by Coralee June
The school house was a small wooden building with a curved roof and porch. I heard the sound of hammers clanging and followed the noise inside where I found Cyler, Patrick, and Kemper installing a thin, clear screen. Cyler had made arrangements for some of the best scholars in the empire to telecommute in for lessons.
The ceilings were tall, and six clear tables with white chairs were scattered around the room. Various stations with supplies and experiments littered the outer corners of the room.
“Ah! Just in time!” Kemper exclaimed once he saw me, causing him to accidentally release his hold on the screen. Cyler and Patrick loudly cursed as it slipped, and all of them frantically caught the screen before repositioning it in place and screwing it into the wall. I noticed Kemper blush a deep shade of red in embarrassment.
“Hey, babe, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m putting you to work today,” Cyler said in an animated tone as he beamed proudly around the room. He was excited.
“Jacob told me to wear my painting dress . . .?” I looked around at the white walls and wondered where to start.
“We have a very important painting job for you. It’ll be the highlight of your artistic career!” Patrick joked just as the white door burst open and about two dozen excited kids ran through the entrance of the school house. I laughed at their carefree nature as they jumped on tables and explored every inch of the classroom.
“We want—" Cyler began before scolding a little boy. “No climbing on the desks!!” The boy leaped onto the floor and began running in circles .
Cyler picked up another girl that was climbing and threw her over his massive shoulders while a little boy clung to his leg. He walked over to me while carrying both of them.
“We want to put their handprints on that wall,” he explained while setting them down with a chuckle and running over to another child that was putting smudgy handprints on the screen just installed.
I laughed as the guys chased kids around the small school house. Each of them seemed wildly out of their element, and I was amused by their frantic expressions. However, my mood turned sour when I saw Jules stroll through the front door in her usual stuffy manner.
“What are you doing here?” I asked with an exasperated sigh. I wasn’t in the mood for her rudeness.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she began in her usual condescending and hostile attitude, “but my mother was once the school teacher for Dormas. I—I volunteered to bring the kids here,” she concluded in a slightly lower and wistful tone. I watched as she admired the school building with a slight smile. It suddenly became clear to me why this school house was so important to Cyler, it was for Momma Black.
Likewise, this was important to Jules. I understood the look of awe on her face as her eyes inspected each corner of the room proudly— it was the same look I had while painting or baking. Her thin lips even quirked up in a half smile as Cyler showed a little girl how to use some blocks.
“I truly do hope he finds a good school teacher. I know he’s hired scholars to video in, but he’ll need someone here full time.” She gave me a scrutinizing glare. “I’m the only one in Dormas with a decent education, they can’t just let anyone off the streets mold the minds of our next generation.” Jules puffed out her chest in indignation and flexed her thin fingers at her side.
My Walker upbringing only allowed for a basic education mostly focused around cooking, cleaning, and proper etiquette. I found myself jealous of Jules. I wished I knew more about the world and fleetingly wondered if Cyler would let me sit in on a few classes.
“If I weren’t forced to work in the gardens, I would be a sure-win for the job. I’ve had the best tutors in the entire Empire,” she added with a frown.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be a school teacher?” I asked. Sometimes I forgot that she was just sixteen, almost seventeen. Jules was far too jaded for someone her age. She turned her head and peered at me, as if just now realizing that we were talking.
“I wasn’t too young to be married off to a stranger and moved across the empire to another province. Besides, I’ll be seventeen in three months,” she replied with angst.
“I suppose you’re right,” I gave her a sideways glance. “Perhaps you’d make a good school teacher, Jules.”
Luckily, a loud screech from a little girl with blonde, curly ringlets relieved us from having to talk further. Jules immediately took charge.
“Children, settle down this instant!” she yelled, her shrill voice echoing across the room. Immediately, twenty-six pairs of wide eyes were on her. Unsurprisingly, she completely commanded their attention. “Find a seat and sit down quietly. I don’t want to hear any chatter,” she ordered with a smirk.
