The Curious Swan

by Kenzie Hart

  “Mrs. B insisted I bring cherries,” she says, pulling away with a slight blush on her cheeks.

  Eddie pops one of the cherries into his mouth, content with the sweet taste.

  “Tell her they’re delicious, yeah?” He grins at her.

  “Thank you again for the flowers, Klara,” Rose interjects. Warmth spreads to her heart as she watches the two of them interact. But she feels as though she is interrupting on an intimate moment. “I’m going to tend to my garden, but if you need any help, just come ask.” She smiles and then gives Eddie’s cheek at little pinch as she walks by him.

  “Thanks, Mum,” Eddie replies as Rose walks through the kitchen and out the creaky back door.

  “So, Edward”—Klara smirks, leaning her elbows against the counter, her hips pushed out toward him—“are you ready to bake?”

  Her eyes sparkle, and she is enjoying flirting with Edward. It isn’t something she would normally do, but she loves his reaction.

  Eddie walks up in front of her, running his hand through his damp hair. He presses his body flush against her, a bold move he wouldn’t have been comfortable making had Klara not kissed him the day before. Her bright eyes widen when he does so, but instead of keeping her chin raised, like she normally would, she tucks it, looking up at him through her lashes. He moves his hands, lacing them around her waist, and drops his head until his lips meet hers. Eddie slips his tongue into her mouth, and Klara sighs in delight. He pulls against her waist, pressing her closer, as Klara’s fingers move around his neck, pulling at his hair. The feeling is wonderful. A smile forms on Eddie’s lips as he kisses her, and Klara notices. She kisses him back with the same enthusiasm.

  “You know, I kind of love it when you call me Edward,” Eddie says, breaking his lips from hers.

  “That is because it is something shared just between us.” She smiles, placing a sweet kiss on the tip of Eddie’s nose as he nods in agreement.

  “So, shall we get started?” Klara pulls the recipe Mrs. B wrote out for her from the weaved basket and waves it in front of him.

  “I think you’re getting the measurements wrong.” Eddie furrows his brows as he reads back over Mrs. B’s instructions.

  “No, no. I know this is right,” Klara says, determined, sifting the flour into the large mixing bowl on the counter.

  “Whatever you say,” he replies, raising his hands in defeat. He can tell she won’t change her mind, so he decides to just enjoy the process. He’s seen his mum bake pies enough to know when the consistency is wrong, and this pie is looking a little … interesting.

  “There,” she says, tapping the sifter against the bowl, the remaining flour dropping through the mesh. But she does so with such force that flour flies up onto her, landing on her dress and sprinkling across her face.

  “You’re making a bit of a mess.” Eddie grins as he wipes flour from Klara’s cheek. He laughs at the disaster in front of them. It is as if a mini tornado moved through his kitchen, and they haven’t even boiled the fruit yet.

  “Oh, hush. It will be utterly perfect.” Klara rolls her eyes at him. She’s made this recipe with Mrs. B at least half a dozen times. But she does have to admit, the dough is looking a little funny.

  “Now, the next step is to bake the crust while we prepare the cherries,” she says, placing the pie pan into the warmed oven. She can’t wait to take in the smell of the baking dough as it rises into a flaky crust.

  “Here, let me,” Eddie says, grabbing the basket and removing the cherries. He places them in one of his mum’s pots on the stove, adding in sugar and sliding a lid in place as they boil down. “Now, we wait,” he says, turning back to Klara.

  “I’m glad I got to come see your home. It is quite lovely,” she says sincerely.

  “It isn’t much, compared to your place.”

  “It is filled with family. And love,” she says, moving into the living room.

  A checkered couch graces the far corner with the fireplace across from it. The mantel is littered with photos, and she gravitates toward it. There are photos of his parents, Rose and Doyle, looking young and in love. There is a photo of only Eddie, dressed in his football uniform for school. The three of them sitting in a park. Klara feels a tinge of jealousy. He has a wonderful family. A family who truly cares for him.

