The span of my childhood could be separated into two categories: Knowing and Not-knowing. In fact, everyone in my family, even the adults, could split similarly: those who knew and those who didn’t. Regardless of which category you fell into, everyone knew Grandma had certain… proclivities . It was an unspoken thing, yet you felt how heavily it threaded into every conversation and side-comment at family gatherings. No one really talked about it, not outright, but it was always there, lingering between the lines.

The Not-knowing part of my childhood wasn’t all blissful ignorance. Like the Not-knowing adults, there were always hints of restlessness whenever we visited Grandma's House of Mirrors. That’s what everyone called it—though, to the public, it was Gertrude Inn, a quaint, three-story, hundred-year-old ten-bedroom house operating as a Bed and Breakfast, run by someone in my family since its inception. Despite how often she smiled, Grandma had this way of putting the house on edge. In a way, the Inn was a reflection of her. Aged, unique, beautiful. But full of secrets. Everyone walked on eggshells around her, though I'd never witnessed her so much as raise her voice. She smiled warmly, yet her eyes held a cold indifference that felt like she was seeing right through you, guts and all. Gertrude Inn sat in darkness during the day, supposedly to save on electricity; one single window and a shining beam of light brightened the winding corridors on each of the second and third floors. Those single sunrays felt so lively compared to all the shadows, with dust particles dancing in the warmth. My cousins used to make a game of only trying to walk in the sun lest your legs get snatched by some faceless monster in the dark.

There was some speculation that Gertrude Inn was haunted. Creaking floors and dim lighting aside, people reported strange sounds at all hours. Some guests even claimed to see ghosts. The Inn had its own cult following amongst supernatural enthusiasts, who shared photos of specter light orbs and ghostly apparitions of small girls and old ladies online. Because the old lady ghosts looked eerily similar to Grandma, it was widely accepted that it must have been the ghost of a woman in our family tree. But the thing that really made Gertrude Inn feel like a horror movie set was the mirrors. My great-grandfather built them, and over the last hundred years, the walls became filled, nearly every clean inch coated in aluminum reflection. That single sunray from those lone windows on each floor bounced about, decorating the halls in a disorienting, masking glow. Around the time when I transitioned from Not-knowing to Knowing, I gained a unique fascination with the mirrors. My cousins, aunts, and uncles liked to pretend they didn’t exist. When we were delegated to help out around the Inn, I’d watch the others stalk the halls ahead of me, carrying buckets of cleaning supplies and fresh sheets, never looking from left to right at the mirrors, gazes fastened directly ahead. But I couldn’t help but look back and forth, short as I was, fascinated by the different heights and styles of the framed mirrors around me and how different and distorted they made me look, my face contorting and reshaping with each step. I liked to take my time in each bedroom when I cleaned—those walls equally covered in mirrors—making faces at myself and imagining someone else staring back at me. The year after Grandpa died, Grandma became more reclusive.

One evening, my parents sent me to track her down, as she'd been missing since lunch, and it was long past dinner. Up to the third floor, past the guest rooms, the further along I crept, the more the walls narrowed. A single sconce poorly illuminated the dark at each turn, but that one small light bounced off the mirrors, casting a dizzying glimmer, my reflection echoed all the way down the hallway, thousands of me watching back. Finally, I approached her room, and my hand shook as it clasped the vintage crystal door knob, which spun loosely like it needed a repair, then pushed my way in. Her bed was made, complete with a crocheted white doily adorning an old quilt, another draped over a little red table, and a lit desk lamp that glowed beneath the stained glass lampshade.

A soft humming caught my attention, but I couldn't tell where the sound was coming from. She wasn't anywhere in the tiny bedroom. I circled the space, trying to locate the source. The humming grew louder as I neared the armoire. I wouldn't consider myself a brave kid, but my curiosity was piqued, and no matter how hard my little heart rattled in my chest or how sweaty my shaky hands felt, I pressed my ear to the closet door and listened. I gripped the metal handle, and the moment the door cracked open, Grandma's humming grew louder. Shoving dresses and shirts on coat hangers to the side, I stepped through a hole at the back of the closet. "Grandma?" I called out. The humming paused, then picked up again. I kept climbing, stepping over mounds of boots and boxes, until I emerged into the brightest-lit room in the house. And there were mirrors everywhere.

"Hello, darling Mercy," Grandma gestured for me to join her, not the least bit surprised to see me.

"What is all this?" I looked around in wonder at all the beautiful ornate mirrors, some framed in elaborate gold filigree, some in thick knotted wood. Grandma stood in front of three large glass panels resting on a massive open-backed easel.

Paintbrush in hand, she elbowed me playfully. "How'd you find me, little bug?" "Is this how you make mirrors?" I looked around in wonder. Grandma didn't answer. Her humming resumed, as did her painting. I glanced down at the table and saw three identical empty frames, all silver with intricate faces painted along the edges. The faces resembled cherubs, but their teeth looked more like fangs, smiles distorted. I looked back at the glass she was painting and noticed something odd. "Grandma, how come you can see through these mirrors?" Her humming continued as she painted a silver metallic sheen on the glass.

On one side, the silver allowed your reflection to stare back. But on the other, the glass was see-through, like a window. I wasn't a mirror expert, not like Grandma or my Great-Grandpa, but I broke a mirror when I was cleaning once, and I remember the backside being dark; you couldn't see through it like you could these. Grandma kept humming, and I was hungry, and that room creeped me out, so I shrugged and waved goodbye, reminding her my mom was looking for her.

I dismissed the strange room, letting it remain tucked away in the recesses of my memory. Then, one weekend, I got assigned to room cleaning. We all took turns helping out at the Inn, but it was more of a chore as I got older. The secrets of the old house held less interest for me.

That is until I took a bottle of Windex into a room on the second floor, spraying down one of the many mirrors, and I recognized the silver metal frame, intricately painted cherubs with fang-like teeth and distorted smiles staring back at me.

The one-way mirrors. I tried to pull the mirror off the wall to look behind it but was surprised to find it securely stuck. No matter how hard I tried to pull it off, it wouldn't budge. A cold chill ran down my spine as I recalled the secret room. That was when I realized there were two kinds of people in this family: those who knew and those who didn't. Grandma passed away a couple of years later, but still, I kept her secrets.

My family argued about who would take care of the Inn. It had been in our family for so long no one wanted to give it up, but no one wanted to take responsibility for it, either. Finally, they came to a compromise and decided to share the duties. So, one of our families would move into the Inn each season to take care of the guests and keep Gertrude Inn up and running until someone stepped up and decided to take over the House of Mirrors. It was summer when it was our turn. Mom and Dad claimed a bedroom on the first floor, and though no one wanted to sleep in Grandma's old room, I claimed it greedily. Gertrude Inn had a presence, a sort of sentient awareness like you could feel her breathing. She tensed and held her breath, and so did I when I crept into the armoire that first night. I palmed the back of the old wardrobe, my hands sweaty as I searched for the secret knob. When I entered Grandma's secret room, it was pitch black. I stumbled around in the dark, seeking out the hanging lamps I remembered briefly from my only previous visit. But in my search, as my hands felt along the walls, I found another door knob. My heart racing, I slowly twisted the tiny metal handle, the creaking sound like a thunderclap, considering the height of my nerves. My foot padded out ahead, testing the floor, and as both hands pressed against the narrow walls, I discovered a light switch. Though the light cast was dim, like everything else at Gertrude Inn, it was enough. Slowly, I stumbled into the corridor, merely three feet wide, between the bedrooms, floors creaking loudly beneath my bare feet. And then I watched in horror, through the backs of the mirrors, as guests slept the night away. I held every gasp and breath, as my brain tried desperately to comprehend what I saw. A shriek tore out of my throat when I came upon a couple having sex, and the man stopped mid-thrust to whisper, "Did you hear that?" to his partner. My hand clasped over my mouth, terrified they'd know I was there. Know what hid behind the mirrors. I turned around and ran back to the secret room. I turned off the light, banged my knee against a table in my rush to escape, and when I returned to my new bedroom, I stared at the armoire in screaming silence until the sun came up. It took hours to calm my racing heart, and in that time, I thought back to every interaction I'd ever had with my Grandma, all the puzzle pieces and bits of memory I tucked away slowly clicking into place. Walking over to a mirror, I stared back at my reflection until I no longer felt scared or uncomfortable. The following morning at breakfast, I watched my parents, Not-knowing, move around the kitchen in blissful ignorance, shaking cereal into bowls and discussing their days over morning coffee. "Mercy, you feeling okay?" Mom placed the back of her hand over my forehead, frowning. I cleared my throat, "Yeah, I'm good." "Must have been a little weird to sleep in Grandma's room last night. No one would blame you if you decided to stay in another room. We can rework that one into a guest room—" "No!" Their eyes widen at my reaction. "Sorry. No, I'm good. Actually, it made me feel closer to her. And you know, I was thinking… She showed me once, how to make the mirrors. I think I'd like to take it over. Learn the family business." I shrugged and dug my spoon into the milky cereal, ignoring my parents' tight smiles. They don't want me to become like Grandma, even if they don't know precisely why.

