Withstanding the Enemy

Two

Emma…

I hear the sounds of pans banging and a low baritone voice reverberating through the doors as I near them. I pick up my step as I walk through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

The kitchen, I imagine, is every chef’s dream. Rick purchased only high-quality commercial equipment and the best pots and pans which hang above the island. I find Rick’s chef, Ms. May, on the opposite side of the island with her back to me. She sets a pot in the already piled-high sink. Her curvy hips swing as she sings in Italian, a language foreign to me, but one that sounds so romantic.

I stroll to the island that is set between us and quietly pull out a seat. Watching Ms. May at her craft has always been mesmerizing to me. Across the island, a large pot is set on one of the many burners and the aroma already has my mouth watering.

“Oh dear heaven, child!” a wide-eyed Ms. May yells as she notices me.

I let out a light chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

“Honey, you are going to turn me grey, scaring me like that.” Her once copper-red hair now glitters grey and is pulled back into the usual neat French braid.

“I think it’s too late for that; it’s already grey.” I laugh.

“Okay, missy, now you are going to sing and dance with me for that remark.”

“Oh, no I’m NOT!”

“OH, YES YOU ARE!” She says playfully.

She makes her way around the island and reaches for my arm, pulling me out of my seat. I know I have no way of stopping this.

She spins me around and around as she ups the tempo. We twist and turn all about the room. My lungs are about to burst as laughter spills from my lips.

In mid-spin, I see someone standing in the doorway. My heart jumps out of my chest and I halt immediately thinking it’s Rick. I slowly turn to see who it is.

I let out my breath, when my eyes land on Chance’s large frame filling the doorway. He raises his hands up in the air, as if to surrender. He is wearing a sexy half smile.

Red hot heat pours to my face when my eyes land on his.

“Please, ladies, don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, you big tease, you just about scared the life right out of her,” Ms. May says as she saunters back to her original position. “Plus, pretty boy, I don’t give free shows,” she teases.

I look at Chance and he winks at me before returning his attention to Ms. May.

He walks past me and takes a seat at the island. In a low, sultry voice he says, “Name your price and I will double it for dinner and the show.”

Ms. May waves him off dismissively.

“Come on, honey,” Ms. May waves at me, “have a seat and let this old mama teach you a thing about men.” I obey and take a seat. “First, all men think with their stomachs—and this one has the nose of a blood hound.” She waves her cream covered spatula toward Chance. “He can smell food a mile away.”

“Two miles away,” Chance says wiggling his dark eyebrows at her.

“See, I can’t cook anything without this stray walking in here.” A smile deepens her laugh lines as she points her spatula back at Chance.

“Now, Ms. May; I’m at least your favorite stray,” Chance says smoothly.

The bantering between them leaves me thinking that this isn’t a rare occasion. Chance must visit her often—though it is my first time seeing him here.

“I will let you think you’re my favorite today, but as for my price for a show, you can’t handle the price of this old lady.”

He sighs heavily and leans back. He lifts his arm and positions it on the back of my chair. Turning his gaze, he locks eyes with me. I feel as if an earthquake roars through my body causing my hands to shake. The playfulness that sparks in his eyes, now resembles longing.

Longing for who, me?

“Well, Ms. May, then it’s a good thing I have this beautiful woman sitting beside me.”

In the few interactions I’ve had with Chance, he’d always been a bit on the flirty side, but this statement is beyond that. My stomach tightens and I immediately avert my eyes and focus on my hands in my lap.

Ms. May giggles.

“Like I was saying, the way to a GOOD man's heart,” Ms. May emphasizes the good part, “is through his stomach.” She turns her eyes to me. “You better start paying attention, sweetheart, and start learning to cook.”

We all laugh, and I am grateful to her for lightening the mood. It is hard not to enjoy time with Ms. May. She has a way about her—an easy and carefree way of living that I admire. Secretly, I wish I was more like her.

Ms. May sets the plates in front of us.

“Bon Appetite,” she says with a little bow.

The aroma reaches my nose and causes my mouth to water. I hadn’t even realized that I was famished until the large helping of creamy chicken alfredo was set before me.

I look up at Ms. May. “Are you going to join us?”

“Go ahead and start. I will save myself a plate. I need to start cleaning up and getting dinner prepared.”

I turn to Chance to see he is already digging in.

“So good … as always … it is … my favorite,” he says with his mouth full. I chuckle and pick up my fork, nibbling slowly. I want to savor my meal. As I think about my childhood and remember the days with nothing more than the food I found in the dumpster, I feel blessed by the full range of flavors that are set before me. I take my first bite and let out an unintentional moan that I immediately regret. A loud clink brings me back to the kitchen and my eyes dart in Chance’s direction. His eyes, and mine, move quickly to the fork he dropped on the floor. I hear a tsk-tsk coming from Ms. May.

I look back to Chance, his eyes are glued to his plate as if the whole thing could disappear if he looks away. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and I put my hand on his left forearm.

“Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

I sense his discomfort so I sharply move my hand and shoot Ms. May a puzzling look. She chuckles.

“Eat child,” she says waving for me to continue.

What is happening? I wonder as I return to eating my food.

