Of Music, Art and Picnics

[DrDMatthews 0]

A log by Commander Ridire and Dr. Matthews.....takes place sometime before the recall from Risa.

 

Aidan is waiting a bit impatiently in the living room of the cabin they were staying in on Risa. He considers poking his head into the kitchen and chiding Deb for taking her time with getting the food for the picnic ready. She had insisted on handling it herself, saying something about it was her turn. Sighing, he steps over to the piano tucked in a corner and sits down on the bench that's set before it. Idly he starts playing it as he waits. He's not playing any particular song, just whatever comes to him.

 

For some reason, it was Aidan who usually planned the menus and prepared the lunches, dinners and impromptu picnics. But not this time. Deb was determined to take charge of this picnic and she wanted to insure it would be something special. Last night, she spent over an hour choosing the menu. This morning, she'd spent another two hours programing the replicator to accurately reproduce the various dishes to her exact specifications. So far, she was pleased with the results. And, she was just about finished. None too soon either. Her husband had been ready to go for hours.

 

Deb carefully placed the plates, cutlery and napkins into one of the two large baskets. Next came the glasses and the Le Fleur Pinot Noir along a couple of bottles of water. She closed the lid and then peeked inside basket number two....the one containing most of the food.

 

They would start with French cambemert with crackers and goat cheese with fresh thyme, Jamaican honey, and orange zest. That would feast on garbanzo bean salad, Oriental sesame asparagus and chilled beef tenderloin with Sause Bearnaise. There was a blueberry picnic cake for dessert but Deb had a feeling they would probably bring that home with them.

 

As she carefully carried the baskets toward the living room, she stopped as the sound of music drifted through the small cottage. Someone was playing the piano. It had to be Aidan. There was no one else in the bungalow. She remained still for a moment, wondering how many other surprises her husband had up his sleeve. She'd known Aidan for years. She was now married to this man yet she had no idea he could play the piano.

 

She sat both picnic baskets down near the front door and quietly walked up behind him as he concentrated on the faded white keys of the well used piano. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "You never told me you could play," she said softly. "I had no idea you were so talented."

 

Aidan leans back against her and murmurs, "You never asked. Besides, a man should not let his wife know all his secrets seven months into a marriage. He has to keep her interested somehow after all." As he says the last, his voice takes on a teasing tone. He stops playing the piano and draws the cover over the keys. Slipping out of her arms, he stands and then turns and leans in for a quick kiss. "But I'll let you in on another talent of mine, I also know how to paint. I'm no Monet but I'm pretty good at it still. Both that talent and my ability to play the piano you can thank my mom for. She was rather insistent that I have interests besides academics and sports."

 

He steps over to where she left the two baskets and he picks up the heavier of the two. Reaching a hand towards Deb he smiles and asks, "Shall we go?"

 

For a moment, Deb stood beside the piano and stared at Aidan. She wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She finally joined him by the door, wondering what other surprises he had up his sleeve. "Yes," she quipped lightly, picking up the other basket. "I suppose we should go."

 

She slipped her hand into his as they walked through the door and out to the path leading to the picnic site. They were a short distance from the bungalow when Deb looked up at her husband. "By painting," she began slowly. "I assume you mean something other than....walls."

 

He chuckles softly and says, "Well, I can do those too. But meant actual paintings. Only done landscapes before, mainly of home. A castle or two. I tried painting a starship once but wasn't quite satisfied with the results. Didn't look...well graceful enough for what I was trying to do."

 

He guides her in the direction of the spot they were overlooking the lake the day before. He glances sidelong at her and asks, "I trust that overlook from yesterday will do for a picnic spot? And what did you pack in here? Feels like you put in half a refrigerator's worth of food." He smirks briefly. "And what hidden talents do you have, love, that I haven't discovered yet? I mean as long as we're on the subject...."

 

"Oh great!," thought Deb silently. "I've unwittingly married into an artistic family. What will Aidan think when he finds out I can't draw a straight line with a ruler."

 

She glanced at the two picnic baskets and . "That site we saw yesterday is perfect," she said with a slight grin. "And these baskets contain the ingredients for an extraordinary gourmet picnic. And that's all I'm going to tell you. Other than I'm sure you'll enjoy it...or at least, I hope you do."

