Married This Year 2: Simmering Love Read online

  Wow. I have to skim it? That’s not in the instructions. Okay, what do I skim it with?

  She searched through the drawers in the kitchen and found a large, flat spoon with tiny holes. It was all she could see that would do the job, and she set about skimming the fluffy layer off the top. Several minutes later, she was getting frustrated, as the soup was mostly going straight through the holes in the spoon. After another couple of minutes, she gave up.

  Stuff it. This isn’t working. No one will ever know.

  She picked up the wooden spoon and with big, circular motions, she stirred the sauce until the fluffy top layer was gone.

  There. No more skimming needed!

  Next, the ham hocks needed to be diced. The instructions said “remove all fat and dice the lean ham.” Feeling her confidence had been restored by not boiling the soup over even once in the last few hours, she fished the hocks out with a pair of tongs and put them on a chopping board to cool. When they could be handled, she started cutting away the outside layer, only to stop and frown at the amount of fat now on the board. A modest pile of diced ham sat beside an excessive amount of what appeared to be fat. So, back to Facebook she went. She posted a picture and told everyone what she thought of ham hocks. As the comments filtered back to cut up the fat and put it back into the soup, she consulted the instructions again, which clearly said to dispose of the fat.

  What do I do now?

  She peered into the murky pot that was looking more and more grey by the moment and decided she’d stick with the recipe and dispose of the fat. The layer of froth had reappeared on top of the soup, and she was sure it was fatty enough.

  I’m not putting any more fat in there! The poor people from the shelter will remember this as the worst meal they’ve ever eaten!

  As the ham slid back into the soup and she gave it one final stir, she remembered she hadn’t tasted it. She had no idea if it was good, or if maybe it needed some seasoning. Grinning at her memories of the last time she added salt to a meal, she tried the soup. It was surprisingly tasty and needed no addition of salt, as far as she could tell. She wished someone was here with her to share her triumph. She’d done it—she’d made edible good in a giant pot. This required a photo as proof, so she whipped out her phone and took a couple of shots of her triumph.

  The last step was to either blend or mash the mixture. It seemed fairly well mashed when she stirred it, but she gave it a quick squash down with a potato masher she found in the drawer. A blender was available in the kitchen, but she’d once before experienced what happened when you put boiling liquid in a blender. The dent was still in her toaster from where her blender lid had hit it last year!

  She turned off the heat and replaced the lid on the pot as the team arrived to take it to the shelter. They grumbled that it was still hot and inferred that she should have been finished earlier. After spending nearly eight hours either preparing or cooking parts of the soup, however, she was completely over it, and she wasted no time telling them.

  “You guys take it. I’m not coming to serve. I have a tonne of work to catch up on.”

  “You can’t do that—you’re part of the team,” Sarah said. “Clean those split peas out of your hair and come with us.”

  “Bite me,” she retorted. “Where was the rest of the team for the last few hours while I’ve been shopping and soaking and dicing ingredients? Any one of you could have volunteered to help, so you can bloody well serve it up yourselves.” No one was game to argue again, and they left with the giant pot balanced between two of them. She couldn’t care less how they managed to get it there. She’d be sticking to volunteering to serve from now on.

  Wait, I have split peas in my hair?

  ***

  It was Friday night and she’d fully expected to be spending it with Henry. Instead, he’d had to stay late at work, so she lay on the couch watching television while she recovered from her day. Lori had a date, so Rachel was all on her own. She ate corn chips dipped in sour cream for dinner and was just nodding off when her phone rang.

  She sighed as she looked at the name. “Hi, Sarah, what’s up?”

  “I wanted to let you know that we’ve finished the shift at the shelter. There was plenty of soup to go around.”

  “Oh, good. I hope it tasted okay.”

  “It did. I have one question, though. How many bay leaves did you put in that pot?”

  “A few. I tripled the recipe, so I tripled the bay leaves, too. Why are you asking?”

  “Well, we found quite a few still in there.”

  “What do you mean? Where else would you find them?”

  “Oh, honey, you’re meant to take the bay leaves out once you’re done cooking.”

  Bugger! The instructions didn’t say that!

  ***

  October flew past at lightning speed for Rachel. After the “soup kitchen incident,” as it had become known around the office, Josh excused her from any more cooking duties. He also started being nice to her again and had even complemented her handling of their difficult client. It was a relief to have him back to his normal self, and she was sure the soup had been the reason.

  He knows I’m not wife material.

  Her time spent with Henry had gone equally well. They’d spent every spare moment together, and he often stayed over, if they had a busy week. Their relationship hadn’t moved along, yet. He seemed reluctant, though she’d shown she was willing enough. He was holding back for some reason, and she had no idea why that might be.

  Their busy schedules meant they mostly stayed in when they were together. She’d bravely tried to continue the cooking charade, and Henry had thankfully taken on a lot of it. On weekends, they hung out with Lori at her place or had barbecues with friends. Lori was getting semi-serious with a workmate, and their monthly challenge of new experiences had fallen away about the same time. Rachel had a plan for the next activity they’d do, if they ever got back to the challenge, but for now both women were happy not booking anything more.

