WE GATHER TOGETHER by Edward L. Woodyard

We Gather Together Chapter Eighty-Three

Alison Donnelly was becoming increasingly nervous as Ben McCulloch tried to find a solution. "Any other ovens around?"

"No. They're all locked in other suites and no one has a key. Most people have gone for the holiday."

"We could take it to someone's apartment and ask them?"

"Ben, be serious."

"I am. Maybe take it like it is to my parents' house tomorrow."

"Your mother's going to have a turkey in the oven."

"True."

"Who else has ovens?"

"Restaurants."

"Not a good idea," replied Alison. She then imagined approaching a maître d' at a four-star restaurant, "Excuse me, Mr. Maître D', could we get a table for two and use your oven to bake our own dessert?"

"Actually, that's a great idea. Not at a fancy restaurant. But what about the pizzeria across the street?"

Alison smiled immediately, "Ben McCulloch, that's brilliant. Do you think they would?"

"It never hurts to ask. They can only say no."

While Alison found aluminum foil in a drawer to wrap the baking pan with the gooey butter cake batter which she handed to Ben to carry, she remarked about Ben's "no" comment, "My mother used to say, 'When you hear "no," it means "yes," but just not yet.'"

Ben smiled, saying, "I think I like your mother."

"She already likes you."

"What does that mean? She's never met me."

"Too many questions, Ben. We need to get out of here."

Within fifteen minutes, they had put on jackets and hats, stepped outside, walked down Campus Walk and across Broadway to the pizzeria on the corner of West 115th Street, all the time carefully maneuvering the uncooked cake batter in its baking pan.

Using their persuasive skills, Ben and Alison convinced the pizzeria manager to lower the temperature in one of his pizza ovens by fifty degrees and to bake the gooey butter cake in it. For the hour it took to bake and then let the cake cool, Ben and Alison had a lunch of pasta fagioli and garlic knots. The manager thought their story about the broken oven was so good that all he wanted in return was the recipe for the cake so he could try it himself, which Alison very willingly gave him by forwarding her mother's text to his cell phone.

When the cake came out of the pizza oven, all three of them hovered over it. The first layer had folded into the top layer, like a large pillow on a down comforter. Alison said that it looked good. Since neither Ben nor the manager had ever seen a gooey butter cake before, they took her word for it. She clicked a cell phone picture of it and forwarded it to her mother, who texted her back, "Nice work. I'm sure it'll taste as good as it looks. What are you doing in a pizzeria?"

"Long story, Mom. Will tell you later," she texted in her reply. When Alison texted with her mother, she usually used sentences instead of abbreviations and acronyms, not wanting to confuse her.

As they left the pizzeria with the now-baked gooey butter cake, the manager told them to have a good Thanksgiving and not to drop it. Alison insisted on carrying it herself, but said, "Knowing my luck, I'll drop it as soon as I bring it into your parents' house."

Her comment prompted a classic Thanksgiving memory for Ben. "That's okay. About twelve years ago, my mother dropped the entire turkey on the kitchen floor and I don't think my father has ever found out about it."

"That's hilarious," she said, then rethought what she said, "I mean, excuse me. Your poor mother. After all that time and effort to prepare and roast a turkey. . ."

"No, it was hilarious. I was just a kid then. She was taking it from the pan and putting it on a metal platter that my brother Scott was holding. The turkey lost its balance and just slid off. The first thing Mom said after it fell was that the floor was clean. And not to tell my father."

"Your poor mother."

"My poor mother, nothing. We were all laughing in the kitchen about it. Annie was laughing so hard she had to close the kitchen door so Dad couldn't hear us in the den. It was a good thing the football game was on so loud. Even Aunt Emma thought it was funny."

Ben and Alison waited at the next corner to cross Broadway and be back on campus.

"Alison, you want to know how to instantly debone a turkey? Drop it three feet onto the kitchen floor," Ben said, then assumed a French accent, "Fillet de gobbler."

When the crosswalk light turned green, they started to cross as Ben went on, "You want to know what a turkey sounds like when it hits the floor? THUD! SPLAT!"

Ben let out a loud guffaw, causing Alison to laugh just as hard as Ben was. "Ben, you're going to make me drop this cake right here in the middle of Broadway."

"Let's see what kind of sound that makes. I bet it would have a 'clang!' to it." Ben tried to take the baking pan from her, causing her to lose a grip on it, which she successfully caught.

"Ben!"

Ben ran laughing across the boulevard and waited for Alison at the curb of the sidewalk. "Let me. I'll carry it now."

"No thank you. I've got it."

"Why not? I carried it before."

"I don't want to hear Thud! Clang! Splat!"

Alison joined him on the sidewalk leading to campus and they strolled back to her dorm along College Walk. When he told her that the gooey butter cake smelled delicious and that he wanted to eat a piece now, she reassured him that it tasted much better the next day.

"Good things are worth waiting for, Ben."

"I know. I waited two years for you. Ever since I first saw you, I knew," Ben stated off-handedly. He slowed down next to her, "Alison, I'm done thinking about it."

He stopped to stare at her, his eyes peeking around the flaps of his red-and-black checked trapper hat. He finished his thought, "I know I love you."

She needed to put the baking pan down on the ground and grab him. Now was the time to hold him and say, "I love you too." She wasn't going to lose the moment. She let the baking pan fall three feet to the ground. Thud! Clang! Splat!

Their kisses were deep and wet, and lasted until each had to breathe, which allowed both of them to realize something and start laughing. They stepped back from one another and looked down at the ground, both of them needing to know if the gooey butter cake had survived its rapid descent to the concrete pavers of College Walk. Thud! Clang! Splat!

After they bent down to determine that the cake would still be okay to take to Castlebury tomorrow, Ben told Alison to leave it where it was. He pulled her up and gathered her into his arms to again declare his love for her.

She pulled away from him to search his eyes for their truth, studying them until she knew herself that her eyes were telling him the same thing, that this time it was real. "I love you, Benjamin Lemasters McCulloch."