by Ava Winters
“They sure are,” Peter declared with a wide smile. Miss Annabelle was one of the best cooks in town, without a doubt, and he and many others sorely missed her treats. He hoped her hands would ease up, but they were only getting worse.
He looked at Layla with gratitude. Her presence was doing so much for Annabelle, even more than he thought she realized. Since her arrival, the older woman found someone to devote herself to. The fact that she’d even tried to make muffins at all was a testament to the change that had come over her. It seemed that Layla’s magic wasn’t only being woven on him, but on everyone around them, too.
Annabelle dug into the basket to retrieve a muffin. The scent of the warm bread was intoxicating. “Here, you have this one,” she said, placing it in Peter’s hands. It was still warm. She also gave one to Layla.
He took a bite immediately and purred his satisfaction as the moist muffin melted in his mouth. “By golly, Miss Annabelle, that might just be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he declared.
Annabelle laughed. “I was gonna offer yah some jam, but I see yah don’t need it.”
“Try it,” he encouraged Layla through a mouth full of flavor. She smiled at him and shook her head gently before taking a bite herself.
Layla’s eyes opened wide the minute the morsel entered her mouth. “This is fantastic,” she exclaimed with her own mouth full.
Peter laughed. “I told you,” he replied, and finished off his muffin in a few large bites. He should savor something that good, but it was too tasty to last long.
“Miss Annabelle, you’re gonna have to teach me to make these,” Layla continued. “These are delicious.”
The older woman smiled contentedly. It was a smile that Peter hadn’t seen in a long time, and he was glad to find it returned. Annabelle was like a mother to him in many ways. She was a mother to many of the folks in town, but with him, there was something special.
The first day Peter had met Annabelle was the day she brought over a pie to welcome him and his wife to town. She was so vibrant and cheerful. She’d made him feel welcomed, but more importantly, it was how she was with Celia that endeared him to her. She had treated his late wife like her own kin, and him along with her. It wasn’t long before they came to see each other as a sort of makeshift family. Annabelle’s husband was already gone, and he and Celia had no one near to help and guide them. Annabelle became their rock, the anchor they held on to while they adjusted. She’d also shared his grief when Celia had passed.
“I was hopin’ yah’d say that,” Annabelle commented. “I was thinking the next time yer off, we could make some and share out,” she suggested. “I can’t do all the mixing like I used to, but with yer help, I think we could do alright by ourselves. Plus, with the way you bake, and with some guidance from me, I don’t see why yah can’t take the title of best baker away from Patty at this year’s bake-off.”
Layla laughed heartily. “Miss Annabelle, I’m not lookin’ to enter any baking competition. My cooking isn’t that good.”
Peter couldn’t believe his ears. “Now, that’s the silliest thing I’ve heard all year,” he said. “I’ve had your cooking and it’s some of the best in Richstone. I think I agree with Miss Annabelle—with a little guidance from her, you could easily win.”
“Bring that title back home,” Annabelle agreed with a nod and a grin.
Layla looked at the two of them as if they were going out of their minds, but Peter thought Annabelle’s idea was a good one. It was a way to get Layla more involved in the town and with its people. She’d have a chance to see how much fun living in the town could really be and the townsfolk could see her as something other than a barmaid.
“I think you should go for it,” Peter insisted, dipping his hand into the basket to pull out another muffin. He took a large bite. “These are so good,” he said with a laugh as he looked at Annabelle’s smiling face.
“I’m glad yer enjoyin’ ‘em,” she commented. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to do anything like this on my own. It feels real good to see people enjoyin’ what I make again.”
Layla reached out and took Annabelle’s hand. “I always do,” she reminder Annabelle. The older woman patted her knuckles gently.
“I know, dear, but usually yer helpin’ me make it,” she added.
“It’s still your doing,” Layla insisted. “I just do the little things.”
“Yah do more than that,” Annabelle insisted. “Why, if it weren’t fer yah, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Yah just came in and turned everythin’ to right. Isn’t that so, Peter?”
Annabelle’s gaze turned to him, and he looked at Layla. “I’d have to side with you, Miss Annabelle. Layla has turned a lot of things around here,” he agreed. “Even though she’s a bit stubborn.”
“That would make two a yah,” Annabelle countered, to Peter’s surprise. Layla laughed.
“Miss Annabelle?” he questioned with a grin.
“Don’t yah play like yah ain’t. I’ve known yah long enough to know that yah like to have yer way and yah always think yer right.” She turned to Layla. “Problem is, he often is right.” She laughed.
“I’m realizing that,” Layla agreed. Her eyes met his and, once again, Peter felt that fire in his gut. Layla’s cheeks began to redden. “I’d better take these into the kitchen,” she said, reaching for the basket. “Excuse me.”
Peter watched her go. Every step she took he longed for her to look back at him. When she did, his heart stuttered in his chest.
