The Baker's Christmas Miracle

by Cheryl Wright

  Ethan’s head spun around and he frowned. “That is so far from the truth it’s not funny,” he said firmly. “We’ve both tried making it and burned it to a crisp.”

  “Another time it was full of egg shells,” Patrick offered. “Plus we burned the toast.”

  Ethan pulled a face. “What about the time it was cooked on the outside, and raw on the inside?”

  She put her hands up in front of her and laughed. “Alright, point taken,” she said, still not convinced anyone could truly ruin scrambled eggs.

  “This tastes different though,” Ethan said, pushing the egg aside with his fork. He glanced up at her. “What’s this?” He stared at the dots of green in his food.

  “Parsley. It gives it a nice flavor.” At least she hoped it did.

  He nodded. “It’s good.” He went back to shoveling food into his mouth.

  “Really good,” Patrick added, as though he needed to confirm everything his brother said.

  Abigail finished eating then put the coffee-filled mugs on the table. “I thought we could serve the cake with clotted cream today,” she suggested gently.

  Ethan stared at her, then nodded. “It would be a little bit fancy,” he said. “But perhaps we need to be a little bit fancy.” He grinned. “You have the best ideas, Abigail.”

  “I have a lot of ideas,” she said quietly, then waved her hands in front of her. “Forget I said anything.” She took another mouthful of coffee then jumped up to clear the table.

  That look of suspicion crept into his face again. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep him at arms length and not tell him the full story, but she was sure it wouldn’t be much longer.

  She topped up the kettle with water to wash the dishes, then headed out of the kitchen. While she dressed, Ethan entered the bedroom. She pulled her gown up in front of herself.

  Her heart pounded – she’d never stood near-naked in front of a man before, even if he was her husband.

  He slammed the door shut and stepped over to her. “You do things to me,” he whispered while nibbling on her neck.

  She shook her head. “We both have work to do. You need to leave the room and let me dress,” she said firmly. To her surprise, that’s exactly what he did. But not until he pushed his lips to hers.

  Abigail decided she liked being married. Especially to Ethan. Except keeping things from him was a huge barrier between them.

  She sighed.

  Now dressed she strolled out to the kitchen. The dishes had been washed, dried and put away. The kitchen was clean and tidy.

  She was at first annoyed that Ethan had infringed on her territory, but understood he was trying to help. No doubt she would find him in the bakery preparing for the day’s customers.

  Sure enough, he was out there kneading the bread dough.

  She busied herself by cleaning the tables, and setting the tables ready for the customers. She would help Ethan by washing the bread tins as they came out of the oven.

  Until that could happen, she checked the stocks of the small cakes and slices, and then began to cut the Christmas cake ready for their afternoon rush.

  He glanced across at her as she sliced the cake – watched her every move. Had he seen through her charade?

  “We need to talk,” he told her quietly as he continued kneading the bread.

  She looked to the floor. “I know, and I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “But not now. There’s far too much to do before the customers arrive.”

  He nodded then went back to what he was doing.

  Abigail reached for a porcelain bowl then added flour and butter. She began to make breadcrumbs with it, then added the sugar and milk.

  He watched curiously but said nothing.

  She mixed the ingredients until they formed a dough ball, then sprinkled flour around the counter. “Where is your rolling pin?” She asked the question without blinking an eye, oblivious to the fact he’d be curious about how she was doing this more than why she was doing it.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “We’re nearly out of apple slice,” she said blandly, then went back to what she was doing.

  His mouth was open, he knew it was, so promptly closed it. “In that drawer,” he said, pointing to the large drawer behind her.

  She snatched it up and rolled out the pastry, then reached for the apples which she peeled and cut ready for stewing.

  When she was done, the apple slice sat in a large tray, waiting to go into the oven. “What else do you want me to make?”

  He was too flabbergasted to even think.

  “Oh! What about some gingerbread?” She grinned, and he stared at her.

  He continued to stare as she cleaned the bowl and began to refill it with the required ingredients. “Do you think that dough has had enough kneading,” she said, her voice filled with laughter.

  He looked down. She was probably right, but he’d been mesmerized by his wife’s baking aptitude.

  They really did need to talk, but she was right – now was not the time. Which unfortunately meant it wouldn’t happen until tonight.

  She stepped over to him and gave him a quick hug. “I’m sorry,” she said gently, then stepped away. “I didn’t want to hide anything from you.” She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her gingerbread mix.

  Pulling out the cooked loaves, he wondered what else she was hiding from him. Whatever her secrets, he was convinced they were significant. He stared across at her deft hands preparing the gingerbread.

  His father had never bothered with any Christmas fare, and he wondered if it had been his undoing. The bakery had gone downhill for many years under his management, and no matter how much Ethan had tried to help, he had been denied.

  The old man had died close to bankruptcy and wouldn’t let his sons help. At least Mother wasn’t alive to see it.

  Abigail pushed the gingerbread mix into a flat tray and sat it aside, again, waiting for an oven to be available.