Kemper set up paint tins while Patrick explained what to do. The kids squirmed in their seats, and occasionally Jules coughed, reminding them that she was there and watching. She made an excellent rule-enforcer.
We made quick work of applying paint to the children’s hands and placing them on the back wall. A wide variety of prints and colors filled the space in a colorful array. After six spills, two meltdowns, and about four hundred stern looks from Jules, the children left—after Jules left with an indignant huff of dissatisfaction, of course. We simply couldn’t have one interaction that didn’t end in needless hostility .
I started to clean up, but Kemper clicked his tongue and grabbed the paint pan from me.
“Not so fast,” he said. He grabbed a brush and began painting my hand a beautiful shade of lilac. Each swipe of the paintbrush sent tingles up my arm, and I watched as he took extra care to slowly cover my skin. Once he felt thoroughly done, he took my hand and gently placed it on the wall. We both stood there close to one another for longer than necessary. My hand burned where he touched me, and he observed me with a half-smile.
“We needed your handprint to make it complete,” he said shyly while looking at me. I peered up at him through my lashes, and he took a step closer. “Ash, I— "
Cyler loudly cursed, startling us. I jumped and accidentally placed my lilac covered hand on Kemper’s white shirt over his chest.
We both giggled, then turned to see the cause of Cyler’s outburst. Someone had dipped the ends of his black hair in pink paint. We roared laughing at the look of him as he began frantically picking off the spots that were dried and flaky.
“Damn kids!” Cyler exclaimed.
Patrick snapped a couple pictures before Cyler tackled him for his tablet, causing more paint to fly. It would be a long night of cleaning. I simply looked at Kemper and his now ruined shirt and giggled.
“Sorry I ruined your shirt,” I said apologetically as Kemper dusted himself off and walked back over to me. I wanted to ask him what it was he was going to say before Cyler interrupted us, but the moment had gone.
“Nonsense.” Kemp looked lovingly at his no longer perfect, crisp white shirt. “You made it better.”
Chapter Sixteen
Patrick’s mischievous laughter filtered throughout the General Store. It took another day to fully recuperate from the emotional and physical toll that saving Hope took on my body. I felt a gnawing uncertainty about Lois and Mark. Their nonchalant views on the infected Walker Woman made me cringe in discomfort. However, I was happy to be back within the familiarity of the Bakery and once again doing what I enjoyed.
Patrick was visiting today. He and Huxley ordered pastries for the mine workers every couple of weeks, and today he stopped by a bit early so we could chat while I prepared his order. He sat at the wooden counter on a stool while I iced some of the pastries. He gossiped about some of the workers and shared some of his more recent shenanigans.
“. . . and just the other day we hid Huxley’s desk deep within the mines. He was furious . He thought it was the other mine workers, but it was me.” He chuckled in amusement, and I shook my head in mock discontent. I liked that Patrick was playful and silly. “Damn thing was heavy as hell, but it was worth it to see him get mad.”
“I knew
it was you that moved my desk,” a familiar angry voice filled the air. I turned to see Huxley walking up to the Bakery counter in heavy strides. He pulled up a seat, and just before sitting down, yanked Patrick’s chair out from underneath him, causing Patrick to crash rather ungracefully to the floor. Huxley smiled as he sat, then wiped his expression clean once he saw me looking.
“What are you doing here?” Patrick asked. He dusted himself off with a knowing smirk as I started making a new batch of cream cheese icing.
“I figured you could use some help carrying it all to the Mines,” Huxley hurriedly explained, tensing up. Patrick raised an eyebrow but didn’t question him further. I refused to think that it was because he wanted to spend time with me. Wishful thinking was for the hopeless.
