How to Stir a Baker's Heart

by Candice Sue Patterson

  Thank God he’d filmed an episode about the behavioral dangers of a divorcee over fifty in which he refuted the health of getting tattoos, bar-hopping, and dressing like a teenager.

  Mom was back to jeans and slacks and her closet of three-quarter length sleeve sweater sets in every color of the rainbow. And scarves. Feminine, age-appropriate scarves.

  “Amazing. I had no idea.” Olivia joined her on the couch.

  Mom rested her feet on the coffee table and covered up with a blanket. “Baked spaghetti is in the oven. How can you run around in just a T-shirt? It’s freezing.”

  Olivia mimicked her mother’s stance. “Spend a winter in Maine and this will feel like a tropical climate.”

  “No thanks.” Mom muted the TV. “Are you sure you want to rebuild? I just can’t see you being happy there now that…”

  “A person can be happy living anywhere if they choose. I’m choosing happiness.”

  Mom sighed. “It’s your life.” She picked up a stack of letters from the end table beside her. “Mail. All forwarded from Stone Harbor.”

  Olivia took the stack and flipped through the letters first, saving the 5x8 cushioned package for last. Hartford Farms was stamped as the return address. Olivia bolted forward. Her pulse kicked into high gear. Heartbeat pounded in her ears. This package wasn’t forwarded. Her mother’s address was printed neatly on the label in Blake’s handwriting. Olivia ripped it open. She pulled out a small hardback book with a picture of her and Blake inserted into the clear pouch on the front cover. A journal.

  Mom looked at her, eyebrows knotted.

  Paper stuck out from the top of the book.

  Olivia pulled it out and read in silence.

  Olivia,

  My condolences for Grams. She was a wonderful lady and will be greatly missed by all.

  I’m sorry about the bakery. It’s a terrible loss, and I pray they find the scumbag and bring him to justice.

  Lastly, I’m sorry for how I reacted that night. Or should I say overreacted. I let my anger, my bitterness toward my brother cloud my judgment. A choice I’ll forever regret.

  Lucas and I have resolved the situation, and I made it to his wedding on time. Two feet of snow kept me from getting home and apologizing to you in person.

  Let me assure you my heart is now clean and full of room to fill. I want to fill it with you. I want to fill my home with you. My life with you. So much so that I’ve been working to rearrange the house for two. I’ve even fired up the antique Mayflower range in my kitchen, hoping that, if nothing else, it will convince you to come back to me.

  I love you, Olivia. Marry me. And, like your grandfather, fill this journal with pictures and words of our own love story.

  — Love, Blake

  Olivia couldn’t breathe. Her mind was full of Blake’s words, so impacted by the rawness of them, it forgot to remind her lungs to contract. When her vision went fuzzy around the edges, Olivia shook herself awake from the shock fog. Blake loved her. Wanted to marry her. She tightened her grip on the package and discovered there was more inside. Holding it upside down, a weighty object fell into her lap.

  A heart stone. She clasped it in her fingertips and rubbed her thumb over the smooth surface, her tears darkening its color. She rolled it in her palm.

  Come home was written on one side in black permanent marker.

  Olivia leaned her head back and giggled. Everything was going to be all right. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand.

  Mom was now skimming the letter, tears filling her eyes, too. “That’s romantic.”

  “Isn’t it?” Olivia rubbed her chest, unable to contain the elation expanding inside.

  “What are you going to say? Never mind. I’ll get you a pen and paper.”

  Olivia placed a staying arm on her mother’s shoulder. “I’m saying yes. But I’m not doing it in a letter.” She hugged her mom, gently patting her back. “I’ll tell him in person.”

  EPILOGUE

  August 8

  Here it is! Journal entry number one—our first day as husband and wife. See that picture? Those smiles! That’s Mr. and Mrs. Blake Hartford, standing in front of their completely renovated Victorian treasure, AKA honeymoon destination. What better way to spend our first night together than in our own house?

