by Chris Zett
By the time Jess had stacked everything in the large plastic racks and started the wash cycle, Lena had peeled a surprisingly large number, but more than enough apples were left for her. She checked on Ella to see if she minded the noise, but she was still out.
Smiling, Lena looked up and beckoned Jess over without stopping her peeling. Her hands flew over the apple, removing the complete skin in one go. Circular strips fell to the counter, releasing a fresh, tart aroma. After she finished peeling, Lena threw the apple into a pot of water where it bobbed on the surface.
“Lemon water. To avoid brown stains.”
“Clever. Citric acid is an antioxidant.”
“If you say so. I only know that my grandma taught me what she learned from her mother.”
“Seems like sound advice.” Jess smiled and held her hand out. “Can I give it a try?”
“Sure. Peel what you can easily reach, and don’t worry about the area around the stem. We’ll cut that out later.”
Jess took the peeler and tried to remember how Lena had held it. She didn’t want to admit she’d never done this before. Her first attempt got stuck in the apple after an inch and removed a short and uneven piece of skin. She adjusted the angle and tried again. A few more inches before she got stuck this time. It shouldn’t be so difficult—people all over the world did this every day! But with Lena’s gaze resting on her, heat crawled from Jess’s neck to her cheeks.
“May I?” Lena reached out but didn’t touch.
Jess looked up, expecting a smirk or frown, but Lena smiled encouragingly. Jess wanted to hand the peeler over, but Lena pressed her hand around Jess’s and angled the tool into the right position. When their fingers touched, a light tingling ran up Jess’s arm again. Oh great, the sparks were back while they played with sharp instruments. She needed to be careful she wasn’t the one bleeding today.
Lena quickly let go. “Try it again.”
Her voice was hoarse and low, and it had the same effect as her touch. Jess had to take a calming breath before she trusted her hands to move without trembling. To her surprise, she managed to almost peel the complete apple before she lost the correct angle again.
“Good job. You’ll get the hang of it soon after a couple more apples.” Lena stepped back and opened a drawer to get another peeler.
“A couple or a dozen, but who’s counting?” Jess needed to lighten the mood. The repeated surges of tingling and heat confused her. Since when did women affect her like this, so uncontrollably? Usually she was the one who seduced and unnerved her partner, rarely the other way around. A change of topic was in order. “Did you do a lot of cooking with your grandma?”
Lena took her place on the other side of the pot. “I always helped—peeling, cutting, stirring. Grandpa often worked late shifts, and we spent most of our evenings in the kitchen, preparing meals for the next day or preserving food. Grandma grew up in a rural region without much money and believed in preparing for the worst, even though they both had stable enough incomes and a supermarket on the corner.”
“Are you using her recipes?” Jess threw her apple into the pot and picked another. She wasn’t as fast as Lena, but she was slowly getting the hang of it.
“Not really.” Lena laughed. “She believed in the magic of sugar and thought her preserves should last at least fifty years, just in case another war started or something. I cut a lot of sugar from the recipes and use more apples to thicken the preserves. They’re a natural source of pectin. But I learned the basics from her.”
Lena’s voice was soft and warm like a summer evening when she talked about her grandmother. Her love for her family was obvious. Yet she seldom mentioned her mother, and Jess was reluctant to ask. From the bits and pieces she had mentioned, Jess got the impression Lena hadn’t grown up with her. And now she was in prison, but Lena hadn’t said for how long. Jess curbed her curiosity, not wanting to dampen the mood. Lena would tell her when she was ready.
Working side by side, they’d soon worked through the pile of apples while Lena talked vividly about her grandma and their favorite meals. Jess could picture her as a kid sitting at the kitchen table, talking about her day.
Would Jess share that with Ella when she got older? Who would talk to Ella while she was in the hospital? Going back to twelve- to fourteen-hour days didn’t sound so appealing when she thought of that.
