Can He Bake A Cherry Pie, Jimmy Boy? - Scribe

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Recipe at the end of the story.

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sigh

Megan stirred sugar into her coffee, studiously ignoring the sound. Simon glanced up from the newspaper, looking at the third person in the otherwise empty breakroom, shook the paper, and returned his gaze to the page.

sigh

Megan slapped the stirrer down on the counter. "Oh, bloody hell, Sandy! What is it?"

Wide, innocent blue eyes blinked at her. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"Because if you sigh any harder my hair will be parted on the other side." She glanced quickly at Simon. "Unlike some people."

Simon shot her a glare. "What is it?"

"Oh, I don't want to bother you about it," Blair protested.

"You already have," Simon growled, "So spit it out."

"It's Jim."

Megan nodded, smirking as she took a sip of coffee. "Love life."

Blair shook his head. "No, that's fine, thank you so much for caring." He paused, fidgeting. "It's not exactly our love life--I don't think so, anyway."

"Hell." Simon folded the paper and laid it down. "There'll be no peace till you get this off your chest, so go on."

"He has been a little distant lately--distracted. Brooding, staring off into the mid-distance, but it's not a zone, and when I ask him what's wrong he always says nothing, or that he was just thinking. But the expression he gets on his face..." He looked around carefully, then leaned forward and whispered, "If he ever finds out I said this, I'll make both your lives miserable. He looks wistful. I think he's depressed."

Simon shook his head. "No, Sandburg. I've seen Ellison depressed, and this is not depressed."

"Then what is it?" The frustration was clear in Blair's voice. "I'm his Guide, damnit. I'm supposed to help him."

Megan looked thoughtful. "You know, Simon, he has been a bit gloomy lately. I mean, Ellison has never exactly been Jolly Jim, but I can't remember the last time I even saw him crack a smile. You know who he reminds me of now?"

"Who?" Blair was eager for any possible explanation.

"Derek Johns." Simon and Blair both gave her blank looks. "He was an American exchange student my senior year."

Simon folded his arms and said in a mock awed voice, "Now all becomes clear."

Megan made a face at him. "He was from Columbus, Ohio, and there he was over 15,000 kilometers from home. He was cheery enough at first, but as the year wore on he got quieter and quieter, spent more time alone, didn't seem to be interested in anything. They made him go talk to a counselor around Christmas."

The other two men waited. She sipped her coffee. Finally Blair snapped, "Well?"

"Hm?"

"Don't give me that, Connors. What was it, and what happened?"

"It was homesickness, and he was lots better after he had a long natter on the phone to his parents. They had been afraid of bothering him while he was away. You know, taking time away from his fun? Anyway, they started emailing and chatting regularly. Sent him a box of cookies made by his grandma. He was fine."

Blair blinked. "Homesick? Megan, Jim's at home. He hasn't even been out of town for months."

Megan sighed. "Sandy, love, home often means what you grew up with--who was with you when you were little."

Blair shrugged. "Maybe it's a little hard for me to grasp, what with my upbringing. I never really felt like I had a home till I found Jim--I just had places that I lived. I can see what you're talking about, but..." he gestured almost helplessly. "Simon, you know what sort of a home life William Ellison provided. Jim got out of there as soon as he could leave without worrying about the law dragging him back. I have a hard time believing he's nostalgic for that."

"Sandburg, do I look like either Dr. Phil or Madame Cleo? I don't know what the problem is." He stood up. "But I wish you'd do something about it. He's getting on my nerves, moping around like this."

Blair ran a hand distractedly through his hair. "You know, it has been worse since the holidays came upon us. Statistics show that depression levels peak in December." He sighed again, and Megan rolled her eyes. He grinned at her. "New Years is coming up--maybe that will help."

"Ah. Planning a big night? Dinner, dancing, drinking..." her eyebrows wiggled, "diddling?"

Blair laughed. "You're catering to the stereotype of the crude Aussie."

She nodded. "And proud of it."

