Elodie and Heloise

by Cecilee Linke

  “So you’re.... still living at home then?”

  “Yeah. At least until I can get a job and get my own place. I’m only twenty so there’s time.”

  “Well since you have time, if you find yourself bored some evening, I’d love to meet you for a movie or something. I mean, as long as you’re not.... you know.... already seeing someone.....” Elodie sat a little more forward on the bench, crossing her legs and propping her head up with her left hand. She knew she was being forward by launching into asking about getting together with him sometime, but she didn’t mind. If she didn’t ask, she wouldn’t get.

  Duncan chuckled and a shy, nervous look came over his face. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend. I mean, I dated a little of course, but right now, I don’t have anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.”

  It was all Elodie could do to not tremble in happiness. He was single. Perfect! Maybe, just maybe..... “Well, in a roundabout way, I guess I was..... I just don’t want to intrude on anything......”

  “Don’t worry. I’d really like to see you for a movie like you suggested. Definitely.” He smiled his sideways smile again, obviously happy at the idea of seeing Elodie again.

  Elodie and Duncan looked at each other for a few moments, a comfortable silence hanging between the two of them. It wasn’t that they were unsure of what to say, but rather it was a combination of Elodie’s old feelings for him that were being rekindled as well as Duncan giving her a once over. Elodie wondered if he remembered their childhood friendship as well as she did. From the wistful look on his face, she was sure that he did. Sprocket meanwhile was finished frolicking in the park and now sat patiently at his master’s feet, waiting for him to take him home or somewhere else.

  Now impatient, Sprocket barked loudly to get their attention. Duncan leaned down to give Sprocket a pat on the head. Sprocket then took off across the park again, making Elodie and Duncan laugh out loud as Sprocket ran around on the cold grass. First Sprocket ran under a bare tree at the corner of the park, then he went over to the playground area only fifty feet away.

  “So you mind if I sit here?” Duncan pointed to the open space next to Elodie on the bench.

  “Not at all,” Elodie responded. “You look like you need a rest anyway.”

  Duncan laughed. “Yeah Sprocket is.... very animated. So no pets at the DeGarmo house?”

  “Nope. One day maybe, but Mom is really allergic to cats and Papa doesn’t really like dogs. He says they’re too much work. Which I find surprising since he’s French and Mom always went on about how many dogs she saw while in France.”

  “Oh really? See I’ve never been to France but, well yeah dogs can be a lot of work. But I wouldn’t trade Sprocket for the world. He’s such a sweet little dog.” He sounded as if he wanted to say something else after that, but instead his voice trailed off and he looked off into the distance again, watching Sprocket tackle something invisible.

  “I love small animals though. So maybe someday.” She turned to face Duncan, her right arm lying across the top of the bench and her head tilted a little to the left, eyes completely focused on Duncan. She examined his face, from his intensely blue eyes to his slightly disheveled brown hair to the way he crinkled his nose a little.

  “So.... wow, what else is up with you then? I hope I didn’t get you at an awkward time or anything. Were you studying?” He gestured toward her backpack.

  “Oh yeah, that.” Elodie laughed and replied, “No, it’s just that I came here straight from school and.... wanted to get away for a while.” She didn’t want to mention anything about her writing at first, but since he was not one of her classmates that she had to keep up an appearance for, she figured it would be all right to mention it. “Actually, I wanted to work on some songwriting. I don’t really tell anyone else about it, but I’ve been playing guitar for a few years and I like to write songs in my spare time. It’s kind of my own little secret.”

  Duncan looked a little surprised. “Secret, eh? So what kind of songs do you write?”

  “Oh I don’t know what they’d be classified. Right now it’s just me and my guitar, so I guess you’d say folk or pop. Not like Taylor Swift because I’m definitely not country, but... I don’t know. For now I’m just me.”

  Duncan chuckled at Elodie’s reference. “I don’t listen to Taylor Swift but I get the reference. I’m much more of a Death Cab fan myself.”