What I do know is that Gertrude Inn breathes for me. And I'll keep her secrets.

Maybe make a few of my own.


Normalton Middle School’s playground sat silent save for the slight metallic creak of the playground equipment as the breeze blew through. A far cry from the usual cacophony of children screaming and laughing in play. The sun had long set, and the moon now kept watch in the sky. The entire playground was a picture of serenity as it waited for the light of day and the return of the many children who would fill the yard with their voices and imaginations. But for now, only two teenage girls stood upon the grounds of the playground as they caught their breath. The first had her brunette hair kept back by a hairband, a line of freckles going from the bridge of her nose to below her eyes. She wore jeans and a pullover sweater. A large black raven was perched on her shoulder cooing softly.

“Gah, we’re no closer than we were earlier.” the girl grumbled. “Allow me!” the raven shouted.

The girl sighed as the raven flew from her shoulder and perched at the top of a slide.

The second fair skinned girl frowned, her blonde hair done up in a braid that rested on her shoulder, her blue eyes seemed to shine in the dim lighting, her ears were notably elfin and a pair of blue butterfly wings fluttered behind her back absentmindedly.

“Remind me again about this case, Yvette?” Yvette regarded her fae friend with a huff, “Did you actually forget Estrella? Or is this your fae sense of humor?”

Estrella didn’t reply immediately as she strode to one of the swings and sat upon it. She gestured Yvette to the one next to her.

“Why don’t you sit and refresh both our memories? Remember when we used to play on these when we were younger?”

“How could I forget?” Yvette replied.

The two began to gradually swing together, each picking up the pace as the swingsets began to creak.

“I guess talking about the case might be beneficial.” Yvette admitted with a grunt. Estrella smiled knowingly, “So you’re the intrepid teen witch detective. We’re looking for what now? A cat that’s not even a mage’s familiar, are you so desperate you’ve started taking lost pet cases?” “It’s not a pet or a familiar. It’s an oracular cat.” Yvette reminded her fae friend.

“An oracular cat? Like a cat that can see the future? I have never heard of such a thing.”

Yvette swung her legs making the swing go higher, “Yeah, I’ve heard of an oracular pig before, but not a cat.”

Estrella hummed as she spoke, “And someone lost this fortune telling feline?”

“More like they think it was catnapped. Mrs. Fraz said it looked like someone tossed her place, and a window was smashed open,” Yvette sighed, “You’d think an oracular cat would know if it was about to be catnapped.”

“Divination and prophecy are not precise. You know that Yvette. The future is always in motion.”

Yvette’s face lit up, “Or maybe the cat DID know about the attempt, maybe it fled on its own just before the would-be thieves tried to grab it!”

“Possible I suppose.” Estrella admitted.

“Cole!” Yvette called.

The raven fluttered down from the top of the slide and landed on the swing set's crossbar, tilting its head as it looked at Yvette.

"I need your sharp eyes. Fly reconnaissance." Cole cawed in affirmation and took to the air with a powerful flap of his wings, circling the playground before extending his search to the surrounding areas. Yvette and Estrella continued swinging, their movements syncing in rhythm as they discussed their next steps. "As Cole scouts from above, we should consider returning to Mrs. Fraz's place again," Yvette suggested, her swing reaching its apex. "Maybe we missed something." Estrella nodded. “Sure thing.” Yvette swung a bit more, “Maybe Ian has had more luck than us with his half werewolf sense of smell.” Estrella made a disgusted noise the way she always did whenever Yvette would mention her boyfriend.

“You sure Ian wont eat that oracular cat?”

Yvette huffed, “Estrella, why must you always act like that?” “Like what?” Estrella asked.

“Ian isn’t a dumb brute. He’s come through for us on more than one occasion.” Yvette defended her absentee beau.

Estrella rolled her eyes, “If you say so Yvette.”

The swings began to slow as they focused more on their discussion than on pumping their legs. Yvette's mind raced through possible scenarios, trying to piece together the puzzle of the missing oracular cat. "This isn't just about a missing pet," she said, her tone serious. "If someone really did try to steal it, they probably know about its abilities.” “A reliable source of divination is tempting to some.” Estrella grunted. A thought came to Yvette, “Especially for mortals with no magic reliant on others' services.” “Who may or may not be legitimate.” Estrella added.

Yvette shook her head as she swung fast again, “I can only imagine why they would want such an animal. Betting on sports, stock market, the usual boring stuff.”

“That doesn’t narrow your suspects very much.” Estrella pointed out. “Not yet.” Yvette admitted.

They swung in silence and Yvette prepared to stop and resume the search when Estrella spoke.

“Hey, remember when I used to launch myself into the air with these swings?”

“How could I forget?” Yvette replied as she regarded her fae friend.

Estrella’s face broke out into a mischievous smile. “I bet I can still do it.” The fae’s wings fluttered gently, casting shimmering light reflections around them. With a final surge Estrella swung to the swings maximum height before she let go of the chains The girl was launched into the air and began to plummet before her wings began to flutter and she gained altitude.

“Groovy! I’ve still got it.” Estrella shouted.

Yvette stared up at her friend. “Nicely done, now….” “Hey, jump Yvette! I’ll catch you, just like old times.” Estrella said gleefully.

“No way, Estrella. We’ve gotten too big for that sort of thing.”

But the fae was relentless as she hovered just above where Yvette swung. “Cooooome onnnn! Don’t get boring on me now, witch girl. I’ll catch you and fly you to the top of the slide.”

Yvette let out a long drawn out sigh before speaking. “Alright here it goes.”

Yvette moved her legs back as hard as she could and then forward as she let go of the swing, she flew through the air as Estrella grabbed her around the waist. “Got you! Oh, golly, you’re heavier than you look! Cripes!”

The two girls landed in a sprawl in the middle of the playground with a combined grunt. Fortunately for the two sleuths the fall wasn’t great enough to cause any serious injury. Yvette was flat on her back as Estrella lay sprawled atop her.

The two giggled for a moment until their eyes met, the human witch and the fae regarded one another, both suddenly becoming very aware of how close they were and how much they had grown from their middle school years.

Yvette’s freckled face grew red as she stared up at Estrella. The fae’s face went from shock to a sly smile. “You… can get off of me now.” Yvette whispered.

“Oh?” Estrella replied as she leaned closer.

Yvette let out a short gasp but didn’t protest.

“Pay attention Yvette!” Cole’s voice called out startling both girls as the raven returned a tuft of fur in his beak.

The moment ruined the two girls got to their feet.

“Right, yes the case.” Yvette grunted.

Estrella sighed knowing she’d probably never get another opportunity. “Yes, Yvette, I know that’s what matters to you.”


“Girls, shhhhh,” a voice admonished them. Claire and Diana sheepishly peered toward the librarian, instinctively reaching to cover the phone in their hand. “Sorry, Ms. Rose,” Claire responded first. Always a favorite of the teachers, she liked keeping it that way. “I can see the phone, girls. Do you really need that to complete your homework?” the librarian seemed to enjoy living up to her role as the stern caretaker of library sanctity. “We are using it for our algebra homework, unless you would like to lend us the abacus in your drawer,” Diana tartly responded. Never one to back down to authority, Diana didn’t seem too worried she might get caught in the lie. Ms. Rose looked like she wanted to admonish Diana but thought better of it; her parents were one of the biggest donors to the library. “Well keep it down. This is not a zoo.” She walked away huffily, presuming it gave her an air of importance when really it made her seem like a twelve year old rehearsing for a play. Claire and Diana turned their attention back to their phone. “Are you sure we should send this?” Claire whispered, trying to sound more matter of fact than she felt. “Girl, come on. Don’t flake now! This is gold. Can’t wait to take that bitch down a few notches. All coming in here with her South African accent and her diplomat parents. Let’s see her act like she is all that after this comes out!” Claire looked again at the photo she had taken that they were about to send to all her classmates. On her own she was never as bold as her friend, but Diana had a way of needling her to action. She knew she’d be in big trouble if her parents found out, but even they seemed to succumb to Diana’s charm. Plus, it was true, the picture she had taken would cause a commotion and Claire kind of liked that she would move from the periphery to the epicenter for a while. Lately, she had the distinct feeling that she was a colorless outline, like she was barely visible even to herself. “Hey, you in or what?!” Diana impatiently rapped her knuckles on the table, eliciting another round of shhhhs from a neighboring table. Claire sucked in her breath and before she could think about it any further, tapped the send button and heard the satisfying chime of the message racing through radio waves to her classmates’ phones and lighting up screens around town. When Claire walked toward her locker the next morning, she felt eyes on her that made her walk a bit taller and flip her auburn hair a few extra times to maximize her air of drama. She sat a few rows back from her usual spot in the front of the classroom and daydreamed about how the rest of her sophomore year in high school would be different. “She’s a badass,” people would whisper. “She’s not afraid to take someone down! Don’t mess with her. Also, isn’t she so pretty?! And she now has the largest boobs in our year.” “Psssst,” a sound poked into her thought bubble. Claire turned to the direction of the hiss and her eyes widened. It was the boy she had been crushing on for half a year and had never turned his head to look toward her. Alex’s sage eyes now looked directly at her while his arms outstretched under the desk were flashing something in her direction. “Yo, did you take this?” Claire quickly contemplated the tone in which she should respond, and speak the first words ever to her crush outside of “Hey, you dropped your pen.” “Oh yea, haha, I forgot about that. Hilarious though, right?” Claire flicked back the hair framing her face as she responded hoping it would add to the breeziness coating her response. Alex cocked his head to the right and furrowed his brows before shrugging his shoulders and turning back to the front of the room. Claire felt the heat rise up from her collar to her cheekbones as she tried to concentrate back on whatever her teacher was word-vomiting about in the front of the room. That was not the response she was expecting. Maybe he hadn’t really heard her? For the first time since she had pressed the send button, the doubts she had decluttered from her head started creeping back in like wild ivy. She had to find Diana at the end of class for her dose of emboldenment. But her friend found her at the end of class, weaving through the hallway of open lockers and raucous classmates. Claire could tell she was heading toward her because Diana’s eyes didn’t leave her face as she practically swatted people out of her path. As soon as her friend reached her, she pulled her out through a fire escape door to the back stairs. “Shit, Claire, did you hear”? Her friend’s voice was vibrating the words out with strain. Claire was so caught off guard with the fear radiating off her friend that she just gaped at her. Fear was a shade she didn’t recognize in her friend. “Claire, Claire are you listening? Did you hear? Jesus, Nika, she...she. OK can you stop staring at me like a dumb duck? Claire, Nika attempted suicide last night and is in the hospital in critical condition.” Claire felt the walls change direction around her and had a sudden sensation that she was freefalling down the stairs in front of her. She felt the weightlessness in her legs and the rush of adrenaline in her chest. And then she wasn’t entirely sure she was still awake; drowsiness filled her eyes as she wished the last twenty-four hours had never happened. That she could go back to the library and remove her finger away from the button that would send the photo of a period stain on a white dress to half her classmates.


