by Ellerbe, Lyn
Yes, thank you for asking. You were right to call me foolish. I will try to do better and not bother you so much.
Since he had been staring at his computer screen, willing her to respond, he received her response as she sent it. He groaned, realizing the damage he had done, not only physically, but also emotionally.
The ‘Fool’ comment was directed at me. I should never have let my frustration put you in such a position. I am sorry. ~Marcus
I’m sorry I am so much trouble ~Aurora.
If you only knew, Marcus wanted to write. Instead, he just sent a quick, Goodnight, Aurora.
Goodnight, Marcus.
Bread of Strife
Kneading the dough with a bandaged finger was not an easy task. At least she could be grateful that Marcus was avoiding her today. The only time she recalled seeing him look at her was when she and John accidently created a cloud of flour that engulfed the two of them. Jess had permission to miss this class due to work and her standing in the culinary department, so Aurora had joined John and Calvin’s group. Her tan, lightly freckled skin seemed magically and immediately to attract the flour. John spent several minutes wiping it from her eyes, cheeks, and forehead. Of course, the three of them found the whole event hilarious. If his dark looks thrown their way were any indication, Marcus did not appear to find it funny in the least. She shrugged his bad mood off. Someone must have hacked his computer she thought. This man is nothing like the person I talk to each night.
The yeast breads were set aside to rise and the class turned to the tasks of quick breads. Chef had invited them to bring in a favorite recipe if they had one, and Aurora had brought two. The pantry was well stocked, so Chef was sure all the possible ingredients would be available. Rori let Calvin and John pick which one to make and they chose pumpkin bread.
“Reminds me of the holidays,” John said, “and since I live in Hawaii, this weather is perfect Christmas weather.” He and Calvin had also narrowed down their choices for their presentation to the Philippines or Japan, but were secretly hoping Chef would let them actually do Hawaiian food instead. They had made the case that the food of the islands was indeed distinct enough from ‘normal’ American food, so Marcus agreed that he could rightly classify it as a separate world region.
Within an hour, the smells in the classroom did indeed invoke memories of the holidays. Aurora always wondered why Americans picked the most hectic time of the year to add to their chores baking which was so labor intensive. She knew it was the sense of family that shared meals and shared treats brought. She missed her family and could hardly wait until next weekend. Her parents and sister were coming in on Saturday morning for the art show that evening and graduation on Sunday afternoon.
She was doubly excited to see her sister, who had just finished her senior year at the state university in their hometown. Gwen was a history major and they had tickets for a three week European trip, leaving just a little less than a month after graduation. The trip was part of the reason Rori was so excited about this class. Before she had been just planning to haunt the art history sites and spend hours in museums. Now at least she felt a little more knowledgeable about the local cuisines.
The rest of class was uneventful, for once.
“I think it’s really you that bugs Chef Charming,” Rori teased Jess later that night. “With you not there, he completely ignored me today. I must have finally done something right.” She did not realize how disappointed she sounded.
“You know my thoughts on the matter, girlie,” Jess reminded her. She had told Rori that she thought Chef Marcus acted that way because he was actually attracted to her. Rori had found the idea almost as ludicrous as Pastor Sam’s suggestion that she was attracted to Marcus. Rori let Jess know she found her hypothesis hilarious and told her roommate so in no uncertain words.
“Methinks the girl doth protest too much,” Jess laughed.
“Whatever,” Rori rolled her eyes and tossed a pillow at her roommate, sounding more like a teenager than the almost twenty-three year old she was.
She headed back to the studio after lunch and immersed herself in her paintings. She did not remember to break for dinner until almost nine o’clock when her stomach growled in protest.
The only other student in the studio called out, “Wow, Rori, do you have a lion in your cabinet or are you just that hungry?”
“Lion,” she quipped back. “But he’s hungry so I’m going to run out for a burger, do you want one?”
“No, I’m good,” the senior art student replied, as she was cleaning up her paintbrushes. “I’m done for the evening. You promise you’ll call security to follow you home if you stay much later, right?”
“Will do!” Rori said as she grabbed her wallet and headed for the exit. The night sky was clear and beautiful. Wishing she could just stretch out on the ground and drink in the beauty, Rori paused. Her stomach growled again and she laughed to herself. It would be my luck anyway that if I did, Chef Charming would probably choose that very moment to walk out the door.
The object of her ponderings was in fact watching her from his office window as she returned with her dinner. Marcus was working late in his office on the very idea he had brought up to Dr. Smith and was preparing a handout for the students. She’s out much too late for my comfort he thought. The art department needs to have better security if these young ladies are coming and going from the building at all hours of the night.
His computer was already on and so switching to his email account took no thought.
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Dear Aurora: I saw you leave the studio late this evening. I can’t help but be concerned for the safety of the art students at such late hours. I must insist that you take better precautions. ~Marcus
Rori did not get his message until much, much later. He would be appalled if he knew how late I actually stayed tonight, she thought. She had forgotten that he would see the time stamp on her email when he read it in the morning.
Already not happy with Rori when he saw the time, her message really infuriated him.
