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A low groan rumbled out of Arthur’s chest as he hauled himself up the steps of the front porch. The physical exhaustion seeped past his overworked muscles and all the way down to his bones. He swore that he felt twice as heavy as he carried himself up the steps that led to the front door of your home. He hated to admit it, but he supposed that his age was starting to show in ways that he couldn’t ignore. He’d be a fool to deny the fact that a full day of manual work affected him much differently in his mid-30s than when he was a spry teenager. He wasn’t as quick to bounce back as he used to be, and that was visibly clear.
However, Arthur wasn’t shocked to see that wasn’t the case for his best canine friend.
Buddy had been by Arthur’s side all day long. Arthur’s feet had hit the floor early that morning. The sun had just barely begun to make its appearance over the horizon when Arthur arose for the day. While Arthur’s sudden movement and alertness hadn’t disturbed your slumber, Buddy was up and ready to go the moment he sensed Arthur’s state of consciousness. Buddy had followed Arthur through his morning chores, his trip into town for some weekly errands, and his home improvement projects that had been the center of Arthur’s labor for the last few weeks.
Arthur and Buddy had worked all day. From sunrise to sunset, the dynamic duo had completed their set jobs for the day. Arthur wrapped the day up when the sun began to return behind the horizon. He knew that you would be finishing up preparing dinner, and the grumbling of his stomach was ready to be satisfied.
Despite the fact that Buddy had done just as much as Arthur had, his energy levels had hardly drained at all from the moment that he had woken up that morning. Buddy zoomed up the steps in hardly a single second, sitting obediently once he had made it to the top. His tail swished back and forth on the wooden porch as he waited for Arthur, his head tilted to the side ever so slightly.
Arthur locked eyes with his beloved dog, an amused chuckle sounding from the man when he noted his pup’s bubbly anticipation.
“Good boy,” He praised, giving his fluffy head a rub when he made it to the top. “I’m ‘bout ready to eat. Whatcha think?”
Buddy stared back at Arthur, and while he didn’t verbally respond, the sudden rise of his bottom on the ground and the increased speed of his tail let Arthur know that Buddy had some understanding of what he was saying. Arthur laughed again as he approached the door, opening it to allow Buddy to enter first. Arthur was hungry, tired, and ready to take a load off for the day. He trailed in after the dog with a quiet sigh as he closed the door behind him.
Arthur removed his boots from his aching feet as he usually did when he entered the house. That was a custom that had taken Arthur some time to get used to. Before living domestically, Arthur would sometimes go days without taking his shoes off. When you lived the way that you previously had, having enough security to take your boots off was a luxury. Now, Arthur was proud to say that it was an everyday given.
The house smelled wonderful. Another daily occurrence that Arthur had gotten used to over time was walking into the smell of a hot meal. Arthur loved nothing more than walking in and having the delicious scent of whatever you had waiting for him for dinner. He was used to being met with the smell of dinner on the stove when he entered every night, and it was something that had yet to get old. It honestly had become one of his favorite parts of his day.
“Hi, honey.” You greeted your husband, flashing him a smile from where you stood in the kitchen.
“Hey, sunshine.” Arthur returned. “What’s for dinner?”
“Nothing special, I’m afraid. Chicken, potatoes, corn….” You listed off. “Oh! And carrots from our very own garden.”
Arthur’s heart swelled at the smile on your face when you mentioned the carrots. Gardening had become both a job and a hobby that you thoroughly enjoyed, and this was the first time that you were enjoying the products of your labor. Arthur’s stomach grumbled audibly at the sound of what was on the menu for dinner that night. He was starving, and he loved nothing more than one of your home cooked meals.
“Darlin’, all of that sounds great. I’m starvin’.” He announced, holding one of his calloused hands to his belly through the cottony material of his checker patterned shirt.
“Perfect timing. Just another few minutes and it’ll be ready.” You continued to smile at him, and he felt his own lips turn up into a grin. You were so much happier now than you were a year ago, and it gave Arthur so much joy.
“Alright. I’ll go get washed up then.” He remarked.
