Evergreen Everleigh - The Wattys 2020

Chapter Seventeen - Painting in the Rain

Chapter Seventeen

Painting in the Rain

It was the first week of May when the sun showers began. The morning light slants through the kitchen window as I approach to check the kitchen roster one more time. Today, I am making lunch with Cedar and a sense of trepidation has filled me all morning at the prospect of spending time with him alone. Although Ceder appears to be nothing other than kind, anxiety ripples through my chest when I think of what we'll talk about or if he will wonder at how it is that I can make meals for others and barely swallow one myself.

Unfortunately, Ceder is early. He spots me dithering outside the kitchen as he pulls bowls and plates from the nearby cabinet. I am not surprised when Ceder gives me a small smile. Out of everyone at here, Ceder is the person who I've spent the last time with as he generally sticks to Willow's side and I to Sweet Pea's or Periennial's.

"Morning," I say. Straightening himself, Ceder's eyes fall to my hands which are clasped so tightly my knuckles have turned white.

"I can't be that intimidating, surely," Ceder says. His voice is such a stark contrast to Yarrow's jovial swinging tones. Ceder's voice speaks of crippling shyness. Yet, I think I can cope better with this. I feel at home with awkwardness and stumbling conversations. One-sided confidence often disarms me and leaves me feeling inferior.

"So, what are we making?" I ask, crossing the threshold and taking a pink gingham apron from the hook by a green rocking chair that sits near the fire.

Ceder gives me a grimace as he returns to the cabinet.

"We haven't had a food delivery yet this week, so we're going to have to be creative." He says, still not looking me in the eye. I joined him in front of the pantry and stare at the mismatched collection of food. A single green pepper, pasta swirls, butter, honey among them.

I reach out and take the pasta in hand, thinking of how much Harmony and Henry love pasta. Harmony eats hers only with ketchup and both Henry and I think this is in equal part gross and genius.

Ceder's eyes drop to my wrists and a look of saddens covers his face. At least it's not pity, I tell myself. I restrain myself from checking the nutritional information on the back of the packet. It is like an itch I need to scratch so instead, I drop it on the table behind us.

"We could try some carbonara?" Ceder suggests, his eyes glinting with promise at the idea. "I think we have all of the basic ingredients."

I look up at him, nodding. Though he is only fifteen at most, he is immensely tall. I imagine that if he and Yarrow were standing right next to each other, Yarrow would only beat him by half an inch.

"Okay, but I'm warning you, I'm not a good cook," I say, frowning at the memory of my past kitchen forays. "I can't even make a scrambled egg. I tried to make my brother and sister a birthday cake last year and it was raw inside. So you'll have to accept my help at your peril."

At this Ceder laughs, perhaps at my serious tone. He runs a hand through his blonde hair, surveying me with a gentle surprise that quickly changes to contentment as he spreads his long arms wide as if to gesture to the entire kitchen.

"Well then, welcome to my domain, young apprentice."

*

Sometime later, the kitchen has transformed into a demolition site of dirty pots and frying pans. Ingredients lay strewn over the duck egg blue countertops and I work hard with a ladle to make the portions even as Ceder hands me paisley printed plate after paisley printed plate.