Rewriting the Destiny
Finn MacEwan stood in his studio and stared at the hunk of
marble on the workbench in front of him. Instead of a vision appearing to him
in the stone—a shape latent beneath the rough exterior—it remained just a
formless block. Worse was the sensation of no longer really knowing what to do,
as though not only his artistic sense had vanished, but had taken the muscle
memory that made his sculpting possible too.
Slowly putting down his tools, he tried to regulate his
suddenly rough breathing and quiet the pounding of his heart. Although the drizzly
autumn day was cool, a sheen of perspiration coated his brow and he wiped at it
as he strode to the dormer window and stood staring out at the quiet Toronto
street below. Frustration at his restlessness and inability to concentrate made
his teeth clench.
He’d done well since leaving the north and coming to the
city with Tasha. His career was growing in leaps and bounds, and God knew he’d
never been happier than he’d been over the last three years. There was nowhere
else he’d rather be—no one who could fulfill him, heart and soul, like Tasha. He
just couldn’t understand why his ability to sculpt, even the need to do it, had
suddenly deserted him. If he were being brutally honest with himself, and now
he forced himself to be exactly and precisely that, the loss of the one thing
he’d clung to all those years of being trapped was frightening.
Bone-deep, soul-witheringly frightening.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
“Finn?” Tasha’s voice floated up from downstairs, and even
after all their time together it made his heart leap with joy. “Dinner’s
ready.”
Taking a deep breath, forcing the tense muscles of his face
to relax, he called back. “Coming, love.”
As he headed for the staircase, he tried to push the fear
and anger aside. Tasha knew there was something wrong—it was almost impossible
to keep anything from her—but he’d tried to minimize the extent of the problem.
The last thing he wanted was for her to worry.
Getting to the bottom of the steps, he paused, surprised. Rather
than the island/bar top where they usually ate, she’d set the dining table with
her best china and cutlery and adorned it with candles and fresh flowers. For a
moment he mentally scrambled to see if he’d forgotten a birthday or
anniversary, but nothing came to him.
Tasha turned and grinned at him from the kitchen, and he
couldn’t help smiling back, the weight of his fear lessening. She was so
beautiful, her smile so full of love he could feel it reach across the room.
And she was his.
What did anything else matter in the face of that?
“Sit down.” She picked up a platter from the counter and
walked around the island into the dining area. “I hope you’re hungry.”
It was only then he took a good look at the food, and his
eyebrows lifted in surprise. Tasha’d cooked what he thought of as one of her
special occasion meals. She had eclectic tastes in food, picked and chose from
various cultures to create some of the most interesting meals he’d ever had.
Tonight it was a pork roast redolent with rosemary and thyme, scalloped
potatoes done in the oven, steamed broccoli and carrots, and Jamaican-style Rice
and Peas.
“What a feast.” He pulled out her chair, bending to capture
her mouth for a sweet, lingering kiss. Her lips softened beneath his, and for a
long moment he forgot everything—food, art, anxiety—in the wonder of her.
Tasha put a hand on his chest, right over his heart, and
eased their bodies apart. She was still smiling, but her eyes had grown languid
and her breathing was ragged. The low, delicious tenor of her voice sent his
libido soaring, as she said, “Food first. Then we can pick this up where we
left off.”
Teasing the corner of her mouth with his lips, he whispered,
“I look forward to it.” And he couldn’t help smiling at her little shiver.
The meal was wonderful, and Finn realized she’d made some of
his all-time favorites. Although she’d made a sinfully rich gravy, the soft
texture of the Rice and Peas made it almost a shame to put any on it. The side dish
had quickly become one he looked forward to seeing her cook.
While savoring the meal Finn still couldn’t help feeling
he’d missed something. ‘Special occasions
demand special food’, she always said, and this was definitely, deliciously
special. And food was one of the ways Tasha dealt with problems or comforted
others, not as a panacea but as a way to show she cared. Finally he couldn’t
take it anymore, and had to ask.
“What’s the occasion, Tash?”
She didn’t pretend not to understand, but immediately put
down her fork and levelled a serious look on him. “I thought we should have a
really nice meal, something I won’t be able to cook while we’re away.”
Surprised she’d make plans without asking for his input, he
put down his utensils too. “You didn’t mention anything about a vacation. Where
are we supposed to be going? And when?”
