The Secret Ingredient

by KD Fisher

  I was just settling back down in front of my laptop, neck and shoulders already tense with the knowledge I was in for at least three more rounds of accidentally almost ruining The Yellow House’s website, when Andrew knocked gently on my office door.

  “You okay in here, sis? You’re grumbling an awful lot. We’re opening up soon and I don’t want you freaking people out.” My brother leaned his towering body against the door frame. Normally he would have jumped on the opportunity to tease me, but his voice was soft and flat.

  I waved the concern away, glancing back to the screen in front of me. “Oh, you know technology and I don’t get along. I’m still trying to do this stupid reservation thingie.” What was I supposed to do with all these lines of weird code? Probably not change it, right? How had I even gotten here? I hit the back button...and great, I was back to square one. Again.

  “Why don’t you have Eitan take a look at it? He used to be some kind of big tech guy out in California.” Something about the energy in the room shifted at the mention of my newish hire. I glanced up at Andrew again. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his work pants, eyes fixed determinedly on the floor. Something was up with my brother. And great, now I’d missed Nina’s life crisis, my brother was upset about something, I’d imploded my relationship, and I hadn’t even taken the time to really get to know Eitan. I was a fucking mess.

  “Good idea,” I murmured, narrowing my eyes at Andrew, expecting his usual retort that I needed to stop trying to read his mind. When it didn’t come, I asked, “Seriously bro, what’s going on with you? Is everything okay?”

  Andrew stood up straight and lifted his hands like I’d made an accusation. The silence between us was tense for a long moment. Then he sighed and rubbed his palm over his close-cropped dark hair. “I, uh, well—” His gaze, once again, fixated on the wide-plank pine floorboards. I mean, sure the floors were lovely, but not worth staring at for that long.

  “Hey, you can tell me.” I kept my voice gentle. It was so strange seeing my big, laid-back brother this bent out of shape. Something was definitely out of whack cosmically. Then, just to prove my point, my phone alarm chimed loudly, cutting through the quiet and any chance of getting to the bottom of this latest dilemma. Shit. It was time to proof the sourdough and check in with Nina about dinner service.

  “Nah. It’s cool. I’ll ask you about it some other time.” Andrew sagged in clear relief and turned to go so fast he was basically a blur of flannel.

  After sending a quick text to Ahmed and Eitan about the two of them meeting with me at some point this afternoon to go over this cursed reservation system, I closed my laptop with a little too much force and stalked into the kitchen. I tried, I really did, to switch off my brain and get into the right baking flow. Wash my hands and appreciate the warmth of the water on my skin. Breathe in the smell of yeast and butter and the ever-present earthy scent of the fire.

  But as she had each and every time I set myself to the meditative rhythms of baking, Adah slipped into my mind. But now the blank expression she’d worn last time I saw her overshadowed the sound of her warm, low laugh. The flat intonation of her voice as she pushed me away clouded over the taste of her lips, the silky feel of her hair slipping through my fingers, the fierce concentration in her eyes as she cooked.

  I wanted it all back: the plans I’d made to take Adah and Pete up north to Moose Lake, the dreams of waking up slowly with Adah next to me in my bed, the meals we could have made together.

  And now my face pulsed hot and I’d managed to completely overwork the dough I’d been kneading. Distantly, I heard the sound of boots crunching through the thin crust of ice that had formed over the snow the night before. Probably the first customer of the day, showing up early in hopes of beating the line. I stared into the fire for a long moment, watching as hot white gave way to yellow, up to a soft flickering orange glow. For the thousandth time since I’d walked out of the kitchen at Bella Vista I wondered if there was anything I could do to make it right. But I’d done enough to make it wrong. Adah had been crystal clear that she did not want me in her life. This would be my routine now: never-ending work and a sadness that I knew would fade but not disappear with time.

  The back door banged open, a gust of biting winter air rushing into the kitchen. And with it came Adah. Every fiber of my being went still. I was pretty sure I stopped breathing. All I could do was stare at her, searing every detail into my mind: the dusting of fresh snow on the shoulders of her heavy brown work coat, the strands of wheat-colored hair poking out of her knit beanie, the nervous expression on her beautiful face. She took a deep breath like she was about to say something but instead of words Adah closed the distance between us in two strides and kissed me. Her cold fingers cupped my cheek, tipping my face up to meet hers. I breathed her in, a smell I’d missed on a cellular level. She tasted like peppermint and coffee and the fresh edge of cold air. I couldn’t even think. All I could do was feel as I melted against her, relief flooding me. She groaned softly as I deepened the kiss and I hadn’t even realized how much I’d missed those sounds.

  Then my brain switched back on and I jerked away. “What the fuck?” I snapped, surprised at the anger in my own voice. “I thought you didn’t want this.” I gestured between us.

  For a moment Adah’s face went blank, a dark cloud passing over the sun. But then she crumpled, her eyes squeezing shut as tears slipped silently down her cheeks. She was flushed and so tense it looked like it hurt. Tentatively I reached out and ran my fingers up her arm. Adah’s body went slack and she pulled me into a hard, tight hug. I could feel her crying into my hair as I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing her back in big, soothing circles. Slowly, her breathing evened out and her grip on me loosened slightly.

