Mar 20

Mar 20 Chipotle Chicken Salad Sandwiches

The Secret To Love

There used to be only three things I needed in life to be happy: money, baseball, and my freedom. I turned my nose up at the suitors who wished for my favor, as I knew they did not have my best interests at heart. Despising the stringent restraints that being a lady of society required, I delighted in exhibiting reckless and audacious behavior at every turn to spite my parents. Unfortunately, my father had to up and die one day.

I didn't have many options after my father died. With a grieving mother and four younger siblings to take care of, I left home to work as a maid for a wealthy billionaire who was recently widowed. When his wife and child had died during childbirth, he vowed to never marry again. He was a reclusive billionaire. He closed the manor and sent away all of the staff, keeping only the housekeeper. On my first day, the housekeeper warned me that I must never engage with the master of the house as he liked his privacy. Being a maid in this big empty house was good work that paid well and let me help my family back home with their financial struggles. I was determined to stay employed. It was an uphill battle because I was at a much lower station than he was, with no wealth or land to speak of, but I was willing to take that chance. The housekeeper called me baby and kid, but I didn’t mind because I knew why I was there: do the job.

After a night of partying the billionaire flipped his SUV and developed temporary amnesia from the injuries. Now that he was wealthy beyond imagination, he seemed to have forgotten where he came from. One morning while I was dusting the parlor, the billionaire entered the room and, before I could rush out, asked me to stay and keep him company. He didn’t remember me. He was lonely and I was young and inquisitive. I worked with him day and night to help him regain his memories, showing him pictures and videos of his past. Nothing worked, and he began to question everything, believing that I was some sort of spy assigned to interrogate him. The more time I spent with him, desperate to keep him alive, the more I realized there was more than meets the eye. He told me about his extensive doll collection. He befriended my dog, a goofy flatulent French bulldog, after experiencing a PTSD panic attack one night. As the weeks went on, our bond grew. I started to see him as more than the master of the house, and it was clear that he saw me as more than just his maid. Without any identification, he fell in love with me, the nurse who nursed him back to health. Over time, I helped him find the confidence he needed.

However, one day he remembered something from his past when his dead wife's cousin showed up in need of help. A recently divorced woman fleeing an abusive marriage, she left New York to move back to her hometown. I wanted to turn her away—I really did—but I couldn’t. She was perfect—sweet, pretty, and, best of all, society's perfect darling. I hated her because she reminded him of his dead wife. Vanity plagued her every move, and her cavalier attitude drove me crazy. She initially had nothing to say to me. I dubbed her the Ice Princess.

As his memory slowly returned, he realized that friendship and love had been missing from his life. He came to her a month later dressed to the nines with a bouquet of flowers in hand. After a whirlwind romance, he decided to marry her after only a few months of dating. When he offered her marriage and she considered it, I was shocked by my own jealousy. When he asked me to buy the engagement ring, I grudgingly agreed. I’d given up on happiness for myself, happiness like that.

I kept hating her until I didn’t. I extended my hand in friendship, hoping I could make a difference. We were both surprised by the instant connection, now that we were actually speaking. I often took breaks down at the small dock near the mansion’s private beach. She often visited to play beach bowling. I began to wonder if her gaming endeavors were just an excuse to get closer to me. She was both stunning and sassy and ignited a flame within. I was drawn to her and started a secret romance while worrying that word about our relationship might get out, which would put my reputation and career in jeopardy.

The billionaire went missing. Now I had a choice to make: follow my duties or become insubordinate, abandon my post, and search for him. The journey was difficult, and I encountered troubles along the way. I didn’t know who to trust or where to go. I found the billionaire in the one place that everybody said was the last place I should look for him: a local charity function. I suddenly felt a gust of wind. When he walked through the door my jaw dropped.

"You can't go in there," I told him.

"Speak softly, love," he whispered in my ear.

When we locked eyes it was electric. I looked away. A terrible tragedy had rocked his world and I was there as a shoulder to cry on as he healed. He swore he'd changed and that he’d fallen for me. Could we find common ground and learn to love one another again? His first request was a kiss. It was as if he couldn’t hear me. Could any amount of feelings overcome the guilt? I decided to run for it. Out the front door, down the back alley, up a fire escape. He came home a changed man, sullen and silent.

At nineteen, I left for special training to work overseas as a missionary for a year. During my mission, I was on a base housing military personnel, equipment, and operations centers. The base came under attack by pirates who were heavily armed and who had infiltrated the hub. I captured a pirate and she revealed all the details of their plans. They had taken hostages. When all hope seemed lost and I questioned whether I would even be able to complete my mission, I met and fell in love with a handsome GI who wanted to marry me and take me to live in his hometown in Indiana when his tour ended. I believed this was meant to be. However, my faith and love were challenged when it was time to go to my next gig. What we had was real love, not a marriage of convenience. He was the love of my life. Should I stay with my one true love or continue spreading the word? I finished the mission, telling the GI to wait for me. He waited.

After my mission my new husband took me to Indiana and I started work as a cheerleader for the Indianapolis Colts. A decade later my husband died of a heart attack, but I was still sure of three things in my life: family, faith, and football. Being an NFL cheerleader was not nearly the glamorous job everyone thinks, but I loved the sport and the athleticism of cheerleading, plus it gave me some part-time income that I desperately needed. I was a single mother who worked as a waitress at a nightclub to make ends meet. When my coach of several years passed away suddenly and a new younger coach was assigned to train my team, I had to fight my growing feelings for him because he was exactly the kind of distraction I didn’t need at the most important point in my professional career. I’d been a risk taker and gambler all my life, only this time I'd gone too far. When a loudmouth fan threw his hot dog at me during one of my dance routines my legs were shattered, my career was over, and I felt as if my life was over as well.

After almost a year of convalescing I purchased a fixer-upper that was on the historic registry in a quaint neighborhood. I was looking forward to the project of building and designing my nest. My life hadn’t worked out the way I had planned. My only form of enjoyment came from playing video games—and I was grateful for the escape. I asked a nearby handyman for help. He engaged me in conversation, and I was taken aback by his charm and wit. I found it hard to pay attention as I stared deeply into his eyes. Before he went, I offered him a free sample of my elixir, which he gladly accepted. My troubled life and past kept him at bay for a while as his friends warned him against it. Meanwhile I had to deal with two children who thought he was a creep, younger children who didn't want him to replace my late partner, and my own reluctance to invest in a new relationship. But true love can't be held back for long.

(Author’s Note: I’ve been struggling with writer’s block lately, which is why I haven’t posted in over a month. THANKFULLY I found the website Servicescape which has thousands of writing prompts. This post was created using almost exclusively prompts I found on this website.)

Chipotle Chicken Salad Sandwiches

Ingredients:

2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
Salt
Pepper
¼ cup vegetable oil
½ cup chipotle mayonnaise
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 celery ribs, minced
1 shallot
1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1 tablespoon minced fresh tarragon
White bread

Heat water to 150 degrees Fahrenheit using sous vide machine.

Season chicken with salt and pepper.

Place chicken and vegetable oil in 1-gallon sous vide bag and toss to coat, then place bag in sous vide water. Cook for at least 1 hour and up to 3 hours.