How to Stir a Baker's Heart

by Candice Sue Patterson

  Her cheeks burned. She shrank further into her alpaca wool scarf like a turtle retreating to the protection of its shell. The winters here were brutal. This was a land where having a man to keep you warm at night would be helpful.

  How she missed Blake. His smile. His selfless, easy-going nature. His conversation. The very thought of his name rocked her insides with an ache she’d hoped would dull after six weeks without him. Yet, he was still her first thought upon waking each day. Her last thought before sleep gave her a short reprieve.

  Would he ever learn to forgive?

  As Olivia started her car and cleaned the dusting of snow from her windshield, a taxi pulled up behind her. The tinted windows made it impossible to see the passenger’s face, but a shadow in the back seat paid the driver and then opened the door. A man emerged, suitcase in hand, his scarf wrapped around his face and head like a mummy. Only the weathered skin around his eyes gave her any indication as to his identity.

  She smiled the best she could with frozen cheeks. “Hey, Daddy.”

  He tugged the scarf off his mouth. “Hey, sunshine.”

  Sunshine. Another one of her nicknames he hadn’t used in years.

  The cab pulled away, leaving them alone in the wind and snow.

  Dad shrugged. “I thought we should spend Christmas together. Unless you have other plans.”

  Olivia’s heart swelled. He had no idea how much she didn’t want to spend the holiday alone. “No plans. That’s a great idea.” She opened her trunk.

  Dad dropped the suitcase inside.

  Maybe they’d actually enjoy the holiday together. Like old times.

  42

  The bold colors of Grandma’s old Christmas bulbs reflected off the living room window. Night had swallowed the daylight. Flames flickered from the fireplace where two empty stockings hung. This morning, after the glorious experience of sleeping until eight o’clock, Olivia had woken to a fresh brewed pot of coffee and steaming biscuits and sausage gravy. The meal was about the only thing her father knew how to make, but he made it well.

  Jen had joined them, and they’d spent an hour discussing the best and worst Christmas presents they’d received.

  Olivia laughed until she nearly cried, not only from the humorous responses but because, for a quick moment in time, Dad had seemed like Dad again, despite the heavy cloud that hovered over him. Wanting the temporary normalcy to become permanent was too much to hope for, so she didn’t let the desire grow roots.

  Since the winter storm hadn’t been as harsh as predicted, Jen left at noon to spend the weekend with her family.

  Olivia and her father had searched the attic for Grandma’s artificial Christmas tree and then left to do some light, last minute shopping. They’d each enjoyed a mocha and a warm yeast donut from Katie’s Kitchen before heading back home. Somehow they’d made a silent truce to designate conversation to subjects that wouldn’t stir controversy or raw emotion.

  It was the most enjoyable time she’d spent with her dad in a few years. A Christmas present all in itself.

  Of course, he’d asked about Blake, figuring she’d be spending part of the holiday with him. She’d given her dad the gist of their breakup then quickly changed the subject. While the dinner brisket cooked, filling the house with the delicious smell of seasoned beef, they’d put up the tree and lights, deciding to forgo the ornaments. Now, they both relaxed in front of the TV, bellies full, four presents wrapped and tucked beneath the tree.

  It was easy to dwell on things she didn’t have, like a Maine blueberry farmer, instead of the blessings she did possess: her health, her family—dysfunctional as it was—the bakery, and her friends.

  “What’s wrong?” Dad asked.

  That’s when she noticed the downward pull of her brows. A lone tear snaked down her cheek. Olivia swiped it away, trying to act nonchalant.

  Dad blew out a loud breath. “I’m sorry about Blake. He seemed like a really decent guy.”

  “He is.” She offered a wobbly smile.

  “It’s my fault. I never should have encouraged Justin. I didn’t think you were all that serious with Blake, and I have to admit, I hated to see you grow roots here. I thought you and Justin would work things out, and you’d come home.” He shook his head. “But what do I know?”

  The comment wasn’t sarcastic or condescending. It was genuine.