He took casual strides to the bathroom, Buddy no longer paying him any attention now that he was in your presence with food nearby. Arthur’s hands were caked in dirt and sweat, so a proper freshening up was definitely in order. He scraped the dirt out from under his nails and he scrubbed at the meat of his palms to lather his hands. He splashed water on his face to wake himself up a bit, as well as to refresh himself. The evidence of his day of hard work was washed away in seconds, and he felt remarkably better just by getting somewhat cleaned up.
He untucked his shirt as he exited the washroom, and his stomach roared again when he saw the newly set dining table. The spread presented to him looked gloriously delicious. If he didn’t eat soon, he was sure that he was going to get seriously hangry. He approached you with a lazy grin, lowering his head for a swift kiss. He tasted of sweat and the nature from the outside world, but it was something that you had become so lovingly accustomed to.
“Ready to eat?” You asked with a smile when he pulled away.
“Yes ma’am.” Arthur confirmed.
Arthur hadn’t been kidding when he said that he was hungry. He began making his plate at the table before he even hit the seat. He loaded his plate with a healthy serving of everything that you had prepared. It could hardly all fit on his plate, but he began to eat so quickly that his food didn’t have long to be situated in close quarters. Arthur began eating so rapidly that you would’ve thought that you had been depriving him of any nutrition.
His fork never slowed as he shoveled food into his mouth, making noises of approval and nodding his head with satisfaction. He was halfway through his meal before you even had a chance to take your third or fourth bite. You watched with both amusement and concern at his ravenous eating. It wasn’t until he started to turn a shade of dark red from the lack of breathing that you stopped him. You reached across the table to stop his hand from moving any more.
“Slow down a bit, Arthur. At least breathe between bites,” You giggled. “I don’t want you making yourself sick.”
Arthur halted himself from stuffing his face and took a moment to modestly laugh. He hadn’t even caught his savage consumption, and the look of worried amusement on your face suddenly gave it away.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Told ya I was hungry.” He straightened up in his chair, and continued to eat at a much more reasonable pace.
“I promise you that it isn’t going anywhere,” You told him. “It’s all yours.”
Arthur laughed again, and gave a snarky response before the two of you chatted about your days. You told him how you did the laundry and tended to the garden before harvesting the carrots that had turned out so beautifully. It had been a pretty standard day for you, so you were really more interested in hearing about Arthur’s day.
He told you about how he had made a trip into town to go to the store and how Buddy had been more than eager to totter along. Buddy was very obedient, and he was a great dog. However, he was a tad bit spoiled and there were just a few exceptions to his normal obedience.
“Buddy almost got me in a whole mess of trouble today.” Arthur announced, peering underneath the table at the furry head that was staring back at him between his knees.
“Uh oh. What did he do?” You questioned, also taking a moment to look at your furry friend.
“I went into the store for maybe five minutes, so I left Buddy outside with my horse,” Arthur explained. “I come back outside and Buddy is terrorizin’ some poor lady’s cat. Barked the cat right up a damn tree.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Rabbits, squirrels, and cats were Buddy’s favorite not-so-friendly playmates.
“I got the cat down, and I apologized to the woman. Needless to say, I don’t think Buddy’s comin’ back to town with me anytime soon.”
“He was just saying hello.” You spoke in your usual ‘Buddy can do no wrong’ voice.
“If that’s what you wanna call Buddy almost makin’ a snack out of a cat, then sure - he was just sayin’ hello.” Arthur scraped the last of his potatoes and cleared his plate with a satisfied groan.
His hand landed on his belly as he slouched into his chair. He was unbelievably full, but it was a feeling that he was more than relieved to be used to. This was the life that he had been missing out on for so long. This was the life that he preferred.
He helped you clear the table and get the few dishes washed up so you wouldn’t have to do them all in the morning. That was one of your rules: never go to bed with an unclean kitchen. Once the kitchen was back to the way it was before dinner, Arthur sauntered over to the sofa that was in the other room and plopped down with a sigh.
The house was clean, quiet, and peaceful. He was more than happy to take a load off for the day. He didn’t mind the hard work, but he also didn’t mind the relaxation at the end of the day. His eyes were closed as his head was lulled backwards against the couch. He heard you rustling around in the kitchen, and opted to extend his invitation of sitting in blissful silence.
“Come sit with me. darlin’?” He offered.
“I’m actually going to work on something in here. I’ll only be a little while.” You told him.
