This is my first try at writing fan fiction. I was inspired by the kitchen scene last week. I really love Hannah and Bright. I, in no way own them. Please let me know what you think.
Bright stared at the picture he held in his hand. He had found it in the recipe box stuffed between Harold's Famous Spaghetti Sauce and Paprika Chicken. His was probably about three at the time, with longish white blonde curls, standing in this very kitchen on a stool next to his mom. He held a bright orange plastic knife which he was using to chop vegetables. His mom stood beside him, young and beautiful, the picture of health. The memory was hazy and he wasn't sure if it was there at all or only caused by looking at the photograph.
He opened the refrigerator door, taking out the ingredients that he would need. There was a note on the refrigerator door from Amy basically saying that she wasn't going to be home until after dinner. He tried to decipher his dad's scrawl on the recipe card. How he would turn this into an edible meal was beyond him.
Meal night had been Amy's idea. In her usual take charge role she was trying to manage the chaos that came with their mom's diagnosis. Bright had to admit that lately the only family meals were ones that Hannah cooked. They were always grabbing something which was difficult because Everwood was not exactly a fast food mecca.
He frowned as he looked at the food processor on the counter. Man, he was in over his head. You probably needed an advanced degree just to work this thing. He placed the onions, garlic, and bell pepper on the counter and read the recipe again.
"Bright, you left the door open." She closed it behind her looking at him closely.
People seemed to do this lately always judging how he was before proceeding with whatever they were going to say. Some avoided him completely as if tragedy were somehow contagious.
Hannah was one of the few things that could make him smile lately.
"What are you making?" She placed her purse down on the table before walking toward him.
"Harold's World Famous Spaghetti." He held out the recipe, wondering if she had come to see Amy or him.
"Need any help?"
"Yeah,I never knew that cooks had their own language."
"Maybe you can write cook books for the common man."
"And you'll be my translator."
She smiled at him and started setting things in order. He enjoyed watching her as she competently turned those individual ingredients into something more. She had that way about her. After all he often felt like he was something more when she was near.
"You want to start with your onion." She used the rather large knife to gesture for him to come over.
He made a frightened expression that earned him one of her smiles. When she smiled like that it was easy to forget exactly why he had pushed her away.
Hannah began chopping the onion her capable hands moving slowly as she tried to explain and then handed him the knife to give it a try.
Her forehead wrinkled as she watched him fumble with the knife. She placed her hand on his, guiding the knife down before moving it over a bit and repeating the move. How come this seemed more intimate than the kiss she had shared with Topher, than anything she had ever experienced with a boy?
Her cell phone broke the silence. She grabbed it from her purse glancing at the caller id before answering it. There was always this small fear that it would be news about her dad and a sense of relief when it wasn't, not that the status quo was great but at least it was known.
Hannah had turned away from him and was talking in hushed tones into the phone.
"It's just this thing came up. You know Amy needed"
"No, it's not that. No, I have this thing tomorrow, sorry."
"Just this thing with Amy. You know Ephram is gone and"
"Yeah, I'm sorry."
"Me too."
She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks under Bright's unwavering gaze. Since the Salmon incident as she and Amy had come to refer to it, she had managed to avoid Topher but yesterday he had caught her in the hall and asked her out for tonight. There was something in his face, fear and expectation was so clearly etched there, that had made her say yes. Instead of going out with him she had left a message on his machine, some lame excuse about a friend needing her. Topher had been concerned about her and about Amy, the assumed friend. He was that type of guy, considerate, caring, wonderful. She really had thought about giving him another chance but then she had ended up walking over here.
Hannah put her phone down and walked over to return her attention back to the recipe. She avoided Brights gaze and reached up to grab spices from the cabinet over the stove.
"What do you need?" He reached up behind her easily able to grasp the spices that she could only touch with her finger tips. He could tell that he unnerved her and he liked that he had that ability.
"Bay leaf, oregano, sea salt." She could feel him pressed lightly against her back. His fingers brushed her arm as he sat the spices down one by one.
He took a step back, watching her add the spices and stir it one last time before adding the lid. Her long brown hair was falling into her face and he wondered if she felt it to.
It was almost like the photo where he was unsure if his memory was playing tricks on him except that in this moment as he watched her, he knew that both things were real.