“Peter?” Annabelle called to him.
He turned to her. “Yes, Miss Annabelle?”
“I think Layla’s been workin’ real hard ‘round here, and I think she deserves somethin’ special. Don’t you?”
Peter’s brow furrowed. “What’d you mean?”
“I mean, she spends all her day workin’, either here or at home, and I think she should be shown some of the prettier, more fun aspects of Richstone. She shouldn’t work all the time, but that’s exactly what she does. I think yah should take her around some of the nice places we have ‘round ‘ere. Like the lake. Yah could even have a picnic,” Annabelle suggested.
Peter leaned closer to her and smirked. “Miss Annabelle, what’re you up to?”
“Me?” She grinned. “Nothin’. I just thought yah’d want to do somethin’ nice for Layla, is all.”
Peter shook his head and laughed. “Alright, Miss Annabelle. I’ll make a plan.”
Chapter Six
Sunday mornings were always good. Layla woke early and made lunch for herself and Annabelle before they headed off to church. Like most towns, Richstone was full of faith and the church was always full when Sunday morning came. It was only the worst of blasphemers who didn’t come out to give the Lord thanks for all of His many blessings. Layla had a lot to thank Him for.
She felt pretty in her new dress. It had taken her weeks to make, but finally, it was done—and almost as pretty as anything readymade. The skirt was narrow, with only a little padding at the back. Layla had added some trim and frills to make it fancy, and chose solid crimson for the color. It stood out, and with the nicest fabric she’d ever had to work with, she was going to choose the most amazing color she could find. Annabelle had encouraged her. The top of her dress was crimson with black stripes, and her bonnet was black with ostrich feathers and deep red flowers made from fabric. It belonged to Annabelle, but she’d insisted that Layla wear it.
The two women walked into the church, and Layla had never felt so important in her entire life. People looked around as they passed and everyone greeted her with a smile. It was something she’d never experienced, the attention of others. Then, she met Peter’s eyes and the look on his face only made her cheeks hot. She could only imagine that they were as red as her dress at that moment.
“Let’s sit ‘ere,” Annabelle suggested as they neared a pew near the window. Layla nodded and followed Annabelle into the seat.
The preacher gave an electrifying exhortati
on of the Gospel of St. John, and its importance in the life of a true believer in Christ. It was so rousing; Layla never heard such eloquent speaking. Church wasn’t something she was used to. In the orphanage she’d grown up in, they had morning mass, which was just a prayer before they started their chores. They never actually went to church, and after she’d married Jacob, she couldn’t dream of entering God’s house, knowing what her husband was doing.
Throughout the service, Layla kept catching Peter’s eye. He was looking at her, or was it that she was looking at him? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that every time their eyes met, it brought a smile to her face, a warmth to her cheek, and a flutter to her heart. He was everything her husband wasn’t. He was everything a man should be, and every day, it was further confirmed. He cared about God and people, upheld justice, and took an interest in those that others didn’t. People like her.
Layla wanted to applaud, the sermon was so uplifting. “That was good. Wasn’t that good?” she asked Annabelle as the service came to a close. The older woman smiled at her.
“Yes, child, it was good,” she confirmed as she slipped out of the pew behind Layla. “The reverend’s sermons are always good. He’s got a true gift from the Lord.”
“Shall we go home now?” Layla asked. She noticed that a few of the parishioners were gathering outside at the benches that dotted the grass out front. It was customary to have lunch together after service. Usually, Layla and Annabelle went home, but today, Annabelle had brought a basket with her.
“No, I’m goin’ home, but yah aren’t,” she said with a smile.
Layla was confused. “What do you mean? Why would you be going home and me staying?”
“Because I’m taking you somewhere,” Peter interrupted suddenly, and Layla’s heart began to beat faster.
“Peter, hello,” she said demurely. “Where’re we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Annabelle answered. “Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everythin’,” she explained, handing the basket to Peter. That was why she’d brought it. What were the two of them planning?
Peter took the basket from Annabelle with a smile. “If you’d oblige me?” he asked politely as he held out his arm to her. Layla looked at as if it would once again grab hold of her and bring them together, the way it had in the storeroom. Finally, she took it.
“Don’t mind that I do,” she said sweetly. She met his eye. “Where’re we goin’?” she asked again with a laugh.
He grinned at her. “You’ll see. Miss Annabelle thought you needed to some to see what Richstone is really all about, not just hours of work.”
She looked at the other woman. Annabelle was so sweet and thoughtful. It was so much more than Layla deserved. She hung her head. All this goodness, and I’m lying about everything.
“Y’all have fun now. I’ll see Layla home by supper,” Annabelle stated. Layla smiled. It was just like a mother to say that.
Layla had never realized she wanted someone to look after her the way Annabelle was doing now. Someone who cared where she went and with who, and when they’d bring her back. No one had ever cared anything about her, or what she wanted or where she went. No one ever cared. The thought brought tears to Layla’s eyes, but she did her best to hide them.
