Taste: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  Kara smiled and nodded.

  “That thing was indestructible and so damn manly. It was like the alpha male of lunch boxes. My dad even called it a lunch pail.” They both laughed.

  “What kind did you have?” Kara asked.

  “First and second grade, I had the equally manly Curious George lunch box.” He cleaned up the pasta scraps and left to get something from the walk-in refrigerator. “Then third and fourth grade,” he continued, returning with two covered bowls, “was Spider-Man. That one was awesome because the plastic handle was a web.” He set the bowls down. “I must have become super cool sometime around fifth grade because from then on out, it was a paper bag. It’s a shame.” He pulled out a pastry bag. “I kind of wish I had one now, except not the little plastic Thermos that came with it. One day of forgetting to rinse out the milk and those things were nasty.”

  Kara laughed. “How do you remember these things?”

  “I don’t know.” Logan twisted the end of a full pastry bag. “Lunch boxes—lunch for that matter—was a priority in my childhood. What kind of lunch box did you have?”

  “I don’t remember my early ones, but I do remember having a Hello Kitty lunch box at some point. It was retro and metal. Grady used to beat on it with his cereal spoon in the mornings when we were eating breakfast and I would get so mad at him.” Kara smiled and Logan stopped piping some kind of meat filling into his pasta disks and met her eyes. “Other than that, I think they were just patterns or different colors. I do remember having one with built-in ice packs. That was kind of different, but the thing weighed a ton.”

  Logan laughed.

  “Okay, since that one wasn’t so painful, let’s try favorite lunch sandwich?” Kara asked.

  “That’s easy.” Logan finished up and set the pastry bag aside. “Peanut butter and jelly—actually, Smucker’s strawberry jam. You?”

  “Bologna with Miracle Whip on white bread. Oh, and a Kraft single.”

  Logan stared.

  “What?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t see that coming, princess. I was thinking chicken salad with walnuts and grapes on a baguette.”

  “Very funny. I don’t like walnuts and I’ll have you know I had connections in the kitchen when I was growing up. Beatrice, our cook, loved me. She used to give Grady whatever our mother ordered for lunch, complete with carrot sticks. He threw his lunch out as soon as we got to school anyway and ate pizza pockets, but Beatrice set me up. There was a special part of the fridge and the cupboard where she would hide my lunch supplies. I even got Fritos for a while until my mother found one of the bags in the trash. Then it was back to fruit, but always bologna.”

  Logan smiled, wiping his hands and walking to the end of the counter. “She snuck you junk lunch?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do you still eat Fritos?” he asked.

  “I eat for a living now, so I don’t eat much in my free time anymore. Food is not as fun as it used to be.”

  “You eat my food.”

  “I do.” She held his gaze.

  “Is that some kind of compliment?”

  “Maybe?”

  “Huh, look at us getting all philosophical over lunch and lunch boxes.” Logan was now leaning on the counter in front of her.

  Kara stood up and closed her pad.

  “Are we done?” He moved toward her.

  “For now.” She stepped back.

  “No one’s here, princess. You’re looking at me like that again.”

  “You’re delusional. I’m thinking about . . .”

  “Yes? Please be specific.”

  Kara laughed, probably blushed, but when he moved into her again, she didn’t back away.

  “I’m thinking about my story and how I’m going to convince Olivia that lunch boxes are something for the Times crowd.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yeah, that’s about it.” Her eyes betrayed her and dropped to his lips. Her pulse jumped.

  Logan put his arms around her and pulled her against him as his lips brushed hers. Just then, they both heard a wailing voice thunder through the kitchen door.

  Holding his motorcycle helmet, Travis came through the door belting out a really bad version of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.”

  “Oh, shit!” He was still yelling until he took his headphones out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t”—he looked at Logan who had moved away from Kara by that point—“I didn’t know you were coming in this early. I was going to do the—” he broke off when he saw the finished ravioli on the counter. “You did them?”

