Chapter 5

© Copyright 2006 by Elizabeth Delayne



“Morton–come here. Look at this.”

She walked into Norm’s office. He motioned her over to the computer. “That reporter got me thinking. The transitions are a little weak when we have to jump from different steps. I got the boys to work you up some new graphics.” He leaned back in his seat. “Check them out.”

Reminiscent of something in the old Batman, Jenny watched the transition graphics as norm pulled each up. “We’ll do a different one for different things. I love this one for ingredients ... and check this one out for when you put whatever it is on to cook. They’re brilliant.”

“It’s great Norm.”

“You’re not too enthusiastic.”

“It’s been a rough week.”

“You haven’t let the bad press bring you down?”

“I–“

”I don’t guess I showed you.” He minimized his screen and pulled up his email. “They’ve been forwarding me and the boss these emails all week. You’ll move up, up, up in the ratings. And the boss wants to do a greatest hits DVD ... you know, maybe offer it as a fund-raiser or something to go along with the yearly MDA thing. Offer it with a donation.”

“It’s great,” she boosted her enthusiasm for him. As much as he tended to exasperate her, she knew her success was part of his job–and part of why he loved what he did.

“Looks like we’ll be keeping you for another season.”

She smiled brightly–even though she didn’t feel like it. “Europe, here I come.”

* * *

At home, Jenny sat alone in the quiet of her living room and stewed. She hadn’t heard from Kevin since seeing him in his kitchen on Sunday. She’d only spoken to Cassidy once. She was, Jenny thought, a loyal and faithful sister.

She didn’t know what was wrong with Kevin either.

But at least Jenny had been honest this morning with Norm and with Kevin a week earlier. She was embarrassed by all of the attention, but not mad. And why should she? Her career in terrible cooking seemed to be starting all over again.

A chef, who’d been on her show a handful of times had written in to the editor, defending her–and every other mediocre cook out there who wanted to learn.

After all, his job wasn’t an easy one.

An old run of Jenny’s favorite cooking tips had been broadcast on local stations throughout the state and picked up on the parent company’s prime time news.

And then their were the cable stations and their commentary.

At least she had the sense to laugh it off. Not the commentary, but the fact that she’d been ready to walk away ... and here she was again, near the top.

God certainly had a sense of humor. Only He could have orchestrated such comedy.

When the doorbell rang she was so cagey she was ready for company.

She was somewhat surprised to see Kevin standing on her doorstep, but even more surprised to see him wearing a suit, without the tie, and carrying a bouquet of roses.

She opened her door to him, unsure what to say.

“Hi,” he took a deep breath, looked past her, seemingly nervous. It wasn’t a look she was used to seeing on him.

Unless one counted the encounter nearly a week before.

“Can I come in?”

Jenny shrugged, but took a step back and let him walk inside. She didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure what to say, what she wanted to say.

Did she want him to apologize?

Certainly.

But could she trust him?

He turned around toward her, held out the flowers. She took them, and hald them against her chest, like a shield.

For a moment, he said nothing. He just stared at her, not the cool and composed man she’d ... come to expect.

“I’m sorry ...” he said, at last, “about lying, about the whole thing. Can you ... can we sit down and ... ... talk this through. I need ... there are some things I need to say.”

She nodded toward the sitting area and escaped with the flowers into kitchen. Once alone, she set the flowers down, braced her hands on the counter, and took a deep breath.

I can forgive, God ... but I don’t know what he wants from me. I need to know what he wants from me. He’s never given me that much. I know he’s fumbling. I’ve fumbled ... but I can’t be the ball he just kicks around. Are we friends, or not? Are we ... anything ... or not?

When she walked back in, with the flowers in a vase, he stood. She set the flowers down on the coffee table.

“I ...” he shifted nervously, his hands going into his pockets, then coming out. “I went to my grandmother’s grave today. I just ... needed to talk t her. I’ve needed to talk to her since ... since forever. Even before she died I needed that good, long conversation, and I didn’t get a chance to have it. I didn’t make the chance for it. I messed up that time and I can’t fix it.”

Jenny wanted to reach out to comfort. She wanted to lift a hand to his worried brow. He looked so sad.

“She was a good woman. Such a strong, good woman. She would have had my hide for what I did to you,” he leaned his head back. “She said a good bit of it years ago in high school. She would ask me where you were, how you were doing. ‘Need to pay more attention to the people in your life, Kevin.’”