They met on a cruise ship. A man and a woman whose paths would never have crossed in their everyday life. They were very different people with very different lives, they didn't even live in the same country. But this is not the usual boy meets girl on a cruise ship story. This was not a romance, it was a meeting of minds, of emotions, of need. And you can’t help but wonder what inexplicable forces bring two people like this together. Martin was a 45 year old surgeon. He was trapped in an unsatisfying marriage (his words), unhappy with his life and travelling alone. Searching for something, but he didn't really know what that was. Christine was a 70 year old widow. Her husband had died quite recently after a long and happy marriage (her words) and she was still coming to terms with her grief. They had cruised together many times, but this was the first time she was on a cruise ship on her own.  Unbeknown to her, she was searching for something too. They met on day one, a chance meeting, as you do on cruise ships. And something clicked. It was hard to say who latched on to who, but a bond was created almost immediately. An observer would see two people, full of fun, getting involved in all sorts of activities, chatting to other people, really enjoying themselves. But that was on the outside. The faces they showed the world weren’t really who they were. On the inside were two people who were floundering, unsure of themselves. They sought each other out over the next seven days, they talked, they opened up about themselves. Each was a counsellor to the other. They had deep and meaningful conversations over meals, coffee and shipboard activities. Neither of them really wanted to be alone, they craved company, they forged a relationship that worked for them both. Christine had been simply going through the motions since her husband had died. Unlike her many previous trips, she was strangely unexcited about going on a holiday. She had convinced herself that she was, but the feeling wasn't there inside. There was an emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She did what she always did, just arranged everything to the nth degree. That made things easier, once the plan was made, she didn't have to think, she just followed on automatic pilot. She wasn't sure who she was, now that she was a single person, no longer part of a couple. She wasn't sure she wanted to stay single. She didn't see herself as attractive to anybody and certainly wasn't ready to put herself in the world out there. Martin had been struggling for many years. He was a very unhappy man, he had no confidence in himself, hated his job, hated his life, was very discontented in his marriage and thought he was repulsive and unattractive to anybody. In reality he was a handsome, intelligent man and a lot of fun, people gravitated towards him. Unlike Christine, he wanted to be out there. He wanted to prove to himself that somebody would be interested in him. “I know I'm married”, he told her. “But, please, don’t judge me”. She didn't. Even though this went counter to all her beliefs. She knew instinctively that this was what he needed and actively encouraged him. He set his sights on another guest and pursued her like a teenager. He bought her gifts, he took her for a drink, he took her dancing. Christine tried to bring him back down to earth. He was going way over the top.  This was a shipboard romance, not a lifelong commitment. “You’ll scare her off”, she warned. However, that didn't happen and with the inevitable result, they shared his cabin. He was definitely not unattractive to her.  She spoke no English and he spoke no Japanese, so verbal communication was difficult. Obviously the iPhone translation app and nonverbal forms of communication was all that was needed. Perhaps that was part of the attraction, it created a surface level relationship that satisfied his imminent needs.

Martin went from deep lows to deep highs. Christine listened to him, she heard far more about his exploits than she ever wanted to hear. She was worried though, that he set so much in store by this. At the end of the cruise when the two parted, he was like a love sick puppy, back to the deep low, symptomatic of how he saw himself and his life. Reading this you might assume that this was all about Martin. However, that was definitely not the case. Their conversations were two way, he listened to Christine as much as she listened to him.

Her innermost fears were unlike Martin’s. She felt that she was unattractive to people too, but in a very different way. She craved companionship, not romance, but was worried that people found her boring, uninteresting or even annoying. Gregarious by nature, Christine had always been able to start conversations with strangers. Over the years her friends had complimented her on this and said that they wished they could be more like her. But nobody understood how hard she had to work at this, it didn't come as easily as people thought. Sometimes she was concerned that people weren't really interested in her or what she had to say, they were just being polite. The self-doubt was always there. Shipboard life was different without her husband. Christine had a lot of fun, met and mixed with a lot of people as well as Martin. She made it happen. There were times when she became quite maudlin, seeing herself surrounded by happy couples, everybody seemed to be in twosomes except her. And in the evening, she would go back to her cabin, shut the door and feel very alone. She was still grieving, she was still missing her husband and their life together. Life would never be the same for her. But she was a strong independent woman, she could do this.

Her time with Martin helped her in ways that she didn't understand.  Their relationship gave her reasons to rethink how she felt. The fact that he had actively sought her out, that they had bonded, that he confided in her, that he listened to her. All these things made her feel good about herself. He saw something in her of which she was unaware. She could open herself up to him, she told him things that she’d never told anyone before. When he told her that her personality shone through, that she attracted lots of people and had a lot to offer the world, it was as if a whole new world opened up. Nobody had told her this before, she was amazed that somebody would see her this way. And it felt good. Seven days together, a holiday affair with a difference. They shared some emotional and draining times together, but also lots of fun times. They made each other laugh, they made each other cry. They made each other feel good about themselves. They met as strangers and built an incredible trust. At the end of the cruise, they parted company, never to see each other again. Strangers passing through each other’s lives fleetingly. They missed each other but went back to their lives, albeit with greater insight into themselves.

It would be nice if this story were to have the happy fairy-tale ending, but that's probably not what happened. Martin had serious issues and they weren't going to be resolved with a seven day friendship and a whirlwind shipboard romance. Christine had more grieving to do and more growing as an independent single person. But neither of them forgot this little interlude in their lives and were thankful for what the relationship had achieved. Both Martin and Christine thought of the other often in the years ahead and hoped that they had found some peace and happiness.