  “You have your grandmother,” Eddie comments, noticing Klara’s absent eyes.

  “I do. And, of course, Grandmother and I have such wonderful times. She means the world to me,” she replies, turning toward him. “But, sometimes … well, I’m not sure.”

  “What?” he questions, taking her hands in his.

  “Sometimes, I miss my father,” Klara says in a quiet confession. She can’t bring herself to look at Edward. It isn’t something she normally likes to dwell on. She knows her father loves her. And he can’t bear to be at the house, so that is why he stays in London.

  “Of course you do,” he replies. “It is only natural for you to feel that way.”

  He pulls Klara into a hug, and she isn’t sure how to react. She has never spoken so openly about her feelings before. Well, about these feelings in particular.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

  “May I ask you something?” Eddie questions, unsure if he should even say what is on his mind.

  “Of course.”

  “Why can’t your father stay with you?”

  Klara avoids his eyes, dropping his hands from hers.

  “Or why don’t you go live with him in London? Why stay here?”

  Klara feels her insides twisting, and it is a feeling she doesn’t like. Not one bit. She pulls her eyes up to meet his and puts a smile onto her face.

  “Father needs his space,” she says, as though the words flow out of her mouth and brush over her skin without a worry in the world. “And his practice is in London. He can’t possibly work here, but he doesn’t want me to be stuck in the city. He knows how much I appreciate my time outdoors. Plus, Grandmother needs me. After all, who else would help her write her memoirs?”

  Eddie notices the smile on her face, and at the moment, it seems genuine. But he was so close to uncovering a secret Klara has locked away within herself. He knows she was close to confiding in him. She clearly isn’t ready yet, and he doesn’t want to push, but he gets the feeling there’s something she’s not telling him.

  “One day, I’ll get to hear some of these memoirs, yeah?” Eddie says, taking Klara’s hand back into his.

  “Of course, Edward. Grandmother would be delighted to have an audience for her recollections.” Klara squeezes tighter against his hand.

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house.” Eddie leads Klara out of the living room and through the screened back door.

  “Hey, Mum,” Eddie greets his mother, who has on gardening gloves and is leaning over a tomato plant, pruning it back.

  “Hi, sweetie,” she replies, not turning her attention away from the tomatoes.

  “What a lovely garden,” Klara comments, taking in their modest backyard.

  Edward was right before when he said the garden occupied most of it, but a small plot of grass is left untouched. The rest is planted full of vegetables. And, from what Klara can tell, Rose takes great care of them. The windows are dirty and could use a nice cleaning, but flowers hang from pots placed on the windowsills, and the rear of the home exudes the same warmth as the front of the home. The same chipped fence traces the perimeter of the yard.

  “I always thought it was ironic that, for someone who loves landscaping, my father chose a house with such a small green space.” Eddie laughs to himself, standing on the stone patio outside the back door.

  “You’re only a quick ride from the open land outside of town,” Klara corrects, thinking about her nice walk here. It took close to twenty minutes on foot, but it was lovely. She couldn’t help but stop along the way, admiring the woodlands and open fields before heading into town and then down the narrow side street the B
arnetts call home.

  Eddie shrugs, grabbing on to Klara’s hand again. The sensation of her fingers sliding against his is nothing short of amazing, and he quite likes that she so openly lets him hold her hand and kiss her. He could get very used to it.

  “So, we have my parents’ room here,” Eddie says, leading Klara back into the house to finish the tour.

  “And this room?” Klara questions, her fingers running lightly across a closed door in the same hallway.

  “That’s my room.” Eddie swallows, watching Klara’s hand dance across his door.

  “May I?” she questions, not wanting to intrude on Edward’s personal sanctuary. If anything, she understands the need to have things to yourself. Things that are your own.

  “Of course,” Eddie says, motioning her in.

  She slowly cracks open the door, peeking her head inside first. There is a surprising amount of things that catch Klara’s attention, first being the dresser packed full of football trophies resting atop it.

  “Edward, I didn’t realize you were this good!” Klara exclaims excitedly, taking in all the different trophies and varying medals hanging from them.