  Olivia sat up and curled her legs beneath her. “This is my home now. I know it holds no ties for you anymore, but this town, the people, the bakery—I need them.”

  Dad nodded. “I really am sorry. For everything.” He scrubbed a hand down his weary face.

  This might not be the right time to ask, but Olivia had been dying to since her dad’s arrival. “I’m sorry about your brother. Jacob.” The name was foreign on her tongue.

  Dad’s gaze sharpened on her. “That’s a name I try to forget.”

  “Why?” She put her hand over his, encouraging him to open up to her.

  He sighed. “Because his death is my fault.”

  “How? You were only five.”

  “I’m going to tell you this once, and then I don’t ever want to hear about him again.”

  Olivia agreed.

  Dad shifted forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We were camping at Moosehead Lake. Dad had gone fishing, and Mom was hanging clothes out on the line. I started whining that I was hungry, so Mom put me in charge of Jacob while she went in and made me a sandwich.

  “I got distracted by a butterfly. Chased it, completely forgetting about Jacob. I followed it pretty far, I’m not sure how far really. When I heard Mom yelling my name, I remembered I was supposed to be watching over Jacob.” Dad closed his eyes and swallowed.

  Olivia squeezed his hand.

  “He’d tried to follow me, but he was only two so he didn’t get far. He must’ve seen something he wanted in the lake.”

  Her stomach turned. “And that’s when he drowned?”

  Dad nodded.

  “How did you all cope?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was young. I knew my brother was gone, but I didn’t understand death. I learned quickly not to ask too many questions.

  “Dad eventually became Dad again. Mom—she was angry with me for not obeying her instructions. She never looked at me the same way again.”

  A part of Olivia wished she hadn’t asked. What a tragic, private, personal thing. But knowing made certain aspects of her father click into place.

  Dad rubbed at the lines in his forehead. “I didn’t want to tell you this tonight, since it’s Christmas and all, but we’re on the subject of siblings so…”

  His odd choice of words caused her stomach to twist. What other earth-shattering news could he possibly add to this situation?

  His aging face contorted as if he’d tasted something sour. “Jade’s pregnant. She’s nine weeks along.”

  Earth shattered.

  Jade, who’d had a part in almost completely destroying Olivia’s existence, was having a baby. Her father’s baby. Olivia’s half-sibling. God, help me. Olivia didn’t speak. Simply concentrated on breathing in and out. Sometimes there just weren’t words.

  The musical on TV continued to play while she watched the dynamics of her life shift once again. Why did her feet keep gaining traction only for the ground beneath her to change course? Would the nightmarish ripples of this infidelity ever stop?

  By the time the couple on TV announced their engagement, shock had given way to fury inside Olivia’s chest. She opened her mouth to voice her feelings when the black-and-white image of a little boy flashed into her memory.

  She closed her mouth. Her new sibling didn’t deserve her wrath any more than Olivia’s father deserved blame for his brother’s death. His childhood scars were probably the reason he had trouble functioning in female relationships now.

  Choices had consequences. So did the way people chose to react to situations. She could feed the bitter emotions roiling inside and let another person’s act
ions control her, or she could strive to handle it the way Jesus would have, with forgiveness and love.

  Saying congratulations didn’t seem like the appropriate phrase for this situation, so she choked out the only response she could speak with honesty. “That gives me the next six months to get used to the idea of being a big sister.”

  He snapped out of the daze he’d settled into. Surprise lit his face. “You want to be part of this child’s life?” The bit of hope shining in his eyes spoke the depth of his regrets.

  She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s a baby, Dad. Not cancer.”

  Only three times in Olivia’s life had she seen her dad cry. This was the third.

  Not a dramatic show, but his eyes welled up with tears. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  Her own emotions started. She curled up next to him. “Are you happy with Jade? Have you finally gotten what you wanted?”

  He chuckled, humorless. “I got what I wanted. But I lost everything I had.”

  ~*~

  Groceries were a must. Blake had already blown through the leftovers from his parents’ Christmas dinner. The dinner he’d arrived at after Lucas and Madison had left. His brother had tried contacting him again, twice over the phone and once through Blake’s website.

