How to Stir a Baker's Heart

by Candice Sue Patterson

  Scooby’s ears perked, and he whimpered.

  “What’s wrong, boy?”

  He whined again, gaze fixed toward the road.

  Within seconds, a vehicle crunched over the gravel in Blake’s driveway. The car was hard to recognize in the dim porch light. Who would be here this early?

  Scooby’s body language didn’t indicate a threat. In fact, after the car door slammed, his backside wiggled like a worm on a hook.

  As if she’d materialized from his thoughts, Olivia climbed the porch steps. Her sleepy-eyed grin sobered him faster than his coffee.

  “Hey, Scoob.” The dog barked and danced around Olivia’s feet before calming with a rub on the head.

  Blake set down his Thermos. “You’re here early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.” She joined him on the swing.

  The old slats creaked beneath their weight.

  Blake set them in motion with a push of his foot, leaning close enough to inhale the flowery scent of her shampoo. “Elizabeth keep you up?”

  Her head moved from side to side. “Life.”

  Blake stretched his arm along the back of the swing. Without any coaxing, Olivia moved in and rested the back of her head on his arm. He pressed his lips to her hair. “What kept your gears turning all night?”

  She shrugged. “Arianne. She gave me some things to think about yesterday.”

  “Is that why you were quiet during dinner last night?”

  He’d told Mom at lunch there’d been a change in plans and asked if she’d pack a picnic for two. He’d thrown a couple of plastic Adirondack chairs into the back of his truck and drove them to the edge of the peninsula on the east side of his property, which offered an expansive view of the ocean.

  Olivia closed her eyes. “Yes.”

  He ran his fingertips along her shoulder. “Care to fill me in?”

  Olivia opened one eye and peeked at him. “I’m still thinking.”

  She nuzzled closer until she rested in the crook of his neck. “I had a great time last night. Thanks for taking me to your special place.”

  “It’s a good spot to get away and think. We can go back tonight if you want.”

  She released a sleepy-sounding sigh. “Can’t. Jen’s going to a family reunion at four. I need to leave by three.”

  Too bad.

  “The Machias Blueberry Festival is coming up in a couple of weeks. Why don’t you come with me? I’ve rented a booth. Huck and Arianne will be there selling honey. People attend from all over the States and Canada. It’d be a great way to get the bakery’s name out there.”

  She relaxed against him, eyes still closed. “I’ll see if I can rearrange the schedule.”

  “Bring Grams along if you want. The festival only lasts two days. I can man the booth while you guys walk around.”

  “Why are you so different?” she whispered.

  Her breathy tone made his gut ignite. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never known a man who would allow a girl’s grandma to tag along on their dates. You throw me off balance, Blake Hartford.”

  That made two of them. He kissed her head again, unable to resist. Stretching his legs, Blake rocked them in a smooth rhythm. Olivia’s breaths evened. He loved this. Loved her. Not the same way he’d loved Madison, either. This wasn’t a high-school-sweetheart, we-never-plan-to-leave-this-town-so-let’s-get-married kind of love. This was a mature love by two people who’d witnessed the worst in others, had survived, and had become stronger and wiser for it.

  Blake had no idea how deep Olivia’s feelings for him ran or if she’d ever grow to love him back, but he would prove how gentle he could be with her heart.

  ~*~

  Olivia jolted from sleep. An engine revved and rattled as it passed. She sat up and blinked against the morning sun, scrambling for equilibrium.

  A whimper sounded at her feet. Scooby wagged his tail.

  She was on Blake’s porch. She’d fallen asleep on his swing. On him. Now Blake was gone, and the workers were filing in while she lay here under this blanket. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. In fact, when she’d arrived, her veins had been humming from three cups of coffee. Then she’d settled in next to him, and a calming force of safety and trust lulled her away.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, when sleep had fled and she’d stared at her black ceiling replaying all the events since she’d moved to Stone Harbor, she’d realized she needed Blake. Need was a strong word, but it fit. She needed his character, his strength, his affection to lift her from the quicksand pit of discouragement and remind her there was still some good in the world.