“Can you finish peeling the rest? I’ll cut them and start cooking the first batch.” Lena took out a cutting board and one of those chef’s knives Jess associated more with crime TV shows than real cooking.
She shuddered at the thought of the knife coming close to her hands. “Be careful. My sewing skills are rusty.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not my first time.” Lena expertly used the knife, turning the apples into chunks faster than Jess would have thought possible. “Could you wash the mint, please?”
“Mint? Didn’t you want to do blackberry jam?” Jess looked around for the herbs.
“I brought it from Maggie’s garden.” Lena pointed to the linen bag. “And I’m always adding something special. It’s what makes my preserves different from what you can get at the supermarket.”
“What are your most popular flavors?”
“Strawberry-jalapeño and apricot-vanilla-Earl Grey tea. But I have enough of those still in storage. And I vary my preserves with the season. In the fall and winter, I sell a lot of chutneys too. Today we start with blackberry-mint-apple, and later we’ll do some rosemary-pear-blackberry.”
Jess took the bundle of mint—complete with stalks and leaves—from the bag and washed it. “I only ever buy strawberry or blueberry jam. The most exotic one might have been a combination with vanilla. I guess I’m a bit boring.” She shook out the herbs and placed them next to Lena’s cutting board.
Without glancing at Jess, Lena took the mint, removed the stalks, and cut the leaves into fine strips. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with those flavors, but not everyone is always into vanilla. Sometimes it’s fun to add something spicier.”
Heat shot through Jess and dried her mouth as if she had taken a bite of the jalapeño Lena had been talking about. Was Lena flirting with her or just casually throwing out statements Jess’s reawakening libido was latching onto?
“Want me to rinse the blackberries?” Maybe submerging her hands in cold water would douse the simmering in other parts of her body.
Lena couldn’t help watching Jess hasten away. Her expression when Lena had teased her was too funny. With difficulty, Lena averted her gaze and put one of the huge stainless steel pots on the stove.
She should stop doing that. Her excuse was she liked to rattle the composure of the too-stern, too-tense woman she’d met a few weeks ago to get back at her for her arrogant behavior and remove the mask for a few seconds. But since they’d become friends, that wasn’t necessary anymore. Jess had let her in and offered her more than a passing glimpse beneath the surface. And she wasn’t even thinking of the kiss that had elevated their relationship to another level. Or rather, balanced it precariously on some precipice. So why was she still doing it? Did she want to tip into more-than-friends territory?
With a sigh, Lena grabbed the kitchen scale, weighed the apples, and placed them in the pot. After a quick calculation, she added some sugar and closed the lid, then went to see how Jess was doing.
She had removed the leaves and debris floating on the water and was now placing the blackberries in a sieve. Carefully, by hand. Her brows wrinkled, and she bit her lip in concentration as she sifted through, looking for spoiled berries.
Lena stepped next to her to wash her hands in the other sink.
“How am I doing, chef?” Jess grinned. “Everything up to your standards?”
“Fine. Kitchen helper could be a new career for you.” Lena dried her hands on a clean towel. “Would you mind weighing them for me? I need to look at my notes to
see how much I used last time.”
“Sure.”
Jess continued sorting the berries as Lena retrieved a notebook and pen from her backpack. She glanced at Ella, who still slept soundly. “You’re lucky she loves to sleep so much. How is it at night?”
“In the beginning, when I was home with her alone, I had the feeling she never slept at all. Whenever I closed my eyes for a second, she opened hers and cried. But now she seems to be in a more relaxed phase. I’m hoping it will last a while.” Jess finished washing the blackberries and poured half of them into the bowl. “How much do you need?”
Lena skimmed through the book until she found the right page. She glanced at the scale. “Add another handful. That should be fine.”
Turning her head to look at Lena, Jess raised one eyebrow. “Another handful? What kind of measuring system is that?”
“My grandma’s. She always cooked and baked with handfuls and pinches. Adding this and that until her gut said it was right. I try to at least stick to approximately the same ratios every time I reproduce a recipe.”
