The Baker's Christmas Miracle

by Cheryl Wright

  “And have people think we’re not married? That’s not going to happen.” She scowled. Was this their first argument? “Let’s not argue. These small town people can be vicious, and I don’t want you on the receiving end.” He reached for her hand, and pulled it to his lips. A tingle ran down his spine.

  He heard Patrick clearing his throat behind them. When he looked back over his shoulder, his brother was grinning broadly. “Oh for goodness sakes, Patrick. Act your age.” The grin quickly changed to a scowl. “Keep it up and you’ll stay at the hotel from now on.”

  He wasn’t sure how long his brother intended to stay, but it wouldn’t be too much longer. Patrick had ambitions of his own. Besides, he’d almost finished the work at the bakery.

  They stood opposite the bakery, and saw there was already a line of customers waiting. “The bakery seems to be very popular,” Abigail said, and it warmed his heart.

  “It is. I only hope it continues.”

  She licked at her lips. “The closer it gets to Christmas, perhaps you can introduce some Christmas fare – Christmas cakes and puddings for instance. I have an old family recipe if you need one.”

  She suddenly chewed at her bottom lip. What was she hiding?

  “That sounds like a great idea. We could discuss it later. Right now I have to open the bakery. We’ll go in the back way to avoid the crowd.”

  He led her through the entrance of the house, and left her in the sitting room. He snatched up his apron, and unlocked the front door. More than a dozen people, mostly women, flooded into the store. He stepped back to let them pass, then looked out over the sea of faces. This was exactly what he dreamed about, but there were so many people. How would he cope with them all?

  His father had warned him, but he hadn’t listened. He mentally slapped himself – this was what he’d wanted, but now he wondered if opening a bakery was the right thing to do.

  * * *

  Abigail stood in the doorway that adjoined the house and watched as Ethan fumbled with the crowd of customers. At first it was amusing, but it quickly became evident he was overwhelmed.

  She felt so bad standing there watching him when she could be helping. She stepped into the store and approached Patrick. “Where can I find a clean apron?”

  He stared at her and pointed to a deep drawer. “In there.”

  “Pen and paper?” He pointed again and she snatched them up. As she tied her apron, she headed out into the store. Ethan did his best to take the orders, but it seemed to be beyond him. How did he think he would manage?

  She stood beside him. “I’ll take it from here,” she said, and he stared at her. “I’ll take the orders, and you fulfill them. Understand?”

  The customers sitting at the table grinned as he walked away in confusion. “Hello, I’m Abigail,” she said, introducing herself. “What would you ladies like today?”

  As she wrote their orders down, one woman questioned her. “You’re new in town. I’m Mavis Jensen.” She reached out her hand.

  The other women introduced themselves as Mrs Green, Mrs Jackson, and Mrs Grogan, the doctor’s wife.

  Abigail knew she’d never remember all their names. Not yet anyway.

  “Pleased to meet you all,” she said. “I’m Abigail M… er, Harper. Ethan and I married this morning.”

  The squeals of delight that followed surprised her. He hadn’t been in town all that long.

  “I told that young man he needed to marry,” Mrs Jensen said. “You’ll soon settle in. Dayton Falls is a lovely little town.”

  The other women nodded in agreement.

  “Thank you all,” she said. “Now let me go back over your orders.” She had to get back to business, or she’d never be finished here.

  It wasn’t long before she delivered the first order to her new husband. She scurried off to take the next table’s order before she had to collect and deliver the first.

  It was going to be a busy afternoon, but at least she wouldn’t be bored. And she’d already made some new friends.

  * * *

  Ethan stood behind the counter and watched his new bride in amazement.

  She looked totally at home, and was far better at taking orders than he was. It was almost as though she’d done it before.

  He stared as she strolled toward him, another order torn from the pad, ready to hand over. “They’re nice people,” she told him quietly. “And they seem pleased you’ve married. Especially that Mrs Jensen.” She grinned.

  He chuckled. “She suggested it weeks ago, and hasn’t let me forget.”

  “Is she the reason you sent away…”

  He shuffled his feet like a naughty child. “Yes, I guess she is.”

  She grinned. “Then I should thank her.”

  Abigail handed over the new order, and snatched up the tray that awaited her. He watched her walk away. She was easy on the eyes, no matter which angle you looked at her.

  He heard Patrick move behind him. “You’d better get started on that order, or your missus might ball you out.” He laughed and moved out of reach.

  He ignored his brother and stared at the order. Two pots of tea with biscuits, jam, and clotted cream. The footnote made him smile. You’re doing brilliantly.

  And so was she. Abigail had slotted in as though working in a bakery was second nature.

  He glanced up and she was staring at him from across the room. He smiled, acknowledging her footnote.

  She smiled back and it warmed his heart.

  Was this what being married was like? Stealing glances from across the room?

  He suddenly remembered the order and rushed to prepare it before she returned. It wouldn’t do to have his new bride chastise him. Especially on their first day of marriage.