Dear Lord (or is it Laird?) Marcus: (He still reminded her of a Scottish Highland lord, and she thought Officer Marcus too formal)
It will please you to know that I arrived at my dorm safe and sound, as I do every time I stay late at the studio. Please be assured I am old enough to not need parental supervision. Despite how I may act in your eyes, I am in fact an adult. ~ Delinquent Sinclair
PS Security follows me home. She added a smiley face, hoping childishly that it irritated Marcus
‘Lord Marcus’?! He was furious. Her tone was that of a two year old. That’s it. I’m done. It will serve her right if she gets kidnapped by some lunatic one evening, Marcus’s thoughts were not conducive for a worshipful Sunday morning service, but he had promised Jake that he would meet him for the nine o’clock morning service.
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Sporting a fresh Superhero bandage on her damaged finger, Rori gathered her children’s Bible study lesson and headed to church. Jess was waiting patiently by her car.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Rori called. “I didn’t realize what a pain this finger would still be after two days,” she explained her tardiness. “Even though I’m left-handed, there’s a lot I never realized I used my right hand for!”
“Did you send Chef MacRae another email this morning?” Jess questioned her as they drove the short distance to church. Normally they would walk, but the weather had decided to turn unseasonably warm. Plus, it would save Rori time getting back into the studio this afternoon.
“I know you thought your latest contribution to the literary field running between you two was hilarious; I can assure you there is a good possibility he will not find it funny at all.”
Jess had caught Rori replying to one of Chef’s emails a couple days earlier and demanded all the details, as well as the right to see any future correspondence.
Rori had been reluctant when her roommate
quite pointedly asked, “What are you trying to hide?” She felt obligated and strangely comforted by the accountability. Rori knew that her sense of humor and quirky view of life did not always translate well into other people’s language. Especially tall, handsome Scottish ones.
“Yes, I did, right before we left,” Rori assured her. “He probably won’t get it until after church.” Of course, what she didn’t tell Jessica was that her curt email simply said, ‘Sorry,’ in response to the childish one she had sent earlier. No telling how he’ll take that one, Rori thought.
Sitting on the opposite side of the sanctuary, Rori was unaware that Marcus had come to church with the Hamptons. He, on the other hand, had been diligently watching the doorway for her arrival. Now that he knew she was safely as far away from him as possible, he was relieved. At least he told himself he was relieved, but he didn’t remember relief ever feeling like desolation before.
As the song portion of worship ended, the pastor dismissed the children for their separate Bible study time. Rori made her way across the front of the church gathering a following of four and five-years-olds like a pied piper. As the pastor announced a time of greeting for the adults, Rori and her entourage headed down an aisle just as Marcus stepped into it. He had moved aside to allow Zoe to join the throng. Turning to rein in one of the excited youngsters, Rori accidently plowed into Marcus.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she spoke to the person she had bumped into, bending down to pick up her craft and lesson plans that had dropped in the process. “I was trying to keep Jimmy from running, and wasn’t watching where I was going.”
A familiar hand reached down and pulled her to her feet. Marcus then bent and scooped up her supplies and handed them to her quickly. As he did, he saw her brightly colored bandage and froze. It seemed to mock him and his treatment of her and brought to mind the derisive email he read this morning. An email he remembered had been sent at two in the morning.
He retreated once again behind the curtain of aloofness that had become his only defense around this young creature.
“Your bounty, Princess,” he said, his tone cold, aloof, and slightly sarcastic.
He was mocking her! At church!
“Thank you, Chef,” she bowed, adding an ironic ‘Charming’ to the end of his name in her mind.
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One last try, he promised himself. Hoping she was at her computer so she would respond right away, he quickly typed a message.
Dear Aurora: I hope you made it to your children’s class without any further mishaps. I apologize for my part in the catastrophe. I couldn’t help but notice the bandage on your finger. Is it healing well?
Confusion ruled her thoughts. She was sure she had not mistaken his tone of voice when he helped her to her feet. Well, if he wants to play make believe, I’ll join right in. She thought.
Dear Marcus: Yes, thank you. I apologize for almost plowing you down.
He smiled at her quick response and opened up the instant conversation menu on the email program.
I also noted the unusual choice of superhero bandage. Why the famous green guy? ~Marcus
Yes, the green guy. We are strangely similar creatures. Great bursts of emotion turn us into other worldly beings. That’s why people avoid making him angry. ~Aurora.
And you? ~Marcus
Yes, I would avoid making him angry too. I’ve got to go now. ~Aurora.
Jake’s words, “She has a wicked sense of humor,” strangely came to mind. I am in way over my head, Marcus thought. But I’m enjoying every minute of it.
My Kingdom for a Croissant
By Monday, panic was setting in for Rori. She had completed all her major paintings Sunday evening. Normally she resisted working on Sundays, but the cooking class had cut into time she would normally have spent in the studio. Why did I ever think that three-hour break each evening was going to be worth it?