Mia had been brought up to think this island was the only place that existed. It was all she had ever known. She’d had vague childhood memories of living elsewhere, mentioned them to a Leader once, only to be told that she was a very bad citizen to even say such a thing. Now she was hiding in a cupboard, listening to The Leader telling his men that his supplies would be dropped off at Quern island. They were to fetch them the next day. They had to be certain, as usual, not to be followed back. So there was another island somewhere! Mia was just taking that in when he added, “We have enough citizens, don’t bring any more children back. Leader Ten, you have been loyal for the standard number of years. Citizen Susan is now of age and will become yours on your return.” “Thank you Leader.” He laughed. It was a strange sort of laugh, that made Mia feel uncomfortable. “Leader Nine, you are just coming up to the standard number of years and Citizen Mia will be yours.” “Thank you Leader. I’m looking forward to that.” More laughs from the leaders, and they clinked their drinking glasses together. They were drinking the funny stuff they always had during meetings. Mia’s heart was pounding. She thought she had years to go before there was any fear of that. She didn’t know the details of what being a Leaders woman were. Only one of the women had ever spoken about it. She said that what happened was painful, for the first few times, and that she was made to keep doing it whenever her Leader wanted, as well as still doing her usual daily work. Then she had carried a baby, still worked hard, until the baby arrived. The woman had never been seen again. The citizens thought she had died. That Leader had been given a new woman, who had raised the baby and carried on with her usual work. Mia had heard so many strange and frightening things that she shouldn’t have. If they found out she could hear them she would disappear, as other citizens had if they’d broken the strict rules. She hadn’t intended to listen in to the conversation. She had just been flogged and sent to clean the rooms of The Leader. It was a punishment for not growing enough vegetables, which was ridiculous because while she was cleaning, she wasn’t gardening. Mia had cleaned the main room and then gone into the cupboard looking for a bottle of the strong smelling fluid she cleaned toilets with. The cupboard door had swung shut. Before she could pick up the bottle and other things she needed, the Leaders had arrived and started their meeting. To be caught in The Leaders rooms when he was present was a crime. To be caught during a meeting would most likely mean she would to be flogged until she passed out and was left to die. Mia stood still, terrified one of The Leaders would open the cupboard door and find her. Eventually she heard them leaving, saying they would have to set sail early. The Leader was most likely still there. Someone shut a door close by. Soon after, the toilet was flushed. Mia crept out, closed the door quietly and headed for the outer door. The Leader opened the bathroom door just before she made her escape. She swung around and faced him as she saw him looking around. “Oh, sorry Leader. I was sent to clean, but there was none of this for the toilet. I went to fetch some.” What would he do? She had already said far than was allowed. “Clean the smelly thing and then get out of here.” He bawled at her, staggering about. She’d noticed the drink had a funny effect on them. Mia cleaned the toilet and left quickly. She had been brought up to believe that there were no other beings out there. Many questions had come into her thoughts even before the things she had just heard. If she had ever spoken of them she had been told off, she was being ridiculous and would be flogged. Her head was full of all the unknown things they’d talked of. She had once seen something going by in the sea, climbed up on the rocks to get a better view of it and been caught by a leader. She had been told that there was nothing there and if she climbed the rocks again she would crash to the ground, break every bone in her body and no one would come to help her. She would die in the greatest of pain and take days to do so. At the end of her working day, Mia climbed into her corner of the shed and wrapped up in her blanket. She had so much going through her head. She decided she had to escape. She would likely get caught and killed, but she had to take the chance, anything than become Leader Nine’s woman. She had noticed him looking at her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. Mia couldn’t sleep. How did she get away? She had no idea what was out there, apart from sea, and some other island, now. Was that island any better? Well the leaders were going to get there somehow. Mia had always wondered where some things came from. That bottle of liquid she cleaned toilets with, the drink that made the Leaders go strange, tools she used in the garden. No one on the island made them. There was a part of the island, citizens were not allowed on. Mia had wandered that way as a small child and been told to go back and never go that way again. That must be where the Leaders left the island, how, she didn’t have a clue. Could she make it to the forbidden part of the island if she went while it was dark? Mia slid quietly out, wrapping her blanket around her. There was no one around. The citizens made the most of what ever sleep they were allowed, which was not much. Where all the leaders still effected by the drink from meeting? Mia crept towards the forbidden part of the island. She eventually reached the rocks that surrounded the forbidden area and began to climb them. She saw several large floating objects tied to the rocks. As she stared at them, Mia heard voices and hid quickly. “Get the barrel on the boat first. We gotta have some drink.” Mia saw them carry a container on, then they returned and picked up some other things. “Right, we’ve got the important things on. Time to go get the money to pay for the supplies.” The Two Leaders set off back across the rocks. Mia got up and made her way to what she had now learned was called a boat. Was there a place she could hide on it? She opened the door they had carried the drink container through. There was a room, with the container up on a table, and boxes of food. She couldn’t resist grabbing a package of food. There was another door, a place to sleep, then another one. She opened it and saw with steps leading down. Mia saw several areas down there, boarded off but with gaps she could slip into and keep hidden. She went down and tucked herself away. Then the Leaders returned and soon the boat was moving. Mia had such mixed feelings, mostly fear of being found, but she couldn’t help wondering what she might discover. She could hear some of the Leaders conversation. “Lets have a drink now we’re off.” “I need a hair of the dog wot bit me.” Mia didn’t know what that meant, but they did sound like that when they had been on the funny drink. She was hungry and took the food out and eat it all. She was very tired too and soon had a short sleep. The boat moved around, making her feel odd. The boat kept moving about for a very long time. Then she heard one of the Leaders say they should drop anchor and go to bed. She had no clue about dropping anchor. If they were going to bed she would be safe for a few hours surly. The boat was still moving, not as much. She would have liked to go and find food and water, too dangerous. She stayed put. After what could have been all night, the leaders were about again, talking, and the boat was moving more. After quite a long time, Mia heard one of them shout, “Slow down, we’re there.” “Oh, so we are.” There was a big jolt, and the boat stopped. Mia heard the Leaders say they would go and eat and have a pint at the pub. Pint and pub meant nothing to her, it did sound as if she had some time to get off without them seeing her. She had been afraid that they would get those supplies and head back to the island straight away. When all was quiet she squeezed out of her hiding place and crept up the steps. She felt weak and wobbly, hunger, thirst and sitting in that small space for a long time. She opened the door, there was food and water there on a table and Mia grabbed as much as she could, wrapping it up in her blanket. She opened the door cautiously. There was a lot of things she had never seen before and Mia just stared at everything. Then she shook herself and concentrated on getting off the boat and hiding away from the Leaders. She climbed out and hurried away, walking towards some buildings, crossing a lane. A strang noisy thing whizzed towards her, making aneven loader noise. “Mind the cars dear.” A friendly looking lady told her. “Sorry.” “No need to say sorry. He missed you fortunately.” The lady smiled and entered one of the buildings. Mia walked on. No one seemed to be working, no one being flogged. Many of the buildings had huge glass windows with things in them. There was one with food. How did this work?. As she stood, looking, a woman walked in, chose some food and handed something small over in exchange for it. She had actually chosen what she wanted. Mia was totally confused by everything she saw. There was an area with grass, and seats, people sat there eating and watching children play. Mia sat in the quietest corner she could find and ate her food. Then the lady who had told her to look out for cars walked by. She saw Mia. “Oh hello dear. Can I join you?” She sat on the bench beside Mia. “You look frightened. I don’t mean to be noisy; I saw you get off the boat after two men left. You looked terrified. If you need help, don’t be afraid to ask for it. I’m Mrs. Wilson.” Mia had a think. She certainly needed help. “I’m Mia, I do need help, but I have already been flogged so much recently, please don’t tell the Leaders.” “You’ve been flogged! My dear, you sound as if you have been very wrongly treated. Now don’t be afraid, you’ve done nothing wrong. I should call the police. They will help you.” “Police, who are they?” The lady looked puzzled, “We should go to my house. No, it’s close to where their boat is moored. I’ll have to call them from here.” She took something out of her bag, pressed buttons and began to speak to someone, telling them she was with a very frightened girl who had managed to escape from two men whose boat had been in the harbour a little while ago. She told them about floggings, said the girl looked too thin and was very confused about her surroundings, as if she had been isolated for a long time. She finished by telling them where they were, now. “It’s alright my dear. You have nothing to fear, unless those men from the boat should see you.” Mia was very frightened. Could she trust this lady? She seemed very nice and friendly. Shortly after, two people in dark clothing came up to them. “Hello officers, this is Mia, the young lady I was telling you about.” One was a woman, the other a man. They asked Mia some questions and seemed puzzled when she couldn’t answer most of them, like what was her last name, what was the island called, what were the men called. She had always been called Mia. They looked shocked when she said she had never known there was another island. They had always been told that island was the only one. Mia had to go back to the beach to show them which boat it was After some discussion with Mrs. Wilson, they decided to take Mia to what they called the station. Mrs. Wilson went with them, to make Mia feel safe. “We will get someone to watch the boat “They were told to make sure they weren’t followed back.” Mia told them. “Thank you for that Miss. We’ll use various means to follow them so that they don’t know we are doing so.” More questions, many of which Mia couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how old she was, how long she had been on the island, names of the people who ran the place, or how old she was when she was taken there. Mia was given a place to live in, and to have some help to get over her fears and all the many things she didn’t understand about this new island. She was shocked and fascinated when she was shown something called a globe, and it was explained to her just how many islands there were, and how large some of them were too. Then days later the Police Officers, as she had now learnt they were called, told her that the boat had been tracked back to the island, the leaders arrested. The people they had been holding there were freed. Some would be joining her so they could be given help too. There was still no trace of her family, made more difficult because of lack of surname, or date for when she would have gone missing. Mia was beginning to relax, to understand that she would not be flogged ever again, that she didn’t have to work, at least not then. In the future she would have to get a job, to earn her keep. All of that had been explained. There was still a lot to learn. One day, most of the women from the island joined her. They were as confused and uncertain as she had been, but so very thankful to Mia for managing to escape and get them freed. When Mia felt confident enough, she walked to Mrs. Wilson’s house, to thank her for the help she’d been, let her know how she was getting on. The old lady was in her garden, struggling to dig a big bramble out. “Hello Mrs. Wilson, I can help with that.” Mia dug the bramble out by the roots and pulled up some other weeds. “You certainly know what you’re doing there.” Mrs. Wilson said. “I was one of the gardeners at that place” Mia didn’t like to say The Island. “I used to be glad that was my job. I was in trouble if I didn’t grow enough, but I liked being outdoors, far better than being stuck in the laundry room or the kitchen all day. I’ll have to find a job soon, I think. I still can’t read or write. We’re all being given lessons.” “You could work as a gardener. No need to read or write.” “I did wonder. They think I’m not be old enough yet, I should still be at school. I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about until they explained. ” Mrs. Wilson asked Mia if she would like a tea or coffee. “Water please. I have tried the other drinks, I’m not too keen on them.” Mrs. Wilson brought cakes out and water for Mia and a coffee for herself. “I had an idea Mia, no need to make a decision right away, but if you wanted to, you could come and live with me. I would be glad of the company and you would have a home. I don’t need looking after or anything. Your family could still be found, and you might want to go to them,ofcourse.” “Mrs. Wilson! That sounds fantastic. You are so kind. Are you sure I wouldn’t be putting on you? I have none of that money that people buy things with.” “I have enough of that. My dear husband left me plenty and I have a good pension. If I do need care, I can pay someone. I don’t want to put on you.” “I would be happy to care for you.” Mia got up and gave Mrs. Wilson a hug. “Oh Mrs. Wilson, are you sure you want me here?” “Time for you to start and call me Molly.” Molly Wilson sad, with a big smile.


