Chapter 3.5- The One That Bakes

            “I thought you wanted to bake Dove a cake for her birthday?” Roger’s eyes gleamed at Mariah’s weak fumblings in her kitchen.

            “And I thought you’d promised to help me,” She shot back, irritably. “What now?”

            “Well, if you cram any more baking soda into that measuring spoon you’re going to get birthday brownies for your daughter instead of a cake,” he grinned.

            Mariah’s eyes darted between the cookbook in front of her and the measuring spoon in her hand.

            “It says two teaspoons, this should be the second one,” she huffed.

            “Yes, but you’ve made them heaping-”

            “-And?”

            “And that means you’re adding more than a teaspoon. You’ve got to level them off- where’s that knife I made you get out?”

            “I'm not eating a steak, I'm baking a cake. I put it back!”

            “Get it back out!”

            “Why?”

            “Remind me why you wanted to do this again?” He rubbed the back of his neck with a palm. He had tried to talk her into doing her usual and going to the bakery to buy a cake. Mariah hadn’t listened.

            “Because I’m a mom and I’m going to bake my daughter a cake. Moms do that. Don’t they?”

            Roger had to stifle a grin. This wasn’t the time to find humor in her confusion as to what the definition of ‘parent’ might be. Some of the incidents when he’d received her panicked calls had caused mirth at his home. Others had required dragging his own mom out of bed and across town to try and assure Mariah that Dove wasn’t dying. Mariah had been mortified once she’d calmed down enough to realize Sally was there.

            “Yes, Moms bake. Sometimes. And not all of them. It’s perfectly alright to be one of the moms who goes to a bakery. If I recall, the store bought cakes were usually considered far cooler than the lopsided homemade ones.”

            “Oh. Well, I’m going to be the one that bakes.”

            “This time.”

            Mariah looked up sharply.

            “Again, aren’t you supposed to be helping?”

            “Oh, I am,” grinned Roger. “Which reminds me- Don’t! put the milk into the flour yet. You need to mix all of the dry ingredients well first, then add the wet- weren’t you the one who was so good in science?”

            “Biology, physics, astronomy, yes,” she said, putting the milk back down carefully. “The logical sciences. Baking may be science, but it’s chemistry. Strange, unpredictable chemistry that I never really got.”

            “I thought it was a ‘B’ that you never really got.”

            “You’re the one who who got all the B’s so there were none left for me,” Mariah eyed him over the rim of the measuring cup. He’d refused to just go away at her request. Make that numerous requests. And she’d finally given up trying to force him out of her life.

            Not that she could complain about him being there. He was amazing with Dove. Amazing! The moment Roger would walk into a room, Dove would beam, cooing and laughing, anything to get him to come and pick her up. When he gave in, as he always did, she’d grab fistfuls of his hair, pulling his head nearer hers so she could give him slobbery kisses before laying her head against his chest, snuggling deep into his arms.

            The more he came, the more Mariah envied her daughter and the freedom she had to find such security, such warmth, in Roger’s embrace. There were nights she felt lonely, longing for someone else to be there and let her know it would come out alright. Not just any someone would do though. She wanted her best friend there, close to her, beside her, around her-

            Roger’s laughter shattered her moment as she began to feel the chill of milk seeping into the soles of her shoes.

            “Oh, PlumbBob!” Mariah cried, grabbing for paper towels. “Stop laughing!”

            “You’ve got to pay attention! I thought Dove had been sleeping through the nights lately?”

            “I’m not tired,” she grumped. “I just… got lost in a thought.”

            “Well, it’s not catastrophic. You don’t have to start over or anything just because you were daydreaming,” Roger attempted to soothe her, amusement still dancing on his face.

            “Whatever,” mumbled Mariah, pouring some of the milk back into the carton. She couldn’t do that too much. She’d made her bed and she’d lie in it without a fuss.

            “So what else did your mom teach you in the kitchen?”

            “She taught me to make this really amazing vegetable and fish dish that she learned from your mom. She learned it from time she spent on an island somewhere.”

            Mariah's hands froze as she wiped them on her apron. So much for not focusing on him right now. Her mom had cooked? And not burnt the food in the process? She’d been on an island? She’d traveled? Shared exotic recipes?

            “Wow.”

            “Yeah,” Roger looked down, his face pained. “Uhm, Mom even found some pictures she’d taken of your mom, and with her, uhm, when they took a trip to Lucky Palms one time. She’d-uh-she’d love to show them to you I’m sure, tell you more about her- the real her, I mean.”

