He moved around the greenhouse, mixing some fresh fertilizer for some of the vegetable plants he had planted a few weeks ago.  It was never going to be massive treasure trove of fresh food, but, a couple of meals worth of each vegetable, maybe enough corn to last several days when it got here, and of course it helped hide the ….. recreational substances some of the team had desired.

Its not that he was really opposed to that kind of thing, but…..his family had been cops for too long for him to be entirely comfortable.  Yet, he wanted his team to be happy, he wanted to do what he could for them, to help them.

Besides, Allison and Felix hadn’t been exactly quiet, and, well, frankly, after the terror of the day he should be exhausted, but he was afraid to go to sleep.  He kept seeing the horrorific masks of the clowns, of that white face.  Ironic, he’d always loved clowns.  It wasn’t that he was that upset that Allison chose Felix, I mean he got it, Felix was good looking, he just thought Allison deserved better.  Not him necessarily, although she was beautiful, and he liked girls too, he was just…..lonely.  Besides, he was used to most of the girls chasing the bad boys, not that he ever really understood it.  He missed Alaine, and especially Jeremiah, he even missed his Dad.  Even though……He really missed his Mom, but that was an old pain…….

“Lukas?”

He jerked his head up in surprse, slamming his head into the cabinet above, “Holy fuck….,” and he paused in his cursing, turning, “Sorry, Mrs. Anderson, excuse my language, you surprised me.”

Rubbing his head, he looked down at the older woman.  She always seemed nice, pleasant, but yet, she kind of terrified him.  There was just a sense of……he didn’t know, steel maybe under her sun darkened skin.  She quirked and eyebrow at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.  “Uh, I know that its supposed to be lights out, and, I, uh, uhm, uh, should be sleeping, but…..I couldn’t sleep, you know, clown nightmares, hehehe, weird right, and, anyway, I figured I’d check on the plants, because, well, with the ankle and such…..not like nobody else would.”

She just stood there patiently, a slight smile on her face, and it completely unnerved him, “Well, maybe I should just clean up and try to go back to sleep.”

“If that’s what ya want, child, then by all means, off ta bed,” she turned to go, “or I was about to prep the billy for a bit of tea, helps me sleep, would ya like to join me?”

“Uh, yea, sure, I guess, I mean,” finally getting control of himself, “Yes, Ma’am, I would like some tea.  I’ll just go wash my hands and meet you in the kitchen?”

She nods and walks off.

---

 

He walked into the kitchen, where Mrs. Anderson already had the water in the teapot, and was, well, he didn’t really know what she was doing.

“Sit down, dear.”

He watched her for a couple moments, as she pulled something out of a container, putting them on a plate, and then she poured two mugs full of tea, sitting the small plate of cookies in front of him.   Then she sat down in the chair across from him, adding a bit of milk to her tea.  He didn’t really drink tea, so he followed her actions, tasting it.  Strange, but good, and the cookies were awesome.

“What kind of cookies are these?”

“ANZAC biscuits.”

“Uh, taste like cookies.”

“They are dear, biscuits/cookies, similar enough.”

“Oh.”

She watched him, sitting, his massive frame hunched over the table and sitting in a chair in no way the right size for him.  He looked like a massive puppy dog waiting to be kicked.  She waited, always the best scenario.  Teenage boys didn’t liked to be asked, made them defensive. Lord knows, she’d had enough of that with hers.

“Mrs. Anderson, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know how to cook?”  At her arched eyebrow, he hurriedly apologized, “I mean, not that, you know, as a woman, that you have to know how to cook, I mean, ugh, uh, uh, Allison said you had kids, and maybe even grandchildren, I don’t know, anyway, I thought maybe that, well……” he slowed after that painful explanation, “not, ugh.”

“Lukas, yes, I cook.”

Relieved at her answer, he paused for a few moments, taking a deep breath, “Well, uhm, will you teach me?  I mean, the food Mr. Jones gets us is great and all, but its mainly all, you know, frozen, or in a box.  I mean there’s always fresh stuff for sandwiches, and I’m not really complaining, but I’ve been trying to cook stuff every Sunday, but I only know a few things, and well, I’m not trying to complain, but the rest of the team will be upset if I ask for another class that they all have to take, and I know you can get recipes on the internet and stuff, but they’re never the right amount for the amount of food we eat, and I…..well, I like to cook and I miss cooking with my….family I guess, and, well…..” with obvious frustration, he falls silent.

The loneliness oozing from him would be obvious to a blind woman, and she was far from blind.   “I’d be happy ta show ya some tricks.  Next Sunday then?”

Smiling broadly, he responds with a quiet, “Yes, Ma’am, that’d be wonderful.”