How to Stir a Baker's Heart

by Candice Sue Patterson

  King David, a man after God’s own heart, was not immune to the temptation of a beautiful woman. When he’d messed up, he’d messed up big. His choices had forced deadly consequences. He fell into depression and asked God to take his life, but he was still King David, a man after God’s own heart. A title he’d earned after receiving forgiveness for committing adultery and murder.

  And the man sitting next to her was still her daddy.

  Olivia had no power to fix what was broken, but God did. All she could do was find her bearings, move on with her life, and trust God to orchestrate the rest. She took a deep breath, sent her daily prayer to God asking Him to take away her hurt, then placed her hand over her father’s. “I’m glad you came, Daddy.”

  35

  Brown sugar. Vanilla. Yeast. Olivia breathed in the scent of her old friends and rubbed the knot from her shoulder. The heat and bustle of the bakery were a welcome change to the long days sitting in the hospital.

  Dad had taken residency in the spare bedroom and had kept her company during most visits.

  Grandma had woken Monday night but failed to comprehend commands. Her condition was still serious, and the extent of neurological damage unknown.

  Blake hadn’t attempted to call or text since their kiss four days ago. She’d started to contact him several times but decided it was best to leave the proverbial ball in his court. He’d initiated the kiss. Blake knew where to find her, and if he had no regrets, could lead the relationship from here.

  “I’m praying for you all.” Brittany added a blueberry cream pie to the chilled display case. “We hated to hear about Elizabeth. It’s good to see you though.”

  Olivia counted the till to make sure they were opening with enough change. “It’s good to be back. I feel like I haven’t worked in months.” She closed the drawer with her hip. “Thank you for taking charge. How are things going?”

  “Fine.” Brittany propped her elbow on the case. “Darlene’s been surlier than usual. We have a few new recipes we’d like your approval on whenever you have extra time. No rush.” She turned for the kitchen. “Oh, and I put an ad in the paper for a prep-assistant like you asked. Hopefully, we’ll get some applicants soon.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “I have no idea.” Brittany winked and disappeared through the swinging doors.

  A prep-assistant would really free their time. The position was offered to any reliable high-school student who could work after school, measuring ingredients that would be used in recipes the next day, restocking the supply shelves, and helping with cleanup. That would allow the bakers to concentrate on fulfilling demand, and give Olivia freedom to concentrate on finances, a new website, and better advertising. Now that the Mayberry of Maine campaign was complete, and successful, she could send those letters she’d written to several travel magazines in hopes of some exposure.

  The rest of the day passed quickly with a steady rush of customers and three consultations for cake orders.

  Dad had called an hour ago to inform her Grandma was now responding to voices by turning her head, but was still unable to move any limbs or follow commands.

  Olivia locked the front door and turned over the closed sign, prepared to swap shifts with Dad at the hospital.

  Teresa and Casey were clocking out when Olivia reached the kitchen. Brittany filled the mop bucket with hot soapy water, a few bubbles escaping with the force of the spray. Darlene washed the flour coating from her hands.

  Olivia turned down the radio. “Go home and enjoy your evening, ladies. I’ll clean up.”

  Everyone expressed thanks and moved for the time clock except Darlene, who fidgeted in front of Olivia like a kid in a long line for a roller coaster. “Sorry to hear about Elizabeth. If I can help in any way, please, let me know.”

  Olivia blinked, shocked. Had Darlene actually exhibited something other than resistance? “Thank you. I will.”

  The woman left without another word.

  Brittany turned off the water and rolled the mop bucket her way. “I can stay and help.”

  Olivia took the mop handle and smiled. “Get outta here. I’ve got this.”

  A knock rapped on the open back door. Blake filled the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his worn jeans, his white T-shirt peeking out from beneath a light weight athletic jacket. A spark zipped between them as his gaze locked on hers.

  Brittany smirked. “Yes, you do.” She clocked out, and Blake stepped into the room. “Nice to see you again, Blake. Come to satisfy your sweet tooth?”