  A smirk comes to Eddie’s lips. “I’m not one to brag.”

  “Certainly not,” she says, pushing lightly on his chest.

  He seems to be a master at boasting himself up while sounding all the innocent. But she knows he is only teasing. He is the least boastful person she has ever met. Yet he deserves it. In everything she has come to know about him, he is quite exquisite.

  Eddie lets out a laugh, his chest rising up, bringing Klara’s eyes to his broad frame.

  She moves her eyes from Edward, scanning the rest of the room. It is painted in white, and a few posters of football players are hanging on the walls. His bed isn’t made, but other than messy sheets, his room is otherwise clean. Klara spots a notebook on his bedside table and moves toward it.

  “Is this where you house your secrets?” She motions toward the book. It reminds her of her own personal journal.

  “Unfortunately, no. It’s just a book I use for school,” Eddie says, brushing it off like the notebook doesn’t mean much to him. But it does. And he isn’t sure if he is ready to share something so personal about himself yet. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Klara. He does. But, sometimes, things take time for you to accept. And you have to accept them for yourself before you’re able to share them with others.

  He feels a twinge of guilt for brushing off her question. But he knows Klara isn’t the type to snoop. She is too pure for that. She would rather ask a straight question than look slyly behind your back. He supposes that makes two of them who are keeping secrets. Though maybe hers aren’t what he thinks. Just like his. They aren’t bad. More so something he doesn’t quite want to explain yet.

  “How dull,” Klara says, running her hand across the book. “I like your room. It feels like you.” Klara sits down on the edge of Eddie’s bed. His room is warm and inviting and showcases the things that are most important to him. Klara closes her eyes, absorbing the smell. It smells just like Edward.

  “You look quite nice on my bed,” Eddie says sitting down next to Klara and placing his hand on her knee.

  Klara grins at him, a sparkle in her eye. She knows he is teasing her, yet part of her stomach twists as his words settle in. They make her feel something; she’s yet to figure out what it all means. All she knows is that she likes the feeling.

  “Your mother is delightful,” Klara says, getting up and placing herself atop Eddie’s knee.

  “To be honest, I don’t want to talk about my mum right now,” Eddie replies, taking in all that is Klara.

  Her long golden hair falls over her shoulders, and the scent of roses and sunshine fill his nose. She is intoxicating to him. Her small frame rests against him, and he wraps his hands around her waist.

  “What would you like to talk about then?” Klara genuinely questions, lightly running her fingers through Edward’s hair. It is silky and soft, and Eddie presses his head into the nook of Klara’s neck. His breath tickles her skin, and she feels like she might burst. Her breath catches, and her heart leaps at the sensation of Edward being tucked against her.

  Eddie lets his lips brush against the skin of Klara’s neck, noting that she tastes as sweet as she smells. His tongue moves across her skin, causing goose bumps to rise on Klara’s arms as he rubs his hands down over them. He sucks against her skin, noticing how her breathing becomes short and shallow. He wonders what else he might be able to do to her to get this same reaction. His mind races at the thought of more, and his kisses deepen against her skin.

  Klara moves her hands onto his shoulders, surprised by Edward. She didn’t expect him to kiss her like this. She can feel her chest flushing, but she moves closer against him, bringing his lips to hers, her finger under his chin. Her hands run through his hair, and Edward pulls against her waist. The pressure rising within her is unfamiliar, but it pulls at her nonetheless. Eddie slides his hands slightly lower on her back, so they are just above her tailbone, and he moves her off his leg, placing her onto his bed. She falls back with a giggle, but she quickly pulls him closer and their kissing becomes more intense.

  “Klara,” Eddie whispers in her ear, taking a moment to calm himself down. He feels as though his chest might explode, among other things, and he needs to collect himself.

  Klara looks Edward deep in the eyes and places a peck on his nose. “You’re a wonderful kisser,” she says, grinning at him.

  “Oh, yeah?” Eddie baits her as he sits up, pulling Klara with him.