  “Our customers will be very spoiled for choice today,” he said, glancing across at her.

  She nodded her agreement. “They will. And speaking of customers, it won’t be long and they’ll be here. I’ll make you a sandwich and coffee. You still have time to eat.” She brushed her flour covered hands against her apron, then headed toward the kitchen.

  Abigail had made his lunch every day since she’d arrived. Normally he had a substantial breakfast then skipped lunch, but she would have none of it.

  He liked being looked after by his wife. Just as she seemed to like being looked after by him.

  It was a situation where neither of them could lose.

  Chapter Eight

  “This is delicious, Abigail.” Mrs Jensen glanced up at her, wiping her lips with the linen napkin.

  She couldn’t help but grin. “Thank you, but Ethan is the one who made it.”

  “He told me it was an old family recipe of yours,” the older woman countered. “Where do I sign up to buy a Christmas cake?”

  Abigail returned moments later with the order sheet. As she wrote Mrs Jensen’s name on the list, she was interrupted.

  “Wait!”

  Abigail glanced across at her. “You don’t want one after all?” She was disappointed, of that she was certain, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

  Mrs Jensen stared at her, a horrified look on her face. “Good gracious no. Put me down for two,” she said. “This would be magnificent to take to the Ladies Auxiliary end of year event.” She touched Abigail’s arm. “We all take a plate of food, you know.”

  No, Abigail did not know. But now she did.

  “Perhaps next year you will join us,” Mrs Jensen said, expectation written all over her face. Instead of committing herself to something she knew nothing about, she spoke to the other women sitting around the table. They each ordered a cake as well. Ethan would be pleased.

  As she cleared the plates from each table, more orders were placed. So far a dozen Christmas cakes were ordered. It woul
d be a lot of work, but worth it in the end.

  Luckily Christmas was still a matter of weeks away.

  Abigail put the list in front of Ethan, who was preparing an order for a customer. He grinned. “You are amazing,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

  “It is still early. More orders are likely.” She was thrilled. The family recipe that was ingrained in her memory had helped her husband with his business. Luckily he had more than one oven, otherwise it would be a juggling act to have them all finished in time.

  Thank you, he mouthed as she returned to the tables and their customers. Her gingerbread and apple slice were both a hit and had nearly sold out by mid-afternoon.

  Ethan said her apple slice was far better than his, which filled her heart with warmth.

  As the sun began to set, she became nervous. It was nearly time to close the bakery. She promised Ethan they would talk tonight.

  Not that she wanted to discuss her personal life in front of Patrick, but while he remained, she had little choice.

  He’d been working on the bakery cupboards and shelves again today, and announced he was finally done. Soon he would leave.

  As much as she liked Patrick, his departure meant she would finally be alone with her new husband. She hoped it would bring them closer.

  She removed the table cloths for washing and scrubbed the tables, as was her habit at the end of each day.

  Abigail looked up to see Ethan staring at her. Was he thinking about their discussion tonight? Or was something else on his mind?

  He wandered over to where she worked, and put his arms around her. “You never cease to amaze me,” he said, pulling her closer.

  It was difficult to continue scrubbing with her husband holding her tight, so Abigail stood. He turned her around in his arms and kissed her forehead.

  “I know it’s difficult to talk with Patrick here, so why don’t we go for a stroll? Just the two of us.”

  She stared into his eyes. He really was trying to make it easier for her. “Let me check on the stew first, then we can go.”

  She finished cleaning then pulled off her apron and headed for the kitchen. Abigail stirred the stew and breathed in the aromatic fragrance of it. She’d always loved the smells of food cooking, and that was probably her undoing. Her mother had baked for as far back as Abigail could remember.

  The house always felt like home because of it.

  After her mother had died, Abigail missed that feeling so much, she began to bake in her spare time. It was both a joy and a regret.

  Realizing she was as good a cook as her mother, Father had roped her in to work in the bakery from a very young age.

  By the time she was fourteen, she spent more of her time in the bakery than anywhere else. She’d become the equivalent of a slave by the time she’d fled her father’s arranged marriage.

  Abigail washed her hands with thoughts of days gone by invading her memory. She tried to shake them away but they refused to budge.

  She took a deep cleansing breath and slowly let it out again. She already felt better.

  “Ready?” Ethan entered the kitchen carrying a loaf of leftover bread. He informed his brother of their intentions and headed for the front door.

  They snatched up their coats on the way. It was already chilly outside, and the closer to Christmas it got, the colder it would be.

  With only two weeks before Christmas snow would be falling very soon.

  They each pulled on their gloves and wrapped a scarf around their necks. Abigail braced herself for the cold chill she knew would hit her face as they left the warm and toasty house.

  “Where are we going?”

  Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “Nowhere in particular. I thought it would be good to get out of the house.”

  “Away from your brother, do you mean?” She gave him a tentative smile.

  “That too.” He reached for her hand, and it comforted her. “To be honest, I’ll miss him, but it will be nice to be only the two of us.” He glanced across at her. “We don’t even know each other. Not really.”