His curiosity suddenly peaked. His eyes snapped open and he angled his head to look over at you to see what you were doing. He could tell that you were preparing something based on how you were standing at the counter. He was intrigued, because very rarely did you ever work in the kitchen after dinnertime. He rose to his feet again to personally inspect what you were doing, and Buddy’s head perked up as he watched Arthur approach you.
Arthur’s hand rested on your lower back as he landed at your side. Before him was a display of ingredients that he was familiar with, but didn’t particularly ever use. He saw flour, salt, butter, and….apples? Your fingers were working on getting the bag of flour open when Arthur asked his first question.
“What are you workin’ on?” He questioned.
“Something that I think you’re going to like.” You grinned as you looked at your blue-eyed cowboy.
Arthur also saw cinnamon and sugar, which let him know that you were making something sweet. Sugar, apples, cinnamon….he could hardly believe the conclusion that he had come to.
“Are you makin’ an apple pie?” He gawked, his lips parting in slight disbelief.
“I am.” Your smile grew wider.
“Now where ‘n the hell did you learn how to make a pie?” Arthur went on. “And how come I ain’t never had one?”
“When I was little, my momma would bake me an apple pie for my birthday every year instead of a cake,” You explained. “I would watch her every time, and I guess over time it just stuck with me….even after she was gone.”
Arthur expressed a brief glance of sympathy. You didn’t talk about your mother much, or really any part of your life before falling in with Dutch. Arthur had learned about all kinds of hobbies of yours since living on your own. Sure, you had baked goodies for him before, but it had always been few and far between. It wasn’t as easy to bake things like pies or cakes when you didn’t have a fully functioning kitchen.
“It’s been quite some time, but I think I can still do it from memory,” You told Arthur, who was glowing with excitement. “Do you want to help me?”
His smile faltered a bit, his nose scrunching at your offer.
“Ah, I don’t know ‘bout all that.. I’m no wiz in the kitchen like you are.” He chuckled.
“I can teach you. It’s really rather simple.” You persuaded him.
He couldn’t say no to the shimmer of glee in your eyes as you waited for his answer. Maybe he was about to make a fool of himself, but he couldn’t say no to you.
“Alright, alright. I’ll try .” Arthur agreed.
You practically shoved a measuring cup into his hands, and Arthur laughed at how you bounced with jittery elation.
“So first we’re going to make the crust. Start with two cups of flour and put it into the bowl,” You instructed him. “I’ll start on getting the butter measured.”
Arthur stared at the measuring cup for a moment. Was this a cup? Half a cup? Wouldn’t half a cup mean that he needed to fill four of these to equal two full cups? He didn’t want to mess this up, and truthfully he was already overwhelmed.
“How many of these?” He asked to clarify.
You glanced at the cup again in his hands.
“That’s one cup. So two of those, please.” You smiled.
Arthur reached for the bag of flour and set it on the open space in front of him. He dipped the cup into the bag, scooping as much flour as the cup could possibly hold. You told him to scrape off the excess that had formed a mountain on top before transferring it into the bowl. Arthur repeated the process for the second cup, and he felt a little more sure about himself. Maybe this wasn’t so hard after all. Flour sure did make a mess though, because his hands looked more like he had used his hands instead of the cup.
“Perfect. Now I’ll add a cup of butter,” You announced, scraping the cold substance on top of the flour. “Since your hands are already floured up, you can go ahead and combine them together.”
Arthur raised a brow, not sure if he was following.
“With my hands?” He asked.
“Yes,” You giggled. “Just keep mixing it together until it gets sort of crumbly….you’ll know it when you see it.”
Somehow he doubted that, but he obliged. He worked his hands in the bowl, and the corners of his lips turned up into a smile. Arthur was having a blast, even if he wasn’t totally sure what he was doing. You continued to walk him through the steps – asking him to add the cold water to the dough to make it firm and ready to roll out. You handled the formation of the pie crust, because Arthur’s hands were just a bit too rough and large when it came to delicately placing the thinned out dough into the pie pan.
He watched with amazement as you laid the dough over the pan, pressing it into place and trimming the excess off of the sides.
“Now we’ll do the filling. It’s easier than the crust,” You told him. “Can you start by peeling those apples?”