  Blake blushed. Actually blushed! And it was one of the cutest things Olivia had ever seen.

  Brittany chuckled and left out the back door.

  Olivia trapped the mop into the upper portion of the wheeled bucket and squeezed out the water. Blake’s tentative stance told her he had something to say and wasn’t sure how she would take it. She’d fret if he didn’t look miserably love sick and uncomfortable, leaning against the wall, waiting to be invited in. He’d taken long enough to make his move, and it wouldn’t hurt for her to have a little fun.

  “Um…” Blake rubbed the back of his neck and shifted in the doorway. “Can I do something to help?”

  Olivia yanked a damp rag hanging on the faucet to dry and tossed it to him.

  He eased inside and wiped the remnants of flour and sugar from the stainless steel table into his hand. “How’s Grams?”

  “She woke up, but it could still be days before we know how much damage the stroke caused.” Olivia scrubbed the floor by the still-cooling ovens, double-checking to make sure they’d been turned off.

  “How are you holding up?” Blake asked.

  “Fine.”

  Blake exhaled. “You’re not making this easy on me, are you?” Now that the table was clean, he draped the rag over the faucet again and rinsed his hands. “I came to apologize.”

  She leaned against the mop handle. “For what?”

  “For…kissing you.”

  Oh, no he didn’t. He did not just admit he regretted kissing her.

  Her thoughts must’ve played across her face because he backed up and shook his head. “I mean, I’m not sorry for kissing you—I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you—but you needed me to be here for you.”

  “You can’t be supportive and kiss me at the same time?”

  “What? No, I…” He rubbed his chest. Had she twisted him up to the point of acid reflux?

  “Let me start over.” He inched closer, took the mop from her hands, propped it against the sink, and palmed her shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is that I know you need a friend right now. I want to be that friend and not do anything selfishly because I want more. Please, let me be here for you. I won’t cross any lines again. You have my word.”

  Heat filled her face. “What if I want those lines crossed? What if I want to date you, and only you?”

  Well, that was bold. And completely out of character, even if it was the truth.

  Blake studied her. The second hand on the time clock ticked by for what seemed like an hour. Finally, one corner of his mouth lifted, followed by the other. “I can agree to those terms.” He stroked her cheek. “As long as there will be chicken wings involved.”

  She laughed.

  Blake placed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “I’m glad that’s over. How about I buy you dinner?”

  “My dad’s in town. I promised him we’d eat before switching places at the hospital.”

  “I understand.” Though his disappointment was evident. “Here. Let me.” Blake reclaimed the mop and within a few minutes had the floor sparkling. He dumped the dirty water.

  She wheeled the contraption into the utility closet. “Thank you.”

  He held her hand as they walked outside. She locked up, tested the door, and then slipped her arms into her sweater. “It’s chilly.”

  “Summer doesn’t last here.” Blake walked her to her car. He leaned against the door and wrapped her in his arms, as if he couldn’t get enou
gh. “Drive safe. Tell Grams I said hi.”

  Olivia loved how perfectly he fit into her life, even though they’d been strangers less than a year ago. “I will.”

  He started to pull away, but she latched onto his waist. “Hold me.”

  “Gladly.” He hugged her closer.

  It felt good to be held. To have a physical connection to another human being. Such a simple thing made the world more tolerable.

  He kissed the top of her head. “How’s your dad doing?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. He acts indifferent, but I don’t think he really is. They’ve always had a strange relationship, though. I gave up trying to figure them out a long time ago. He’ll probably leave in a couple days, and I won’t hear from him again for a while.”

  “I’d like to meet him before he leaves. If he has time.”

  Olivia looked up at him. “You want to meet my dad?”

  “Why not?”

  His words were casual, but she knew Blake well enough now to know he did everything for a purpose. If he wanted to meet her dad, he was serious about her. The idea both thrilled her and scared her to death. “OK.”