I started to mix together my ingredients and the twins watched in fascination. “If you’re good, I’ll let you lick the spoon,” I said with a surprisingly coy smile, but Huxley merely coughed while Patrick licked his lips. I realized how flirtatious I sounded and blushed. I shook off the brief embarrassment and continued mixing the icing, while their identical eyes followed every movement I made. Once it was the consistency I liked, I put it in a funnel and began drizzling it onto the pastries.
“Oh, Ash! I wanted to introduce you to a couple of my friends!” Lois’ weak voice yelled throughout the store. I sighed in frustration. Lois was back to introducing me to new suitors.
“Help me!” I whispered frantically to the guys while wiping my hands on my apron. Lois was determined to marry me off, and each suitor got progressively worse. How could I look at another when already I had six very handsome men that occupied my every waking thought?
“What’s wrong, Ash? Not a people person?” Patrick joked.
“I’m just tired of being introduced to five new suitors every day,” I forced out in a whisper. “I thought she would have run out of men by now.” I groaned. Patrick and Huxley suddenly went rigid .
“How long has this been going on?” Huxley asked as Lois rounded the corner with two men trailing behind her.
“Since I started working here.” I forced a fake smile into place.
“Have you been, uh, courted by anyone?” Huxley asked awkwardly, but Lois pushed between Huxley and Patrick’s chairs and smiled at me before I could respond.
“Oh, darling, look at you. Always baking! She makes my shop smell so wonderful,” Lois said with a grin while speaking to two men that followed behind her. They were handsome but didn’t make my stomach flutter with anticipation.
“This is Norman and Peter.” As Lois introduced them, she held her arm out in a clumsy misplaced bow that made me flush hot with awkward embarrassment.
Norman had blond hair and a crooked smile. His thick muscles were hidden beneath a baggy emerald shirt. Black residue clung to the skin on the tips of his fingers, hinting that he worked in the mines. Peter was thin with dark hair and wide eyes. He had two dimples and a mischievous grin.
“Hello, Norman and Peter, are you here to order something?” I asked, my tone forced and polite. Huxley clutched the edge of the countertop, while Patrick looked at me with mild amusement.
“Well, we’re actually here to call upon you, Mistress. We’ve heard all about your beauty from Mistress Caverly, but I must say, my hopes and dreams were but a hazy prayer compared to your natural glow,” Peter said with a bow.
Norman cringed in embarrassment. They seemed to be complete opposites, and yet they were both calling on me. Together. When in Dormas, I guess.
“I’m so sorry to break it to you, Peter, but Ashleigh is spoken for,” Patrick said while getting off his stool. He walked around the counter and wrapped a thick arm around me.
I dropped my mouth open in surprise. Ever the opportunist, Patrick saw my opened mouth and swooped up a dollop of icing before plopping it onto my tongue. I closed my lips over his finger and licked up the sugary thick icing in a bold reflex that reminded me of the night of our almost-kiss on my birthday.
Lois emitted a shrill squeal of excitement. I watched as her fingers twitched at her side. She itched to grab her tablet and call everyone within a thirty-mile radius to gossip about this new revelation.
“Oh my! Please forgive me, Patrick, I assumed your relationship was more of a friendly nature. I didn’t realize she was in a courtship with anyone, is it just you? Or…?” she asked while peering at Huxley.
“That’s because we’ve been keeping it quiet. Ashleigh is very shy, aren’t you sweetheart?” Patrick asked while squeezing my hip.
“Ye-Yes.” The room suddenly felt very hot, and I felt Huxley’s exasperated stare on me and Patrick.
“And by ‘we’ you mean . . .?” Lois dug further. She seemed determined to be the first to crack open the juicy gossip and share with anyone that listened. Norman and Peter looked wildly uncomfortable. I noticed them shuffling farther and farther away from my counter.
“By ‘we’ I mean the entire Dormas Leadership Council,” Patrick said with a serious face. Once again, I was shocked. I opened my mouth to disagree; Patrick didn’t need to lie to these people. I was more than capable of letting these men down on my own.
“Actually—" I began.
