In a Jam

Chapter 5 #2

“I don’t care for the uniformity of machine slicing,” he said. “Besides, this is a new recipe the bakehouse is working on. I grabbed a test loaf to try.”

I stepped closer to the island where he was working. “Since when do you have a bakehouse?”

“About four years now. It started with apple crisp. We had a huge yield a few years ago and ended up turning the surplus into crisps and pies. Figured we’d break even at best. Ended up selling out.

Then we tested pound cakes and shortcakes during strawberry season.

Now, we have eleven year-round pies and four special pies per season. Breads were the next logical venture.”

“Any other businesses I should know about?”

He glanced at the ceiling for a second, as if he had trouble recalling the details of his empire. “Summertime ice cream stand down on Old County Road, near the mouth of the cove. There’s also honey and jams—”

“That’s Noah’s favorite.” Gennie returned to the kitchen wearing her eye patch and dragging the tip of her sword along the floor. She marched toward the door. “All of his secret projects are about jam. He’s like Blackbeard but for jam. But no heads cutting off.”

The door closed behind her as Noah said, “I’m not the Blackbeard of—never mind.”

“You did all that in the past few years?” I asked.

He returned to the task at hand, not at all concerned with responding to me. I was starting to understand this was one of his mannerisms. One of the more maddening ones.

After longer than was reasonable to keep someone waiting, he said, “It came together pretty easily. All of the pieces were already there. It was just a matter of getting it off the ground. The ice cream was a no-brainer as far as dairy surpluses are concerned.”

“But the jam is your favorite.”

He jerked a shoulder up as he turned toward the fridge.

I was forced to notice the lovely way his jeans settled low on his hips.

He looked completely different than I’d remembered him, but also, he finally looked like himself.

I knew that was a lopsided sort of compliment though it was the most accurate way to explain the ways he’d changed.

It was like his bad haircut had grown out and he didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of that in-between time anymore.

He was taller and mature and more at ease but he looked like himself. He looked like the friend I remembered.

He came back with a cucumber in hand and I had to concentrate on keeping my gaze at eye level. “It’s a smart way to reduce waste. Bruised fruit never sells but it makes great jam.”

I settled onto one of the stools tucked into the island, waiting. I didn’t know this version of Noah well enough to predict his next move but I had to believe he’d keep talking if I left the door open for him. And I really wanted him to keep talking.

Once the cuke was thoroughly washed and dried, he set to slicing it.

I’d never noticed how long his fingers were or the number of freckles dotting his knuckles.

It was kinda cute. “My mom liked canning. Loved preserves. She had a ton of recipes, most of which she stored in her head and never wrote down. It made sense to keep that going. It’s good business. ”

“How are your parents?”

Obviously, they weren’t here. I didn’t want to make any assumptions but that, plus the decidedly past-tense way he spoke about his mother and the fact the family home had been converted into a market, gave me a bad feeling.

“My mother lives in North Carolina with her sister,” he replied.

“They have an apartment in one of those assisted living communities. She’s able to get support for her MS there, which is good because she needs a lot of help these days.

A lot. It’s a single story, which is important with her limited mobility.

Less demanding than living in an old farmhouse. ”

“Does that mean she’s left the pulpit?”

He gave a jerky shoulder-shrug-nod. “The Reverend left before I finished college. Might’ve been my second year, around the end.

I’m not sure. But yeah, she stepped away from the congregation when her speech issues became more prominent.

” Another jerky shrug. “She’s probably assembled a makeshift congregation at the assisted living community. Can’t keep a true theologian down.”

I watched as he scooped the cukes into a blue bowl with white polka dots. His hands were huge. Huge. When did that happen? “And your dad?”

Noah made a noise, some sort of humming grumble.

“He died. Four-wheeler accident. There’s a spot on the back side of the orchard where the land gets soft when it rains every spring, and if you’re not paying attention, you’ll either get stuck in the mud or roll over a few times.

It was dark and the conditions were stormy, and he rolled over.

He went quickly but Mom had a serious relapse not long after, and she needed to move somewhere that she could get the support she required.

” He waved his knife at the room. “Things evolved rapidly.”

“I’m so sorry, Noah.”

He nodded.

“So, that’s what brought you back to Friendship.”

He busied himself with grabbing plates from the cupboard and utensils from the drawer before turning a fraction of his attention toward me. “Pretty much.” He opened the window over the sink and called out, “Gennie, what’s up with those eggs, kid? It doesn’t take that long.”

I couldn’t make out her response but I did get the joy of watching Noah sigh with his whole body. He looked good. Better than I could’ve imagined.

Too bad he was such an epic grump.

Gennie clamored in, her sword tucked under her arm and making it near impossible to close the door without bobbling the basket of eggs. “Let me help you there,” I said, relieving her of the basket.

“Wash your hands,” Noah said to her.

“The chickens hate me,” Gennie said, stomping toward the bathroom. “They want to eat my fingers.”

“Your fingers would not be especially appetizing. Not enough meat on those bones,” Noah called after her.

Gennie emerged from the bathroom, eye patch over her brow and hands dripping wet. “They’re evil chickens. Super evil.”