"Our plans are already made. Steven is giving a New Year's party. Considering that Jim missed his last couple of birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, he figured he'd better touch base. Jim's getting along fairly well with Steven--now. Steve even marked the invitation 'and friend', so I'm going, too." He paused, and smiled. "Jim said it was a damn good thing, cause he wouldn't have come without me, and it showed perception on Steven's part that he didn't say 'and date', since we're way past the dating stage."

Simon grunted. "Tell me about it. You give Henri and his wife a run for 'squad old married couple'."

"Yeah, but you don't have to worry about buying us anniversary gifts. Oh, speaking of special occasions, I'd better check that invitation when I get home. Wouldn't put it past the Ellisons to want formal wear."

"Will you stop grumbling, Blair?" Jim Ellison checked in the truck mirror one more time to be sure that his tie was straight and his hair was co-operating.

"Well, I was looking forward to dressing up."

"Would you have wanted to be the only one there in a monkey suit?"

"But I never get to wear tuxedos."

"I've had the chance. Straight jackets are more fun."

"And how would you know?"

"There are certain aspects of my term in vice I do not discuss. Anyway, you look perfect in tweeds."

"You're just saying that because you bought me the suit for Christmas."

"I'm saying it because it's true." Jim leaned over tugged his ponytail.

"We have to stay at least till midnight, otherwise there's no point in having a New Year's party." They got out of the truck. A young man in a red jacket was waiting to park their car. Jim handed over the keys with a warning look that made cautioning the valet unnecessary. As they walked up to the house, Jim said, "I bet the valet parking was Dad's idea."

At the door, Blair put his hand on Jim's arm, and felt the tension. It's always like this. Just the thought of being around his father winds him up like a spring. How can Megan think that the problem is homesickness? Jim glanced down at Blair, and Blair gave him his best smile. "If we get separated, don't forget that I want a kiss at midnight."

Jim's eyes flickered, but he smiled, and Blair knew that he was thinking of what William Ellison's reaction would be if his big, macho son kissed another man in public. Blair knew that Jim was tempted to do just that, just for that reason. He also knew that Jim wouldn't, for the simple reason that he would not use his relationship with Blair as a weapon.

The door opened, and Blair suddenly felt Jim relax, he could feel the muscles under his palm lose their rigidity. Surprised, he looked up to find Jim giving a soft, gentle smile--a smile rare enough to be treasured and hoarded. I know that isn't for William. Then Blair heard a joyful female voice saying, "Jimmy!"

"Hello, Sally."

Sally--of course. William Ellison's housekeeper had raised Jim and Steven after their mother had run away, and had been the only source of warmth and affection in the boys' lives. The pleasant, grey haired woman in the sober, dark dress took Jim's offered hand in both of hers, clasping it warmly instead of shaking it.

"Oh, it's been so long!"

"I'm sorry I haven't been around, but..."

She shook her head. "It's all right, Jim. I know how it is. He hasn't gotten any mellower. Now," she turned a warm smile on Blair. "Introduce me, before I think you've forgotten all the manners I ever taught you."

"Sally, this is Blair Sandburg." As they shook hands, Jim said quietly, "Blair is my partner."

Sally glanced at Jim, then at Blair, her eyes shrewd. William Ellison still hadn't accepted his eldest son's gay lifestyle, and wasn't likely to. He did everything he could to ignore, or deny it, but Sally would still have heard something about Blair. The smile Sally gave Blair was as genuine as the one for Jim. "I'm so pleased to meet you at last, Blair."

"Likewise. I've heard a lot about you."

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" Jim said.

Sally shrugged and said simply, "Steven asked."

"Sally," the voice was gruff, and immediately Jim was tense again. "What are you doing, keeping our guests standing at the..." He came into view around the corner of the door, and his voice died away. "Oh. So, you've deigned to grace us with your presence."

Jim's voice was cold. "Good to see you, to, sir."

William grunted, turned, and went back into the house. Blair said, "Jim isn't the one who forgets his manners."