“Actually, Ash was just going to help us deliver these pastries to the mine,” Huxley jumped in while standing up. He walked over to my would-be suitors and shook their hands with much more force than necessary, causing Norman and Peter to frantically excuse themselves. Their whispered fighting was heard as they left the store. I quickly iced and boxed up the remaining pastries, then fled Lois’ questioning stare with Huxley and Patrick.
Once out of earshot, I yelled at Patrick. “What on earth was that?!” I scolded. Patrick was walking backwards, facing me and Huxley. He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, if anything, he appeared pleased .
“Whatever do you mean?” Patrick asked. He looked way too proud of himself. Huxley simply grumbled under his breath and pounded the ground with his feet.
“I mean,” I began. “Telling Lois and those guys that I—I’m, uh, courting all of you,” I said with much less steam than before. I felt an embarrassing flush cover my cheeks, and if I weren’t holding boxes of pastries, I might have covered my face with my hands. I found it so strange that, already, this was an idea I found appealing.
“Ah. Yes, well, I’ve learned that in order for something to come to fruition, one must face their desires head on.” Patrick gave me a wink as he turned around and got in step with us.
“What does that even mean?” I asked incredulously.
“It means,” Huxley began, “that my brother is a presumptuous dick.”
I chuckled as Patrick debated on dropping his box of pastries and punching Hux. “It means, that whatever happens, happens,” Patrick said, causing Hux to growl again.
“I thought I was supposed to treat you all like my brothers—" I began.
“Oh yuck, yeah . . . well let’s nip that one in the bud right now,” Patrick interrupted while wearing a firmly set look of pure disgust. “Regardless of whatever happens, please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t ever, ever refer to me as your brother again.” Patrick gave an exaggerated shiver.
“Uh, I second that one,” Huxley added sheepishly.
“You do realize that Lois probably has sent out a mass newsletter to everyone by now. They’ll be planning our wedding within the week!” I exclaimed. Patrick gave me a sideways glance and bit his lip.
“You’d look good in red,” Patrick whispered.
“Red?”
“It’s tradition for brides to wear red,” he replied.
“Can we please talk about something else?” Huxley begged. “Look, just ignore them, we did you a favor. Now Lois will stop bringing suitors to the Bakery, and you can go about your day. We know the truth, and that’s all that matters. None of us are fucking courting you,” Huxley said with such conviction that each beat of my heart felt like the crunching gravel beneath his feet. It was nice to pretend that this was a
reality; that I could have all of them, but once again, Huxley doused me in an ice cold bucket of reality.
“Well, look who’s being the dick now,” Patrick said to Huxley while rolling his eyes and taking my box of treats and piling it on top of his. “Go on back to the Bakery, sweetie, I’ll see you tonight,” Patrick told me. He somehow managed to juggle the three boxes he was carrying and kiss my cheek.
Before leaving, I decided to make it known that I could have handled the situation without their help. “For the record,” I began with a frown. “I didn’t need your help. Maybe I wanted to get to know Norman and—and…what was his name again?” My anger fizzled out as I tried to remember his name.
Huxley didn’t dignify my statement with a response. Instead, he simply stomped off like he usually did when he was feeling particularly moody. Once Huxley was out of sight, Patrick placed the boxes on the dirt ground and stormed towards me.
“For the record,” Patrick said while grabbing my face in his hands. He had a determined, steely look in his eyes. “This courtship between you and me? It’s real,” he said before placing a firm, chaste kiss upon my lips. I wanted to linger in the sensation, but he pulled away, picked up his food, and followed after Huxley.
Chapter Seventeen
Cyler called a Leadership Council meeting the next day. He insisted I attend and make his favorite dinner. For the first time since my birthday, Cyler, Huxley, Patrick, Maverick, Jacob, and Kemper were all in the same place at the same time, and I was giddy with excitement. Although I craved one on one time with each of them, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to their group. Together they were vibrant and full of life. They brought out the best in each other, the best in me.