  “Good.” He kissed the tip of her nose, and then opened her door. “You really think he’ll leave so soon after his mother’s stroke?”

  “Probably. He hasn’t been very involved in her care thus far. As he’s said, ‘it’s his turn to be happy.’” They released each other, and Olivia opened her door and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. “Either way, Grandma needs me. I came here to make sure she has the best care, and I’ll continue doing just that.”

  “She’s blessed to have you.” Blake pressed his lips against hers. “We all are.”

  36

  Pink floral wallpaper wrapped the foyer walls. A large oak desk was the focal point of the room beneath a chandelier that washed the room in a soft glow.

  Bile rose in Olivia’s throat. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  Dad kneaded his forehead, impatience sagging his body. “This is the nicest place so far. It’s clean, the odors are minimal, and the staff appear hardworking.”

  “I don’t want to put Grandma in a nursing home.” She crossed her arms around her middle, a cold chill rising from her feet. In some strange way, Grandma helped her hold everything together.

  Dad held his arms out, the thick folder given to them by the director clasped in one palm. “What are your other options, Liv? Mom will never walk again. She has the arm strength of a newborn, she doesn’t remember who we are, and she can hardly speak.” The folder slapped against his thigh. “Your nurse friend told you yesterday she’d accepted the pediatric ward position. What other options do you have?”

  His tone reminded her of adolescence. Her teenage rebellion had worn him thin. They’d been at a T in the road then too. Either direction would change their lives, one for the better, one for the worst. Though her mind was telling her this choice was for the better, her heart disagreed. Her chin quivered.

  Dad sighed and clamped a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done an amazing job taking care of her, you really have. I’m proud of you for resurrecting the bakery. But, Livi, your over-achieving nature will put you in your grave one of these days. You can only do so much. Things happen that are out of your control and you just have to deal.” He inhaled, aging ten years in one soliloquy. He dropped his chin to his chest and continued kneading his forehead. “You just have to deal.”

  Something in his mannerisms and the hollowness of his eyes made her think he was talking as much to himself as he was to her. She lowered her voice. “Is everything all right? In your…new life I mean?”

  His head jerked up. “Everything’s great. Great.” He patted her back and pasted on a smile as artificial as wax fruit. “Come on; let’s meet this Blake of yours.”

  He was out the door before she could catch up.

  September had sneaked up on them, ushering mild days and cool nights.

  She’d washed Blake’s flannel but had yet to give it back. He hadn’t asked for it, and she enjoyed snuggling into its soft warmth after dark.

  The car was already running when Olivia sank into the passenger seat. She put a hand over her dad’s fist, white knuckling the gear shift. “I want you to be safe.” She swallowed. “And…happy. Are you sure things are OK?”

  “I said I’m fine.” His gruffness nipped at her emotions.

  Dad backed out slowly, giving the nursing home another long glance. “I think this is the place. They’ll take good care of her.”

  Olivia envisioned moving day, and her stomach churned again. “I don’t know.”

  Dad braked, jolting them forward. “You’re Power of Attorney, do whatever you want. I’m leaving in three days whether you have this all figured out or not.”

  Tears blurred the view in her side-view mirror of the plantation-style building adorned with giant ferns and white wave petunias. Grandma was the one constant in her life right now. Olivia wasn’t ready to let go.

  ~*~

  Blake shifted on the pew beside Olivia. He couldn’t wait until church was over to tell her the news. No disrespect toward God. He was simply eager to see her face after many months of hard work. His thigh brushed hers. A rumble besides the one in his empty gut set him off. She wanted him, exclusively. He still couldn’t believe she’d said it. Blake stretched his arm behind her and forced his brain to concentrate on the message.

  When the service ended, several church members filed over for introductions. Blake received more handshakes and back slaps than the senator had when he’d visited. Apparently, Blake Hartford bringing a woman around after his last embarrassing relationship deserved honorary attention.

