Veronstone Senior Society Stories

Waltz

Waltz

In the first two weeks since their deportation from Veronstone, Sigmund and Erin had settled into the sorcerer's old family cottage in the secluded, German countryside. Though the change had been disorienting, the pair quickly found comfort in the space with the help of the sorcerer's parents. Sigmund's mother and father had given them a walk around the span of the farm that surrounded the cottage. They left a list of daily chores to be done and after some repairs to the roof and plumbing, the young couple were left alone with their tasks and schoolwork to keep themselves occupied.

The first couple of days alone together had been a bit depressing. They were happy to be in the company of one another, but knowing they were being punished weighed heavy. Returning from the marketplace where he'd done some grocery shopping after school hours, Sigmund held up his mother's wicker basket to Erin, who met him at the door to receive it.

"Is everything in here?" The witch asked, turning into the kitchen quickly, where water was already boiling in a pot over the woodburning stove.

Sigmund nodded as he worked to pull off his muddy field boots.

"Ja, it's all there! What are you cooking?"

"Dinner!"

"But what's for dinner?"

"You couldn't tell by the ingredients?" Erin giggled, pulling the butchered fish she'd asked for from the basket. "I'm gonna replicate that one salmon dinner you like from that restaurant in the city."

"Pfff—!! That's so tedious!" The sorcerer laughed. "You can't do all that chopping alone! There's a lot of vegetables to get through and the sauce is time consuming."

"So, put an apron on and come show me how it's done, Chef." Erin smirked from her spot at the counter. "Peel those potatoes for me, please! I hate peeling potatoes. Wash your hands first!"

Sigmund gave his own toothy smirk in return and walked himself over to their drop sink to wash his hands. By the time he'd prepared himself to cook, throwing an apron on over his vest, Erin had set him up beside her with a bowl full of potatoes to start on. The couple worked together, washing produce, slicing through ingredients and tossing things into hot skillets and pots.

"I wanna make bread." Sigmund spoke. "Not for now, but for breakfast tomorrow, since we have the stove on."

"That's a good idea." Erin nodded, looking out the window of the cottage.

Outside, their firewood shed was well stocked for the winter, but it was always best to use the wood while it burned as much as they could manage to save their resources. The stove in the cottage was wood burning, no gas. The old-fashioned way of cooking made Erin fall in love with the space. The kitchen had become her favorite room in the home.

Sigmund pulled what he'd need from the cabinets above and below the counter. While he got started on kneading dough, Erin did the cleaning. She pulled a broom to sweep up the little pieces of veggies and potato peels that had gotten away from them. With the dough for the bread put aside to rise, Sigmund walked himself into the living room and pulled a record from their television stand.

"We need some music or something!" He called from the opposite room, fixing the needle over the record player. "It's too quiet in here!"

"Play something I like!"

"I am!"

The sound of bellowing horns and a long, drawn-out accordion said otherwise. Erin was thrown into a fit of laughter when Sigmund danced his way back into the kitchen in time with the folk song starting up.