  “I think so.” Klara smiles even more broadly as she takes Edward’s hands in hers. Though he is the only boy she has ever kissed, he does quite a nice job of it.

  “I’m happy to please.” Eddie grins back, getting up off the bed.

  Klara places her feet back onto the ground, and as she stands, the back of her ankle hits something under the bed. She turns, dropping onto her knees. “What are these?” Klara asks.

  A flush rises across Eddie’s face, making him feel hot.

  “I thought you said you didn’t read.” Klara laughs out, noticing a pile of books tucked under Eddie’s bed.

  “They’re just library books I got for a school project,” Eddie says, trying to brush it off, but Klara pulls the stack out and is moving her fingers across the tops of them, reading the titles.

  “For science?” Klara guesses, seeing varying books on ecology.

  “Exactly that.” Eddie nods his head, agreeing with her.

  Klara stands, and they both move to exit the room when Klara remembers something.

  “But, Edward, it’s summer holiday.”

  Eddie laughs nervously. “Right, they’re from last term. I just forgot to return them.”

  Klara looks pleased with his answer, and as she leaves his room, he kicks them back under his bed.

  “This is wonderful,” Rose says, taking a bite of Eddie and Klara’s pie.

  The crust is a little chewy, but the fruit tastes divine. She would have to make friends with this Mrs. B, who grew the cherries, and find out what her secret is to growing them so sweet.

  “I’m so pleased!” Klara exclaims.

  She’s sitting at the Barnetts’ dining table, next to Edward. She cut them each a small piece of the pie to try, and Rose insisted on boiling a pot of tea and using their finest china for the special occasion.

  “It was baked with the juiciest of cherries, lots of love, and just a touch of fairy dust,” Klara replies, thinking about the wish she made just the night before. She wanted to bake a pie that Rose would love, and she knew that was a large wish to ask for, seeing as how lovely of a baker Rose seems to be.

  Eddie laughs at her comment while shoveling a piece of pie into his mouth. He was right about the crust—it is a little off—but he would never tell Klara that. She is too proud of their creation, and he enjoys seeing her pleased.

  “Fairy dust?” Rose asks, taking a sip of her hib
iscus tea. What a charming thought.

  “Well, not real fairy dust. That would be almost impossible to come by, so sugar will have to do!” Klara takes another bite of her pie.

  It feels wonderful to be sitting with Edward and his mother in their home. It is the coziest of places, and she hopes to spend more time here, with him and his family.

  “I would love to try one of your baked creations one of these days. Edward tells me you make the best pastries and pies in town.”

  “Oh, did he now?” Rose giggles to herself, her round face turning pink. She reaches out and pinches Eddie’s cheeks, a habit she has always kept, even after he grew up.

  “Mum!” Eddie says, slightly embarrassed that she still seems to see him as a child. But he can’t be too mad; he quite likes the attention.

  “Eddie is my best taste tester. I make him and his father try out all my recipes. He’s lucky he’s a growing boy, or I would have likely fattened him up long ago!”

  “I can’t complain too much,” Eddie says with a grin, thinking about all the amazing food his mum is constantly making.

  Klara laughs, imagining Eddie as a rounder boy, as he is so lanky. Though she’s coming to find out that there is more muscle to him than one might guess, and she blushes as she remembers how it feels to have Eddie holding her in his arms.

  Eddie meets Klara’s eyes, and he slides his hand on her knee under the table, lightly rubbing his fingers across her skin. Goose bumps shoot down her legs and up her arms. She is a little embarrassed to be feeling this way in front of Edward’s mother, so she drops her eyes back down to her pie, taking another bite.

  Rose pushes up from the table, taking her plate and teacup with her toward the sink. “You both did a lovely job on the pie,” she says while rinsing her plate.

  It’s the first time Eddie has brought a girl home, and Rose will do everything she can to make her feel welcomed. She is a sweet girl, and Rose just wants Eddie happy.

  “I’m going to head back out to the garden. I’ve still got to finish pruning back those tomatoes.”