Sally threw a disapproving look after William, but smiled again at Blair. "I'll tell you what I've always told Jim and Steve--just ignore him. Let it bother you, and it just encourages him. But he was right about my keeping you outside. Come in. The party is big enough so that you ought to be able to find something to do out of eyesight and earshot."

As they entered, Jim muttered to Blair, "Not so easy in my case." But Jim managed a smile when Steven came forward to greet him. Steven was trying. He greeted Jim and Blair openly, and even introduced Blair around to his friends.

Jim seemed pleased by this--till he noticed that Steven was very carefully making no mention of Blair's relationship to Jim. It was always simply, "This is Blair Sandburg," not "Jim's partner," or "my brother's roommate," or even "Jim's friend." Blair's pleasure in the evening dwindled as he watched Jim close himself off again, his expression stiffening.

They got separated. Blair was commandeered by an elderly gentleman who wanted to discuss a program on the Aztecs he'd seen on the History channel. Blair caught glimpses of Jim talking to various other guests. Or rather being talked at. They don't seem to notice that he's freezing up.

Midnight was approaching, and Blair realized that he hadn't seen Jim for almost an hour. Determined to have his New Year's kiss, he went in search of his lover, moving quickly through the rooms, checking the bathrooms. No Jim. Then, when a maid brought a tray of canapés out of the kitchen, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure as the door started to swing shut again. Blair went to the kitchen and eased the door open, peeking in.

The kitchen was empty, save for Jim and Sally. They were sitting at the table, close together, talking quietly. There was a peaceful look on Jim's face that Blair had never seen before outside the loft. Jim was comfortable here, he realized.

Sally looked up and caught his eye. Smiling, she said, "Well, don't just stand there, young man. Come in and sit down."

Blair accepted the invitation, sitting on Jim's other side. "I was looking all over for you, Big Guy."

Jim shrugged, but Sally said, "Oh, he always ends up in the kitchen with me. It was the same when he was a child." Her eyes twinkled. "There were times I could scarcely move without tripping over him. I was just about to give him a treat. Jim, what do you say? Should I include Blair?"

"It depends," Jim sounded solemn, but his eyes were glinting. "What is it?"

Sally matched his tone, but she was trying not to smile, "Chocolate tarts. They're supposed to be for William's dessert tomorrow, but he can rough it."

Jim nodded. "If it's chocolate tarts, okay, he can have some. Now, if it had been your cherry pie..." He rolled his eyes.

As Sally got the pastries, Blair said, "You'd deny me cherry pie, Jim?"

"If there were only two portions, yeah. You don't know Sally's cherry pie, Chief. She used to make it at least twice a month during cherry season when I was a kid."

Sally set a plate, bearing a luscious, flaky pastry, before each of them. "He got in trouble over that more than once. He'd know that his father was saving a piece for himself, and he'd eat it anyway."

"It was worth it." Jim checked his watch. "Say, it's almost midnight! We need to make a toast." He jumped up and got a champagne bottle out of the refrigerator, and three glasses. Filling them, he handed one each to Sally and Blair. "Chocolate tarts, champagne, and people I love. I can't think of any better way to ring in the New Year."

They could hear the voices of the guests outside the kitchen raised as they counted down toward midnight. The three in the kitchen raised their glasses as the count reached, "...ten, eleven, twelve, HAPPY NEW YEAR!" They clinked their glasses, and all took a sip.

Jim slipped an arm around Blair's waist, pulled him close, and placed a soft kiss on his upturned lips. "Happy New Year, Chief." Blair enjoyed the kiss, but slid a quick look at Sally.

The older woman was smiling, soft affection and approval lighting her eyes. When Jim let him go, they each planted a kiss on Sally's cheek. Jim said, "Sally, don't think I'm rude, but..."

"But you want to go home and celebrate the New Year with Blair. I understand, Jimmy. But go say good-bye to Steven. He caught a lot of flack from your father for inviting your friend."

When he started to leave, Blair said, "I'll wrap up the tarts, Jim. I'll meet you out at the truck, okay?" Jim nodded, and exited. Blair turned to Sally. "Sally, that's the most peaceful I've seen Jim in ages. He's been having a bad time lately."