Chance quickly gets up from his seat with his plate, walks to the sink, and rinses it off readying it for the dishwasher.

He turns to Ms. May. “Thank you for the amazing meal. Hopefully, I will be able to join you ladies again soon.” He smiles and looks at me.

I expect to see annoyance in his eyes, which is Rick’s usual reaction to my overly enthusiastic eating habits, but I didn’t; instead, I see an intensity in his warm brown eyes. The depth is as powerful as Ocean Eyes, but the warmth is not as intimidating. I watch him as he turns and walks out the kitchen door. I let out a breath, I hadn’t realized I was holding.

What the hell was that?!

I get up to clear my plate. “It was amazing, Ms. May.”

“As p*****t you can help me clean-up and decide what to make for dinner.”

“You know that’s my specialty.” I chuckle as I walk to my post behind the sink.

She walks to the cupboard and pulls out her tattered cookbook, hugging it to her thick middle like a long-lost friend. She looks up to me. “Oh and remind me to teach you how to cook that particular meal sometime. You’re going to need it.” She sways her curvaceous hips and starts humming something low and seductive.

I ignore her and turn my attention to the stack of dirty dishes piled high in the stainless-steel sink. The events from lunch roll around my head and I try to make sense of it. Mindlessly, I begin loading the dishes in the green tray then slide the first batch in the dishwasher.

Ms. May leans her hip on the counter, blocking me from grabbing another tray.

“Honey, what do you know about men?” she asks frankly and I feel a flush of warmth to my cheeks. “From what I just witnessed. I have a feeling you don’t know much.”

I look away from her and begin rinsing off the rest of the pots and pans.

“What do you want me to do with the leftovers on the stove?” I change the subject.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “Just leave it. I will take care of it.” She goes back to her questioning. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything about men?”

The thought of my mother sends a stabbing pain to my chest. “No, I was fourteen when she died. I was in and out of foster homes before coming here.” I suck in my bottom lip pulling it between my teeth and biting down.

“Yes, sorry, I remember now. You were so young. No wonder you're clueless.”

I watch as the water ripples down the plate and washes away all the debris. I wish I could wash away all the dirt from my soul, wash away all the painful memories that haunt me.

She begins to portion out the leftovers, somehow sensing my discomfort. I watch her from the corner of my eye as she starts to exaggerate her hip swaying again, making me roll my eyes at her. I know her well and I brace myself for the full spectrum of the conversation, knowing she isn’t going to stop.

“Where to begin to make sure you are properly educated, dear. Do you know about the birds and the bees?” She taunts me.

“Yes, of course, I’m twenty-three, for heaven’s sake!” I snap at her.

“I just wanted to be sure.” She shines her mischievous smile at me. I think she enjoys making me squirm. “I sense that you don’t want to have this conversation. So, I will just tell you one thing and I want you to think about it hard.” She starts stacking the containers into the fridge. Leaving one out, she grabs a marker and writes her name on it. She takes her time, clearly trying to build up the suspense and theatrics.

Good old Ms. May and her drama…

“If a man is interested,” she finally continues, “he will try to find ways to be around you. He will treat you good, too.”

I think of how Rick is hot and cold to me, buying me things one minute then in the next, beating me. I need to change the topic—quickly. “Ms. May, how long have you worked here?”

She helps me put the last tray into the dishwasher and lets out a sigh. “That’s a long story. I can give you a shortened version of it, though.”

She pulls the lever down, closes the lid, and starts the dishwasher. She turns back to me as we both lean our backs against the counter. “I was friends with Rick’s mother. We were extremely close. When she got sick, she asked me to watch over him. He was so young then. After she died, Rick’s father started drinking heavily and would take it out on him. I didn’t like his father much and I had to protect Rick from him many times.” She pulls away from the counter. “Rick has kept me employed, though; and, honestly, he is very good to me.” She turns staring down at me.

“Rick is NOT a bad man, but he is not a GOOD man either. He is lost at times,” She says as she sniff and daps at the corner of her eyes.

I cross my arms and hug myself as I imagine a little boy curled in the corner of a dark room, crying for his mom—something I know all to well. Ms. May’s last words, ‘He is lost at times,’ causes a sharp stabbing pain in my gut. Rick’s father was a monster.

I look to Ms. May as her soft grey eyes return to their usual light, bright spirit.

“Chance sure is a good-looking fella—and charming, too. He would be in trouble if I were a few years younger.” Her laugh lightens the mood.

My own laugh echoes and I grab the dish towel hanging off my shoulder. I ring it with my hands as my mind wanders to just how handsome Chance is. I quickly dispose of the rag in the dirty bin, under the sink.

“Thanks for lunch, Ms. May. I have to get going to the library.”

“But, we haven’t talked about what to do for supper?” Her bottom lip turns out as she playfully teases.

“Sorry, but I really need to get going. I’m hoping Ms. Gale has some volunteer work for me. Plus, you know all my favorite dishes anyways.”

She gives me a knowing look and raises her arms at me as she lets out a chuckle.

“Okay, if you must go…” She dismisses me with a wave of her hand and turns back to the cookbook as I walk out.