Her gaze slid away from his for a moment, then came
resolutely back to snag his again. “I took a sabbatical and we’re going to
Churchill in two days. Everything is booked.”
Taken aback didn’t begin to describe his feelings. Stunned
would be better, and even that didn’t cover it adequately. Leaning back in his
chair and crossing his arms, he tried to marshal his thoughts, but she rushed
into speech before he could find his tongue.
“Darling, the north was a major part of your life for so
long, it’s unreasonable to believe you can just walk away from it and not have
that affect you.”
Finn opened his mouth to object, then closed it again. His
knee-jerk reaction was to say she was wrong. That he’d spent a hundred and
twenty-five years trapped by the north, unable to leave for longer than a few
months at a time, and if he never saw the Arctic again, he’d be happy. And yet…
If he closed his eyes, he could see the distinctive
landscape, so beautiful in its stark majesty. At night sometimes he dreamed of spring
in the Taiga or the wild beauty of winter when the polar bears, his brothers,
roamed as lords of the ice. A part of him still yearned for it, and it had
taken his wonderful wife to recognize that.
“It’ll refresh you. And I’m looking forward to going back to
where it all really started.”
She tried for a touch of humor, but there was a hint of
uncertainty in her voice and he realized he’d zoned out, leaving her wondering
what he was thinking.
Rising, he circled the table and held out his hand. Even
though he hadn’t said anything she got up, slipping right into his arms. Tilting
her head back, she smiled at him, and he held her tight, so full of love and
desire and thankfulness he could hardly breathe.
“Yes,” he said, letting his hands slide down her back until
he cupped her ass and pulled her even closer, letting her feel his arousal. “Back
to the beginning, and the future.”
Like Tasha I celebrate with food, and no celebration in our
house is complete without Rice & Peas. Variations of this dish can be found
in the cuisine of most Caribbean islands, some made with red kidney beans,
others with pigeon peas. On some islands salted meat adds flavor, on others
coconut provides it.
The recipe here is my quick-and-easy version of the Jamaican
style, which utilizes coconut milk. Back home, if you’re doing it ‘right’, you’d
make the coconut milk yourself, cracking open a dry coconut, extracting the
hard flesh, grating it or liquidizing it in a blender or food processor with a
little water, and squeezing the “milk” out by hand. It’s a time-consuming job,
so I use pre-packaged blocks of dehydrated coconut milk. If that’s not
available, use canned or frozen coconut milk. I’ve made it with canned coconut
cream, but the flavor is quite different, so for a more authentic taste, make
sure the product you use says coconut milk, rather than cream.
Quick and Easy Jamaican Rice-and-Peas
½ block dehydrated coconut milk or 1 can coconut milk
1 regular size can red kidney beans OR pigeon peas
Water
Long grain or par-boiled rice
1 stalk scallion, chopped fine (spring onion)
½ teaspoon dried thyme leaves OR 1 teaspoon fresh
Salt
Pepper
1/8 teaspoon allspice
Method:
Either add ½ block dehydrated coconut milk to approximately 4
cups of water and bring to a boil OR mix the can of coconut milk with enough
water to make about 4 cups of liquid and bring to a boil, turn heat down to
medium. Boil water and coconut for ten minutes (watch the pot so it doesn’t
boil over) then add the canned peas, including the liquid.
While the ratio of rice:water usually is 1:2, for rice and
peas I like slightly more water, so that the end result is slightly soft,
rather than grainy, but that’s a personal preference. I can eyeball the amount
of rice, but that’s after years of practice! My mother never could, so here is
her method for calculating the amount of rice needed.
Carefully strain the contents of the pot into another pot.
Return the peas to the original pot, and then measure the amount of liquid,
returning it to the pot too. In my experience, you will probably find it is
just about the 4 cup mark again, but sometimes it’s more or less, so measuring
is a good idea! Bring the peas and coconut, etc. back to the boil. Add the
appropriate amount of rice, following the prescribed 1 cup rice to 2 cups
liquid for shelly rice, or ¾ cups rice to 2 cups liquid for softer consistency.
Add salt and pepper to taste, as well as chopped scallion, thyme and allspice. Bring
back to a boil, then cover, turning down the heat to medium-low. Cook for about
20 minutes, until rice is properly cooked. Stir to evenly distribute peas, and
serve.
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