  Abigail returned with a tray of soiled dishes, and placed it on the sink. He turned to face her, pushing another tray toward her. “This one is ready.” He reached out for the order she held in her hand.

  Their hands brushed and he shivered. He didn’t expect her touch to affect him so much, especially after they’d only met this morning. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, then turned to prepare the next order.

  Once the bakery had cleared out to just a few tables in use, Abigail removed her apron. “I’ll leave you to it, shall I? I need to organize supper.”

  He’d already become accustomed to seeing her in the bakery, and didn’t want her to leave, but he knew she must. With little in the house pantry, she needed to take stock and go to the Mercantile.

  “I’ll check back later and see if you need my help.”

  He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Thank you,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “Your help made a huge difference.”

  Heat crept its way up her neck and face. He liked it – it made her look even more beautiful than she already was.

  She slowly pulled her hand out of his grip. “You are welcome,” she said, then flashed him a smile. Before he could stop her, Abigail was gone. His heart felt hollow as he watched her disappear down the hallway of the attached house.

  The bell over the door jingled, and he reluctantly moved to welcome his customers and guide them to a table.

  Chapter Four

  It had been second nature to waitress on the tables, but too late Abigail realized she may be giving a part of herself away.

  The last thing she wanted was to reveal her father’s business. She didn’t want to be a slave to her husband’s bakery like she had been to her father’s.

  As she made her way down the hallway toward the kitchen, she could feel eyes on her back. She’d felt there was a connection between them when he’d kissed her hand and now she was convinced of it.

  Ethan seemed like a gentle man, and had a calming effect on her. It’s a pity it didn’t help him when his bakery filled with customers. Abigail was very pleased she was able to help him out when it was necessary.

  But now she needed to assess the pantry and decide what she would make for supper, and what was
needed from the Mercantile, if anything.

  If she was lucky, she would manage today, and could put off her visit until tomorrow.

  The pantry was quite large. Not that she was surprised. Ethan and Patrick had built the house from scratch, and being a baker, would be generous with the pantry size.

  She grabbed a notepad and began to write down the supplies she had, so she could work out what she needed.

  There wasn’t much. About a cup of flour, some potatoes and onions. In the cooler she found butter and milk. She sniffed the milk – thankfully it was still fine.

  Tonight they would have pancakes with fried potatoes and onions, but she would need to get more flour from the bakery. She was certain her husband wouldn’t mind.

  She searched the kitchen for bowls then headed to the bakery for some additional flour.

  The bakery was near-empty when she returned. “Did you scare the customers away?” she asked in jest.

  He grinned at her. “I’m thankful for the reprieve. It got mighty busy for a while there.” He glanced at the bowl in her hand. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I need flour, if I could? There’s not much in the house. It seemed silly to go and buy some.” She grinned at him and he laughed.

  “That would be rather silly,” he said, filling the bowl.

  She glanced past him. “Ooooh, could I have some of those apples, please?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

  “Apple pie for dessert perhaps? Do you have any clotted cream to spare?”

  His eyes lit up. “I’m already enjoying having a wife. I hate to admit it, but we’ve just been eating the leftovers from the bakery.”

  “Oh, you haven’t!” At first she was shocked, then realized after a long day in the bakery, he’d likely had enough of slaving over a hot stove. That was about to change.

  He filled the bowl with flour, and handed over the apples. She placed them in her apron pocket. As she moved to leave, he held her by the shoulders and moved closer.

  Her heart thudded in her chest.

  Ethan leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” he said gently, then let his hands drop to his sides.

  It was strange, but she felt disappointed he’d only kissed her on the cheek. But she simply nodded then made her way back to the kitchen.

  Abigail glanced around the room. This was a far bigger kitchen than she’d had at her father’s home. His was not purpose built. It was a cottage her parents had acquired before she was born. It had been their first home as a married couple, and had become their permanent home.

  He had long spoken of finding something larger, but never did. When her mother died, he’d never mentioned it again. Abigail hadn’t dared bring it up.

  The kitchen she was forced to cook in was tiny. Their cottage was tiny. Truth be told, it was fine for a married couple with no children, but not for a family.

  This house of Ethan’s was wonderful. It was definitely built with a family in mind.

  Abigail felt her face heat at the thought of having a family with Ethan.

  As she peeled the potatoes she wondered what it would be like having children of her own. It was something that had never entered her mind before. She’d been far too busy to even think about it, but there was no one she’d ever wanted to have a family with before.

  Ethan Harper was a fine specimen of a man. She would be very happy to have a child with him. Her face heated again and felt as though it was burning.

  She heard sounds behind her and spun around.

  Ethan stood there grinning at her. “What have you been thinking about,” he asked. “Your cheeks are red.”

  It only served to make her even more embarrassed. Her hands flew to her cheeks. She turned back to the counter and continued peeling potatoes. “Nothing,” she said quietly, and Ethan laughed again.

  “If you say so. I only came in to make sure you found everything you needed.”

  She nodded. “I have, thank you.”