Hey there my name is Maya. I'm currently 22 years old, and well today... well my mom is coming to visit me... I only have a mom, my dad he left us when I was 16... my mother was heart-broken, it took a long time to get her back... but even when he was still there... I never felt as though he truly loved us... You see me and... my mom don't have the best relationship... When I was going to college... well, like I'm really into Arts, and I'm actually an Artist... Not trying brag, but a pretty popular one too. I have had many gallery's as well... and you see... well my mom did NOT approve of that what so ever. She wanted me to become some sort of really smart Mathematician or something, but as I said, I really, really like art and so... when I actually got selected for a top Art School... The day I was leaving for college... Well we had a fight... A big one, and it ended up me leaving with us both really angry with each other. We didn't talk for nearly 9 months after that, however we did finally call once after that and now we call every 3 months but those calls are never like very long nor too peachy. However, I really do miss my mom. Before that incident me and my mom were very, very close, and no matter what I'll always love her. A few days ago I've finally collected enough courage to ask my mom to come over for lunch! And I couldn't believe it when she actually agreed! Today now... well I'm getting ready for the lunch, my mom should be here in just about 20 minutes! I have just finished cooking her favorite foods-or at-least her favorite food 4 years ago. I had made roasted Chicken, along with some rice. I had also made some noodles. Hopefully she'll like it. After I set up the dining table I paced around the house to make sure everything was tidy and in it's place, after I made sure everything was in it's place, I finally sat down for a moment. I've been working all day, and barely had a chance to just sit down and rest. I got out my phone and started to idly browsing... I saw that I had gotten a few message's when I checked, I was surprised to see one was from my mom! It was sent only a minute ago and it read, ' Almost there. See you soon.' I texted her back, ' Alright see you.' A couple minutes later the bell rang! I instantly got up and walked over to it. I took a deep breath... and opened it. There stood my mom, in the past four years we haven't met she didn't look like she aged even a bit in-fact she looked even younger. I suppose having to worry about your children really does age you... As I was trying to decide what on earth to say, my mom first said, "Hello Maya" "Uh, hey... mom" after a pause I quickly added, "Please um come in!" After she walked in, I closed the door behind her. She was looking around the house, before I could say anything she told me, "This place you have is well organized." "Uh thank you?" I instantly wished I didn't say anything because the way I said it made it sound more of a question than an well... sentence! "Well... I've seen some of your artwork on television, they were looking pretty good." I nodded, "Thanks, I was currently corking on..." I walked in front of her and to the side of the hall where I had a piece of paper covering it. "This" I finished as I revealed a giant canvas, with the painting of a beautiful sunset over the ocean. My mother walked over to it and for a long moment examined it, before she said, "Maya I must say this looks marvelous." When my mother said that I felt a huge sigh of satisfaction rush over me. Even though many others have told me, my work is great... when my mother said it I felt as if it really was good. Even though we barely have a very good relationship there's still a feeling you get when your own mother tells you something is good. The reason I think for that is because only your true family will give you true criticism and advice that will truly help you grow. "Thank you so much, it means a lot to me mom" I said with a smile. After a moment of looking at my own work I turned back to her and told her, "Well... um you must be hungry..." "Well... I guess could eat." she replied. We walked over to the dining table, and we both sat down. The conversation at first I felt as though was a dying fire. If you didn't say something for too long or if one of us didn't ask a sort of question that the conversation may die down forever. And I hated this. I just wished that we could be like we used to... like before. Back, before I left... we both would sit hour hours just talking, unlike some where they always complain their mother doesn't get them at all... I felt as though my mom would understand me... better than anyone else. However, it wasn't as if we didn't have small arguments, but whenever we did we'd always make it up to the other... I guess when you don't have anyone else then each other... we wouldn't have a choice anyway. That's when it hit me. I can't take it anymore. I want to be how we used to be. I want my mother back. Then I said it. I said what I should have a long time ago. "I miss you" My mom stopped eating, and I held my breath. There was a long pause before my mother finally talked. "Maya... I miss you t-too! I hate this distance between u-us!" her voice broke as she spoke, "You're the only one I have left... I..." Without thinking I walked over to my mother and sat next to her, I wrapped my arm around her, and she started crying. I could feel my own eyes getting wet too. "M-Mom, please don't cry... I miss you too... and I know how hard it was for you when he left us... but just as I was there for you then... I am now too... I always will." By now, we were but crying. My mother hugged me back, "You were always so strong even then... you were stronger then me... if it weren't for you I don't know what would have happened then... But you... You helped me, you kept me going, assuring me everything would be okay..." After a few seconds more of silence my mother finally pulled herself together, "I.. I'm sorry... I don't know what happened to me there... but Maya... please promise me... that you won't leave me again, you're the only one I have left..." My heart sank, it was clear she hadn't forgotten about... "I promise mom... I love you" before she could say anything else I hugged her, and she hugged me back, and whispered, "I love you too".


The alarm woke me up to a house in absolute silence… meaning sometime in the night the power had gone out. “Wow perfect timing” I quipped to my cardiac alert dog Ginger Pie. (or Geepers! Depending on the occasion) Ginger had her own problems, with the power went the heat. I threw some wool socks on and went down a few stairs of my little house to start a fire in the fireplace just to thaw out some. Ginger gratefully curled up by the fireplace while I made a cup of tea.

I looked at the clock while grabbing a gluten free Biscotti. “Oh my gosh! Is that the time?” I said under my breath. I grabbed my makeup bag from my backpack and made my way to the bathroom. Normally I put my makeup on in what passes for my office in my bake shop in Bushwick. Ginny’s Cookie Jar was formerly owned by my Aunt Ginny until she passed 5 years ago. I inherited both the shop and this cute little house up in the hills behind the village of Bushwick. I said, as if Aunt Ginny could hear me, “What a morning Aunt G! I’m running late, the power is out, I’m meeting Bob this morning in the shop at 9. What am I going to do with my HAIR!” It really was quite a sight. I took a quick shower, wrapped myself in my big terrycloth robe and then began the makeup ritual. If this were an average day my makeup ritual would take 10 minutes from moisturizer to eyebrow pencil but not today. Today was a bit special. However, I reached in my makeup bag only to find that I’d left my favorite eye shadow, eyeliner and eyebrow pencil at the shop! I improvised the eye makeup, then grabbed my lipstick. I pulled the lid off the lipstick only to have the thing fall apart into the sink. “OH SERIOUSLY?!” I shouted. I took a deep breath. “Well Aunt G.” I said aloud, “It’s going to be one of those crazy mornings” I laughed because I knew Aunt G. would have said something to make me smile.

I crossed the hall into my bedroom to dress for the morning. It was chilly in that room. I opened my closet to my selection of khaki pants and pastel colored, collared shirts. This is what passes for my usual uniform since I generally wear an apron over my clothes and my hair up in a bun with a white skull cap style baker’s hat (or Toque Blanche). My Aunt taught me everything I know about baking. Just like my Aunt, I wear a pretty tea towel tucked into the apron tie at my waist. I passed up the usual uniform for a button up, lace, mock turtleneck sweater with ¾ length sleeves in an antique white color and Khaki pants. I grabbed my usual white shoes as mandated by the health department then proceeded to the living room to snatch my jacket, backpack, lunch, and of course Ginger Pie.  Ginger Pie became my near constant companion ever since I developed a cardiac arrhythmia. She's got her own room built on to the back of the shop.

As a service dog she’s never near the customers. People aren’t allowed to pet her; she can’t be distracted from her job. Of course the health department would never approve of her being in the kitchen. I had to get special permits to have Ginger in the bakery at all. I don’t know how but even when I’m all the way on the other side of the shop Ginger knows if I am having a “funny turn” as my Aunt used to say. She’ll bark out a warning. Usually all I need is a few moments to sit down. Sometimes it requires a little more help. My cousins and my Aunt Pauline help out in the bakery so I am never alone.