  Logan nodded.

  “How was the filling? It looked good last night, but I was a little worried it would be dry this morning.” He took his bag off his chest and set it down with his helmet. “Hey, Kara. Sorry about . . .” He gestured between her and Logan.

  Kara waved and turned to put her notebook away. She needed to get going.

  “The filling was great.” Logan gestured toward the finished ravioli. “Smooth enough for the bag with the large fitting, but nice substance. We’ll have to try some out.” He held Kara’s arm as she made her way to the door.

  Travis diverted his eyes, grabbed Paige’s lunchbox off the floor, and headed out to the front. No doubt to put some music on. Kara rarely saw Travis without some kind of soundtrack.

  “Are you leaving?” Logan asked.

  “I need to get into the office, put this into draft form, and get two other reviews finalized for Olivia.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “One of each.” Kara smiled.

  “Hmm, getting a little soft?”

  “You’ll just have to read and find out.” She moved closer to the door.

  “Do you want to come back for lunch? I’ll make you the special.”

  “Which is?”

  “Pork Milanese salad.”

  “Seriously?” Kara sighed. “I’ll be back around one. I think you’re trying to fatten me up, farm boy.” She walked past him out the door.

  “Trying,” was all she heard as the door closed between them.

  Less than an hour later, Makenna came spinning into the kitchen with Paige in hand.

  “Paige the Magnificent, is that you?” Logan scooped his niece up onto the counter.

  “Uncle Rogan!” She giggled. “Mommy forgot Daniel Tiger again. I need him for lunch.”

  “Absolutely, I’m pretty sure I saw him . . .” Logan looked over to where Kara had been sitting, but the lunch box was gone. Before he had a chance to look around, Kenna came whirling back toward them.

  “Got it. Let’s go, sweetie. Give Uncle Rogan a kiss, we’re going to be late.”

  Paige planted kisses on both his cheeks and one on Logan’s nose and then she was gone, giggling under her mother’s arm.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Before he had a chance to tell her to relax, the door closed behind them.

  Later that day at lunch, Kara sat at the pizza counter again and could hear the whispering of a couple next to her.

  The damn newspaper, she thought.

  She found that the more time that went on, the less she cared. Still noticed, but cared less.

  “Would you like to go see the trees on Christmas Tree Lane?” Kara asked as Logan moved around the kitchen full of boiling pots and sizzling pans. He took something in a tiny ladle and added it to one of the pans and then lifted it and swirled it over the flame.

  “Are you asking me out on a romantic Christmas date, princess?”

  Kara shook her head. “No. It’s just a really cool place and I thought if you hadn’t seen it we could . . . Oh, forget it. I was trying to be nice.”

  Logan handed the pan he was holding to Travis who nodded and took over as if they spoke some secret language. Logan crossed to the counter where Kara sat working on her laptop. She was trying hard now to bury her face behind the screen. He wiped his hands and leaned up on his end of the counter with his arms flexed.

  That tattoo—Kara could not get it out of her mi
nd. She was now pretty sure it went past his shoulder. It was like a teaser trailer, but she wasn’t allowed to see the whole movie. The damn thing was driving her nuts. Logan poked his head near her computer.

  “Hey, could you come a little closer. I never excelled at gymnastics.”

  Kara leaned in, still not smiling at him even though he was pretty damn cute in his apron and glasses.

  “You’re not wearing contacts?”

  “I took a break, they hurt my eyes. Could you ask me what you just asked me one more time?”

  “It’s not a big deal. Forget it.” Kara took a look around the restaurant, certain they were starting to draw attention.

  “Any reporters?” he teased.

  “Shut up. Get back to work, farm boy.”

  “Damn, I can’t get past how hot it is when you call me that.”

  “Yeah, well try.”

  “Come here.”

  “No.”