  “Sorry,” she said softly as she pulled away, tugging off her beanie and running her fingers through her hair. It was a little messy but she couldn’t have looked more beautiful if she’d tried.

  I tried to untangle the knot of my own feelings, teasing out the threads of anger and relief. “I need you to talk to me,” I said evenly, done with the routine of trying to tap-dance around Adah’s feelings and still managing to mess everything up anyway.

  “I know.” Adah nodded, dropping her shoulders and looking me dead in the eye like she was steeling herself over for a fight. “I don’t know what the heck to say. I understand if you can’t forgive me. Hell, I don’t think I would forgive me if I were you. I just...” She sighed and rubbed a hand over her hair again, the bravado act officially gone. Her voice went soft. “I really am sorry, Beth. I was unfair to you. I was so scared. This is all new to me, I guess. And when I realized my life might change, I wanted to back off. It’s like you got to be too important to me and then all the stuff with work—”

  My exasperation with her using the work excuse must have flickered over my face because Adah raised her hands, showing me her palms, and shook her head. “I know it ain’t an excuse. This is on me. I think I need to, I don’t know, work on myself. Anyway, I have an appointment with a therapist lady next week to help me figure this stuff out. Or at least make it better. Sorry I don’t know what I’m sayin’. I had a whole speech planned out and I’m messin’ it up.” As usual, Adah’s accent got thicker when she was upset. “Anyway, long story short, I was afraid to trust you and that’s dumb because I already do trust you more than anyone else I ever met. I know I did a heck of a job showing you that and I get it if you don’t want to see me anymore after how foolish I acted.” Color rose high on her cheeks again as her voice started to break.

  “Come here.” I opened my arms to her again and she returned to them willingly. Some tension lingered between us, some things still left unsaid, but I knew as her arms twined around me that everything was going to be alright.

  “You’re too good for me,” Adah murmured into my hair.

  “Hush.” I gripped her shoulders to push her back and look at her face. Th
e face that had flitted on the edges of my dreams for weeks, now here in front of me. “That’s not true and you know it. But what I know is that you and I need to have a conversation. A big, long one with lots of honesty and feelings, okay?”

  A small smile twitched up the corners of Adah’s lips. “If we have to,” she said through a laugh.

  “We do. Now I’m going to get you a cup of tea and go check in with my brother and Grace. Then we can finish this conversation at my place?” I phrased this last bit as a question because as much as I wanted to show Adah my house and, maybe if things went well, my bed, I wanted her to know doing this in public was an option too.

  Adah nodded, looking a little dazed, and I hurried around the kitchen, making her a cup of chamomile lavender tea, writing out a few notes so Grace and Nina could pick up where I left off with prep, and finally, dashing into the dining room where my brother and Eitan appeared to be locked in a heated argument. They stopped talking the moment their eyes landed on me, so I was one hundred percent certain they’d been both listening to and discussing my conversation with Adah.

  “Okay I know you were both listening to me reunite with Adah, so I don’t have to tell you I’m taking the rest of the day off. Where’s Nina?” I couldn’t quite hide my grin.

  Oh my god, Eitan mouthed, flashing me a thumbs-up before reporting that Nina and Grace were picking up our order of root vegetables and winter greens from LaCour Farm.

  Where Eitan was all soft smiles and clear happiness on my behalf, my brother’s face was stormy, his hands shoved into his pockets. “It’s none of my business...”

  “But?” I sighed, wishing I could fast-forward through this conversation and get back to kissing my girlfriend. The word made me want to smile. Because that’s what Adah was to me again. What I wanted her to be, well, forever.

  “Just, I don’t want to see you all bummed out again, Beth. You’ve been like a different person since she dumped you. And when someone shows you over and over again that they can’t commit to an actual relationship, you should probably learn your lesson.” This last sentence came out a little harsh, and a lot out of place.

  I cocked my head to the side. “She didn’t really dump me. And—” I held up my hands. Clearly something was going on with Andrew but now was not the time to start chipping away at that impenetrable wall. “Look, are you guys going to be fine without me tonight or what?”

  Eitan’s firm “absolutely, just go” and Andrew’s flat “no” collided in the air. Eitan shot my brother a stern look then made a dramatic shooing motion. “We can take care of it. Go get your girl.”

  * * *

  I needed to figure out how Adah did it. How with an abashed grin and a few murmured words she managed to peel away all my defenses. Part of me still wanted to be mad at her. I wanted to deliver the angry rant that had been snaking through my head every night when my body desperately wanted to power down and sleep. Instead, on the short, snowy drive from The Yellow House to my place, Adah’s tight grip on my hand rendered me as soft and wobbly as freshly made custard.

  As I fumbled with shaking hands to unlock my front door, the strangeness of the moment slammed into me. This would be the first time Adah saw my place. I’d imagined bringing her here so many times: making her favorite meal (which I had only just learned was, of all things, baked mac and cheese), lighting some candles and playing some good music, maybe even giving her a massage before driving her wild in bed. What I had not imaged was my damn dog pinning her against the wall with a full-body please pet me lean and my house being an utter disaster.