“Coffee with Bob!” I muttered under my breath. “What was I thinking?” Bob isn’t just any guy. His bakery was my biggest competitor in town before I had to take the bakery gluten free, and also a person I’d known since I was 5 years old. My family and his family had only two bakery shops in town for 2 generations. When I was in the middle of getting a degree in marketing my fiancee, and high school sweetheart died in a car accident. I say accident. Actually a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road hit Finn head on then drove away. I was 22 years old. Bob and his family were wonderfully supportive. They helped all of us cope by providing food for the many gatherings in honor of Finn at no charge. I’ve not had a serious relationship since Finn was taken so abruptly. Hard to believe that was nearly 20 years ago now. Meeting Bob for coffee would be my second “date” since that fateful accident.

“This situation is so surreal,” I thought to myself as I was packing the car. Ginger hopped up into her usual spot. “I mean really! Bob is the very last man.” my thoughts drifted off as I pulled the car out of the garage. I moved out of the narrow street on which I lived to the main street that would take Ginger and I to the village. In my head I was still thinking of my meeting with Bob despite all my efforts to push it out of my mind. Yesterday I was at the Bake-off with my team, today I was about to meet Bob for coffee. Twenty years I’d been going to that bake off… never once did I even look at Bob romantically. When we were kids Bob was a fairly normal guy, and a friend. Then he took over the family bakery. As the bakery’s business grew so did his ego. At least that was my opinion until yesterday. Ever since he attended culinary school at Paul Smith’s College he had become an overbearing, pompous, overly dramatic, male chauvinist, kitchen prima donna. Yesterday he proved me wrong. “How the devil did that happen? At no time had I ever considered Bob as a romantic interest” I said to Ginger out loud. She looked at me as if she understood, sticking one ear out at the side of her head. “Exactly” I replied.

Yesterday was a big day for me, my shop, and the village of Bushwick. Bob and I tied for first place at the Applefield Country Christmas Cookie Bake-off Invitational. The festival is fairly prestigious in the area and is often covered by news outlets across the state. Bakeries from 50 miles around are invited to join in the bake-off. The invitations are hard to obtain, winning means notoriety for the bakery and the village. This year was the first time 2 bakeries would share first prize. My family’s bakery and Bob’s Best won. For two bakeries from the same village to win was very exciting. Bob and I shared a rather special moment after our win. That put the icing on the cookie as-it-were. Bob, the normal, thoughtful guy I knew as a kid came flooding back. He opened up his heart to me. He said he had always admired me “but of course there was someone else” He was right. Finn was always there in my heart. It was true that I had closed myself off from other romantic relationships for fear of losing… tears began to fill my eyes as I drove into the village. I stopped at the stop light, grabbed a tissue and dabbed at my eyes and nose. I couldn’t ruin my makeup.

I looked at the dashboard clock. Fifteen minutes early.  It was 7:30 am, Bob was due at 9:00 but I still had to prep the kitchen. When I got there Aunt Pauline, Rachel and Bethann were already there decorating for the Holidays. Bethann had put the gingerbread cookies in the oven to bake. I put Ginger into her room then went into the kitchen to put on my apron, cap, and of course, my tea towel. “Wow! You look great! Is that new eye makeup?” said Rachel. A big grin on her face told me I was in for quite a bit of teasing this morning. “No, I replied, I left my favorite eye makeup here on my desk so I improvised.” Everyone laughed. I shared my morning predicament. Including my lipstick crumbling into the sink. Aunt Pauline said “Good grief you have had a morning! Did you eat anything?” “I grabbed a biscotti and a cup of tea.” I said as I walked into the kitchen to start making the frosting for a birthday cake. “Thankfully buttercream frosting is gluten free. No substitutions necessary.” I said under my breath. Bethann came in behind me to pull the gingerbread from the oven. “Rachel and I will decorate the stars if you make extra buttercream. What time is Bob due?” She ran the sentences together as if inquiring about Bob was a totally natural segue. I looked at her, hand on hip, and said “You know exactly what time Bob is due, young lady. Am I going to take a razzing from you three all day?” She laughed, handed me a warm gingerbread cookie, and stated “Yes, unequivocally, and absolutely, yes”.

I began whipping the buttercream adding a little blue food coloring to tint the frosting. I absentmindedly checked the clock. “Half an hour until Bob arrives. Plenty of time to finish this frosting then check my face” I thought. Then I caught myself. “Check my makeup? I’m checking my makeup for BOB?! This is so crazy. This is so crazy, it just might work.” I smiled to myself. I went into the back room where I had a small set of lockers and a full set of mirrors with lighting just for the purpose of tidying up and looking presentable for the customers. Meanwhile I hollered out “Is there fresh coffee?” A male voice replied “Of course.” It was Bob! He was EARLY! “Holy smokes.” I yelled to myself. I felt slightly faint as the butterflies in my stomach did a hyperspace Jump. I checked myself over, sprayed some breath freshener in my mouth, checked my teeth, applied lipstick (which thankfully did not fall apart). Then walked out into the shop as nonchalantly as possible. I looked on the counter, Aunt Pauline had poured two cups of coffee and set out breakfast sandwiches. “Sly woman” I thought to myself. The closed sign was still on the door and everyone had faded from the shop. Leaving Bob and I to sit at the counter with our coffee and sandwiches.

 Bob looked very sharp in his suede coat, blue shirt and Khaki pants. His dark brown hair was a bit tousled. “I guess these are for us.” I said to Bob, with a big smile, “Please have a seat.” He replied, “Let’s sit over here at the table.” The shop was still decorated in the style of the 1950’s including small, coin operated, jukeboxes mounted on the wall by the tables. I was about to take my seat when Bob hopped around the table to pull out my chair for me. I think I must have looked at him a bit surprised because he said “Don’t look so surprised, I’ve waited a long time to be able to do that.” I was silent. I mean, what do you say after a line like that? On the chair next to me was a beautiful bouquet of Autumn colored mums. “These are beautiful Bob! Thank you so much! You didn’t have to bring flowers.” I said feeling the pink rising to my face. He replied with a grin that showed all his dimples, “Are you blushing?” We began eating our breakfast sandwiches. It’s always unnerving to have another baker try baked goods from your shop. The bread was Aunt Pauline’s recipe. “This bread is amazing. Are you sure this is gluten free?” Exclaimed Bob. I said “Oh yes! Scrupulously made by Aunt Pauline herself”. Bob just kept right on eating. I smiled to myself.

I broke the silence by mentioning the prize from the Bake-off Invitational. Bob looked at me. “I have a proposal” he said with a twinkle in his hazel colored eyes.” “Okay?” I replied with a skeptical tone “We’ll meet for lunch at the house on the lake where we can discuss the prize in comfort. I’d love to learn how you cook gluten free, you know, for future reference. So you bring the ingredients and I’ll make sure every item to be used in the kitchen will be brand new. What do you say?” I sat back in my chair because I really never expected a first date let alone a second date. I didn’t know if I could trust him to keep this to himself. He’s not a braggart in the sense that some men talk about their conquests by the hour. That’s not Bob. He would, however, tell all his golfing buddies that the lunch thing was a date and I didn’t feel ready for the world to know. I wanted to protect my heart again, and that’s not the way relationships work. These thoughts flitted through my brain at light speed. “Okay you got a deal! When would you like to get together?” As if on cue, we simultaneously pulled out our cellphones. Snickering came from the kitchen. Bob looked at me, I pointed to the camera in the shop. (the sound was turned off) We both waved to the girls in the kitchen. “You should have my schedule now” he remarked with a smile. I sent my work calendar to his phone so we could see if any dates matched up. “Well I see we both have days free in the middle of next month”. I joked. At that moment Aunt Pauline came out into the shop “Excuse me. I’m so sorry to interrupt but I can’t find the order for that cake”. I reached into my apron pocket “Here’s why! I’m sorry.” “It’s okay! No worries, I got this covered” Aunt Pauline smiled as she took the paperwork and walked back into the kitchen. While I was talking to Aunt Pauline, Bob got a phone call. He stepped across the room to take the call.

He walked back to the table. As he dropped down into his chair “That was my mom. I’ll have Saturday free because the Singer wedding was cancelled.” Bob said mournfully. “Seriously? Wow I didn’t see that coming! Not good news for anyone involved!” I said in a sympathetic tone. Bob said; “How about Saturday? I see your schedule is free.” I felt those butterflies again except these were more like Black Hawk helicopters as the natural alarm systems were going off in my brain. Bob looked at me seriously. “Lillian I know this is hard for you. I wouldn’t push you under any circumstance. Since this will be a working lunch and not really a date, we’ll be discreet. We’ve been friends for many years. It does feel a bit unusual to change gears.” Bob remarked with genuine feeling. “I had hopes that someday you might see me as more than a friend. I realize that at some point you saw me with less than friendly eyes.” He continued. “I can’t say that I blame you. I find it very challenging to be the boss of my family business. To cover for the way I felt I became ‘super Bob’.” I giggled “Is that what you call him. That other guy with the ego.” Though I have to say inwardly I was surprised to hear him talk this frankly. “Lil!” He exclaimed. “Sorry Bob, I couldn’t help it. To answer your question yes next Saturday will be fine. You can pick me up at 10:45 am, sharp.” I said looking him straight in the eye. “Obviously Ginger Pie will have to come but she’s a good girl and will love the lake.” I added. “Obviously!” Bob said with a twinkle in his eye.

