The ride to Chemelyn’s apartment from the airport had been accomplished with relatively little difficulty and was quickly followed by a trip to the Public Market, just several blocks away. The air so close the the salty Sound carried a tang which Howie had long missed, almost as much as the woman beside him. Seattle had changed little in his three month absence; it remained as culturally rich and diverse as he remembered.
Their trip had been brief and the two now stood in the center of Chemelyn’s open kitchen.
“After all this time, there’s still mystery in our relationship.” Howie’s voice held a teasing note causing Chemelyn to glance up at him questioningly. He pointed to the counter where she stood marinating several chicken breasts in bourbon and spices. “Where did you learn to prepare Cajun?” he asked.
“Oh!” Chemelyn laughed lightly that this was what had been puzzling him. “My father taught me when I was just a young girl.” Howie watched the smile lingering on her lips as her thoughts obviously turned elsewhere.
“Hey.” he whispered softly, recapturing Chemelyn’s attention.
“When I was little, I used to perch on the counter in the kitchen while I watched my father cook. He was a gourmet chef for the Edgewater and food was the love of his existence. I remember he would stay up all night just to perfect a recipe. It seemed that nothing was more important to him than good food. He started out teaching me to make designer garnishes for some of his dishes until he was gradually instilling the knowledge in me to create several of his masterpieces. I loved spending an evening with him in the kitchen. It was our own little world.”
Gaging his next question carefully, Howie tentatively pursued their conversation. “What happened to him, Chem?” his voice was kind, and Chemelyn realized just how much she had missed his empathetic ways.
“ The night Dad taught me to prepare Cajun, we received a call that my mother had died. She was hit by a car down by Pier 50.....”
Silence settled between them for many minutes, the chicken forgotten as Chemelyn gazed down at the bottle of cayenne. Howie stepped near, turned her to face him, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her body to his own. Her back rested against the rim of the counter while her arms locked around his waist.
“I’m so sorry, Chem.” Howie murmured, somewhat at a loss for words. He could feel her shaking her head into his shoulder.
“That’s all right. It was a long time ago.”
“How.....”
“My father couldn’t handle being without her. It was the only way he could think of to be with the one he loved. In the letter he left, he said that he had learned to prepare every type of dish in every culture. The only thing left to learn was the secret behind manna, the food of the angels. So he took his own life one rainy night in December.” Howie was nonplused at this admission, and held Chemelyn more tightly to himself. “What about your sister....?” she trailed off. The question was not phrased unkindly, and Howie realized with a start that she truly didn’t know. He had never told her and there was no way for her to know he had released a press statement.
“Lupus. She lived with it for a while, but her body just couldn’t take it any longer.”
“You miss her.”
“Yes.” he admitted. She was silent for a moment before saying softly,
“I used to miss them every day, but I don’t anymore. You’re here now, and that’s all I need.” her genuine statement brought tears to both of their eyes and Howie leaned back to gaze into her face.
“I have no plans of leaving you anytime soon.”
“I know.” she smiled as he leaned in to press his lips against hers in a soft comforting kiss. It was not a caress of passion, but rather the kiss of two people who had shared in grief but had grown stronger in each other’s love.
Howie relinquished Chemelyn from his grasp and took up a position in front of the cutting board. “Enough of this. Today is the first day of our reunion, and I’m determined to spend it with you in good cheer. Chins up and spirits lifted. Assign your humble servant a task, fair maiden.” Chemelyn giggled and tossed him a potato.
“Start pealin’.” she ordered gruffly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Howie grinned and did as he was told, glancing briefly at his watch.
“After we’re finished here I should probably call the hotel. I need to double check my reservation.”
The knife in Chemelyn’s grasp paused over a bell pepper that was about to become two. “You’re staying in a hotel?” she asked, trying desperately to keep the confusion from her inquiry.
“Mmhmmm.”
“You’re not staying here?” Slowly, Howie pivoted to face her, catching the surprise she’d let slip in her voice.
“Chem....”
She too, abandoned what she’d been doing in favor of meeting his gaze. “I just thought you’d want to stay with me.” she shrugged, struggling to bottle the hurt she felt inside.
“I do.....but I didn’t want to presume anything....I don’t mind, Chem.”
“Obviously. But it’s bound to become an expensive venture.” her eyebrows raised skeptically. Howie couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” Chemelyn frowned, not seeing the humor in their discussion.
“You’re forgetting something. I’m not exactly in your average profession. Money’s not a problem, Chemelyn.”
“I don’t see the sense in you wasting that amount of money, though.”
“Is this just about the money?”
“No.....I want you here with me. Is that so much to ask?” she cried, turning angrily away, her bewilderment and hurt clearly visible to Howie. He sighed, not having meant to inflict pain, and came to her, pulling the knife from her hand once again. Placing his index finger beneath her chin, he gently forced her gaze to meet his own.
“No, it’s not. I would love to be here with you Chem. I only didn’t want to take advantage of the situation. We’re not ready to become intimate in our relationship yet-” Chemelyn opened her mouth to say something, but Howie plunged ahead before she could “-and I know that’s not what you were suggesting. But just the same, temptation is hard to take where you’re concerned. I’d just as soon stay at the Fremont as always. I could say it has nothing to do with you, but the fact is, it has everything to do with us. I don’t want to rush things where you’re concerned.” Howie tender touch on her face combined with the loving gaze he cast on her and the respectful words he spoke were almost her undoing.
“I had forgotten what a gentleman you are.” she told him softly, and he knew then that there were no hard feelings.
