U N O F F I C I A L
H O M E P A G E
This is not in any way connected with the "Where Do You Start" stories -- though it could
be a precursor, since it's set in the present and not the future.
Warning: it might make you hungry.
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Love 'em, don't own 'em and won't make money off 'em.
"Cookie Therapy"
by Winnie Lim
Jessie Bannon's eyes snapped open. It was dark. She turned over and looked at her
clock. 3.12AM.
Try as she might, she couldn't get back to sleep. Thinking *Maybe some warm milk
will help,* she got up and put on her bathrobe and slippers.
The kitchen light was on as she padded down the stairs. *So I'm not the only one,*
she thought, hearing sounds of activity. She went in, expecting to find her father, or Dr
Quest -
-- and stopped.
"Jonny?"
He looked up from the bowl he was stirring, startled at the sound of her voice. "Oh.
Hi, Jess," he said, and went back to stirring. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"
"Yeah," she answered. "What are you doing?" she asked, looking around the
kitchen. Containers of flour, sugar, and other assorted ingredients were set out neatly
along the counter. Jonny was wearing a flour-dusted calico apron with "BBQ King"
stenciled across the front of it over an old T-shirt and jeans. The scene seemed so surreal
that she wondered if she was dreaming.
"Making cookies," he said.
"You can *cook?*" she said incredulously. He did his share of mess duty whenever
they went camping, but that consisted mostly of reconstituting freeze-dried food. She had
never seen him actually cook something from scratch before - unless it was boiling water.
"Sure," he replied. He picked up an egg and expertly cracked it, one-handed, into
the bowl. "Dad and Race and me used to take turns cooking, down at Palm Key." He
stirred the mixture around, frowned at its consistency, and added a splash of milk. "Then
when we moved to Maine, Mrs Evans came with the house."
He picked up a measuring cup, dipped it into the flour bin, shook off the excess, and
dumped it into the bowl. Jessie noted the easy familiarity of his movements as he folded
the flour into the bowl's contents. "How long have you been doing this?" she asked.
"About once a week, when we're home," he shrugged, and winked. "Who do you
think keeps the cookie jar filled?"
"Mrs Evans, I thought," Jessie said.
"Mrs Evans has enough trouble cleaning up after us," Jonny said. "Do you like
coconut?"
"What?"
"Do you like coconut," Jonny repeated patiently, holding up a box of shredded
coconut. "Or I won't put it in."
"Sure, I like coconut," Jessie said, still not sure if she was dreaming. "But why so
late at night?" She glanced at her watch, and amended, "Or early in the morning?"
"I couldn't sleep," he explained, putting the bowl down on the counter. He measured
out some coconut and scattered it into the bowl. "And this is better than lying awake
trying to beat back the wolf."
"The Hour of the Wolf," she nodded, watching him stir the mixture with even
strokes. "How come you don't use the electric mixer?"
"You kidding? And wake up the whole house?" He carefully shook in half a bag of
chocolate chips. "Anyway, this helps me clear my head. Concentrate on getting the stuff
mixed right, trying out new things." He glanced at her, and emptied the rest of the bag
into the bowl. "And I can always eat the mistakes."
"Cooking as therapy," Jessie smiled.
"Can't beat it," Jonny replied, stirring in a cup of walnuts.
"Need some help?"
He grinned. "Sure. You can get out the cookie sheets and grease 'em."
Jessie did as he instructed, and then they set out the cookie dough. Soon the kitchen
was filled with the smell of baking cookies.
She sniffed appreciatively. "I can't believe I never noticed this," she said.
"The house is pretty well ventilated," Jonny said, running hot water over the used
bowls and measuring cups he had stacked in the sink. Jessie watched as he pulled on a
pair of gloves. She was about to go over and help when she was overcome by a huge
yawn.
"Why don't you go back to bed. I'll clean up," Jonny said.
She nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "I'll see you in the morning," she said.
"Uh-huh. Now *go,*" he said.
The sun was shining brightly when Jessie opened her eyes. She lay still for a
moment, recalling the events of the night before - earlier that morning, she corrected
herself. She still wasn't sure if it had been a dream.
Jonny was occupied with a bowl of cereal at the counter when she went into the
kitchen. "Good morning," he said cheerfully, looking up from the comics section of the
newspaper.
*Had to be a dream,* she thought as she returned his greeting. *He sure doesn't
look like he was up half the night baking cookies.* The kitchen was spotless; the flour
and sugar bins were back in their places, and the only things at the counter were Jonny, his
cereal bowl, and the various sections of the morning paper.
As she passed the cookie jar, she paused. *Can't hurt to look.* She shrugged, and
lifted the lid.
It was filled nearly to the brim. She picked one up. It was still slightly warm, and it
smelled of coconut.
She looked over at Jonny. He was still inhaling his cereal. As if he felt her looking
at him, he turned, and grinned at her.
"Bit early in the morning for cookies, isn't it, Jess?"
END
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Author's Note:
OK... so I was up at the hour of the wolf last night, and seeking solace from my thoughts
(and not having any chocolate chips or coconut on hand for my own cookie therapy), I
drummed out this little story instead. It was originally supposed to be a Dr Quest-Jonny
story, but Jessie asked so nicely that I put her in instead.
Winnie
"Nothin' says lovin' like somethin' from the oven"...;)
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