  Persistence had always been one of Lucas’s strongest qualities.

  A cold, rainy mist clung to Blake’s face and coat as he crossed the parking lot to the store. Head down, Blake stepped inside the automatic doors. Christmas music sung by a cheesy pop artist played over the speakers. Fifty-percent-off holiday displays were everywhere.

  Blake wanted to forget this Christmas and get started with a new year. He wiped the bottom of his slick boots on the mat, grabbed an available shopping cart, and moved toward aisle one for milk and sour cream. A flash of red caught his eye as he passed aisle four.

  Olivia?

  He halted and backed up. She stood on tip-toe to reach something on the top shelf. Then she tossed it in her cart and turned to go down the back end of the store.

  Blake’s palms began to sweat. His heart raced. Over the last two months, he’d had moments when the loss of her was so great his body physically ached. Moments when he’d been angry and dead sure breaking things off had been the right move. Other times, he was pretty sure God was telling him to make things right with her. Was this his chance? Blake walked in her direction. He had no idea what he was going to say, but he had to see her. Like it or not, he still loved her. Before he could get three feet, Olivia disappeared down another aisle. Blake sped to catch her.

  His cellphone rang.

  He looked down at the screen, intending to punch the ignore button, but the number originated from Portland, and he’d been playing phone tag with a business contact there. Blake groaned inwardly. He’d take the call and trail far enough behind her that he wouldn’t be seen, but he wouldn’t lose her, either. “Hartford Farms.”

  “Blake?”

  The female voice stopped his progress. Something dark and familiar curled in his chest.

  “It’s Madison. Please, don’t hang up.”

  He scowled. “What do you want?”

  “I want…” She sighed. “I want your forgiveness. Lucas wants your forgiveness. We both want you at our wedding, but if you can’t give us that, at least forgive us for hurting you. We want to be a family, Blake.”

  “I can’t do this right now.” He had to get to Olivia. Tell her they’d both been wrong. Make up for the miserable weeks they’d spent apart. “I’m hanging up now.” Blake tucked the phone back into his pocket, abandoned his cart, and followed after Olivia. Where was she? He’d been on the phone less than a minute. How could she have gotten away so fast? He sped along the back of the store, searching every aisle as he passed. There. At the checkout. Slowing his steps so as not to appear aggressive, disappointment rose inside him as he neared.

  The woman wasn’t Olivia.

  Same red coat. Same dark hair. Same height. But this woman had dark eyes and a pointed chin.

  His shoulders dropped. It was probably for the best. What would he say anyway? He didn’t have an ‘I’m-an-idiot’ speech prepared. No valiant way to sweep her off her feet, convince her they belonged together.

  At least now he knew how he truly felt. Despite her deception, despite his shortcomings, he wanted to be with her. Wanted her. Forever.

  Blake returned to his cart, collected enough food to last the week and then drove home. As he put away his groceries, Blake’s mind reeled over Madison’s call, the pleading desperation in her familiar voice. The two of them were relentless. Did reconciliation really matter that much to them?

  He loved Olivia. Wanted to spend the rest of his days, and nights, with her. He wanted children. Someday. He wanted his own family to be a part of a larger one.

  Knowing that, what did it matter if he let go of the past? With Olivia in his life, his relationship with Madison no longer mattered. And the bitterness he held onto was pointless. “It isn’t until we learn to forgive that we can be truly free.”

  Blake slid a cereal box into the cabinet, closed the door, and leaned against the countertop. Where do I start, Lord? He just couldn’t get past the betrayal coming from his own brother. Someone he’d grown up with, laughed with, cried with. Shared meals with.

  Jesus.

  The name tumbled through Blake’s mind. Yes, if anyone knew how Blake felt, it was Jesus. Betrayed by a man he’d taught, grown with, broke bread with. Someone he’d called brother. Death in exchange for a few measly bucks.