 

As she spoke, Deb pondered Aidan's question about her hidden talents. She certainly wasn't a painter and she'd never had the opportunity to learn how to play a musical instrument. She wasn't sure she would be any good at anyway. She did enjoy cooking and really loved to bake. But she hadn't been able to practice those skills in so many years, she wasn't sure she still possessed them. And did crocheting require talent?

 

She glanced at Aidan and shrugged. "I'm not sure I have any hidden talents," she finally admitted. "I think most of my talents, if that's what you choose to call them are....obvious."

 

He chuckles softly. "Well, there is your talent for coming up with things to do. Case in point that birthday dinner you came up for me last year. And this picnic here. And your talent at relaxing me. As well as you're a very good dancer. And I'm sure I'm going to discover when we go shopping that you have a talent for making me carry a bunch of boxes. Not that I mind playing your butler." He smirks briefly as he says the last. He glances at her and then murmurs, "I wonder if you have a talent as a model."

 

"Talent has nothing to do with shopping," announced Deb with feigned pride. "That's a skill...a learned skill that you must practice on a regular basis until you become.....proficient at it." She glanced at her handsome husband and smiled mischievously. "And I haven't had the opportunity to practice in over six months. So I have to make up for lost time. As for modeling, well.....that might require talent."

 

He smirks at her, "Well, while you are practicing your shopping skill do keep in mind that it would not be a good idea to make me throw out my back by asking me to carry dozens of boxes for you. Would be a bad idea to confine me to bed for the duration of this vacation. And as for modeling...well it just means having the ability to sit or keep a pose."

 

"You mean....sit still for more than a couple of minutes?" she asked in mock surprise. "Nope," she continued, shaking her head slowly. "I definitely don't possess that....talent....or skill. But I am....compassionate. When we go shopping, I won't make you carry dozens of boxes...even though you do it so well." She looked up at him and grinned. "I'll restrain myself a bit....maybe just nine or ten this time."

 

They reach their destination and he helps her lay out the picnic. As he helps with the food he chuckles softly. "Well, when you said a gourmet picnic you sure weren't kidding."

 

Deb smiled broadly. "I put some thought into it," she replied. "I hope you brought an appetite. We need to eat it all. I would rather not carry anything back."

 

He pours two glasses of the wine then offers one to her. He says teasingly, "Oh, I think I brought my appetite with me. Besides, if we have anything left, isn't carrying stuff what you keep me around for?"

 

She burst out laughing as she accepted the glass. "You are a champion at carrying stuff," she chuckled, lifting the glass slightly. "But trust, me....you're a champion at other things as well. So, no, carrying stuff isn't why I keep you around....at least, it's not the primary reason"

 

"Oh good, because I'd hate to think I was merely a servant. Though I am a bit curious as to what is the primary reason you keep me around...as well as your other reasons." He takes a sip of his wine as he watches her curiously.

 

His question surprised her a little. Granted, he asked it in a light hearted manner but she could tell from the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that he was serious. He wasn't looking for a sassy comment. Aidan wanted an honest answer.

 

She knew what she wanted to tell him. The only question was, where to begin. It would take hours for her to list all of the reasons why she "kept him around." She found a place to set down her glass and then met his gaze, smiling warmly. Leaning over, she gave him a tender kiss on the cheek then covered his hand with hers. "I love you, " she whispered softly. "And I love the way you love me." She shrugged her shoulders slightly and glanced around at the serene countryside. "I don't know how it happened," she continued, again focusing on her husband. "But you've become such an integral part of me, I don't think I could continue to breathe without you."

 

He smiles and kisses her gently. Breaking it off, he murmurs "And I knew all that. Still, it's nice hearing it occasionally. And I live and breathe for you, my love." He kisses her warmly, letting it linger for a minute. Ending it he leans back and glances down at the food. "Perhaps we should see to the food...."

 

Deb studied him for a long moment. It had only taken a few seconds but she'd nearly forgotten about their picnic lunch. She leaned back with a nod, picked up her plate and dribbled a spoonful of Sause Bearnaise over the tenderolin. "Yes," she replied softly with a knowing grin. "We should see to the food."

 

He nods as he helps himself to some of the French cambemert. He catches her grin out of the corner of his eyes. He chuckles softly and says quietly, "Before we move our attention on to other things that can perhaps wait."

 

She carefully lifted a couple of asparagus into her plate before glancing at her husband with a mischievous smile. "I agree," she replied coyly. "Dessert should always come after the meal."