  Logan laughed, dropped back down into the kitchen, and then disappeared into the back. Kara was trying to figure out where she was in her notes, when the chair she was sitting on suddenly spun around and Logan stood between her legs. She didn’t have time to protest or look around. She barely managed to grab a breath before he was kissing her, hard and completely. He was nothing if not thorough. Kara went to that happy fuzzy place she always did when he touched her. His tongue swept through her mouth, leaving sensory devastation in its wake, and then he pulled back and kissed her again, but gently this time.

  “I would love to go to Christmas Tree Lane with you. I’ll bring the blankets, food, and the truck. I can get out of here tonight by eight. Pick you up at nine?”

  Kara nodded and he smiled and left. As he walked away, the entire restaurant, including the kitchen, broke into applause. He held up his hand in victory and all Kara could do was laugh. He wanted to kiss her—must not have seen much resistance from her—and so he did.

  It wasn’t until a few minutes after the clapping died down that Kara even thought about the fact that someone could use that moment against her family again. But this time, she found she didn’t care.

  Chapter Nineteen

  John Woodbury, founder of the city of Altadena, California, planted 150 deodar trees along what later became Santa Rosa. Christmas Tree Lane was now considered a historic landmark and was in the US National Register of Historic Places.

  Lying back on the blankets Logan had put in the bed of his truck and looking up at the strands of colorful lights, Logan was grateful to Mr. Woodbury. The trees were huge and the cool night air chilled Kara’s cheeks. She was all bundled up and could not have been more beautiful. He handed her a paper cup of hot chocolate he’d picked up on his way to get her. He wasn’t sure whether to look at her or the lights, but as he leaned back and warmed his hands on his own paper cup, he felt like a kid again. It seemed lately he felt that way around her.

  “When John told his brother he wanted these trees planted, do you think his brother should have told him he was crazy? Do you think he should have mentioned it made more sense to build the house and then put the trees in? I mean, things fell out from under the housing market like what two or three years later and the guy never got to build his house.” Logan was still looking up at the enormous trees.

  “But then we wouldn’t have the trees—we’d just have some other oversized house. I think it was romantic. He came home from his trip, wanted the trees, so he planted them.” Kara scooted closer to him.

  “Yeah, but don’t you think the brother should have been honest with him? I mean he had to have known John’s plan didn’t make any sense.”

  “Honesty.” Kara let out a breath. “No one really wants honesty. It’s a sound bite or a catch phrase, but real honesty is tough. There’s backlash.”

  “Is that why you steer clear of the whole telling the truth business?”

  Kara turned to look at him as their heads rested on the same pillow. She gave him what he clearly recognized as a warning, sipped her cocoa, and brought her focus back to the twinkling night.

  “I remember the time I read some article in college about dysfunctional families.” Kara picked at the cardboard sleeve around her cup. “It outlined the roles in dysfunctional relationships and ways to deal with and fix those issues. I called my mom.”

  “Oh boy.” Logan was already cringing for her, the young girl she used to be.

  “Yeah, I told her I wanted to have lunch with both of them.”

  “Where was Grady?”

  “He was at school. I called him and told him. After.”

  Logan touched her arm. “Probably should have done that first?”

  “Yeah, hindsight, right? Anyway, I brought the article.”

  Logan braced himself. He knew where this was headed.

  “So, after my ‘little presentation,’ my father ordered another Scotch and my mother didn’t speak to me for almost a month.”

  “There are varying degrees of honesty.”

  “I know, but I thought I was helping. I thought they didn’t know and if I could just show them . . .” Kara started to laugh, noticing some cars as they drove past. “Jesus, I only wanted something I could touch, something to explain the void. Why we acted the way we did.”

  Logan said nothing. They continued to admire the enormous trees dripping in multicolored lights.

  “We normally go to Hastings Park for lights.” He was not so subtly changing the subject because even in the dark he could hear the sadness in her voice. “I mean we did when we were kids. This place is better.”