  What did Jesus do? Forgave. Everyone and everything. He took on the entire sin of the world.

  Yet Blake was so superficial, he couldn’t forgive losing a girlfriend when God had a better woman out there for him anyway.

  Pride.

  Blake released a long, slow breath. I’m sorry, God, for harboring bitterness and hatred in my heart. A heart that should be filled with nothing but You. I give this all to You, Lord. I forgive them.

  And, boy, did forgiveness feel good. His whole body felt lighter. His soul, cleaner than it had been in years. He had a fresh start.

  And three days to secure a tux, a hotel, and make it to Boston in time for a wedding. What better way to prove to Olivia he’d let go of the past and opened his heart to the future—their future—than going to his brother’s wedding?

  43

  Death packed a mighty punch. Even when one saw it coming. There was no ducking, no running. No escape.

  Grandma’s blankets rose and fell with every raspy, shallow breath. Despite the aggressive antibiotics, her lungs were continuing to fill with bacterial fluid. Grandma had refused to cooperate with breathing exercises, and had given up.

  The hospital room offered no comfort with its muted walls, flashing medical equipment, and stiff furniture.

  Dad sat in the corner chair and stared at his mother asleep in the bed. The knowledge that he was a new dad at fifty-three had crash-landed him into reality after his stint in mid-life crisis land. Over the last few days, they’d discussed it all at length, vented, cried, forgave, repented, and hugged.

  Neither liked the curves their lives had travelled, many of which were caused by poor decision making. But here they stood, and all they could do was move forward. Dad with his new family, Olivia without Blake. And in less than twenty-four hours, as the doctor predicted, without Grandma, too.

  Loss was a natural part of life. It was hard, and it hurt. Death packed a mighty punch, even when one saw it coming.

  ~*~

  Blake sat at the reception table covered in fancy white linen, sipping punch that surprisingly held the perfect amount of sweetness.

  Lucas and Madison swayed on the dance floor, their first dance as husband and wife coming to a close. The white dress, the love radiating from both their faces made Blake’s chest squeeze.

  He wanted this with Olivia. The right to hold her, kiss her whenever he wanted to. He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life proving it. He t
ugged at his tight collar. The catered meal of lemon chicken breast, asparagus, roasted red potatoes, and yeast rolls was delicious, but it was mediocre compared to his favorite cook’s dishes. Especially when Olivia’s apron strings bounced along her hips as she strode around the kitchen. The memory had him guzzling more of the cool punch.

  He checked his phone. Still no response.

  Blake had texted her that morning, in the quiet of the church after some soul-searching and a long, arduous prayer.

  Can we meet? Talk?

  She was probably busy with the bakery. Or wanted nothing more to do with him after he’d reacted so terribly. Or maybe all that forgiveness talk was one-sided.

  Lucas had joined him in the silent sanctuary and encouraged Blake not to give up. Then they’d prayed together. Man, it felt good to have his brother back.

  “You look a little lonely over here all by yourself. Would you care to dance?” The soft-spoken redhead shifted her punch glass to her other hand. She was attractive in her slinky black dress, but he wasn’t interested.

  “I’m not much of a dancer, but you’re welcome to join me.” Blake pulled out the chair next to him, not wanting to be rude.

  She hesitated, then set down her punch and smoothed her dress as she accepted his offer. “I’m Stacey.”

  “Blake.”

  Awkward silence.

  Her gaze drifted around the room. “You seem as distant to the festivities as I am. I thought I’d come over.”

  He twirled his empty punch glass in his hand. “Great celebration. My mind’s just elsewhere.”

  Her attention once again focused on the other side of the room.

  Ah. Blake smiled. “Which one is he?”

  Stacey turned back to him, mouth slightly open. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Just a little.”

  She blushed. “Jefferson. He’s in the blue shirt and tie. He works with the groom. I work with the bride. Anyway, they set us up once. Things were great for a while. Then I did something stupid and lost the best thing I’d ever had.”

  Blake would toast her if he had anything left in his cup. “Join the club. I’m king of stupid right now.”