  “Really? I would’ve never pictured you as being a fan of their music. They get to be so depressing. Most of the time I wish Ben Gibbard would finally get a girlfriend and be happy or something.”

  “Let me guess. You’re more of a pop person, aren’t you.”

  “Not really. I just like a bit of everything, but I want it to be upbeat, you know? Which I guess is weird for me to say because some of the music I’ve been writing lately has been.... kind of sad. At least some of it has.”

  “Oh,” Duncan responded. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He reached out and put his arm across the top of the bench, leaving just a few inches between his hand and Elodie’s.

  “Everything’s OK, really. It’s just....” She shook her head, not wanting to discuss anything about her love life, or lack thereof. “Anyway, enough about that.”

  “Well, I hope you continue writing, Elodie. I’d love to hear something sometime. If you don’t mind of course,” Duncan replied.

  “Oh they’re not ready yet. But.... yeah I’ll show you sometime.” She turned to look at Sprocket as he rolled over in the grass. She could feel Duncan’s eyes on her as he looked over at Elodie, her head resting on her hands as her long black hair flowed like a curtain around her down to her thighs as she leaned over. At that moment, Sprocket came running over like a shot, barking away impatiently at his master.

  Duncan reached down and put the dog back on his leash, then glanced at his watch. “Well I better get going. Sprocket’s getting a little impatient.” Duncan stood up slowly, leaving Elodie still sitting on the bench looking up at him.

  “All right then. I probably should too.” Elodie picked up her backpack and stood up about two feet from Duncan. “Listen, it was.... really good to see you. I’m glad we got to catch up.”

  “Yeah me too.” Duncan smiled as Sprocket barked impatiently again. “Say um... about seeing each other for a movie or something. Want to go see a movie next weekend? We could eat at Roma Pizzeria first and then walk over to the movie theater. I mean, I’m not sure about your schedule but.....” Sprocket yanked on his leash, jerking Duncan forward as he spoke. “Sprocket! Stop! Heel!”

  Sprocket immediately stopped and sat right in front of Duncan, peering up at him and Elodie with a pleading look in his eyes. “As I was saying, I don’t know what your schedule is but I’ve got classes during the week, so..... we could do something next weekend.”

  “Of course, yeah, let’s do something. I’d love to!”

  “Here, let me give you something. Do you have a pen?”

  “Um yeah sure.”

  Elodie fumbled through her bag for a pen and paper, her heart beating loudly in her ears. She finally got a piece of paper and pen and handed it to Duncan. He dropped the pen a few times from his shaking hands and they both laughed nervously each time it fell and Elodie bent down to pick it up. He scribbled his phone number on the paper as quickly as he could.

  “Here’s my phone number. Feel free to call or text me.” He folded up the paper and handed it to Elodie, who eagerly took it and placed it in her jeans pocket. She wasn’t afraid of him anymore; he’d spent so long talking to her, so she knew he was interested.

  “Will do,” she said with a smile. “Here, let me write down mine for you as well.” She tore out another piece of paper from her notebook and just as quickly wrote down her number for him. She put the paper in his eager hands just as Sprocket started tugging on his leash again, leading Duncan away from Elodie. “Call me any time! I’ll talk to you later then.”

  “Definitely! See you later!”

  Elodie
waved goodbye and knew it was time to head on home. As much as she wanted to stay there in the park reliving her conversation with Duncan, she knew her mom would be worried about her if she didn’t come home soon. That wouldn’t be the last time she’d see Duncan, of that she was sure.

  But before she left, she had something she needed to do. Elodie quickly got out her notebook and pen and opened it to a new page.

  Chapter Eleven

  The intoxicating smell of mushrooms and cream filled every nook and cranny of the kitchen. Suddenly Heloise and Francis were no longer in a little kitchen in southern Virginia. They were now transported to a French kitchen where butter and cream mixed with the flavors of leeks and lemon juice while some fresh veal cutlets kept warm in another pan.