  “I think it’s better because of the story.” Kara turned to him.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s usually the case. The story—the history adds to things.”

  She set her cup down and crawled on top of him and Logan lost all ability to speak. He gazed up at her wild hair tucked under a knit cap. Her cheeks were pink and the Christmas lights, mixed with the stars, veiled the whole scene. Logan had to focus on breathing.

  “Was it something I said?” he asked when she leaned down and touched his face.

  “No, I think it’s just you and these trees. It’s the blankets and being tucked in here with you. Logan?”

  “Yeah?” His heart warmed his chest.

  “Would you like to make out in the back of your truck?”

  He laughed and pulled her under him so quickly she squealed. There she was laughing, relaxed, and he was certain the look in her eyes was the very best thing he’d seen in a long time. Before it disappeared with the rest of the Christmas magic, he kissed her. Out of sight, in the darkness of a December evening, just as she’d asked, they made out in the bed of his truck.

  “Did you used to wait up for Santa when you were a kid?” Logan asked as he drove Kara home.

  “Sure. Grady was in charge of keeping us both awake. This one year, we filled our bathroom sinks with ice and if one of us started to fall asleep we’d have to go put our face in the ice bath.” Kara shook her head. “He’s always been a little nuts.”

  Without looking over, she could tell he was smiling.

  “Despite all his crazy ideas, we never made it. We fell asleep before Santa came, every year. Did you wait up?” she asked.

  “I know this is going to sound nuts, but I was the first one in bed.”

  “Seriously?” Kara was more than a little surprised. She figured Logan, Garrett, and Makenna were all dedicated Santa watchers.

  “I know. It’s weird, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make him change his mind. I used to get so pissed at Garrett because he was always thinking up booby traps or weird stuff and Makenna was like his little helper.” He enjoyed the memory.

  “So you went to bed early? How did you fall asleep? That was the hardest part. The excitement of it all, that’s what got me.”

  “I don’t know. We’d get in our pajamas after dinner, watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas, the old cartoon version, and after that I went to bed. I told myself if I didn’t fall asleep, there was a ch
ance I’d still be awake when Santa came and I’d miss out.”

  “Maybe it was The Grinch. That’s a pretty powerful, don’t-mess-with-Christmas message.” She smiled and glanced over at his face in the glow of the dashboard light.

  “Maybe.” Logan laughed.

  “Did you leave cookies?” she asked.

  “Of course, and carrots for the reindeer.”

  They rode, listening to the faint Christmas carols on the radio, giddy in their childhood memories. It occurred to Kara that both she and Logan were rooted in their families. Sure they were different, but there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for hers and she knew he felt the same way. Every family had traditions; her Nana had always said they were “the glue that held a family together even when we couldn’t stand each other.” She was right.

  Maybe it was the holiday season, maybe it was that she had just made out with Logan and had hot chocolate. She wasn’t sure, but Kara knew one thing for certain as they turned up her street. If she ever decided to make traditions of her own, if she ever wanted to bake cookies and tiptoe around her house putting presents under a glowing Christmas tree in the middle of the night, she wanted that with him. She had never been sure “normal” was possible for her, but she had feelings now that were impossible to ignore. They told her that things could actually be exactly as they should be in her life. There was no one size fits all. She and Logan could have their own story. It could be that she would wake up tomorrow morning in the throes of a panic attack, but at that moment none of her feelings scared her. They seemed more natural than most things in her life up to that point.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome.” Logan turned off his truck. “I had a great time.”

  “Me too.” She turned and he leaned across to her.

  The cab of his truck was warm and when Logan’s lips touched hers, Kara sank into the most luxurious kiss. Her hand touched the side of his face and he shifted closer. She wondered if she would ever tire of kissing him. Had Bill and Rosemary Barbus tired of each other when they were growing old together in what was now Logan’s house? Kara didn’t think so; she was certain they had moments they weren’t happy and maybe even some scary times, but that was life, wasn’t it?