  “I know that you are a kind and gentle person,” she said quietly.

  “And I know you can cook far better than any home cook.” He stared at her, then squeezed her hand.

  They walked along Main Street in silence, until they reached a wooden bench outside the butcher shop. It had already closed for the day, so they were assured of privacy.

  “Maybe start at the beginning,” he said gently, nudging her toward opening up, but not being aggressive.

  “My father is a baker.” The words were out much quicker than she’d anticipated. She felt so much better for having said them.

  She glanced up at him, to find Ethan frowning. “And you chose to marry me, another baker.” He looked thoroughly confused.

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, I didn’t.” She explained how she’d opened the letter as the train pulled into Dayton Falls.

  Sadness overtook him. “If you want an annulment…”

  “No!” She grabbed his hand. “No, I don’t. My father is a bully and a scoundrel. I’m almost certain he gambled me away, perhaps even the bakery.”

  He stared at her, shock written all over his face. They sat in silence until finally he asked her to explain.

  She told him about Peter Jones, and her father contracting their marriage into the sale of the bakery. About how badly Mr Jones had treated her during earlier encounters, and how she had to flee or be married off to that obnoxious man.

  He might have only been a few years older than her, but Abigail couldn’t abide the man and so had fled.

  When she looked down, his hands were shaking. She glanced up at him and his face was red. “You’re angry with me – I can’t say I blame you.”

  He reached out and held both her hands. “I didn’t want to become a slave to another baker, so I hid my past.” She glanced up into his face. “I’m really sorry,” she said, touching his cheek ever so gently.

  “I’m not angry with you,” he said firmly. “I am furious with your father and this…Peter Jones. How dare they treat you so badly?”

  He leaned in and pulled her into a hug. Abigail suddenly felt safe, and wanted.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she did what she should have done a long time ago. She cried.

  Ethan patted her back, and rubbed his hands across her back. “I’m sorry you had to endure that,” he whispered. “I promise to always appreciate you. We’re partners in the bakery – I will never make a slave of you.”

  She pulled back and stared at him. “Really?”

  “I promise.”

  She wiped the tears from her eyes. “I don’t mind helping in the bakery. In fact, I enjoy it, just not to the extent my father forced me to do.” She gave him a tentative smile and leaned into him again.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “This arrived today.” He pulled out a tiny box and opened it, then place the shiny gold wedding ring on her finger.

  “This is for you, Mrs Harper.”

  She stared down at the plain gold ring on her left hand. It was the best gift she’d ever received.

  * * *

  It was a bitter-sweet day. Patrick was leaving for Great Falls today.

  There was a promise of a great future for him there. With the town expanding at a rapid rate, there would be months of work for him. Perhaps even years.

  It was what he’d dreamed of most of his adult life. Ethan leaned in and hugged his brother tight. “Thanks for everything, Patrick. Keep in touch, let me know how it’s all going.”

  His brother held him tight as though he’d never let go. Suddenly he dropped his arms and turned to Abigail, hugging her tightly.

  She looked over her shoulder at Ethan. “That’s my wife you’re hugging.”

  Patrick stared at his brother. “Why do you think I’m hugging her for so long?” He laughed at his own words. Ethan couldn’t help but join in.

  “All aboard!” The c
onductor put out one last call.

  He watched as Patrick boarded the train. He felt like a part of him had left. Abigail leaned in close, and he put his arms around her. “It feels like I’ve lost a big part of my life,” he said quietly.

  “I know,” she whispered. “But there’s a whole new adventure ahead of you.”

  He turned to her and smiled. “You’re right.” The train pulled out with a jerk, and they turned to leave.

  Ethan looked back over his shoulder and spotted his brother waving goodbye. It really was the end of an era for him.

  When they arrived back at the bakery, there was already a queue of people waiting. He’d put up a sign the bakery would be opened late today due to Patrick’s departure.

  They’d become an integral part of the town, so people were happy to wait. He and Abigail had got up earlier today to ensure there were plenty of supplies for the day’s customers.

  The moment they walked inside, the havoc began all over again.

  * * *

  Almost two weeks had passed since Patrick had left. Ethan had received a telegraph to say he’d arrived okay and had found lodgings – with meals included.

  Abigail had laughed about that. Patrick loved his food, there was no doubt about it.

  “Since it’s nearly Christmas, I thought we should get a Christmas tree for the bakery.”

  Ethan glanced up as Abigail sipped her morning coffee. “That sounds nice. Is that what your father did?”

  She laughed. “Heavens no. If it took any effort, it didn’t happen.” She took another sip. “I just thought it would be nice. Dayton Falls is a lovely little town, and most of the other businesses have decorated their stores already.”

  She was right. The Mercantile decorated a couple of weeks back, and the shoe store put their decorations up last week.

  “Alright.” He pulled out his pocket-watch. “Let’s go now and find a tree.”

  She stared at him as though he’d grown horns. “Are you kidding? We have to bake bread.”

  He stood and glanced down at her. “We never sell bread until mid-afternoon. Just this once, let’s break our routine.”