<div class="floatright">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lyjg842Gge1r615eio1_500.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: Ravi;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">It wasn’t often that she spent more than an hour or two in the white and blue walled gourmet kitchen, even though it had been one of the reasons for purchasing this particular townhouse. With its high ceiling, a skylight and professionally installed lighting on top of that the room was clearly an investment; couple that with the smooth white granite counter tops, the white and black washed cabinets and state of the art appliances and the feeling only increased. Not for lack of love for the room, no it was still one of her favorites, if not favorite in the whole house. But between grad school as a psychologist, work at the non profit she was doing an internship at and making sure she and her fiancé still managed some time together Bethany Lyndstrom didn’t often have hours to devote to her kitchen regardless of the joy she found in it.<br/> <br/>Tonight wasn’t about joy as much about trying to keep from falling apart in nerves. It was the same reason there was a bottle of Pinot Noir already popped open; some of that sinfully perfect crimson liquid in a wine glass that was never too far from her hand. She wouldn’t get drunk, no, not even tipsy, but a glass might take some of the edge off. Counters were covered with supplies for the feast she was crafting up, and flower arrangements lined the island in the center because she still hadn’t settled on what to use as the centerpiece. The kitchen was full of robust scents, proof of her endeavors.<br/> <br/>A Boston girl by birth and rearing comfort food for the brunette meant seafood, like the cod that was in the oven baking, or the chowder on the stove that had actually been started a few days ago. Homemade bread was another indulgence she didn’t make more than a handful of times a year. But tonight it was the only thing that would do. A salad for the salad course in line, top quality ingredients even if she had toned down the New England influence there. Not all people liked clams on their salads after all.<br/> <br/>With a sigh she stepped back from placing her pie in the oven for desert, reaching to the counter where her wine glass sat waiting her attention.  The smooth glass felt at home in her hands, another little anchoring point. Since the age of fifteen she had used a wine glass at the table, properly trained in how to taste wines and savor them. Middle class her family might have been but they had ‘aspirations’, as her mother had liked to say, or ambitions as was more honest. So five course meals, wine tastings on the weekends, trips to New York City or D.C. on weekends to museums and shows, endless extra classes to take. All that on top of an honors course load, playing volleyball, cheerleading and student government. Paired with beauty lessons on skin, hair and makeup to ‘compliment’ her natural beauty, with fair skin, a light nutmeg shade of hair that always waved, rather then making curls or being straight and gray blue eyes. In truth she thought herself rather plain, faded out perhaps, but those lessons had also taught her how to use beauty like any other tool.<br/> <br/>No stone unturned, as it were. Reflecting back on it as she sipped at the wine the twenty five year old wondered if there was any part of her that hadn’t been polished to the brink during her teenage years. Though, yes, there had. The concept of how love was suppose to work, of what was safe and what wasn’t. That she had had to learn brutally on her own, and no one really knew just how brutally. When she had ended up in the hospital with bruised ribs, a concussion and a broken wrist all her parents had cared about was things returning to normal.<br/> <br/>It had never happened.<br/> <br/>Making herself move, even though she knew it wouldn’t break the thread of memories that had been haunting her the past few days, Beth left the oven to stir the chowder needlessly. Her mother had urged her to go to counseling, to talk it out with Lucas, after all Lucas was the son of the mayor and such a perfect match for her and the family. That had been the last time Beth talked about what happened with Lucas, at least until just the other night with her fiancé Colin. Being taught to hide the ugly things, to lock them away meant she had only communicated a small portion of the larger whole to the man who had restored her faith in men, in love, in life. It was enough though, that he had listened, had simply held her and let her cry.  And now here she was putting herself outside of her comfort zone completely after already being thrown out of it not long ago by discoveries of things her love needed that she couldn’t ever provide.<br/> <br/>Inviting Ardy to live with them was the right thing to do though, aside from her own ridiculous personal angst over events years passed now Beth believed tonight would go beautifully. It was only for the short term, until her friend could get on her own two feet again. And what odd friends they were, six years in age gap, with Ardy all spunk and sass, that gorgeous dark hair, as well as her laughter. It had been the younger girl’s laughter that had drawn Beth to her, to laugh that freely… it was almost enthralling.  The nineteen year old was also the closest to an actual friend Beth had had outside of Colin since she left Boston, and maybe even a bit before that. She had lost a lot of friends near the end, and hardened her heart against opening up to others. Trying to undo the coping mechanism of avoiding any potential hurt was painfully difficult, made only worse by her habit of applying her schooling to her own heart. She was being an idiot, had been for four years and it was time to stop hiding like a child afraid of the dark.<br/> <br/>Nothing bad would happen just from sharing her home with a friend, or from sharing her pain with her fiancé. In fact those were rather normal things, as much as anything was normal. She wondered why it felt like she was attempting to build a house out of cards, knowing it would only topple down. Negative thinking was one form of self sabotage, and she had surely done enough of that.<br/> <br/>One breath in, deep, exhale out. The brunette started to clean up her counters, putting up produce and spices, wiping off the flour from where she had rolled out the pie crust for the apple pie. Plates came out next, neatly arranged to make plating a swift thing. She darted into the downstairs bathroom to wash her face, remove her apron and change the black T shirt she had worn to a teal blouse that brought out her eyes more. A glance at the clock told her it was almost time, sending her back to the kitchen even as she ran a hand through her wavy hair wishing she could do something pretty with it. The wine found it’s way back into her hand within a minute, leaving her sipping it, one arm wrapped around her torso and her expression brooding, lips tensed. She could hold it together, she could be normal, somehow.<br/> <br/>The oven beeped, the cod was finished and setting aside the wine she moved to it, starting the plating and accomplishing it with a swiftness that even a caterer would have approved of. Another lesson, this one at least useful in daily application. With a little smile of pride on her lips she reviewed her preparations, settling on the center piece with the sunflowers because they made her think of Ardy.<br/> <br/>Before anything else though she slipped a hand into the pocket of the dark washed tailored jeans she wore, the best attempt she could make at causal, and brought out her engagement ring. It was beautiful, perfect really, with the stone aquamarine solitaire that caught the light and shimmered a pale blue that made her think of fairy tales. Fairytales, because in so many ways Colin was her real life fairytale prince. Gazing down at the ring she felt her tension drain, replaced by the certainty that he loved her, that regardless of anything that came in the future or from the past that they could face it together. He had told her they had forever. How she prayed he was right, even if she had long ago stopped believing in God. <br/></span></span>