Arthur glanced at the five green apples gathered together on the other side of you. He moved them closer to his station for easy access, reaching into his pocket for his knife. He had peeled plenty of apples and other various fruits for on-the-go snacktime, so this was a breeze. However, just before the blade of his knife went to pierce the vibrant skin of the apple, you stopped him with a sound of alarm.
“Ah! Don’t use your knife. Use one of the kitchen knives,” You advised him. “The blades are sharper….and also I don’t want to know where your knife has been since the last time you cleaned it.”
He chuckled sheepishly because that was a very valid point. He put his own knife back before retrieving a real kitchen knife to begin peeling the apples. He was quick with it, and peeled through the five apples in no time.
“What next?” He grinned.
“Now cut everything away from the middle and throw the core out,” You said. “Then cut the sections into cubes or small pieces.”
It took him some trial and error, but Arthur figured out the best way to hold the knife for easy (albeit slow) slicing. You finished with the bottom crust, and watched as Arthur finished with the last apple and added the bits into a new bowl with the others. Arthur was much more skilled than you expected, and you were pleasantly surprised to see him excel the way that he was. You added sugar and cinnamon to the apple filling, combining it all together with a regular spoon to create a show of cinnamony, sugary goodness. You took a spoonful of the filling and held it to Arthur’s lips. He should’ve known by the smirk on your face that it wasn’t going to be as enjoyable as he expected.
He opened his mouth and tasted it gratefully, but he couldn’t hold his face of distaste. He tried to cover up his reaction, but your round of laughter was a sign that he had failed.
“It’s supposed to be gritty and overly sweet,” You explained to him. “The heat from the oven will melt the sugar and the cinnamon to make a more sticky, syrupy kind of apple filling. I promise it’ll be good once it’s all baked.”
“If you say so.” He shuddered.
Arthur held the pan while you scraped the filling into it, spreading and distributing it evenly across the bottom. You had already rolled the top layer of dough, picking it up and laying it across the top of the filling and trimming the excess just as you had before.
“Take this fork and press it all the way around the sides. That way the top and bottom crust will bake together.” You handed him a fork.
Arthur did as told, and you went ahead and cut four slits on the top of the crust so there would be an opening for the extra heat to escape.
“It’ll go in the oven for about 40 minutes. It’ll need to cool for about 15 before it’s ready to serve.” You slid the pan into the oven.
“I just hope I didn’t mess it up.” Arthur snorted.
You wrapped your arms around his torso with a warm smile. Even if this pie turned out to be a disaster, it was well worth the cherishable memory that you had just made.
“It’ll be wonderful.”
____
He could hardly believe how beautifully pleasing it looked, and if it tasted even half as good as it smelled – then he was positive that he was in for a special treat. While waiting for the pie to bake, you and Arthur whipped up a quick batch of sweet cream to go on top (although most of the cream was eaten by the time the pie was finishing baking).
“If that ain’t the finest looking thing that I ever did see….” Arthur stared down at the golden, perfectly baked pie.
“It’s really not much,” You shrugged modestly. “There’s nothing super special about it.”
Arthur reached for a fresh knife to serve both of you a piece, because he couldn’t wait any longer. He presented your piece to you first, but he grinned when you held the fork with the first bite to his mouth.
“You try it first. No jokes this time.” You giggled.
Arthur didn’t even hesitate, taking the fork into his mouth. The flavor was immaculate as it exploded all over his mouth, and it was incredibly better than his initial taste test. It was flaky, buttery, sweet, and it had just the right amount of spice to it. It was perfection, and Arthur had never been more proud to be a part of something.
“It’s perfect. So, so good.” He praised, and your smile warmed his heart.
He returned the favor, taking a bite on his fork and offered it to you. You wrapped your lips around the fork, and had the same reaction as Arthur did.
“Just like Momma used to make.” You chirped.
“What d’you say? Will I be recruited to help with the next one?” Arthur questioned with a kiss to the crown of your head.
You snickered under your breath, but you couldn’t hide your answer even if you tried.
“Absolutely.”
Arthur kissed your forehead this time with a happy hum. He wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything in the entire world. Arthur’s life had become much richer and much sweeter.
And no pie in the world was sweeter than this.