“I wish I could have met her,” it was the first time she’d spoken since he’d come through the door, but it was the first time she’d known exactly how she felt. “What you and Cassidy have said ... she just seems like an incredible person.”

“She was. She had a hard life. She lost my grandfather early on, then my father when he walked away from all the responsibility of being a father. I haven’t seen him since I was twelve–my father,” he shrugged his shoulders nervously. “I haven’t told you that. I haven’t told you about him. I haven’t told you a lot. I’ve wanted to, but I haven’t. I just ... I haven’t.

Gran ... she expected a lot from us. She told me to be responsible. She showed me a deep and personal love for God. I’d forgotten a lot of that. Life just ... it took off. Even in high school, it was so easy to go with the flow. To chase the dream.”

Jenny swallowed and took a step back. Here was her answer. She’d stared into the same void she saw in front of him. She’d done it back in high school. No, life wasn’t enough. How could she be angry at him for needing to discover the same thing?

“And I did ... and I ... then Gran got sick, and the dream wasn’t enough. I was turning into my father. More successful, but just as heartless ... just as distant.”

Jenny shook her head and finally stepped toward him. She gently set a hand on his arm, watched him look down at it, then back at her. “You’re not like that.”

“I hurt you. I knew I was going to hurt you ... and for a moment ... just for a moment ... I didn’t care.”

“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be here now.”

He nodded and the look in his eyes softened.

“Jenny ... I don’t know a lot. I don’t know who I am anymore. I do know ... you’re ... I know I’ve got something special, when I look at you. I don’t want to loose that. No ...” he held up a hand when she would have spoken. “I need you to hear it all.”

“I made a few phone calls–I’d been avoiding trying to get a job, trying to get on my feet. It was easier to know I was lost then to try and find my way back. I’ve got a few interviews ...” he let out a nervous breath. “One’s with a consulting firm. I don’t know where I want to be in five years ... in ten–can’t see that. I used to. I used to see it all. Where I was, where I want to be.”

“Kevin, I don’t expect you to have all the answers. I just need you to be honest. Faithful. The person I know you are.”

“I lost that,” he stepped forward, gently grasped her arms. “For a moment, I let myself loose it. But I know one thing. I know when I close my eyes, you’re there. 10 years from now. 30 years from now. You make me feel ... more than needed. More than responsible. I know I want you.”

She smiled. “That’s good enough ... for now.”

He stepped forward, dropped a light kiss on her brow. “What do you want, Jennifer Morton?”

She closed her eyes and relished the warmth of his lips.

“That’s a loaded question, because I’m not where I want to be either. I don’t want to be a star. I want to be Jennifer Morton, Debate coach of the Eisman Pirates. I want to enjoy my time off. I want to grow ... mentally, spiritually ... not necessarily in that order, but you weren’t asking for a planned oratory.”

“No I wasn’t.”

She stepped back, looked at him. “I want to be a fragrant offering ... pleasing to God. That’s from Ephesians. I found that verse my senior ear in high school. Becoming a lawyer wasn’t enough. Once upon a time, I had to find my own place.”

“Then maybe you can help me out.”

She laughed. “I could always get you a job as my sue chef.”

He leaned his head back and laughed. “I can see the headlines now ... Sue Chef for Jenny Once Sued as a Living.”

“How about ‘Infamously Famous Uncoordinated Chef Whips Up Romance in the Kitchen.’” her eyes sparkled as she eyed him. “Your favorite writer could handle that story.”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way. I knew she wanted a story. I just didn’t know she was looking for a negative angle until we were saying goodnight.” He leaned his head to the side. “They weren’t mad about it at the station?”

Jenny sighed dramatically. “Not with my luck. Norm called me into his office this afternoon. The paper got so many comments on the negative piece that they’re going to do a whole feature on the show. Again.”

“I don’t know why I’m so worried about the rest of my life. I could be the stay at home ... husband, eventually, if that’s where this leads,” he chuckled–though she could see the nervousness, “which might make for a great comedy show of it’s own. I’m probably as much of a homebody as you are a cook.”

“Hey–you could have your own spin-off,” she laughed. “What a pair we’ll make.”

“A pretty good one, I think.”

The warmth she felt was real–long and bright like a candle that had been steadily burning for sometime. It was, she thought, a perfect way to begin.

As Jenny stepped back, she suggested they go out for something to eat. She couldn’t, after all, feed him herself.


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