  Olivia stood, folded the blanket, and stroked Scooby’s head before opening the screen door and stepping inside Blake’s house. Her plan to put the blanket on the couch and get out to the fields was interrupted by a blonde cooking up a storm in his kitchen.

  “Did you get some rest?” Blake’s mom, Rita, leaned against the kitchen door frame catching Olivia in the hall. She wiped her hands on a towel and smiled.

  Was that bacon? Olivia’s stomach rumbled. “I got here early and…I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” On Blake’s shoulder. “I should probably get out there. I’m late.”

  “No worries. Blake mentioned you haven’t been sleeping well. He has plenty of help.” Rita used the towel to encourage Olivia to join her in the kitchen.

  Blake had been discussing her sleeping habits with his mother? What other conversations had they had?

  “Coffee’s ready if you’d like a cup. If you wouldn’t mind giving me a few minutes to finish breakfast, you can take it out to Blake and Kenneth when you go.”

  “Sure. Would you like any coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Olivia opened cabinets until she found the mugs. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Rita watching her, no doubt judging Olivia’s unfamiliarity with Blake’s kitchen as an indication of the stage of their relationship. A typical mom move.

  Olivia bit her bottom lip. She not only needed to find the cream, she needed to stop psychoanalyzing Blake’s mother.

  “Thank you, again, for the lovely birthday cake.” Rita turned sizzling bacon slices with a fork. “I’m sorry the party got a little awkward when Lucas arrived.”

  Why was she apologizing to Olivia? Unless this was a foot in the door of a deeper conversation Olivia wasn’t ready to have. “It’s fine.”

  “Has Blake told you about Lucas?” Rita opened the oven and removed a tray of toasted Texas-style bread slices.

  Sometimes Olivia hated being right. “Not in detail, but yes.”

  “Lucas…” Rita paused her task of layering breakfast food on the toast to check the ceiling for answers. “Lucas has always been strong-willed. Assertive and hard-driving. With a tendency to be critical.”

  Finally, the creamer. Olivia placed it and the mugs on the table. “An assertive firstborn.” Shut your therapist mouth! What are you doing?

  “Yes.” Rita returned to food-stacking. “That’s exactly what you’d call him. He’s a special boy. Always got good grades, set lofty goals for himself, which he achieved. But he was a mess at the same time.” Foil crinkled as Rita wrapped two sandwiches. She put two more on separate plates and carried them to the table. “Blake is the typical lastborn.”

  “The opposite,” they said in unison.

  Both women smiled.

  Rita pushed a plate toward Olivia. “While Lucas bulldozes everything in his path to get what he wants, Blake uses a quiet strength. And his heart for people…” Rita shook her head. “I don’t have favorites when it comes to my children. But Blake’s always held a special spot in this mama’s heart.”

  Olivia toyed with her napkin. “It must tear you apart to see them at odds.”

  Rita sipped her coffee. “It sure does. I have a good sense of what poor Eve felt with Cain and Abel.”

  They ate in silence for a few moments.

  Rita was the first to break it. “I worry about Blake the most. When Lucas ran
off with Madison, it killed Blake’s spirit for a long time.” She patted Olivia’s hand. “Though I’ve seen glimpses of it lately.” Rita pulled away. “Between you and me, I never thought Madison was a good match for Blake. I think he sees that now, too. However, Blake refuses to forgive his brother. That scares me. Bitterness is a cancer that devours the soul.”

  Olivia played with her coffee cup. “Forgiveness can be a hard thing to give. Especially if the other party isn’t sorry.” When those people were perfectly satisfied with their wrong choice despite its effect on others.

  “By His stripes we are healed.” Rita pointed upward. “Kenneth would advise me to stay out of it, but Blake’s my baby no matter how old he is. Since he was little, I’ve prayed that one day a good woman who understands how special he is would steal his heart. The one God designed specifically for him.” Rita touched Olivia’s hand. “Will you pray for that, too?”