 The clock read 10:30 am and I needed to open the shop for folks to pick up their orders. Sunday the shop is closed but I will take special orders. I knew Bob had several standing orders for their homemade bread. Bob I hate to do this but I have a customer coming in to pick up a cake for a baby shower at First Lutheran. “Baby shower?” Bob queried. I laughed out loud “Where have you been? Pete and Tyra are having their first!” “Oh! Well, we both have work to do so I’ll see you on Saturday morning.” said Bob with a grin. “Excellent! Thanks again for the flowers, Bob. They are beautiful!” I commented. Rachel popped out from the kitchen with a star-shaped gingerbread cookie in a box upon which they girls had written Bob. “A little something to take with you” She said. “Thanks Rachel and Bethann!” Bob waved to the camera and stepped out the door.

I stood at the door watching him walk down the sidewalk with the cookie box in hand. I flipped the sign over that read “open for pick-up”. I turned away from the camera, took a deep breath, shook my head, then walked back to the kitchen. I got mobbed by 3 hugs, and a happy bark from Ginger’s room. Okay ladies, no time to get the “vapors” as Aunt Ginny used to say, we have orders to get out. We had a good laugh and got down to business. I don’t think the smile I’d had since 9:00 am left my face all day. At no time in the past 18 years had I been more excited about a “working lunch”.


**This story refers to the loss of a spouse, and includes light profanity and a very brief assumed reference of abuse.** Remember that time in Malaga? You and me, and Jonah? We arrived with twenty bucks in hand and no plan at all. I’ll never forget that night. Remember that bar we landed at? I think I was five energy drinks and vodkas in, and Jonah had had at least that much. Remember how much we laughed? I’ll never forget the look on the bartender’s face as Jonah jumped onto the counter and did a cartwheel. I still can’t believe he landed on his feet when he slipped and fell off.

Sometimes I dream about him, you know. His sandy brown hair that would fall over his eyes. His smile so wide and happy you could hear him laugh, even when no noise came out. It’s funny to me that he was the awkward one when we were kids. Who knew he’d end up being the hottest of us all. Sometimes in my dreams he is still that little ten year old with scrawny arms, but then he’ll suddenly transform into the beautiful man who held me so tight for so many years. You remember, don’t you?

Sometimes I think about how hard it must have been on you. To always be on the sidelines, watching as we fell in love. We didn’t have a care in the world other than ourselves. But you were always there, laughing alongside us, and sinking off into the shadows when the evening was wrapping up and it was time for three to become two. I always tried to ask how the rest of your night went, but I don’t know if I ever really heard the answer. God it’s cheesy, but I could just get so lost in him. I’m sorry if that sometimes meant I forgot about you. My head hurts. Do you think they’ll come soon? I miss you. I miss him. Last week I was at the Hungry Whale. It looks the same. The beat up chairs, the sticky floors. Our initials are still on the back of booth four. And the smell, well nothing’s changed there. Stale beer and fried hash.

I could go for some fried hash right now. Betty still works behind the bar. She’s aged a bit, but not as much as we always thought she would by now. A few wrinkles around the eyes, the dark circles still there. Did you know she quit drinking? I don’t know if I could do that, let alone work at a bar and not drink. God we were such assholes to Betty. Why were we such assholes? Sometimes I think about that night where you and Jonah got into it. I can’t remember why. But I remember Betty. I watched you and she watched me. The fists flew hard and Betty stared harder. I remember grabbing a glass of water and asking her what the hell she was looking at. She just stared. My anxiety was so high about you two battling it out that I took it out on her and flung my empty glass of ice just to the right of her cheek. She didn’t flinch. That Betty. She was kind of a badass. I don’t know why she ever let us back in that place. I think I hear voices. I hope they come soon. It’s so dark in here. I can’t feel my feet. I think they must just be cold, but I worry it’s something much worse. Please keep talking to me. I need you. I always needed you, you know. Sometimes I think about when it was just you and me, bombing around the hood on our crappy little bikes. No helmets of course, and plenty of skinned up knees. Remember that day we snuck behind the Levine’s house and hung out by the creek for hours? Man, I must have had a million bug bites when I got home. I can still smell the calamine lotion my mom put all over me. I hated that stuff. I remember how we sat there until the sun set behind the trees, the water dripping over our bare toes. You told me about your uncle and what he did to you. I know you saw the tears in my eyes. Nobody had ever trusted me like that before. I never told a soul, you know, not even Jonah. I wonder if you ever shared with him, but you two were never quite as tight were you? I’m sorry if I had something to do with that. I’m getting tired. Please don’t go. Stay with me until they come. I can’t do this alone. It’s funny how life comes full circle. How after the accident it was back to just you and me. Katie and Adam, partners in fun. Partners in sadness. You never left my side. Not when we were kids. Not when my world revolved around him. Not when I lost him. When we lost him. Have I ever told you how much I love you? Because I do, you know. Not in a Jonah way, but as my best friend. Do you know how lucky we are to have been best friends?

You have to find a new best friend. I need to know someone will take care of you. No, I’m not going anywhere, I just need to know. Just for fun. Just to know. Tell me you’ll find someone. My head hurts. I’m so tired. I wish I could lay my head on your shoulder. It always fit so well there. Man, there have been so many times, just you and me. Dreaming. Crying. Being. Sometimes I think our shoulders were physically designed to perfectly hold each other’s heads. I would give anything for one more night sitting by the creek, head on your shoulder. Are you still there? It’s so quiet. I think I’ll just close my eyes for a moment. Just stay. Don’t go. I’ll see you when I wake up. We’ll go get ice cream at Lick’s and then head over and give Betty some crap. Sounds perfect, right? Just a few minutes. I’ll be there in just a few minutes. It’s such a beautiful day. I feel so light.

Jonah, my love! It’s so good to see you. I have so much to share.


Feeling his hair blowing wildly in the breeze, he kept his eyes set forward toward the light, just breaking through the trees. It was far too late for his comfort, but the boy kept moving anyway, too many nights having been spent against a tree or in a field for both his emotional and his physical comfort, young joints aching as though he were of an old man, hunger weighing his body down toward the earth below his feet. If his navigational skills were any good- the main part of that phrase being if - then it was likely he’d find himself in civilization once again. Perhaps that was ignorant hope or naive optimism, and he’d simply be walking these woods until he wasted away.

He finally paused for a moment, chest heaving with exhaustion as his lungs gasped for breaths that, in reality, it truly didn’t need , but longed for, reaching for the feeling of being fully human, rather than this bone-weary shell of his starved potential. he allowed his pack to slowly slide off his back, hitting the ground with a solid thump and gazed upwards. If he were near any sort of civilization, perhaps he’d be able to see it more reliably from higher up than on the lower level in which he stood at the moment, obscured by trunks reaching what felt like to the heavens. With a heavy breath, the boy grabbed the lowest branch, beginning his ascension, branch by branch, a trial of judgment of his weight and resilience. After minutes passed, branches threatening to splinter and give in from the force of his hand’s grip, he managed to find a solid footing in a fork in the canopy, poking his head out from the branches of the oak. There was a decent-sized cabin not too far from where he stood, the lighting of candles bringing slight illumination, though nothing that gave the boy an idea of whether they were able to be trusted. Aside from that, the next town he could find still was another few miles off, and that didn’t even guarantee a place to stay without having to beg.

With the hope of a comfortable place to stay beginning to dwindle, he sat himself down, leaning against one of the sturdy offshoots in the canopy. If he were going to have to continue walking for so much longer or risk having to spend the 3rd night without a bed, he at least deserved a small break, at least a reprieve of the pressure under his feet.

“Hey, kid, you doing alright up there?” The shock of hearing another man’s voice below him almost brought the boy off the branch, instinctually gripping a close branch near him.

“I-... er, yes sir, I’m okay,” he responded, his voice gritty from lack of use, as though his own words were scratching his throat. “I’m sorry, I’m… not trespassing, right? “No, no, I was simply on a walk.” The man came into his eyeline now, seeming small from where he sat, but with a strong frame, his hair unkempt and choppy at the shoulders, but held no look of malice in his eyes. “Jesus, you look awful… kid-” “My name’s Lucas, if that helps at all.”

The man grinned, nodding with some combination of relief and compassion. “Thanks, didn’t wanna pry, but you really don’t look well, and it’s late into the evening.” “Yes sir, I know. I’m trying to find a place to stay, sorry for distracting you from your walk.” “Don’t worry about that, I wasn’t trying to get anywhere specific.” He squinted up at Lucas, before speaking once again. “Would you be alright with coming down here? You look like you’re in pretty awful shape, even from down here.” He gave a friendly grin, but perhaps that almost off-put Lucas. With so much uncertainty and rioting from desperation, something about even the concept of receiving kindness felt foreign to him, but he wasn’t completely blinded by his despair to not at least entertain the kindness.

“...that depends. I’ll come down on two conditions.” “Alright, what do you want?” “One, can you give me your name? Y’know, since I gave you mine and stuff-” “Ah, yes! Sorry, kid, the name’s John.” The certainty and speed of the answer brought Lucas comfort, but he still kept his guard up, watching the man below him carefully.