  Francis was taking care of the mushroom garnish while Heloise stirred some flour in a large saucepan with some melted butter to make a roux. She had made a roux many times before, so this part was not hard at all. She could almost do one in her sleep. Except this time, she had to add the cooking liquid from the veal and take care to stir after each addition of liquid until the mixture was smooth to make a wonderfully rich sauce for the delicious veal cutlets that were the center of the dish.

  “This isn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be.”

  “Do not forget that you successfully made a coq au vin just a month ago with my help. And that is far more complicated than a blanquette de veau.” Francis started adding some chopped mushrooms to a small pan half-filled with boiling water, then he picked up sliced bits of butter and a small glass dish of lemon juice to add to the mixture.

  Heloise picked up a sixteen ounce box of brown stock and began slowly adding it to her roux while stirring it. The sauce at first did not seem to like having this new addition, instead trying to coagulate into little chunks of flour and butter, but as she stirred, it became more smooth. She continued adding more liquid and then put the stove back on the heat.

  “Now let me guess. I have to whisk it while it boils?”

  “Oui. It is très important that your sauce has no lumps. It must be as smooth as possible. Here.” Francis handed his daughter a whisk from one of the drawers next to the stove. “I am almost done with these mushrooms and the onions have been done for a while. Then when your sauce comes to a boil, you must let it simmer for a few minutes and it will be time to add the onions, mushrooms, cream and and veal. And then, voilà, it is all done.”

  “Good. I was worried with all of these recipe components that it wouldn’t all come together.” She brushed some stray hairs from her forehead and realized that her forehead was covered in sweat. No doubt it was because of the intense lights in the kitchen and the heat of the stove she’d been standing in front of for over an hour.

  “Ne t’en fais pas, ma fille. You have your father helping you. Nothing will go wrong. Besides, you are doing very well. You are a better cook than you think. It took me many tries to get a roux right before I could confidentially do it without burning the flour.”

  “Well, I try.”

  “You do not have to.”

  “Sounds like something that Kyle would tell me.”

  “And he is right, you know.”

  Elodie placed the whisk inside her half-flour, half-stock mixture and began whisking it quickly. Her hand started hurting, so she loosened her grip. She didn’t realize sometimes just how hard she gripped her kitchen utensils sometimes.

  The sauce began to bubble a little bit as she whisked and within a few minutes, it had come to the desired boil.

  “Now turn it down to low and let it simmer.”

  Heloise reached out and turned the knob down from high heat to low heat. The sauce spit up for about ten seconds before it calmed down. She threw the lid on the top and laughed.

  “Sorry, I just didn’t want it to spit all over me.”

  Francis chuckled. “It will not hurt you, ma fille.”

  The kitchen became silent for the first time in a while as Francis and Heloise waited around for the sauce to simmer. Francis drained the liquid from his cooked mushrooms and put the pan on the front left burner of the stove. All that was left to do was wait. Sometimes cooking these complicated French recipes, as tasty as they were when finished, required a lot of waiting around for all the components to be cooked or simmered. Cooking had certainly taught Heloise how to be more patient.

  “Now put the spoon in and look to see if it has coated the back of the spoon.” Francis handed a spoon to Heloise, who lifted the lid off the saucepan and stuck the spoon in. Sure enough, the sauce had thickened enough to coat the spoon. Now it was time to add all the other ingredients together and let it reheat gently without boiling.

  WIthin five minutes, they had made a complete and very delectable looking meal.

  “And that, ma fille, is how you make a blanquette de veau. Oh how I remember my French grandmother making this all the time when I was growing up. It was one of my favorite meals in the world.” Francis’ usually angular face took on a wistful look as if he was reliving some faraway childhood memories.

  “But I thought ratatouille was your favorite meal, Papa. You even said so yourself.”

  “Ah but that is a favorite meal during the summer when tomatoes, eggplants, and all those other ingredients are in season. This was my favorite winter meal. A warm recipe to warm your heart.”

  Heloise and Francis served their delicious meal for the rest of the family and as always, they got nothing but positive feedback.