  The question stole the air from Olivia’s lungs. Pray? For Blake’s future wife? Was that woman Olivia? Were their broken roads meant to lead them to each other? “Yes.” The word came out as a croak.

  Rita’s eyes glossed over. “Thank you.”

  The love this woman had for her sons struck a chord inside Olivia. Did her mother still pray for her? Was her dad even concerned about the kind of man she married anymore? To keep tears from forming, Olivia concentrated on her napkin. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take the rest of my food with me. I have to leave at three, so I better get started.”

  “Of course.” Rita went to the counter, ripped off a square of aluminum foil, and handed it to Olivia.

  While she wrapped her sandwich, Rita retrieved two canning jars of orange juice with lids. After lowering all the goods into a small basket, she handed it to Olivia, who now stood by the kitchen door ready to flee.

  “It was good to talk to you.” Rita captured Olivia in a motherly hug so genuine there was no doubt who Blake got his good heart from.

  “You, too.” She left the house and bolted off the porch, ignoring a tail-wagging Scooby. Olivia sucked in fresh air, grateful to escape the claustrophobic conversation. As she walked past the barn and across the expanse of farmland, puffy clouds giving the day a touch of whimsy, she could feel the dynamics of her life changing once again. The change was as sure as the beat of her thumping heart, which sped at seeing Blake lift heavy crates of blueberries into the wagon. She just hoped that this time the change would be good.

  31

  Blake scrubbed the towel over his wet hair. He swiped a clear path on the foggy mirror and turned his face from side to side. He could forego shaving for one more day. Besides, Olivia had mentioned she liked his stubble. He yanked his shirt off the towel hook, stretched it over his head, and wrestled into it on his way down the stairs.

  A hot shower had been exactly what he’d needed to loosen his tight muscles. He was dog-tired, almost tired enough to miss the fact the house felt quiet and lonely. The blanket he’d covered Olivia with that morning lay folded across the arm of the couch. He ran his hand over it. The callouses on his fingers snagged the fabric.

  Blake missed her. Even though they’d spent the day picking together, even though they’d texted a few times since she’d left. It was never enough. The more he got of her, the more he wanted. And the way she’d looked at him in the field that afternoon, biting her bottom lip in concentration, cheeks and nose kissed by the sun, those vivid blues a complex mix of hope and vulnerability— that had him wanting plenty.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what kept you up all night?” he’d asked.

  She’d hesitated. Toyed with the rake. “Have you ever gone to pray for something specific but didn’t know how?”

  He chuckled. “All the time.”

  “No, I mean, like…” her shoulders lifted, then fell. “Like you didn’t have the words. They’d gone missing, or you couldn’t put the request into sentences. You just—”

  “Sat there?”

  “Yeah.” She leaned back on her heels.

  Blake combed the bottom of the bush one more time. “It’s called being still.”

  Her brows drew together.

  “God knows our hearts. He understands that humans have limitations—that they don’t always know what to say or the right thing to ask for. That’s why the Holy Spirit acts as intercessor for us, with groanings that cannot be uttered. During those times, we need to be still and know that He is God.”

  She frowned into the distance. “Be still. Jesus used those words to calm the storm on the Sea of Galilee, didn’t He?”

  Blake nodded. “Literal storms, storms of life. Nice analogy, huh?”

  Olivia smiled, though it hadn’t come close to reaching her eyes.

  The conversation had then moved in another direction, but her silence indicated she’d continued to contemplate what he’d said.

  Blake turned off the ceiling fan and crossed through his living room, flipping on the TV as he made his way to the recliner. The lamp illuminated the worn cushion he relaxed on every night, an eyesore compared to the other untouched pieces of furniture. He looked forward to the day when he would no longer be the only one living in this house. A desire that grew every day.

  He leaned back and propped his feet, opened a bag of trail mix, and settled in for the last few innings of the ball game. A red light flashed in his peripheral vision. He tossed some peanuts into his mouth, muted the TV, then reached over and punched the button on his answering machine.

  “Hey, brother.”

  Blake froze.