  They made plans to have lunch on a Saturday when Henry had to work. Despite her happiness with him, her deceit was weighing her down.

  “I’m going to have to break up with him,” she sniffed across the table, hoping Lori wouldn’t be too sympathetic. The moment someone was kind about her predicament, she’d start bawling for sure.

  “Why the hell would you do that? He likes you a lot and you like him. I thought you were happy.”

  “I can’t tell him about the cooking. I don’t want to confess.”

  “Of course you can tell him! I’ll tell him for you, if you want.”

  “No. If we break up, he can find someone who is honest with him from the start—like I should have been… like I am with every single other person on the planet.”

  “You know, he told me last week at my house that one of the things he likes best about you is your honesty.” Lori cringed as she told Rachel the words she’d promised herself she wouldn’t share. They had exactly the effect she’d feared, and big, fat tears threatened to fall down her friend’s cheek.

  “Oh God. See, he thinks I’ve been telling the truth all this time. He’s going to hate me when I tell him! I don’t want him to hate me. How did I let it get this far?”

  “Don’t break up with him! I’m warning you, I will tell him everything if you end it.”

  Rachel looked shocked and she sat up straight in her chair. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you two are great together and I won’t let you ruin it. Listen to yourself! You want to break up with a great guy who treats you well and has a great job. He cares for you—really, really cares—and you want to throw it all away because you pretended to make a few dishes.” She sipped her water and then took another breath before continuing, “It’s silly and childish and I won’t let you ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Mostly because I’ll have to listen to you cry on my shoulder for six months, and frankly, I couldn’t take it when it’s over something so dumb. You
’re not in high school, anymore, wondering if the boy you like likes you, too. You asked him at the start why he liked you. You have to be just as brave now and tell him what you’ve done.”

  “You suck,” Rachel told her as she sniffed into a tissue.

  “I know. It’s my one great friend skill to tell you when you’re being dumb. I hope you remember to tell me one day when I’m blubbering over a man and saying stupid shit.”

  “I will. Promise.”

  “Great. We’ll be even.”

  “There is another avenue I’ve been considering.” Lori quirked an eyebrow and waited to hear more. “I could learn to cook.” The laughter that rang out from their table startled the couple sitting next to them and Lori slapped her hand over her mouth to smother the sound. She grinned as Rachel continued, “It’s not so bad an idea. Instead of confessing, I’ll get better at cooking and he’ll never know I lied.”

  “It’s an awful idea.”

  “What do you mean? It was your idea! You said back in September that we could do a cooking class!”

  “I know, but it was a ploy to get you to go skydiving, not a statement of fact. I’d already booked it, remember?”

  Rachel slumped in her chair. “So, you don’t think I can learn?”

  “You can, but I’m not convinced you can learn to the level you need in a short period of time.”

  “Bugger.”

  “Yup. You’re going to have to tell him.”

  ***

  A week later her parents invited them to stay for the weekend, determined to be introduced to Rachel’s new man. She made a quick phone call to her dad the day before to make sure there’d be no cooking jokes.

  “You can’t mention cooking, Dad. I’ve kind of omitted the tiny detail of me not being at home in the kitchen.”

  “You did? Haven’t you been seeing each other for a couple of months?”

  “About six weeks now, yes. We had a misunderstanding at the start, and somehow he thinks I can create actual edible food. I haven’t been able to tell him, though, and now I don’t know how.”

  “Let us break it to him.”

  “No, I want to do it myself. He shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of other people when he finds out. Just play along, okay? Tell Mum, too.”

  “Alright, but this is silly—you know that, right?”

  “I sure do. Lori tells me every day.”

  ***

  The drive to her parents’ was pleasant. Henry held her hand and they chatted about their week. He’d managed to get the whole weekend off, so they would stay the night and return to the city in the morning.

  “Will we be sharing a room?” Henry asked.

  “Probably. The house is compact, and my parents aren’t hung up on stuff like that.”

  “Modern parents, huh? That’s good. I’d hate to have to sleep on the floor when I’m so comfortable snuggled up with you.”

  “About that.” She looked out the window, wanting to know the answer to her question, but hating that she was about to ask like a desperate schoolgirl. “Is there any reason we haven’t—” She glanced at him, not wanting to finish her sentence.

  “Slept together?” he asked. She nodded. “No real reason. I wanted to take it slow with you.” He squeezed her hand. “We got fake-engaged the first day we met, so I figured I needed to slow things down a bit.” He sighed when she didn’t smile, and then surprised her by pulling the car to the side of the road. He turned off the ignition and faced her. She watched him, apprehensive over what he was about to say.

  Oh, please don’t let him break up with me!

  “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m surprised it hasn’t come out, actually. I can’t talk about it, yet, but I’m worried it will change the way you feel about me. About us.”

  “Is it bad?”

  He smiled and she relaxed back into her seat. They weren’t breaking up today. “No, it’s not bad, but it’s quite big news and I don’t know how it will fit into your life. I won’t be able to tell you what it is until after Christmas, but I want you to know that I fully intend to as soon as I can.”