Later that evening, after dinner had been accomplished, Howie fetched the remainder of the bottle of red wine they had shared over their meal, while Chemelyn attempted to reach a pair of crystal goblets in the glass faced cupboard. She strained her limbs in vain, and stretched to obtain the desired glasses. Dragging a chair over to the cabinet would be admitting defeat, and Chemelyn did not take kindly to that notion. Instead, she decided that standing on the counter would beneficial, and hoisted herself up onto it’s surface. Standing a bit unsteadily, she wobbled a bit, but soon found her balance. Smiling, Chemelyn easily retrieved the sought after wine goblets and appeared much pleased with herself. An amused chuckle reminded her of the man occupying the kitchen with her, and Chemelyn turned to find him starring up at her.
“You could have asked for help, you know. I just about had a heart attack when I turned to find you up so high.”
Chemelyn glanced down at the hard wood floor, her eyes widening. “I hadn’t realized how tall these counters are.” she admitted. “But I did get the glasses!” she held them before her victoriously. Howie shook his head and took them from her, placing them on the island counter behind himself.
“You’re a proud woman, Ms. Clavaro.”
“Excuse me?”
“Too proud for your own good, sometimes.”
“I’m just used to fending for myself, that’s all.” Chemelyn defended quickly. Howie raised his eyebrows then planted his hands securely on her hips, lifting her slight frame down with ease. He plucked the bottle of wine from the counter. “Shall we?”
Chemelyn’s loft was just as he remembered it, the only exception being the canvases which had slowly crept in stacks from the studio. Apparently, she had been hard at work in his absence, which Howie knew must have had something to do with the loneliness they each had felt during their separation. In truth, his own creative outlet of songwriting had been prolific as well. The comfortable sofa and two overstuffed chairs were still residing in the center of the living room, a thick Persian rug in the midst of it all. The coffee table held stacks of books as well as several candles which Chemelyn lit adeptly. The tall windows occupying the exterior wall, sported shades which had been drawn to keep the intrusion of the city at a minimum.
Howie poured their wine before nestling back into the soft apolstery of the couch and motioning for Chemelyn to join him. She did so eagerly, and cuddled next to his side quite comfortably. Easing an arm around her shoulders, Howie began to trace invisible patterns on the skin of her upper arm.
“Are things at the cafe back to normal?”
“Almost. I’m still working on restoring several of the photographs that were destroyed in the fire, though. The furniture has been replaced, of course, as well as all of the equipment. It’s pretty much just a few of the fixtures which still need attending.”
“And business?”
“Stronger than ever. The fire actually seemed to work as a good publicity tool, ludicrous as that idea may be. We continue to be surprised at the amount of people we serve on a daily basis. Particularly on the weekends.”
“Malone must be in his element.” Howie chuckled. Chemelyn laughed as well, nodding her head in agreement.
“He’s eating it up. The best thing is that our clientele is even more diverse than before. Malone’s even scored a few dates out of the bargain.”
“What happened to Derik?”
“I’m not sure, but I think there’s trouble in paradise. Malone refuses to talk about it.” Chemelyn’s voice was sad as she relayed this information, and Howie sensed that, though she would never admit it, she was hurt at Malone’s lack of confidence in her.
“I’m sure he’ll talk eventually, Chem.”
“Tell me about your tour.” she invited then, effectively changing the subject.
“It was a follow-up European tour, including several dates in Canada which we needed to make up. A success. As always.” The last was not said in an arrogant manner, and Chemelyn had the distinct feeling that it was indeed the norm.
“How long have you guys been doing this? It seems awfully unhealthy and hectic.”
Howie smiled at her fretting, and gave her a little squeeze. Her ignorance of his profession delighted him to no end. “We’ve been together for almost seven years now. And you’re right -it is hectic beyond compare. But the guys and I love what we do, so that makes it all worth while. I confess, being away from you made this the hardest tour yet. I just couldn’t stop thinking of you.”
His words warmed Chemelyn to the core, providing more assurance of their relationship than he would ever realize. “I know how you feel.” she responded wryly. “I drove Malone to the brink over the past three months, I’m sure. I was halfway afraid that he was going to chuck me into the street a couple of times.” she laughed.
“The guys feel as if they already know you; I talked of you incessantly.”
“All good I hope.”
“Of course. What did you do to pass the time?”
“Between our phone calls? I spent hours on end down at the cafe, pouring over the accounts, redecorating, serving, you name it. It was the hours spent alone here that were the hardest.” she admitted. “Tell me about the cities you visited.”
“Paris was a favorite-” he said, unable to stop himself from fingering the pendant which hung around Chemelyn’s neck. The leaf had maintained it’s rich amber color much to Howie’s pleasure. “-for obvious reasons. Amsterdam was fun, London magnificent.” he went on to tell her of the choppy waters that comprised the English Channel, the stunning architecture of Rome, and the sunsets which lit up the Paris sky. Howie’s voice was soothing, a sound Chemelyn loved to her without the hindrance of static that their cellular phones had inflicted.
The two talked well into the early morning, until their lids grew heavy with the need to sleep. Chemelyn walked Howie to the door, her bare feet padding softly on the hard wood floors. Howie gathered his bags by the door, then pulled Chemelyn into his arms. His mouth closed over hers, their lips caressing gently.
“To keep us until morning.” he told her before walking toward the stairwell. Chemelyn watched his figure as it descended out of sight before closing the door to her apartment. As it’s lock clicked shut audibly, she sank back against the solid panel for support. Howie’s kiss had left her breathless, his touch had turned her knees weak, and his presence had been a balm to her aching heart.
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