  “Ah but Heloise made most of this. I just showed her how to do it and she followed me. Very well I might add.”

  Heloise usually blushed when such accomplishments were attributed to her, even if her father was telling the truth. He helped her only a little bit as they made dinner, mostly just standing off to the side watching her and chiming in when necessary. She didn’t like to have people making a huge fuss over her.

  “Heloise, have you ever thought of becoming a chef?” Elodie piped up as she stabbed at a forkful of veal and mushroom. “You’ve really become an accomplished cook for the last few months, and you seem so happy when you’re there in the kitchen making something.”

  That was probably the nicest thing that Heloise could remember her sister telling her in the last couple of years. She really had not given it a lot of thought, since it was something she only liked to do for fun.

  “No I really haven’t. Thank you, Elodie. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  For the rest of the meal, Heloise enjoyed her food in silence, reveling in the buttery and creamy taste of veal and onions in her mouth. It was all complex and yet so simple in how the ingredients came together. Elodie was right in how happy Heloise was in the kitchen. There was nothing she enjoyed more than creating something, losing herself in the process of bringing out the flavors of foods for others to enjoy.

  Maybe there really was something to all of this. Cooking was certainly something she had always liked to do. She considered it bonding time with her father. However, she had not considered that it could be a full-time job. Ever since she was a child, science and physics were what interested her the most and she had finished all of her college applications and sent them in for that desired major.

  Maybe she needed to reconsider it.....

  Homework. Done.

  Chores. Done. There goes the dishwasher right now.

  Elodie listened to the sound of her feet on the hardwood floors as she strolled over to the study room with her writing notebook under her arm. She placed her hand on the doorknob and opened the door, her eyes fixed on her beautiful guitar sitting in its usual corner, just waiting for Elodie’s evening practice time, while her mother tapped away on her computer.

  "Coming in to practice?" Shannon briefly looked up at her daughter as Elodie entered the study room. Shannon had taken to her computer after dinner and must've been writing for about a half hour before Elodie came in.

  Elodie simply nodded. "It's been a really interesting day to say the least."

&n
bsp; "How interesting?"

  "Remember Quentin Rice? The boy that I really liked back in October?"

  "How could I forget? You brooded about him for at least a month after he told you he liked someone else." Shannon pressed a button on her computer and then turned to face her daughter.

  "Well, he and his girlfriend were having a fight at the park today while I was there and I'm pretty sure they broke up. I heard her call him a cheater and then Veronica stalked off. If I were him, I would’ve cheated on her too." Elodie stood in front of her mother with her arms crossed, punctuating her last thought with a dismissive gesture

  "All right all right, Elodie.” Shannon disliked when her daughter spoke so negatively about other people. “Wasn’t Quentin the one that you said strung you along? Is it really any wonder then? Sometimes I really worry about you and your taste in members of the opposite sex. He’s not the first one to have done that to you.” She had that motherly look on her face like she was holding back from saying “I told you so,” her glasses balancing on the end of her nose as Shannon peered at her daughter.

  Elodie wanted to dismiss her mother’s statement, but it touched her more than she expected. She knew her mother was right about her taste in boys, but then again, it was expected of her as a popular girl. Popular, attractive people had to be with their own kind. And Quentin had fit the bill. He was too attractive to not be.

  "Maybe but I liked him anyway. Anyway, I had some ideas I wanted to write down and I just wanted to get away for a while." She was eager to change the subject from Quentin and her love life.

  Shannon was the only person in Elodie's life who knew about her songwriting hobby. After all, Shannon was a writer herself so she was more than happy to encourage any literary pursuits in her daughter. When Elodie felt that a song was ready to share, she would pull her mom into the room and share it with her and ask for her feedback. Her first three dozen songs, made of rudimentary chords and awkward melodies, did not inspire much of a reaction in her mother. In those cases, Shannon would offer as much constructive criticism as she could, most of it talking about what Elodie could improve upon.