A Work in Progress

by Nancy Shew Bolton

  * * *

  The thud of the door shutting made her spin around. Good. She could think straight now. She stared at the chair he’d just vacated and a twinge of longing tried to bloom. No. No more of that. She shouldn’t have let things go so far.

  She would’ve let them go farther if he hadn’t been the one to stop.

  The thought evaporated her anger, and she flopped onto a chair. He showed restraint. And kindness, tenderness. But if he thought she still loved Kevin, why would he kiss her like that in the first place, or bother to come and ask about her feelings? Did he figure she’d be safe to be around if her love belonged to someone else? They could have fun with no possibility of lasting entanglements. But if all he was after were some make-out sessions or more, why was he the one to put on the brakes?

  Julie dropped her head into her hands and couldn’t stop the flood of memory, or the longing it spurred. Remembering his kisses made it hard to breathe. Forget about taming her heart. At this point, she’d just like to understand it. Perhaps then she’d get back her control.

  She raised her head and stared at the vegetables. Time to get to busy, start the stock, cut the beef and braise it for stew, peel and dice the vegetables. She needed some energy, so she turned on her music and tried to focus on her tasks, pushing back the constant stab of memories.

  Work went along for a time as she fell into the familiar rhythm of it. But more than once her hands would stop their tasks, and she’d fall into re-living those narcotic moments in his arms, until she’d realize with a jolt that she’d been staring, blind-eyed for lost minutes. Thank God he’d gone home. She needed to figure out some way to harden herself to him.

  Was she that starved for affection that the task seemed impossible? It wasn’t the onions she chopped making her eyes prick with impending tears. She set the knife down and let the waterworks loose. The thing she feared, wanted to deny, and escape from, had happened. She loved him. Horribly, mindlessly. Another long bleak struggle of heartbreak loomed ahead of her.

  She rose up and paced, stomach churning. How could she put herself in such a position? Had she become shallow as she got older, only interested in thrills? Mark didn’t take people seriously. Only cooking, and his own health. Well, his parent’s well-being, too, or he wouldn’t make all those healthy meals for them.

  Stopping at the window, she touched the chilly glass and stared at the streetlight. Maybe it was enough to date him, be with him, even though she realized the whole thing was doomed to fail. At least she’d experience something this time, for however long he stayed interested. How could she deny herself? After all, a person didn’t stop eating a chocolate because it was the last one in the box. The pleasure would end soon, but it was worth the enjoyment, wasn’t it?

  Julie groaned and parked back on the chair. It might be dangerous to spend much time with him. She lost control around him. Her emotions went haywire, her body betrayed her, and she didn’t even care. No. She had to keep her heart guarded. She’d done it before. And God wouldn’t want her to give in to her impulses and end up in a big mess.

  She bowed her head, closed her eyes and breathed in. She whispered, “God, You see how hard I try. You know I don’t want to go too far or derail myself with my emotions.” A painful sob ripped from her. “But I do love him. I don’t want to, but I do, even though he thinks so poorly of me,” She took a few slow breaths. “I guess I do the same to him. But even so, we’re attracted to each other. I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid to even try a relationship with him, but part of me wants it more than anything, even if it wouldn’t work. I need Your help.”

  * * *

  He might as well turn off the show. He hadn’t paid attention to any of it anyway. All he kept visualizing was her, the expression on her face before that first, incredible kiss. Her response to him signaled total acceptance, no reservations at all. But even so, she still thought he was shallow, even after he’d told her why his dating experiences always went wrong.

  Running his hands into his hair, he scrubbed his fingers along his scalp. Hopefully the contact would clear his brain. Why did she misunderstand him? Instead of thinking of the girls he dated as being superficial, she was convinced that he was. He dropped his hands and stared at them. And just because he made jokes at work, and kept things jovial, somehow that meant he was someone who didn’t take things seriously.