“Should we go? I’m kind of curious to see where it is you’re takin’ me,” she mused.
“Well, we’d better be going. I’ve got a curfew,” he mused with a wink at Annabelle.
She smiled at them. “Have fun.”
Layla felt like a girl in a fable as she walked past the other parishioners, who were looking on with smiles. She was on the arm of a prince, but she was no princess. It was just like that girl in the story she was told as a child. The one who used to clean for her stepmother and ended up marrying a prince. What was it called?
Peter helped her onto the wagon and then climbed up beside her. He gave her a small smile as he clicked his tongue and the horse began to move. Layla felt excitement building her stomach as they rode through town. Soon, the buildings disappeared and open spaces lay before them.
Richstone valley was beautiful. Layla wondered why they hadn’t decided to build the town there instead of where it was. The grass in the valley was lush with shrubs and bushes of all shades of green that covered the sandy earth. There were trees everywhere, and butterflies among the flowers. It was the prettiest thing Layla had ever seen in her life. It was something she’d dreamed about.
She closed her eyes and raised her chin to the sun. It was warm on her face and made her feel good as the wind blew gently past her cheek. She took a deep breath and let it out. This was what life should be like.
Layla opened her eyes and turned to Peter. He had a grin on his face, but he was staring straight ahead. Layla had the feeling he was watching her. “Something amusin’?” she asked.
“No,” he answered as he turned to her briefly. “I was just thinking how contented you looked just now. Like there was nothing in the world to concern you.”
“There isn’t,” Layla said happily. Jacob was far away, and would probably never find her. She doubted he was even looking. She had a happy home with a woman who cared about her, and she was sitting next to one of the kindest men she’d ever met. He was taking her somewhere special, somewhere they’d be alone. What more could she ask for?
“You’ve changed since you’ve been here,” Peter commented. “You seem a lot happier. More relaxed. More at peace.”
Layla looked at him thoughtfully. “I am. I’m very happy. I feel as if my life’s finally startin’.”
“I know what you mean,” Peter said. “I can see that you’ve really taken to life here. Annabelle certainly seems fond of you.”
“I’m fond of her,” Layla said exuberantly. “I’ve never had anyone in my life like Miss Annabelle. She cares, and that is something rare.”
“Rare?” Peter questioned with a wrinkled brow.
She could trust him. She could tell him how she really felt. “People weren’t good to me,” she explained. “My entire life, I was someone else’s burden. First the state and people at the orphanage. Then, I came here, and I was determined that I was gonna make it on my own.” She shook her head gently. “No one ever did anything for me without it costin’ somethin’. When I came here and you were kind, it was more than I’d ever experienced before. You didn’t want nothin’. Miss Annabelle, she didn’t want nothin’ either. She needed help. She needed someone to make her life better. I was helping, instead of being the one weighing on someone.”
“Is helping Miss Annabelle weighing on you?” he questioned as he stopped the wagon near the river.
“No,” Layla said with a smile. “Never. She’s the best friend I ever had,” she elaborated. “She took me in and gave me a real home. Treated me more like family. I never had a family. Not one person, but Miss Annabelle, she’s like my mama now.”
Peter smiled broadly. He jumped down from the wagon and walked around to help her. He placed his hands on her waist and lifted her, and Layla rested her hands on his forearms as he did so. Her heart was drumming in her chest.
“Do you want some help?” she asked as he began to pull the basket from the wagon.
“No, you go look around. I’ll call you when everything’s fixed,” he encouraged as he pulled a blanket from the back of the wagon.
“Alright,” Layla replied. She turned and left Peter to fix the picnic, while she walked toward the water.
The waters of the river were dark, but the sun reflected in shards of white on its surface as it ran its course. Layla breathed deeply. The air was so fresh. She picked up a smooth stone from the bank and tossed it as far as she could. She watched as it plopped into the water and sent ripples out in a circle.
“Peter!” she called as she turned behind her. “Are there fish in here?”
“Yes.” He laughed. “I like to come here to go fishing once a month, or whenever I can really. Nothing’s the same, one month to another.”
He had the blanket on the ground and was unpacking the brown packages Annabelle had packed for them. She marched back to him.
“I’m hungry,” she announced as she flopped down beside him and began to help unwrap the parcels. There was roast beef and ham, bread and cheese, and some fruit. Layla popped a piece of bread into her mouth, then remembered that they hadn’t said grace. “Sorry.”
“What?” Peter questioned. He didn’t seem to notice her mistake at all.
“I ate the bread,” she said hesitantly.
“So?”
“So, we didn’t give thanks,” she clarified. He chuckled.
“Layla, I don’t think that matters too much. We’ll say grace when we sit to eat proper,” he informed.
“Peter, were you always like this?” she asked him boldly.