Sally looked sorrowful. "I thought he was looking a little peaked."

"You've been a tonic for him. I want to do something for him, something that will bring a little of that peace back to our home. Can I have the recipe for that cherry pie he's so fond of?"

She gave a small laugh. "You bake, Blair?"

"I do a lot of things, Sally. We lived on several communes when I was a child, and I used to hang around the cook houses a lot."

"Do you have an email address?"

"Sure do. spiritwolf@hotmail.com."

"I'll send the recipe to you."

"Great. Now, do you use dark or light cherries? And should I get them packed in water, or syrup?"

Sally looked horrified. "Oh, no, Blair--no canned cherries! The whole point of this pie is that it's made with Rainier cherries."

"But..." he paused. "Okay, I'm not entirely up on the seasons for fruits, but I don't think you can get fresh cherries in January."

"You can't. However, some of us are sensible enough to freeze supplies, for emergencies."

The two shared a slow, secret smile, thinking a bit smugly about the surprise their favorite was in for.

~~~***~~~***~~~

Jim was better for a while, but gradually he started to spend more time brooding, and Blair decided that it was time to put his plan into effect. He waited till Jim was scheduled to do an evening stake out, then went into action.

First he gathered all his supplies. He'd hidden the cherry liqueur in his old room, but he'd had to replace the apple jelly and the almonds (twice on the almonds), because Jim found them, and he couldn't have saved them without making him suspicious. He dug in the freezer and found the plastic container he'd marked TOFU, knowing that label would keep it safe from a snack hunting Sentinel, trusting that the cold would keep Jim from sniffing them out if he got curious.

He measured and mixed the filling, then put it in the refrigerator while he mixed and baked the shell. He'd ended up having to buy a springform pan, because no one he trusted to not tell Jim had one, and the ones who did have a ton of baking utensils were too prone to gossip. Well, if worst came to worst, they'd always be ready with a wedding present.

While the crust baked, then cooled, Blair gave the loft a good going over. He'd badgered Jim into laying a fire the previous day, and he started it, so it would be going strong when his lover got home. He spread their favorite afghan in front of the fire, arranging a few pillows for lounging.

He filled the tart with the cream cheese/sour cream mixture, then arranged the thawed cherries on top. He couldn't resist popping one in his mouth, and almost groaned at the bright burst of tart sweetness. Oh, man. The main attraction for Jim may be psychological comfort, but it tastes pretty damn good, too.

Blair heard the truck pull up just as he was turning off the heat under the melted jelly. While Jim came upstairs, Blair put a plate and cutlery on the afghan, then went to the front door and turned off the lights. When Jim's footsteps stopped outside the door, Blair opened it. Jim, key in hand, blinked at his lover. "Something wrong, Blair?"

Blair was smiling at him. "No, everything is fine. Better than fine, I hope. Go get comfortable in front of the fire."

Puzzled, Jim did as he was bid, as Blair went into the kitchen and began to do something in the muted glow of the light over the stove.

Jim sniffed. "Chief, did you warm up one of those apple turnovers from the bakery a little while ago?"

"Nope."

Jim frowned. "Did you make yourself some spiced apple cider?"

"Nope again."

"Well, what? There's a really strong smell of hot apples here."

"Close your eyes, and you'll find out."

Jim noticed the saucer, knife, and fork, and smiled. He'd brought home a pie to surprise him. That was Blair--doing little, thoughtful things to try to cheer him up. He closed his eyes, sighing. He knew he hadn't been a barrel of fun lately, but he just couldn't seem to shake this gloom. He'd have to try harder. It wasn't fair to Blair.

He heard footsteps approaching, and the sweet smell got stronger. But it wasn't just apples now--it was almonds, and a blend of tangy scents he couldn't immediately identify. Something was settled in his lap. "Take hold of this--carefully." Jim fitted his hands under and around the edges of a plate as he felt Blair sit beside him. "Okay, open your eyes."