“Okay, thank you Mr. John, but…” a wave of exhaustion hit him again, and he had to shake his head just to refocus himself. “Sorry, I… yeah, anyways, why… Why are you talking to me?” John’s expression turned from something of compassionate amusement to genuine concern, though somewhat masked. “It ain’t often you see a kid sitting in a tree who looks like he’s going to fall off at any moment.”

Fair answer, can’t judge that.

He nodded, before, very carefully, descending himself down the tree, a feat that, while far easier than trying to pull yourself up branches, left him feeling far more anxious, the risk of falling a dangerous amount more likely with less certainty about the strength of branches, but managed to find himself back on the ground no more scathed than he was before. John stood about 6 inches taller than the boy, and the strength in his form even more noticeable now that they stood, one in front of the other.

“...you’re taller than I realized.” John gave a good-natured laugh, eyes that were creased with worry now a little bit less stressed. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Something about good bones, or something.” There was a calming quality to the amusement in his tone. If there was an attempt to lower Lucas’ guard for nefarious reasons, it was pretty effective, in all truth. Still, he didn’t fail to notice the concern in John’s eyes become just as clear as it had been before, now seeing Lucas in all of his starving and exhausted glory.

“...I promise I’m okay.” “‘Okay’ clearly does not have the same definition between us, bud.” “I just.. Y’know, a little hungry, a little tired.” John nodded, silent as he thought, before speaking once again. “Would you like a place to stay tonight? I stay in a cabin pretty close by with a friend of mine, we have an extra bed and some soup, you could rest up for a day or two if you need.” Lucas looked at him, eyes wide and body still. “I… Why?” “Why what? Why am I showing you basic human courtesy? Lucas, kid, you look like you’re about to collapse, and you’re a good bit out from town, I’m worried about you.”

“You barely know me, though.” “Doesn’t matter. Honestly, you look way too worn-down to do any damage even if you wanted to, I’m not worried about it.” John spoke with only genuosity, such a rare sight that Lucas allowed himself to nod at the offer, smiling. “Well… If you insist, I’d appreciate that, sir.”

“I promise you don’t gotta call me “sir”, kid. Anyways, it makes me feel old, I’m not that late into my 30s.”

So Lucas grabbed his pack and the two of them walked, the light conversation at least being enough to somewhat distract the boy from his aching limbs and his empty stomach. Despite being somewhat small talk, likely motivated on John’s end by the desire to make sure Lucas didn’t wear himself down too much, Lucas still learned a good bit about him. He fought in World War I, just 17 when the war started and 20 when he joined. “Not an experience I’d recommend, really, and not a war I found myself understanding the purpose of, but I didn’t know how to cope with my teenage spite,” he said, and, one some level Lucas found himself sympathizing with this, despite not liking even simple confrontation, much less violence, but he did find himself relating to the idea of unplaced spite. One could even argue that was why he was out there, so stubbornly set on making sure he didn’t follow the steps of men who he knew he didn’t want to resemble. Hateful, pretentious men who see themselves, and by proxy their ideologies, above others.

Of course, he didn’t want to admit that he was spiteful to the man who was giving him a place to sleep and food. Still, though, there was simply something he trusted about this man, the sort of bright, yet not wide-eyed, attitude he had, clearly with his own experiences and their impacts, but not sunken down by them.

Eventually, they reached the cabin, and once couldn’t help but think about how nice this must have been, just the quiet forest, a nice, decently sized garden, and your friend. That honestly sounded like a dream, but as most dreams are, was more than realistic. One of them must have had the house before all of this, lucky enough to be able to survive decently enough to not have to sell it. Lucas didn’t have that, he barely had enough to keep moving and keep getting small jobs, much less find himself any place to live. After walking next to Lucas’ side most of the walk, he walked ahead when they neared the door, taking and twisting the doorknob.

“Henry, I’m back, and I have somebody with me.”

Looking past John’s shoulder, he saw another man come from around the corner, with shorter- though just as shaggy as John’s- hair, much closer to his height than his friend’s. There was a moment of quiet between the two, a couple of back and forth expressions, a silent sort of connection only close individuals could have, before he looked Lucas over, before motioning to John to come inside.

“You two come in. The soup is done, and you look like you could use it. What’s your name?” Henry’s voice had much less energy, coming off as slightly aloof, though not mean. Jaded, perhaps.

“Lucas, nice to meet you, sir.”

There was a small chuckle, copied by John. “Kid, I promise, you don’t have to call us sir, we aren’t your school teacher.”

He nodded, following him into a decently sized kitchen and dining room (even having one felt astonishing, though) Henry reached up and grabbed a bowl, pushing his heels up just slightly to reach. “So, Lucas, what were you doing out here? I assume you found him in the forest, John?”

“You say it like he’s some stray cat,” John laughed, getting a look shot at him, though the smile pulling at Henry’s lips betrayed amusement.

“Hey, no, that’s not what I intended, and you know it. Lucas, I’m not saying you’re some stray, just curious as to why you’re out here.” “Ah, just… trying to find work, I suppose? I got a bit lost trying to find another place to stay and work, though.” His voice was quiet, glancing down at his feet and shifting his feet awkwardly, hoping that they didn’t take that as some excuse. “Hard to find any 1 place to have consistency, though, so I kinda just try and go around. Saw a town past the forest on a map, and just thought that I could shortcut my way there…” “Wait, so how long were you out there?” John spoke up, raising his eyebrows.

“...well, I’ve been walking for about 2 days, in the forest for over a day, through the night, so not long.”

The men were quiet, looking at each other with concern etched on their faces before Henry looked back at him. “And how old are you?” “15, which I know seems young, but I’ve been traveling for work for a while, don’t worry. Anyways, you gotta learn survival skills at some point with how… y’know, just about everything is. You have to sort of rush around to make it.” He could feel their eyes drilling into him, though they quickly averted their gazes as he looked up, and he reached to try and lighten the tension, letting himself grin. “Y’know, you could say this is my coming of age arc. I’m a little old for it, but better late than never, I suppose.” The other two gave somewhat crooked smiles, slightly amused but expressions still marked by worry for the boy, though perhaps somewhat lighter now, whether that be out of a want to not stress Lucas out or genuine relief, and Henry turned his back to grab a ladle and fill the bowl.

“Give him my portion too, please, Henry. I’m not hungry, and he could use it.” The expression Henry shot back was one of reluctance, but John was too set for any words to be effective, so he gave a small shrug and refilled the ladle. John drew his attention back to Lucas, then behind him, toward another small hall. “We can get you set up in the extra room once we get you fed. If you need, we’d be happy to let you stay here for a couple of days while you figure out where you’re planning to go next-” “If he needs, finds some work in the town over, I’d personally be alright with him staying in exchange for some help in the garden or running to grab something from town,” Henry spoke over John, coming over to hand the boy a bowl of vegetable soup, the carrots and celery looking far better than anything he had gotten his hands on in quite some time. Still, he couldn’t help but feel like he was being parasitic to the strangers’ kindness, and Henry picked up on this quickly. “It’d be helpful to have another set of hands around here, and we have the extra room, it’s not being used by either of us.”

“3 bedrooms is impressive, this is a wonderful place.” There was a moment of confusion on each of the two’s faces at the 3 , but they both understood the misunderstanding and silenced their corrections. Explaining the situation would be far too complex of a feat to try and convey to this child, and far from safe. Best to just let him draw his conclusions. Anyways, Lucas was comforted by the kindness shown between these two men. They were close, though he wasn’t sure just how close. Still, a part of him found himself jealous of their close companionship, wishing he could have reached for that without the repercussions from his family, the stern lectures and the forceful attempts at “firming the boy up.” Still, that was on a different level than what Lucas assumed they had, the likelihood of being able to live out his dream like that… “I’m sure it’s really hard to keep yourself this well though, I don’t want to make anything harder-” “Kid, I don’t think you realize that we’ve been living out here since before all of this. You need a place to rest for a while, and I don’t want to have to wonder if you’re going to accidentally get yourself back to this condition again. You don’t have to be dashing around, there’s a better option for you, as long as you want it and are willing to help out around here. You don’t have to keep rushing to give yourself anything. I’m not saying you’d be able to fully take it slow- I don’t think any of us really can- but you can at least recover, maybe, with some luck, find a place to work without having to worry about where you’ll stay.” Maybe, on some level, John could see the struggle this kid was going through. A 15 year old was young enough to want home and old enough to be useful, clearly something had happened, and there were a lot of bad men out there. Maybe part of him wanted to protect and guide him, and he could see that same concern in the way Henry looked back at him. He couldn’t make the kid choose to do any particular thing, but he could give him some sort of chance.

“John, you’re talking your head off, let the poor boy eat something,” Henry teased, handing a bowl to him as well. “And you eat too. There’s enough for all of us.”

Lucas took that offer with no objections, finishing it within minutes of letting his weary legs rest, finding an almost instant rejuvenation, refreshed by the full meal and the supportiveness. The talks for the rest of the evening were lighter, and while there were still questions, there was a mutual understanding that they could wait till the morning. For 1 night, maybe they could all take it slow, not worry too much about the hatred and panic of their reality.