  In case you’re wondering, yes, those are blueberries in my bouquet. Isn’t it fantastic? My dear friend Arianne blended the perfect mix of white Indiana-grown peonies, white roses, and fresh blueberry sprigs. She also designed and sewed my dress, planned a menu and booked a caterer, and coordinated the entire wedding (with my input, of course) in six months, all while carrying the very active Baby Anderson, a boy she safely delivered in May, who never lets her sleep.

  My favorite baker, Brittany, made an absolutely scrumptious almond-flavored Italian wedding cake in the kitchen of the new and improved Harbor Town Bakery. A perpetrator has yet to be found, but justice doesn’t always come swiftly. Despite it, our grand opening in June was more successful than we ever imagined. Life is good.

  God is good.

  When hard times come, it often feels as if the heavens have opened up and dumped a tsunami amount of rain on your life. The same can be said about blessed times too, though. Rain puts out fire, and my family sure has risen from the ashes.

  I met my new baby sister for the first time today. She’s beautiful and perfect. Our dad looked exhausted, but that’s to be expected from a new husband and father. Mom looked fantastic. Her boyfriend, a widower from the church I grew up in, tagged along, and it was nice to see her happy again.

  Oh, and did I mention Blake’s brother, Lucas, was our best man? We truly have a new start.

  Philippians 4:8 “Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there by any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”

  Author’s Note:

  I hope you enjoyed Blake and Olivia’s story. More than anything, I pray the message of hope spoke to you that there’s light even in our darkest moments.

  This story was written during a long stretch of what I consider the darkest part of my life, a time where circumstances out of my control beat me up and continued kicking me while I was down. Through it all, I felt God’s presence, His gentle voice telling me I hadn’t been forsaken. That I needed to “be still” and know that He is God. That in His timing, He would make all things new again. And He did. I’m on the other side now. I still don’t understand, but I survived to tell the tale.

  If you ever find yourself in the pit of depression, whether as the patient or the caregiver, I encourage you to dig into the Bible and read the hundreds of uplifting scriptures, the promises God makes to His children, and the hope that lies within. It may take reading them over and over but eventually they will print themselves on your heart.

  I also recommend reading Hope Prevails by Dr. Michelle Bengtson. She not only shares her own personal journey through depression, but she guides readers on how to successfully overcome it the Bible way.

  Hope truly does prevail, dear reader. “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me you might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 (emphasis mine)

  A Devotional Moment

  But if a widow has children or grandchildren, these should learn first of all to put their religion into practice by caring for their own family and so repaying their parents and grandparents, for this is pleasing to God. ~ 1 Timothy 5:4

  In times past, three generations of families often lived under one roof. Over time, in our western world, the practice died away, but recently, we’ve seen an upsurge in this practice again. Because of financial life events and other constraints, families are learning to rely on and take care of each another. In some cases, the issue is age. We care for our elderly parents and grandparents in recognition
of the way they cared for us. When we meet this obligation and challenge with the same love that God has for us, it pleases Him.

  In How to Stir a Baker’s Heart the protagonist must meet the needs of her grandmother when her own heart is already broken. She pours herself into running her grandmother’s business, but must deal with obstacles while trying to lift her own depression. Matters come to a head when obligation crashes into local community, and a resolution must encompass the needs of many.

  Have you ever been burdened with the responsibility of caring for others even while you feel unequipped to handle your own situation? Obligation piled on top of depression or other responsibilities can feel overwhelming, but the opposite can be true. If we help others with a joyful intention—even when we don’t feel joyful—and give our own sorrows to God, we often find that what we thought was overwhelming dissolves into something easily handled. When we cast our cares on God and when we repay our parents and grandparents, we please Him and open ourselves to receive abundant blessings.

  LORD, HELP ME TO SHARE MY HEART WITH LOVE AND HONOR FOR THOSE WHO ONCE NURTURED ME. TEACH ME TO RETURN THE LOVE YOU HAVE FOR US. IN JESUS’ NAME I PRAY, AMEN.

  Thank you

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