  Okay, he did misjudge her about the restaurant leftovers and containers, and he didn’t share her enthusiasm about picking through trash bags, but he didn’t disdain her, even when he tried to. He’d found it hard to believe she’d do anything wrong. But it appeared to him that she had no trouble believing incorrect things about him.

  The noise of a raucous commercial annoyed him, and he flicked off the television. He stood and brought his uneaten plate of food to the refrigerator. Circular pacing around his apartment failed to relieve his stress. He kept hearing that horrible tone of voice she used when she described how she viewed him.

  How could she kiss him like that if she held such a low opinion of him? She’d acted like she valued him, wanted to be as close to him as she could. But when she knew he’d leave, she said nothing to stop him. Frustration balled his fists while he continued to pace.

  If working around her was hard before, now it would be a nightmare. How had she managed to get under his skin like that? The way it affected him to hold her. Like flying to the moon and coming home, all at the same time. As though they belonged together. This went beyond infatuation. Despite all his previous misjudgments about her, the fascination only grew.

  He flopped backward onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, seeing her face in his mind’s eye. Trapped. That’s what he was. He knew it. No fancy maneuvering or emotional tap-dancing would lead him out of this. He was stuck with the unvarnished truth.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “Okay. So I love her. Now what?”

  Moments passed while his future became clear. He’d entered Julie’s former world. In love with someone who didn’t love him back. He groaned and turned on his side. Judging from her physical response to him, she might be willing to date him for a while. At least he could have some time with her.

  No. Not good enough anymore. He wanted her to love him. If they dated, the longing for her would only grow stronger, and when she finally broke it off, it would be a million times worse. Why sign up for that?

  God help me.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Somehow, all week she mustered the strength to work alongside him, polite, distant, and professional. She called out her times for the side dishes, matched her rhythms to Mark and Chris, and kept her heart firmly in line. It drained her, but she remained as focused as a ship captain navigating a rocky coast. He appeared to do the same. Any time their gazes met, his remained blank and businesslike, as hers must have been.

  Mickey and Rick stopped in a few times that week to talk to her, and Mark never once stayed late to walk her home. Though she’d told him not to, part of her wished he would. She quenched those thoughts the instant they surfaced. Once she thought she spotted him in the alley, and forced away a sudden thrill, but it turned out to be a new gleaner instead.

  She trained her attention on the good news of the rented storefront. Mr. Barlow agreed to take out a year lease on the property, as an early graduation present to Mickey. “To see what would come of all this,” was how Mr. Barlow put it.

  As soon as some kind of kitchen facilities could be installed, Julie could go to the storefront to do her nightly cooking. And she’d have so much more to work with, once they could bring all the gleaned food to one spot. And plenty of extra hands to process everything, too.

  She allowed her mind to fill with ideas and plans, and relegated Mark to a shadowy corner of her heart where he couldn’t dominate her thoughts. She’d been stupid to ever open that door.

  On Saturday night, Mickey stopped in near the end of her shift. “Hey, Julie. Thought I’d walk you home and see what you do every night before y
ou come to the bakery. Maybe I can help.”

  The thought of him there with her alone sparked some discomfort. She didn’t want more than friendship, so it would be wrong to encourage him. But maybe if she let herself warm to him, the ache for Mark might go away faster. It would have to sooner or later, anyway. His demeanor toward her signaled that he didn’t want a relationship any more than she did.

  She cast a quick glance at Mark’s back as he washed pans at the sink. She needed to move on, get past this obsession with him. But not with a substitution. She continued cleaning her station and made her voice light. “I’ve got a pretty fast routine down for when I first get home. How about if you wait until we can do the work at the storefront? Then we can all pitch in and get a lot done together.”

  His expression dimmed, but he recovered quickly and nodded, then gave her a dazzling smile. “Okay. I’m sure looking forward to getting the place set up. We’ll get to see more of you then.”

  His meaning wasn’t lost on her. He patted her shoulder. “Catch you later.”