Although the paintings were complete, she had framing, descriptions, and printmaking preparations to do for the ones that would be available for sale. Thankfully, the school’s art department was one of the best facilities in the state and had the equipment to scan her pieces, even the oversized ones, in order to make prints in the future. Those paintings that she didn't scan could be priced as one-of-a- kind originals. There were six of her twenty works like that, although she was not confident in their selling. She had watched the other four artists that were participating and their work was so different from her abstract nature pieces that she was not confident in hers.
Jessica, John, and Calvin all showed up at the studio to make sure she was coming. They waited patiently for her to change out of her overalls and into the same peasant skirt she had worn on the first day of class, this time matched with a peach t-shirt with one of her favorite art sayings: Art is Man's nature. Nature is God's art. ~James Bailey.
They were running down the hallway, the trio tugging Rori along just as Marcus stepped out to check on the racket. They all skidded to a stop and sheepishly made their way into class. How does he manage to make me feel like a child? He needs to loosen up! Her thoughts were a mixture of guilt and stubbornness.
As they entered the room through the door Marcus held open, she remembered that they were doing pastries tonight.
“Oh, this was the night I was most looking forward to!” she excitedly exclaimed.
“Glad I could be of service,” Marcus’s deep voice resounded in her ear. She jumped. She hadn’t realized he was right behind her. He watched in fascination as her lightly tanned face colored with embarrassment. They stared at each other until she finally looked away. Score one for Chef Charming, she thought as she moved to join Jessica.
“Tonight, class, we will be learning about pastries.” The chef turned his attention to the rest of his class. Unable to resist a dig, he added, “And I have it on very good authority that there are some of you who were greatly looking forward to this particular topic.”
Rori groaned, but quietly enough that only Jess heard. Of course, her faithful roommate thought his comment was extremely humorous.
Class began with a boring basic vocabulary lesson, Jessica making notes in the margins of the handout Chef had provided as Rori just doodled on hers.
“Finally,” she breathed to her roommate as the chef called them to the demonstration table. “I’m starving. I didn’t get dinner.”
“Again?” Jess chided her quietly. “You’re going to get sick before your show if you don’t take better care of yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rori said, “If he’d hurry up and make me some dinner!” The two friends laughed at her mockingly demanding tone.
Of course, their laughter aroused a raised eyebrow from Chef. How does he do that? Rori thought, watching the scornful brow arch over his eye. Amazing. She grinned mischievously at him.
“We will start with croissants this evening,” Chef continued. “These take several steps with overnight chilling time in-between. I started several batches earlier today so you will be able to observe each one. You will all have a chance to roll out the dough so you can get a feel for the process.” The class divided into three groups and proceeded to follow the easy instructions. The pastries were not difficult to make, just time-consuming.
Tonight Jessica and Rori joined forces with the older couple and two young moms from the community. It was a delightful evening. After the croissants, Chef demonstrated several other techniques and the groups each chose a different delicious pastry to attempt.
As the nine o’clock hour approached, Marcus pulled out the coffee urn and the room filled with the smell of freshly brewing delightfulness. Rori was bordering on lightheadedness, due to skipping dinner and only eating a package of crackers for lunch.
“Sit down, young lady,” Mr. Watkins, the elderly gentleman in their group insisted, as he saw her wobble slightly.
“I’m sorry,” she confessed. “I forgot to eat since breakfast and I think I’m a little woozy.”
Che
f Marcus noticed the slight commotion and came over to the group that he had successfully avoided up until now. “Anything I can help with, Mr. Watkins?” Chef asked.
He's so nice to everyone else, Rori thought when she heard his kind tone.
“This young lady just needs to eat something, Chef,” the grandfather answered, as his wife was handing Rori a wet towel. “She says she hasn’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Is this true Miss Sinclair?” Chef turned to his emotional nemesis.
“Yes, but I’ll be okay as soon as our delicious cream puffs come out of the oven,” she waved a hand towards their oven and covered her distress with quick words. “Should be any second now!” Go away, please, she wanted to add.
Seemingly ignoring her, Marcus marched to another group’s table and snatched one of their already plated masterpieces, returned and pushed it at her.
“Eat. Now.” Marcus commanded. Rori obeyed, wanting to mimic his tone with ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane.’ She knew she was in bad shape when her giddiness reverted to such childish humor.
She obediently stuffed the macaroon in her mouth, smiling around the delicious mouthful. “There,” she said, “I’m good.”
“Stay put until you are sure you are steady on your feet,” Marcus insisted. “I don’t want to have to rescue a fainting princess tonight.”
Rori and Marcus did not see sly smiles exchanged between the Watkins, the young moms, and Jessica. Almost everyone in the class was aware of the undercurrents going on between the graduate art student and the handsome young chef. It had become quite the topic of conversation before and after class.
“It is quite obvious that neither of the interested parties knows the other is interested,” Mr. Watkins commented.
That the rest of the class suspected what she did was news to Jessica.
“I promise you all this, I will tell them each to wake up as soon as the course is over,” she assured them, out of Rori’s earshot. “I think Chef MacRae thinks that the school has some regulation he would be violating if he showed any interest in a student. But she’s a graduate student which makes her fair game, so to speak.”