            “I-I dunno,” shaking her head, Mariah picked her spoon up and dragged it through the uncooperative ingredients in the bowl. “Y’know? She... She kind of... wasn’t...” Mariah sighed deeply, rolling her eyes as she struggled for words. “She wasn't my mom then. She was someone else. It would be kinda like looking at pictures of a long lost twin sister of my mom and that would just be weird. Mom wasn’t the best, but it won’t do any good going back and looking at what could have been. So thanks, but no thanks.”

            Suddenly, her confusion overcame her and the bowl demanded to be put down, it’s weight too much for the moment. Instead, she poured over the cookbook as if to check something.

            “You asked what else mom taught me,” Roger’s voice burst through her thoughts. “Did you know that I can sew?”

            Mariah’s head shot up, disbelief dawning through the clouds.

            “Really! I told you she was desperate for a girl. So she taught me to sew. It comes in handy with the uniforms sometimes, let me tell you. I could also make you a lovely ruffled nightgown.”

            Guffawing, Mariah shook her head. “As long as she didn’t put your hair in bows.”

            “Actually… Oh PlumbBob,” a dull flush crept up his cheeks as he turned his gaze to the ceiling in embarrassment. “I swore I’d never tell anyone about those pictures. My brothers don’t even know, thank the Maker.”

            “Spill it, guuuurrrrrl!”

            Still grimacing, Roger sighed. “Mom and Dad agreed that after me there would be no more. But Mom had gotten a few little girl dresses and stuff before JJ was born, just in case. When I turned out to have boy parts she decided to give them away. The dresses, not the... the... m-my boy- yeeeeaaah. But before she got rid of the dresses she put me in them- bows and all- and took pictures.”

            “You have got to show them to me!” Mariah’s eyes were wide with glee.

            “No, and stop that! Mix it smoothly! You’re going to have horrible pockets of dry batter and air bubbles galore if you keep on attempting to stir it like that.”

            “I am mixing it smoothly! A ‘rotating figure eight,’ just like you said.”

            “With your elbow, with your elbow! Not your wrist. And it should be done gently, like you’re folding it all together. Not attempting to beat it to death-Oh! just come here!”

            In an instant he was behind her, enveloping her, breath hot on her neck and Mariah’s heartbeat galloped away.

            “See? You kind of turn the spoon as you go around, gently in and out of the batter,” his words tickled the little hairs on the back of her neck. Her cheeks burned white hot. “You try.”

            For an instant Mariah was afraid he’d withdraw, but he didn’t when the spoon pushed willy nilly into the mix again. Seeing her still pathetic attempts he took her hand once more.

            “Ok, more practice then,” Roger chuckled softly.

            It was more than she could handle and she relaxed against his chest, pressing her cheek nearer his, allowing her eyes to drift closed. There were no problems. There was nothing to worry about. He was here and would take care of it, take care of her.

            Feeling the missed beat in his stirring she pressed back a little more turning her head, hoping she’d find his lips with hers. Only she didn’t. Opening her eyes she saw the confusion, the hesitation on his face, oh so close to her own. But she didn’t care, she could explain later, and instead pressed forward.

            For a blinding moment his face lit up as the bowl crashed down. He sighed against her and the world dissolved.

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Who needs an Author's Note when I can write you a novel instead? :P Apologies for the length.

            I got the bit where Sally put Roger in unused, "Wishful" baby girl dresses and bows from a cousin who did it to her son, much to his continuing chagrin. She pulls those pictures out all.the.time. to embarrass him. It's awesome.

            After that... well. There ya go. That's why I was excited. 'Bout damn time IMO. Gave me the warm fuzzies writing it just because I've drawn it out for way too long, but... rolls, story. Y'all get it. And it still doesn't mean Roger has said anything important yet either. Perhaps this will give him the confidence he needs to spit it out. We'll see.

            Apologies for my lazy photo editing. Apologies for the next unseemly length of time between this and the next chapter. Apologies on all the unread chapters of wonderful stories I'm now quite behind on. Things will slow down a smidgen after this weekend and I might have a little bit more time to myself. Oh. And Apologies for the length of time it might possibly take me to get to comments this time around. I'll have houseguests requiring my attention for the next few days. Posting this is how I'm unwinding between scrubbing. More Apologies for the above not being quite up to scratch, but I'm afraid if I sat on it any longer it would never be released. Sorry. :(

            One more, because there were two possible kisses and this one didn't make it but I'll be darned if it never sees the light of day because I love my Rogriah.