  “Yep.” She caught Mark staring after him, before turning back to his tasks. What was he thinking? Maybe he was glad Mickey showed interest in her. A fellow dumpster diver, after all. She comforted herself with the knowledge that Mark thought what she did was disgusting. So be it.

  Rick stopped by while she was in the cooler, and she heard Mark direct him to her. Rick stood near her. “Hey, guess what? I couldn’t wait until you got to the bakery to tell you. We got some donated freezers, and we’ve set them up already. Now we can start freezing all the good stuff we used to leave behind before.”

  His voice sounded as excited as a kid on Christmas. She grinned at him, and he laughed in response. “Oh, also a few church folks stopped in and brought boxes of baggies and one guy gave us a machine that sucks the air out of the bags so the food won’t get freezer burn.”

  “Wow. What great news.”

  Rick surprised her by grabbing her in an exuberant hug. Mark moved past the cooler doorway and averted his eyes after he glimpsed them. A sudden memory of the bliss of Mark’s embrace hit her with strong yearning.

  No. Don’t think about him.

  Rick released her and said, “Well, gotta go. I won’t be at the bakery. I’ve got a lot to do at the storefront.” He strode to the doorway and turned back. “Hey, start thinking of a name for the storefront, okay? I told everyone I’d design a sign once we decide on a good one.”

  “Will do.”

  She smiled while she continued bagging up leftovers and bones. A low rumble of conversation issued from somewhere in the restaurant, followed by the sound of the outside door closing. When she locked up, she spotted Mark’s car leaving. He had someone in the passenger seat. Dating again, already? A twinge of sharp pain made her breath catch.

  Well, better that it happened now than to see him with someone after they’d dated and broken up. A few bitter tears rolled out. The wind gusted, turning them cold on her cheeks. She blinked and took a hard swallow. Time to go home and get something accomplished.

  * * *

  A week later, Mark sat in his car after his shift, letting it warm up, and marveled that he’d made it through another seven days without caving in and trying to have contact with Julie outside work. Mickey and Rick both seemed interested in her. It twisted inside and turned his gut sour, but he realized he had an honest wish to see her happy with someone she wanted to be with. He could only pray that he didn’t suffer over her as long as she had over Kevin. One day at a time.

  His phone vibrated and sounded the Star Wars theme. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Rick said. “The stove’s here. Looks pretty good for a used one. Lots of burners and big double ovens.”

  “I used to work for the guy, so I knew it was a good one. I’ll be right over.”

  “I really appreciate you getting it. I don’t understand why you don’t want anyone to know, though.”

  “I’m a weird guy, Rick.”

  Rick’s laugh made him grin. “If you say so.”

  “See you in a few.”

  “Okay.”

  While he drove to the storefront, plans for setting up a serviceable kitchen dominated his thoughts. The first time he visited and set eyes on the variety and amount of good usable food that would otherwise have been thrown away, it astounded him. He’d never stopped to think that each grocery store and restaurant, not to mention every fast-food place and little store, threw out edibles every day.

  Rick had opened his eyes to all the good things the group wanted to accomplish, and now it shamed him how judgmental he’d been. Julie was right to call him a snob. But, perhaps his efforts would make up for it, even though Julie didn’t know what he’d done. She’d probably think he did it to get her to date him. With her soft heart, she might be tempted to allow it.

  Nope. No pity dates for him, so he swore everyone to secrecy and only showed up when he knew she’d be at home cooking. He parked and grabbed a box off the front seat. Inside the building, a swarm of activity greeted his eyes. He set the box down on the table by the stove and gave it a once-over. “I cooked many a meal on this metal beast.”

  Rick chuckled and eyed the stovetop, then the box. “Hey, what’s in there?”

  Mark pulled out a cookbook. “You said some of the vegetables and other ingredients weren’t familiar to everyone, so I brought some of my cookbooks for you to borrow. They’ll help in identifying and using unknown stuff.”

