InsaneJournal

Who: Big Mac and Lorna
Where: At the orchard where he works
What: Talking and picnicing.
When: Dec 19th
Warnings/Rating: PG
Status Complete!


It had been about a week and a half, before Big Mac had called Lorna up, reckoning on her being available, and she had been. He smiled as he made plans with her, just a picnic for friends. Might be fun! He liked the outdoors, much more than he liked the insides. Outside was nice, and natural, and full of... fun! Why he’d spent an awful lot of days outside, wandering, picking flowers, working hard, and finding new things to do.

Today, he’d share that with Lorna, just because. He arranged a time and gave her directions, and was waiting at the edge of the mini-orchard at the time allotted, a small messenger bag on one side.

Lorna had been looking forward to hanging out with Big Mac. It wasn’t the love affair of the century, but how often would she get to have toast and apple butter out in an orchard? Probably never ever, unless she specified that as a first date next time around. Which was a pretty amusing idea, and would certainly test a potential boyfriend’s patience.

She parked her scooter, beaming at Big Mac. She was wearing a thick brown coat and jeans, with a long red scarf and a bright purple beanie. She unhooked a basket from her scooter, and bounced over. “Hi! Nice to see you again!”

Big Mac wore coveralls, these in a purple shade dark enough that in places it could be mistaken for black, and boots. He smiled as he saw her and nodded. “Eeyup. good to see you too.” He smiled, and gestured her on with him, leading her to a spot where the small orchard of trees opened up into a clearing, where a large blanket was laid out. “Figured I’d set up.”

Lorna nodded and followed, hauling her basket as they went. “How’ve you been?” She knew he didn’t talk much, but she still had to be polite, right? Beside, talking would help her forget how heavy the meal she’d packed was. “I hope you like chicken.”

“Pretty fine, I reckon. Just workin’, catching up with my sister, and most like doing what I do.” He glanced at her. “You?”

He smiled a little wider. “Chicken is delicious, most ways. Y’can cook?”

“I’ve had a pretty crazy week, but it’s been a good crazy.” She smiled brightly. “I am an awesome cook. It’s the only way I got through college.”

Big Mac listened, letting her talk, and settled to the blanket, and pulled out several jars from his bag. There was apple butter, orange marmalade, and cherry jam, and each was hand sealed with wax. Even though he’d known he’d be opening them today, he sealed them, because it was how you did things. Some traditions were silly, but some had value, and the wax helped preserve the jams, keeping them ready for the right moment.

Also, he liked that smell, the first smell, when you broke the wax, and inhaled. It was a scent that never got old.

He smiled to her. “Sounds good. I’m sure I’ll like it.”

Lorna smiled at the jars of jams. “Oh, they’re all such pretty colors!” She dug into her basket and produced a pair of cornish hens, trussed with purple yarn, their skins red with spices. She also pulled out butter, a battery backup machine, and a toaster. Then, her proudest achievement, a heavy loaf of whole wheat bread, baked with love. “I can’t wait to taste the red one. Is it strawberry?”

Big Mac smiled, and nodded to her. “They came pretty true, eeyup.”

His eyes went wide as she pulled all that food out, and he gaped. Well, wasn’t that a sight for sore eyes? And hungry stomachs! She’s brought along a regular mini-feast! Now, this was a woman who knew the road to his heart!

He shook his head. “Cherry Jam, my granny’s recipe.”

She smiled at his expression, proud of herself. “You look like a guy who could eat a whole mini-chicken in one meal. I hope you don’t mind that it’s a little spicy. The onions and stuff inside it should be good to eat, too.”

She plugged the toaster in and started toasting. “I’ll split the heel with you, that’s the best part.”

“I reckon I have, once before during apple harvest time. Needed some refueling after picking apples off the trees and carryin’ them home.” He eyed her, grinning. “Spices are fine, dependin’ on how ya make them. And that all sounds perfect.” He rubbed a hand along his clean shaven chin. “How’s a woman who can cook like you unmarried?”

Lorna blinked, not even sure how that was a question. “Huh?” She didn’t see a correlation.

Big Mac stared at her and pondered that. Apparently things really were that different out here. Well, shucks. “Nothing to mind. Sorry. Just a curiosity.” Back home, if a woman could cook like that, and looked like that, she’d have a half dozen offers for marriage within a year, maybe more.

Lorna shrugged. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not really looking for a husband to cook for. I mean, I’m only 26, there’s no rush to get married.” She handed him the first slices of toast, their warmth making her smile. The smell was divine. “How old are you?”

Big Mac blinked, then nodded, and he started slathering cherry jam on those, since she’d seemed interested in it, cracking the wax and inhaling the scent as he smiled and applying it with a small knife he carried.

“Me? I’m 30, ma’am. Why for?” He was curious now, as to why she’d ask, as he handed over one slice, and took the other to munch on. Mmmmm, good bread. “This is good.”

“You’re not married yet, and obviously you can cook. So I guess neither of us are in a rush.” She accepted the bread cheerfully, taking a big bite. “Mmmm, this is great!”

He smiled at her words and shook his head. he reckoned he’d likely never get married. Too much work to do. And never really been looking. Ayup.

He smiled. “Mmmhmm. Is. “ He broke out the next jam jar, the orange marmalade, ready for the next wave of toast.

“How’ve things been doin’?”

She handed over his chicken while the toast toasted. “Not bad. The shop’s paperwork is finally done. I finished it the day after all those shooting stars were over the area. Did you see them?”

“Eeyup. I did. Reckon the stars seemed a bit peaked to me, but some say as you see such, you make a wish.” Big Mac chuckled laughing away such superstition. He took the chicken in one hand and nibbled at it. It was very tasty. “Yer a good cook.”

“Thanks! You’re pretty good too! I love all of these so far.” She beamed brightly at him. “Would you trade me the cherry for the rest of the bread?”

Big Mac considered her offer and found it fair. He nodded, offering the bottle. “Eeyup.” She seemed an honest sort and trade was something he was used to from back home. Sometimes folk couldn’t afford food, but they had too much of this or that. Now Big Mac and his family always had plenty of food, but sometimes needed this or that, or could trade that for this, and so trade and barter had always been accepted.

“Awesome.” She slid the bread over to him. She had another loaf at home. Beside, too much toast would make sure she didn’t have room for chicken. “Thanks for hanging out with me again.”

“S’my pleasure.” He smiled at her and took the bread, splitting it into chunks as he did the same with the chicken, and pairing them up, all natural like. Then he partialled out some apple butter across a piece and handed the piece to her. “Here.” He then partialled out more along some of the combinations. And chomped on some. Eeeyum!

Lorna ate the bread, watching as he ate. It was. . . well, weird. But then she thought it might be good. She tore a piece off her chicken and rolled her bread up around it. “Oh wow, that’s pretty tasty!”

Big Mac grinned at her, finishing his first makeshift sandwich, and nodded, agreeing. “Eeyup. S’a good combination. Hearty.” He nodded and went back to eating, reaching out to gently pat her shoulder.

Lorna grinned, patting him back. “You’re good people, Mac.”

FIN.