dismay.

   They both raced into the kitchen, gasping when they saw smoke coming from the oven.

   Christiana threw open the door and began tossing black food onto the counter. Everything was smoking, and Erik eas using some dishtowels to try to blow ut from the room or at least thin it out.

  By the time that was done, the original mess in the kitchen was spilled milk next to the current thousand gallons of soot littering everything. Christiana had been staring at her burnt dinner for several minutes, mouth open, eyes wide. She barely blinked.

   Erik started laughing. Erik. Started. Laughing.

   Christiana now stared at him, incredulous.

   "What?" He said. "It's kind if funny. Something that would happen to you. It's comical."

   Christiana, with an unchanged expression, dug her hand into what was left of her turkey's behind and threw stuffing limply at her boyfriend. It landed on his shirt. He looked down at it as incredulous as she had at him and her turkey. Then he took a handful of burnt mashed potatoes and returned her favor.

   His hand, however was steady and the potato found it's mark in her hair.

   The battle was waged. "It's not funny!" She yelled, taking as much stuffing as she could in her arms, along with some gray pumpkin pie, diving behind yhe counter.

   "Yes it is!" Erik shouted back, attempting to dodge her attack.

   They threw food back and forth, along with witty comebacks until the only way you could tell that Erik's kitchen was a kitchen, was from the food.  Which covered the walls. And floor. And cabinets.

  The two of them sank down on thr messy floor, breathless with laughter. Erik pulled Christiana into a hug, and she suddenly stiffened, smile gone.

   "Oh, Erik! What about Thanksgiving? I so wanted you to have a nice holiday!"

  Erik chuckled. "My Chris, this was great. I'll always remember it... and it's not over." He pulled her to her feet.

  "What?" Did the burnt food do something to his brain?

    "It's only seven now. We should be ready by eight.... Come on! Go clean up and get changed. Something elegant." He began pushing her towards the stairs. "I'll make a reservation at a restaurant - I know a particularly charming, romantic one twenty miles away. Le Canard Blanc."

     "The White Duck? Sounds fancy."

   "It is. It will be a lot of fun, now go on darling."

   "But what about the kitchen?"

   Erik waved the question away. "Tomorrow I'll hire a cleaning service, but hurry. I need to call them and we both need to get dressed!"

    Oh how Christiana loved this man.

A/N

   That was just a bit of fluff before... well, let's just say it will not all be lollipops, sunshine, and candy canes. We still have Ray and Mrs. Dame after all.

   Chiao!

   Yes, I did not spell that right. I think?