  The crowd thinned, and Olivia handed Blake her Bible then slipped her arms into her black sweater. The white, flowy dress she wore whispered over her curves and ended just above her calves. Black heels gave her a couple extra inches, bringing her to eye level with his nose. “You look gorgeous.”

  She tugged on his tie. “You look pretty good yourself, Flannel Man.”

  “I’m not wearing flannel. A pretty girl stole my best shirt.”

  Her eyes lowered to her shoes. “I need to give that back, don’t I?”

  “Nah. Keep it. I’ve got twenty more where that came from.” He linked her fingers with his and led them out of the auditorium.

  When they reached his truck, Blake opened her door and helped her climb in. They were meeting her dad for lunch in Winter Harbor. Blake had met the man yesterday and though Jonathan was nice enough, something didn’t sit well with Blake. Something more than animosity over hurting Olivia.

  Blake got in the vehicle and defrosted the windshield. Fog clung to the treetops despite the noon hour. It wasn’t cold to him, but Olivia was shivering, so he turned up the heat. Switching gears to drive, Blake patted the space between them. She grinned, slid next to him, and buckled in. Now would be the perfect time to tell her, but he wanted to do it in front of her dad. Remind the guy how special his daughter was. He put his arm around her and backed out of the tight space. She shivered. “Are you still cold?”

  “It’s my nerves. I always get cold when I’m nervous.” She held out her palms to warm them by the panel vents.

  “Is this about me meeting your dad?”

  “It’s Grandma. Dad’s set on the nursing home we toured yesterday. It’s all he talked about last night. I don’t want to make any hasty decisions, but with Jen taking that new job, I’m under a lot of pressure. The hospital plans to release Grandma on Wednesday.”

  “Are you worried it’s not the right facility, or is it having to live apart?”

  Olivia laid her head on his shoulder. “The facility is great. The nicest we’ve found. I’m just not ready to make this decision.”

  “I don’t think anyone is ever ready. You’ll just have to decide where she’ll receive the best care and be brave.”

  Olivia nodded and looked away.

  He decided to let it go for now.

&
nbsp; Betty’s Country Diner wasn’t as crowded as usual for a Sunday afternoon. They must’ve beaten the church rush. The smell of mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak greeted them from the sidewalk.

  He held the door for her, and the hostess led them to a table in the back.

  Olivia sat across from him and leaned conspiratorially over the table. “I overheard someone at church say that the family sitting in front of us has had the stomach flu. I’m going to wash my hands.”

  “Good idea.” The last thing he wanted was to be sick.

  She tucked her small red purse beneath her arm and disappeared into the ladies’ room.

  After ordering their drinks, Blake went to the bathroom to wash his hands too and stopped short when he saw Olivia’s dad.

  Jonathan faced the opposite wall, his left hand rubbing his temple. “I know Jade. I miss you, too.” The words sounded forced. “As soon as I get Mom moved Wednesday, I’ll be home.”

  Should Blake leave the man to his conversation? He certainly wanted to stay out of the details. However, this was a public restroom, and anything he could do to shield Olivia from any more pain was worth a little eavesdropping.

  Jonathan sighed. “Yes, then we’ll get you settled in.”

  Blake moved toward the sink.

  “I know. This has been hard on me too.” A pause. “And I wasn’t expecting you to get—” His words died at the sight of Blake.

  Get what? Blake turned on the water and pumped soap into his palm.

  “I’ll call you later.” Jonathan ended the call, then pressed and held the top button to shut it off completely.

  Blake rinsed and then yanked a few paper towels from the holding rack. “We’ve got a table in the back whenever you’re ready.” Blake left Jonathan standing there, hands on his hips. He wasn’t about to make excuses for overhearing. He lowered into the booth and picked up a menu. “Your dad’s here.” Blake pointed to the restroom. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

  She stiffened but smiled anyway. “The buttermilk shrimp looks good.”