  “Is it a court case? Are you in trouble?”

  “No! I said it wasn’t bad! It’s to do with my career, I promise, and it could end up being a non-event. I’m legally not able to tell you until it’s confirmed, though. For that reason, I’m trying to take things slow with us. I want you to know everything about me before you commit.”

  “Oh.” She thought for a second. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for. “I have something I need to tell you, too.” Relief flooded through her, knowing she would be free of her burden in a few minutes. “I—”

  “Shh,” he pulled her forward and put his lips to hers, “how about we tell our secrets at the same time? That will make me feel better about keeping this one.” He smiled to himself and turned back to start the car. He seemed happier now that they both had a secret to keep. Once again, Rachel had lost her chance to tell him.

  They pulled into her parents’ driveway thirty minutes later and the introductions were quick and painless.

  “Henry, this is my dad, Greg,” the men shook hands, “and here’s my mum, Janice.” There was more hand shaking and smiles all around.

  “Come inside—lunch is ready.” Janice led them into the house and indicated they should sit at the table. “What do you do, Henry?”

  “I’m a chef.”

  “Oh, really?” Her mother’s eyebrows were hiding somewhere in her hair, and her words dripped with a meaning only Rachel and her dad would understand.

  Damn, I should have included that information in my sneaky phone call to Dad.

  “Yes, I work at a club in the city.”

  “Well, at least you’re not a lawyer. Did Rachel tell you we don’t get phone signal out here? If you’re on call on the weekend, they won’t be able to call you.” Henry pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up to her after checking the screen.

  “You’re right: no bars. Rachel did mention it, but you never quite believe it, do you?” Everyone laughed and he slipped the phone back in his pocket. “It’ll be quite nice to stay off the gadgets for a little while.”

  “How did you two meet?” It was Greg’s turn to take over the inquisition. Rachel helped her mother set the table, the whole time worrying her parents would dump her in it and mention her lack of culinary knowledge.

  “We were skydiving on the same day. Rachel asked the instructor how many people had died on his watch, and after that, I couldn’t resist her.” He smiled and slid his arm across her leg as she walked past.

  “You went skydiving?” Her mother planned to look surprised for their entire visit, it seemed. “Why didn’t you call to let us know?”

  “Well, because I’m an adult, for one. Don’t worry, Mum, I’ll be sure to call you if I’m ever likely to end up in the press or on the evening news.” She laughed and caught sight of Henry frowning at the floor.

  Her mother wasn’t letting up, though. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

  “Not according to the guy who inducted us.” She laughed as her mother frowned at her from the kitchen. “He said there’d been no fatalities since they started.”

  “Well, he would say that, of course. Did you check up on what he said?”

  “Nope. I wasn’t planning to ever jump out of a plane again, so it seemed pointless.” She nudged Henry, who finally looked up. “Would you do it again?”

  “Nope.” He pulled her down to sit on his lap. “I found everything I needed there that day.” After he kissed her cheek, Rachel glanced at her dad, embarrassed to be doing this in front of him. He was grinning at them both, though, and she realised Henry had now been accepted into her family.

  ***

  “You need to tell him, Rachel. We like him, and he has a good, firm handshake, which tells me he’s a good egg. You need to hold onto him with both hands,” her dad murmured into her ear as he kissed her goodbye the next day.

  �
��Okay, Dad, he’s not a Kinder Surprise! He has to want to hold onto me, too.”

  “Well, I think he wants that. I saw how he looked at you.”

  “Enough. I never want to discuss my love life with you again, okay?”

  “Alright, alright. I’m just saying, a secret like yours could get blown out of proportion if it goes on too long.”

  “I know, and I agree with you. I even tried to tell him on the way here, but he insisted I tell him later. I’m going crazy trying to keep up the pretence!” They were whispering at the front door as Henry put the bags in the car and when her father pulled back his face changed. They were no longer alone.

  Henry’s hand shot out to. “Great to meet you. Thanks for putting us up for the night.”

  “It’s our pleasure,” Greg said. “We’d like to see her a lot more than we do, so feel free to drag her here anytime.”

  “Will do. It’s nice to get away from work and be out of contact, even if it’s only for a little while. We’ll have to come again soon.”

  Greg beamed at him and Rachel rolled her eyes. Soon, they’d like Henry better than they liked her.

  She went inside to say goodbye to her mother and found her in the kitchen. “Here, I wrapped up this book for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s my first cook book. There are easy things in there, like how to make gravy and how to make good mashed potatoes. The basics, you know. It might help.”

  Rachel was touched. She hadn’t spent much time in the kitchen when she was a girl, since her mother had shooed her out every time she entered the inner sanctum. “Thanks, Mum. I’ll give it a try.”

  “I wrapped it up, so he doesn’t see how basic it is.” She grinned, “We can’t have your secret getting out, can we?” Rachel hugged her mum and went back to the car with her parcel tucked under her arm. As soon as she was in the car, she slipped it into her handbag. She’d have to make time to study the book this week and see if she could learn a thing or two.