  He left the room and she felt two feet tall. He came in at the worst possible time. Abigail groaned. Once she’d finished with the potatoes, she diced them ready to fry. She then peeled the onions, and lastly made the pancake batter and sat it aside.

  This was her mother’s favorite recipe. She’d taught Abigail how to make it when she was very young.

  She blinked back the tears that threatened to flood her face. She missed her mother so much. But now was not the time to dwell on the past. She had two hungry men to feed.

  She’d made the pastry earlier, and only needed to peel and slice the apples for the pie. Feeling quite proud of herself, she set out the plates ready for serving once supper was ready.

  Checking the kitchen drawers, she found a checkered table cloth, and placed it on the table, then set it for three. She placed the potatoes and onions in the heavy frying pan, and stood over them, stirring often.

  The last thing she needed was her first meal to be burned.

  Mother would be proud of her, she was certain. If only she had lived long enough to see Abigail married and happy.

  Well, she was married, but whether she would be happy was yet to be seen.

  Chapter Five

  Abigail placed the food in front of them, then sat down. Ethan reached for her hand at the same time Patrick did. He noted her surprise.

  They bowed their heads and said Grace. As she looked up, Abigail seemed happy, relaxed even. “It’s a long time since I’ve said thanks for food,” she said softly. “Father is not a believer. When my mother died, all sensibility seemed to leave him.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Ethan said, not sure what else he should say.

  She brushed her hand across in front of her. “It was a long time ago. Please, eat before it goes cold.”

  The two men tucked in. “This is good,” Patrick said, his mouth full of food.

  “You’re a lout, Patrick. But he’s right, the food is delicious.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

  No matter how much he resisted, every time he touched his wife, a shiver ran down his spine. Surely it was purely from having a woman in the house?

  She suddenly jumped up from the table, and he frowned. “Dessert,” she said, and he understood. She didn’t want it to burn.

  He didn’t want it to burn either. If the main course was anything to go by, dessert would be delicious.

  Ethan craned his neck to see. It looked perfect from where he sat. In the short time he’d known her, Abigail had strived for perfection, so the pie would be no different.

  He breathed in the enticing aroma. “It looks and smells amazing.”

  Patrick continued to feed his face, so Ethan kicked him under the table. Patrick scowled at him, then finally understood. “Oh. Yes. Yes, it does. It smells amazing.”

  It was Ethan’s turn to scowl. His brother was nothing but an insensitive oaf at times. He sighed.

  “Finish your food before it goes cold,” he told his wife, patting her chair. She smiled at him, and his heart fluttered.

  He was acting like an adolescent schoolboy the first time he kissed a girl. He needed to get over himself.

  Ethan so badly wanted to ask why Abigail had fled her home to marry a complete stranger, but now was not the time. She needed time to settle in, and if she deemed him worthy, perhaps one day she would tell him.

  He marveled at her beauty, at her beautiful hair – it wasn’t the first time he’d caught himself staring at it. It seemed to mesmerize him, and usually at the worse possible times.

  Right now was no different. “Is everything alright?”

  He straightened his shoulders and glanced at her. “Perfectly. Why would you think otherwise?”

  She frowned and turned her head away. “No reason.” She shook her head as she spoke the words. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but not with his brother sitting beside him.

  He had never wished for privacy so much as he did at this m
oment. The beautiful creature sitting next to him was his wife and he wanted to learn more about her.

  His wife!

  The realization seemed to finally come to him, and he wasn’t unhappy about it either. “I’ll serve up dessert,” she said, reaching for his empty plate.

  His hand snaked around her wrist. “Thank you,” he said quietly, wanting to say more, but biding his time.

  “You don’t have to keep thanking me,” she said gently. “It’s my job.”

  He gasped. Was that what she thought? That he’d written for a mail-order bride because he needed what amounted to a slave?

  Disappointment filled him. He had never thought of a wife that way, but if he was truthful with himself, he did want to a wife to help him in the bakery when needed. A hot supper every night was an added bonus.

  His thoughts made him pause. Abigail would not become his slave. She was his wife, not someone to order around and fulfill his every wish.

  He watched her as she served up the food. She’d done this before – and not just in a home kitchen. When she placed the pie in front of him, his suspicions were confirmed.

  Each slice was cut to perfection, the portions even, and the amount of clotted cream on each slice perfectly aligned with the others.

  He stared at her. What secret was she hiding?

  For now he would enjoy the moment, but he vowed to find out the truth.

  * * *

  Patrick and Ethan were relaxing in the sitting room, while Abigail finished up the dishes.

  Ethan had offered to help, but she’d denied his offer – she’d been doing this very thing for years without assistance. She didn’t need help now she’d told him.

  After packing everything away where it belonged, she pulled her apron over her head. Next on her list was to clean the tables and chairs in the bakery. Normally she would have already cleaned in there, but today was all out of sorts.

  She was certain Ethan would understand.

  She could hear the men talking and laughing in the sitting room. No doubt the fire was burning, since it was quite chilly. Not to worry, she would warm up during the cleaning. At least that’s what her father always said.