“Well, it’s your name on the jam. As a scientist, this is very unsettling for me.” Jess exaggeratedly shuddered, then added a handful of blackberries to the bowl. “How does your gut feel now?”
“Perfect.” Chuckling, Lena opened the pot to stir the apples. They had started to break down, and a heavenly aroma rose up in the steam. “You can add the blackberries now.”
“Mmmh.”
Jess was leaning over her shoulder, and her moan vibrated on the sensitive skin behind Lena’s ear.
The wooded spoon fell from her hand.
Hot applesauce splashed upward.
Lena jumped back and collided with Jess, who steadied her with one arm around her waist.
“Careful,” Jess mumbled, reaching over to retrieve the spoon with her free hand. “Don’t burn yourself.”
Even though no drop of the hot liquid had touched Lena’s skin, it might be too late for the warning.
Jess let go to pour the blackberries into the pot. “And now?”
“Now we wait. Close the lid and let it simmer.” Would that work for their attraction too? If she waited long enough, would the different ingredients mix well enough to turn into something new, something delicious?
Lena stepped away. Don’t be silly. That had never worked for her. Each and every one of her previous romantic affairs had turned inedible after stewing too long. She didn’t have the time and energy to invest in a girlfriend as long as her debt was piled up over her head and she needed every second of her day to keep from being buried alive.
And she was here to work today, not to flirt. She reached for her notebook again. “I’ll note the amounts for next time.”
Adding the numbers didn’t take long enough to gain the emotional distance she needed, so she stalled by sketching a few blackberries next to it.
Jess had gone to the far side of the room and was talking to Ella in that low, comforting tone. Ella made some bubbly noises in response to whatever her mother mumbled.
“Is it okay to heat some formula here?” Jess straightened and looked over to Lena.
“Sure. No problem.” Lena filled a smaller pot with water and put it on the stove to heat.
Jess wandered over to her, carrying Ella on one arm and her baby bag in the other. “Would you mind holding her for a second?”
“Mind?” Lena eagerly reached for Ella and cradled her in her arms. “I’d love it. Hi, cutie.” She smiled.
To her delight, Ella answered with an adorable smile of her own.
“Did you see that? She’s smiling!”
Jess transferred the formula to a bottle and placed it in the water. “She knows she’s in good hands. Return her if you need to work on something again.”
“The pears can wait.”
Jess’s gaze fell on the open book Lena had been working on. “May I look at the other recipes?”
“Sure.”
Jess skimmed a few pages, then stopped at a sketch Lena had done for one of her preserve labels and whistled. “Did you draw this? This is amazing.”
“Um, yeah. I was just testing out some ideas for my labels.”
“Wait, you do your own labels? I thought you hired a designer or got them off the internet or something.”
“No, I could never afford a designer.”
“And you certainly don’t need one. They look professional. You should do this for a living.”
“Thanks, but…doing it for a living involves investing time and money I don’t have right now. I have no formal education. And sketching is something I can always do as a hobby.” Lena hoped Jess would let it go. She was happy right now to have Ella in her arms and didn’t want to taint the moment with thoughts about her financial situation.
Jess regarded her skeptically but accepted her answer and shifted her attention back to the warming formula. She removed the bottle and dried it on a towel. “Do you want to feed her again?”
Lena swallowed and hoped her voice wouldn’t break. “Yeah. I’d love to.”
Ella grabbed a strand of her hair and clutched it in her tiny fist. Her eyes were so open and trusting. To her, Lena was a safe human, providing warm arms to hold her, a soft voice to calm her, and the promise of milk to feed her. Neither her history nor her present problems were important.