  “Good thinking.” Rick brought the box to a set of shelves, and stacked them upright. “I hope once we get the cooking area up and running, maybe you could stop in now and then and give us some pointers.”

  “I’d be glad to. What do you say we move this stove closer to the wall? It’s near the outlet and gas line, and it’ll heat up the bricks behind it. That’ll save you a little on winter heating costs.”

  “Okay.”

  Rick grabbed one end, and Mark the opposite one. A few others stopped cleaning and moving shelves and lent a hand positioning the bulky stove.

  Mark glanced around. “Anything else I can help with? I’ve got some time.”

  “Yeah. Maybe you could organize some of the bottled and canned stuff into groups. You know more about what foods go together than I do. I just know how to eat.”

  Mark laughed and sorted for the next hour, filling the shelves then standing back to admire the room. Surprising, how it gratified something inside to be part of this project. It fulfilled him and excited his mind with ideas.

  Guess I’m an official dumpster diver now. He grinned. He’d try to remember to say food gleaner. He thought dumpster diver sounded amusing, but he knew Julie didn’t. Not at all.

  Rick stood beside him. “Good job, chef. Say, are you any good at naming things? We’re trying to think of one for this place.”

  “I don’t know, really.” He scanned the room. “I guess it depends on what you want people to think of when they hear the name. Are you sure yet how it’s all going to be organized?”

  “No. It’s a work in progress.”

  Mark grinned. “How about that then?”

  “What?”

  “A Work in Progress. Kind of fits in with what most people are, too.”

  Rick laughed and chucked Mark’s shoulder. “Good point. I’ll broach it to everyone. But don’t worry. I won’t mention your name.”

  “Thanks, Rick. Well, I gotta go.”

  “Thank you, Mark.”

  He turned the radio up on the way home, and found a song to sing with. The stress and sadness over the Julie situation lifted for a time while he took pleasure in thinking of other ways he could help the fledgling storefront. In addition to time and advice, he could donate some extra pans from home, as well as a big crockpot he hardly used. Mom and Dad had surplus kitchen items, too. Next time he brought their food over, he’d see what they’d part with. Like Dad always said, every little bit helps.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “What do you think?” Rick spread h
is hands and grinned at Julie.

  She gazed around, delight filling her, relieving the stresses of the past weeks. “I think it’s amazing. You’ve gotten so much done.”

  “All the permits are in place, the sinks will be hooked up tomorrow, and then we’ll be all set to start processing food right here.”

  Mickey clutched her and twirled her around. She laughed, partly with glee, and part in nerves at his unexpected action. He put her down and beamed at her. “Now you can come here to cook, and there will be at least one volunteer with you the whole time. I didn’t want you alone at night, even if the place is locked.”

  His thoughtful, protective impulses flattered her, but the increasing softness when he looked at her caused twinges of discomfort. Too bad she didn’t return his interest. Or Rick’s. She wasn’t that much older than them. Maybe once she moved past longing for Mark, one of them would begin to attract her.

  She smiled at Mickey, and welcomed Rick’s request for his help in assembling a shelving unit. She’d prefer his focus to be off her, and on the storefront’s needs instead. A line of cookbooks caught her eye and she strolled over to them. Vegetables A-Z, Using Fresh Herbs, Soups and Stews. She stopped reading titles and picked the biggest one up to check out the recipes.

  The first words of the inscription on the flyleaf spiked her heart rate, warming her cheeks. Dearest Mark. Confusion swirled while she continued to read. Hope this helps you continue your learning. Wish we could help more, but you’re a hard worker, and we know you’ll follow your dreams and do your best. You’re such a blessing. All our love, Mom and Dad.

  Underneath in bold printing were the words Property of Mark Hannigan. Julie’s heart thudded as she opened each cookbook, all with his name inside, and many of them inscribed with loving praise from his parents. Warmth flooded her at their sweet words. Her knees wobbled as she replaced the last book and took some deep breaths.