Jim did, looking over at his smiling lover. Blair was always attractive, but he was really beautiful by firelight, with the red and gold tints glinting in his hair. Blair nodded toward Jim's lap. "Well?"

Jim glanced down, and his eyes widened. It was a cherry tart, the fruit shimmering, jewel like, under a thin glaze, the crust golden brown. His mouth fell open, then he shut it quickly, because he was starting to salivate, and he didn't want to drool on this vision. Blair, obviously pleased with his reaction, said, "Rainier Cherry Tart, a la Sally."

"Chief! You... How did you...? It's January, Chief! I was just thinking yesterday that it would be about six months before I could have this again. Where did you get the cherries?"

"Sally would have made a great pioneer--she plans ahead. She had a secret emergency stash in her freezer. I told her you'd been down in the mouth lately, and we both agreed that this was an emergency." Blair held out his hands for the tart. Jim pulled it a little closer, and Blair rolled his eyes. "I'm just going to cut it, Jim. I know better than to try to come between it and you."

A little reluctantly, Jim surrendered his treat. Blair cut a generous wedge and placed it carefully on the saucer, then set the rest of the tart out of the way on the coffee table. When Jim reached for the saucer, Blair slapped his hands, and Jim growled. "No ya don't," Blair said firmly.

While Blair picked up the plate and fork, Jim said ominously, "Blair, if you think that I'm just going to sit by, watching you eat my tart..." Blair cut a morsel of tart and offered it to Jim. Jim stared at it, then looked at his lover. Blair smiled. Jim smiled back slowly. He propped himself comfortably against the sofa, folded his hands over his belly, and opened his mouth.

Blair moved till he was kneeling astride Jim's legs and began to feed him. Every other bite he'd lean down, and they would exchange long, slow, cherry flavored kisses. When there was nothing but a few crumbs on the place, Blair said, "Want another piece?"

"Uh huh."

When Blair started to reach for the tart, Jim took away the saucer and fork, putting them aside. Blair raised an eyebrow. "I thought you wanted another piece."

"I do." Jim took hold of Blair's waist and pulled him down, till Blair was sitting on him. "But the pie can wait for later."

"Oh, I see."

It isn't always easy to kiss someone who's grinning, but Jim managed. When he let Blair back up for air he murmured, "I guess after we're through, I'll let you have some of the tart." He rolled them over, pinning Blair beneath him. "You're going to need to rebuild your energy."

Blair laughed softly. "Welcome home, Big Guy."

The End

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Acknowledgements: This story is for Patt, Head Cheerleader and Master illustrator, and Lisa, co-coordinator extraordinaire, and who asked for it. Yes, that's right. No matter how this turns out, you asked for it. :)

Thanks to Patt for the cover and Corinne for the interior.

Rainier Cherry Tart

prep: 45 minutes Bake: 15 minutes

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. For pastry, in medium mixing bowl stir together flour, almonds, and granulated sugar. Using a pastry blender, cut in butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Sprinkle with water, working in with fork until moistened. Form dough into ball. Press dough evenly onto the bottom and up the sides of a 9-inch tart pan with removable bottom. Bake for 15 minutes or until light brown. Cool in pan on wire rack.

For filling, in a mixing bowl beat sour cream, cream cheese, powdered sugar and liqueur until smooth. Cover and refrigerate for 30 to 60minutes.

To assemble, spread cream cheese filling evenly over the bottom of baked tart shell. Arrange cherries on top. In a small saucepan heat jelly over low heat just until melted. Cool slightly; drizzle over cherries. To serve, remove sides of tart pan. Cut into wedges and serve immediately. Makes 8 servings.

Nutrition facts per serving: 295 cal., 16 g total fat, (8 g. sat. fat), 34 mg chol., 113 mg sodium, 35 g carbo., 2 g fiber, and 4 g pro. For a lighter tart (269 cal, 30 mg chol., 13 g total fat, 6 g sat fat)substitute sour cream and cream cheese with equal amounts of light dairy sour cream and light cream cheese.