  To Adah, someone who I was relatively certain cleaned significant portions of her apartment with a toothbrush and bleach, my home must have looked like the den of a very sloppy beast. My couch was a nest of tangled blankets and pillows, spun together with night after night of restless tossing and turning when my bed felt too big and too lonely. Every surface was cluttered with mostly full coffee mugs and crumpled, scribbled notes for my long-overdue business plan. My very lovely antique farmhouse table was completely hidden beneath a pile of unfolded, but thankfully clean, laundry. And my mom must have gotten marrow chews from the butcher for Hamlet again, meaning my bright kilim rug was actually scattered with honest to god bones.

  “Sorry it’s such a disaster,” I muttered, sounding stupidly nervous. “Things have been wild the past week, so I haven’t been around much.”

  Thankfully Adah was too focused on rubbing Hamlet’s exposed belly to focus on the awful state of my home. “Who takes care of this guy all day?” Adah asked, moving on to scratch his muzzle. It was weirdly nice to see her bonding with my dog.

  “My mom. Although she’s been giving me shit about how much I’ve been working since the award. Seriously, we’re booked out for like two months now that we’re taking reservations. I might as well just give Hammie to my mom and dad at this point. They’ve been a godsend but if I never hear the words ‘work-life balance’ again it’ll be too soon.” And great. I’d done it again. Basically humble-bragging about my supportive family and how busy we were as the result of an award Adah had desperately wanted to win. “Fuck. Sorry. I’m an idiot.” I just barely resisted the urge to smack myself in the forehead.

  Adah, to my surprise, just huffed out a low laugh and shook her head. “You’re not. It’s alright. You’re allowed to complain, you know.”

  “Right. So...” The words hung between us, a clear but awkward as hell invitation for us to continue our Big Relationship Conversation. When the words didn’t start flowing immediately, I busied myself with lighting the woodstove and finally hanging Adah’s coat on my very overburdened coatrack. Both Adah and Hamlet followed me into the kitchen as I filled the kettle with fresh water and set it onto the flame. Because herbal tea would totally fix this whole situation, right?

  “Your place is really...” Adah looked around, a small smile on her lips. “Colorful.”

  “You can say messy,” I laughed. But looking around at the butter yellow walls, riot of batik throw pillows on my turquoise couch, and cluster of potted herbs, succulents, and Christmas cacti in full bloom on the greenhouse window Andrew installed for me, I supposed she was right about the colorful thing too.

  Adah took a seat at one of the stools pulled up to my kitchen island, looking weirdly at ease. After another span of horrible silence in which I contemplated: turning on some Dolly Parton because I knew she would put Adah in a good mood, launching into one of my tirades, and skipping the whole talking part in favor of sliding into Adah’s lap and kissing her senseless (I mean, seriously had she worn that western-style denim shirt just to fuck with me?) I finally landed on the tactful “ready for the feelings talk now?”

  “Not really but we’re gonna do it anyway, huh?” Adah smiled wanly at me and I sank down onto the stool next to her, dragging it close enough our knees touched, her dark clean denim against my wash-worn, flour-dusted jeans. She took a sip of tea then sighed. “I know I told you about my dad and all, but I guess I didn’t realize how much all that stuff stayed with me. I mean, I knew. Like I’m jumpy as all get-out and still have all these weird hang-ups. I know that. But when you showed up to surprise me that night it got pretty bad. Overwhelming. A couple years after I moved to Chicago, the reverend and my oldest brother showed up at my place. I hadn’t heard a peep from any of them in years. I didn’t think they knew where I was. Even now I don’t know how they figured it out. But he knew all about Pete and Jeremy and, well, everything. He kept saying he was gonna take Pete back and raise him proper. Yelled so much the neighbor called the cops.”

  As deeply as I felt Adah’s pain, as much as my heart raced and then shattered for her, I knew that empathy wasn’t enough. There was nothing I could give her but love and understanding. Space to feel and a willingness to listen. I slid my hands slowly over the butcher block to cover hers and squeezed. Hot tears slipped down my cheeks and I tasted salt on my lips.

 
“Anyway, I know I didn’t handle it right. I know I shoulda talked to you instead of clamming up and getting mad. I know I have to work on it and I want you to, maybe, help me?”

  The tentativeness in her voice broke me and I slid off my chair and wrapped my arms clumsily around her. “Baby, of course. I love you so much. I know it’s hard for you to tell me how you feel but I promise I’m on your side, okay? Always.”

  Adah’s nod was firm, her face beautiful and serious. “I know. You made me feel, make me feel, safer than I ever did before. It was, well, it was hell not talking to you, letting you go like that. It’s what I always did. Run away. But I don’t want to anymore because I really love you too. A lot. And I know I have to prove it.” Her face was so intent and earnest a fresh wave of affection crashed over me. Affection and heat. Now that the air was clear between us, I wanted Adah more than ever.

  I brushed a fast kiss over her lips, stood, and pulled Adah to her feet. “Okay. Well now I think it’s time I reward you for all that talking, don’t you think?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Adah