Yesterday she had struggled to stay in the moment as memories of feeding Tammy for the first time rose. Tammy had been out of the hospital for a week and was only supposed to get formula when their mom wasn’t home. But their mom had been drinking and was sleeping it off, oblivious to Tammy’s crying. Lena had prepared the formula, meticulously following the instructions on the package. She’d babysat neighborhood kids before, but never in her seventeen years had she needed to give anyone the bottle. She’d been a nervous wreck, but the second Tammy took her first sip and smacked her lips, she’d lost her heart. And like all meaningful relationships in her life, even that simple bond with her sister hadn’t lasted. In the eyes of their mother and Tammy’s father, she’d only been the babysitter. Tammy’s father had made that clear, even when Lena had distanced herself from her mother and her destructive behavior years later. When her sister was taken from her, she’d lost a part of her heart she could never get back
She bowed her head over Ella and breathed in her fresh baby scent. Nothing was as calming. Swallowing her self-pity, Lena blew a raspberry on Ella’s stomach and looked up again.
Jess didn’t seem to have noticed anything. She tested the bottle against the skin on her arm. “Perfect.” She held it out to Lena.
“Thanks.” Lena concentrated on the baby in front of her. She wasn’t Tammy but Ella, a wonderful, tiny person. They’d forge their own connection, as long as she got the chance to be part of her life. “Hi, Ella, I’ve got something for you.”
Wednesday afternoon, Jess returned from her midday walk to excited voices coming from somewhere on the first floor. She removed Ella from the stroller, hoisted her on her hip, and searched for her mom and Lena. She found them in the large formal dining room at the table for twelve.
Her mom looked up from the papers she and Lena were huddled over. “How are my girls?”
“Mom.” Jess rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
Grinning, she pushed her reading glasses up into her gray locks. “Just wait and see when Ella’s older if you can stop calling her your little girl. See, at least I omitted the little.”
Jess groaned and barely stopped herself from stomping her foot. Okay, if she wanted to protest being called a girl, she shouldn’t behave like an adolescent. But her mom knew how to push her buttons.
“Here, fuss over your granddaughter.” She passed Ella on and smiled as her mom’s attention fixated on the baby.
Jess walked over to Lena, who was watching their interaction with a grin. “
What are you working on?”
“We’re sorting her notes and working on an outline.” Lena’s eyes sparkled as she gestured at the stacks of paper. “Maggie has several years’ worth of notes and so many ideas.”
Pages full of her mom’s handwriting were strewn over the length of the oversized table, interspersed with crude drawings of what Jess guessed to be parts of plants. Sticky notes in several colors were stuck to them, labeled in Lena’s neat hand. Someone had hung a giant piece of paper to her great-grandmother’s china cabinet, and the same colorful sticky notes, with lines drawn between them, adorned it in a pattern that hopefully meant more to Lena than to her.
“You mean you’re fighting the chaos? My mom has brought many assistants to tears with her unscientific approach.” Jess grinned as she remembered discussions between her parents at this very dinner table about her mom’s work style. Her father had been like Jess: meticulous, organized, and linear. Her mother believed in creativity, chaos, and the organic growth of ideas. But seeing as she’d retired as a respected professor after a long career at the university, it must have worked for her.
“I can’t judge the scientific content of the book, but I’m assisting her in visualizing with a mind map, and we’re color coding the different topics.” Lena pointed from the stacks of papers to the sticky notes. “As soon as she’s decided what goes into the book, I’ll start typing up the notes. It’s so exciting to learn more about what’s growing outside right under our noses.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she had leaned forward as she spoke, into Jess’s personal space.
Close enough that her scent—fresh soap with a hint of mint—invaded Jess’s senses and sent her thoughts scattering. Holding her breath, she stepped over to the mind map.
The longer Jess regarded it, the more she could see the logical structure. Amazing. Lena not only tolerated working with her mom, she actually seemed to like it. And was good at it.
A phone beeped, and Lena sighed.
Jess turned around.
As Lena typed, the enthusiasm in her expression dimmed as if someone had snuffed out a candle. Her shoulders drooped, and she slowly walked to the door that led into the kitchen. “Maggie?”