  “I hoped I’d get a chance to talk to you at Mom’s party, but you lit out of there. Can’t say I blame you.” Lucas’s tone dropped. “I wanted to tell you this in person but…Maddy and I are getting married. We won’t apologize for loving each other, Blake, but we’d like to apologize for how we went about it. We know we hurt you, and we’re both sorry.”

  Blake swallowed the peanut crumbs he’d annihilated, pushing down the rising bile in his throat.

  “Neither of us feels comfortable getting married without your blessing. We’d like for you to attend. Better yet, I’d like you to be my best man. I know it’s asking a lot for something I don’t deserve, but we were close once, and it would mean the world to me.”

  Was Lucas insane?

  “Anyway, just think about it. Let me know.” He rattled off a phone number. “Hope you’re doing well. Bye.”

  The house fell into an eerie silence. Figures flashed across the television screen as Blake tried to decide if his brother had really just asked him to be best man or if Blake was trapped in a nightmare. Blake was already the better man. He’d never take someone’s fianceé away from them.

  Lucas and Madison didn’t need Blake’s blessing or his presence.

  As for his brother’s backhanded apology, Lucas was wasting his breath. Forgiveness was one thing in this life his brother could not manipulate from Blake.

  ~*~

  Tiny, lacy slippers. Petite dresses with ruffles. Stretchy headbands with delicate flowers. Olivia let go of the shopping cart handle and grabbed three packages off the rack. “You need these in every color.”

  Arianne laughed and placed her palm over her growing abdomen.

  Emma’s mouth formed an O as she studied the items Olivia had tossed into the cart. This was the second time Olivia had visited with the girl, and she was enchanting. “Mommy, am I getting a baby sister?”

  “Nope.” A male voice startled Olivia, then Huck blocked her view of the girly attire with a tiny football jersey and jeans combo. “It’s a boy. I can sense it.”

  Arianne rubbed her belly while releasing a strained breath. “You’re such a baboon.”

  Huck grunted a monkey sound, and Emma laughed. “Daddy, you’re funny.”

  “Don’t forget handsome. And smart.” He tapped the side of his head.

  “And conceited,” Arianne added. She leaned toward Olivia. “This is why I asked you to come along. Huck can’t take anything seriously.”

&nb
sp; Olivia grinned. These two were romantic comedy at its best.

  Arianne took the football outfit from him and tossed it into the cart. “What if it is a girl? Will you be disappointed?”

  Huck made a face. “Of course not. She’ll just have to play football on the boys team.”

  “I don’t think so.” Arianne threw in a pair of white tights.

  “You’re the one who’s always saying girls can do anything boys can.” Huck added a bib that said Daddy’s ‘Lil Superstar.

  “Except play football.” Arianne strolled toward the crib section, pointing out an old-fashioned style bed with a floral teal-and-purple quilt.

  Olivia agreed it was sensational.

  “Poor Mildred.” Huck shook his head.

  Arianne jerked to a stop.

  Emma crashed into her back with an umph.

  “Sorry, baby.” Arianne patted the girl’s head then glared at her husband. “We are not naming this child Mildred.”

  “It was your great-grandmother’s name.” Huck tested the sturdiness of a black crib decorated in sports gear.

  “And it will forever stay in the genealogy records. If the baby is a girl, we’re naming her Ainsley June.”

  Olivia pointed at an oak crib that claimed to double as a toddler bed. “How about this one? It grows with the child and will coordinate with either sex.”

  “I like it.” Huck checked the price tag and whistled. “But if it’s a boy, we’re naming him John Wayne Anderson.”

  “No.” Arianne, too, looked at the price tag and winced.

  “Chuck Norris.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Thor.”

  “Lord, help me.” Arianne looked heavenward.

  Emma slipped her little hand into Olivia’s, giggling.

  Huck threw out his hands. “He’ll need a good, strong name to live up to.”

  Arianne patted her husband’s arm, smiling as if she held all the cards. “Then what about Huckleberry Anderson the second?”

  Huck looked at Olivia and his face turned scarlet. He leaned closer to his wife. “Don’t ever use my given name in public.”