Noah held out the polka dot bowl. “Take your cucumbers to the table.”

She accepted the bowl but stopped at my stool. “Will you sit next to me?”

“Of course. Let me help Noah with—”

“I’ve got it,” he interrupted. “Just—go. Sit.”

I spared him a quick glance but he’d already turned toward the oven, forcing me to watch the way his t-shirt stretched across his back. Yeah, these years looked good on him.

I grabbed the plates and silverware he’d set out and took a seat beside Gennie at the table. She had cucumber slices in both hands.

“I like your earrings,” she said. “What are they?”

“Lobsters,” I said, fingering the intricate beading. “I got these in Maine a few summers ago. A little town called Talbott’s Cove. I went there with some of my friends.”

“Did it hurt to get your ears pierced?”

“It’s very fast. A fast pinch.”

She considered this carefully. “How old do you have to be to get your ears pierced?”

Noah set two dishes in the middle of the table. “Fifteen,” he said. “At least fifteen.”

“But Ella has earrings and she’s not fifteen.”

Noah scooped chicken and roasted vegetables onto Gennie’s plate. “Then that’s a decision Ella’s family made. We’ll talk about earrings when you’re”—he shook his head, passed the chicken to me—“when you’re twelve. At the earliest. Okay?”

She fingered my lobsters again. “I guess so.”

Noah cut Gennie’s food into bite-sized pieces and handed the plate back to her before sitting down.

“How old do you have to be to make your hair pink?” she asked.

“Oh my god,” he said under his breath.

I smothered a laugh, saying, “I’m thirty-two and I did this for the first time last month. There’s no rush. You have all the time in the world to dye your hair and get earrings and everything like that. I promise, you’re not missing anything.”

She gave me a thoughtful nod. “Okay. I can wait.”

Noah gazed at Gennie while she dug into her food, carefully pushing most of the vegetables to the far edge of her plate. After a moment, he blew out a breath and reached for the bread. It was abundantly clear he had his hands full with this parenting gig.

“This is incredible,” I said, jabbing my fork in the direction of my plate. “When did you do all this cooking? I didn’t see any of this magic happen.”

He barked out a laugh. “I didn’t cook. There’s a meal delivery service two towns over. We supply their dairy and some produce. I’ve been on their roster since day one.”

“This is the best meal I’ve had since—since the last time I was here,” I said. “Probably the last actual meal too.”

“Then you should come to dinner every night,” Gennie replied. “Noah says I’m required to eat a real meal, so you should too.”

I expected Noah to jump in and explain that wasn’t possible but he just stared at me for a long beat, deep grooves dug into his forehead. When he didn’t look away, I said, “Cooking for one isn’t very fun. It’s simpler to have Cheez-Its or a bag of popcorn or some peanut butter on crackers.”

“Shay,” he said, the grooves deepening.

I’d dug a ditch in his forehead. Me and my shambles.

“It’s fine. Really. I’ll have to look into this meal service. Sounds perfect. Especially since the school year will be starting in a few weeks and then I’ll have no time.”

He went on staring at me. Then, “You’re going to be teaching in Friendship schools?”

“Subbing,” I said. “Which is just as hectic as a regular teaching position. More, actually, since the assignments vary day-to-day. But I’m looking forward to it.”

“You’ll be a teacher at my school?” Gennie asked. “Fuck yeah!”

“Gennie,” Noah warned, but there was no weight behind it.

“Will you still play with me after school?” she asked. “Or will you be too busy then?”

I glanced at Noah. He gave a slight nod which I interpreted to mean he was cool with us continuing our work. It could’ve meant any number of things but I was happy with this explanation. Gennie needed all the help she could get and I had a soft spot for this kid.

“We can still play,” I told her.

She stabbed her fork into the air. “Yes!”

“You’re ready for more reading and fact practice?” I asked her.

“Arrr, matey,” she growled. “Me’s a right good mather.”

The two of us shared a laugh over that and settled into a comfortable discussion of today’s reading—without the gory details.

And it was comfortable, even if Noah seemed anything but happy to have me here.

I wasn’t into taking his vibes personally but I couldn’t ignore all his drawn-out silences.

And the frowning. So much frowning. Even if he’d sworn he wanted me to stay for the meal, it was obvious that wasn’t the whole truth.

But I had to ask: “Is your bakehouse selling this bread at the farm stand? Can I buy this? Because I require more.”

“Well, we”—Noah watched as I chose another slice—“we don’t have it in production yet. Still working on the recipe.”

“You didn’t ask for my opinion but I think the recipe is perfect.” I couldn’t believe I’d ever willingly given up bread. What a tragedy. “Feel free to send me any test loaves though. I’m happy to provide additional feedback.”

He stared at me a moment longer before blinking away and clearing his throat. “Yeah. Sure.”

“What do you like about being a teacher?” Gennie asked.

“Lots of things,” I said. “I like meeting new kiddos every year and growing a little community in our classroom. I like that we get to explore books and do experiments and learn how to treat each other with kindness and dignity. And I really like that I get to match my earrings to the things we’re learning about.

I have so many apple and pumpkin earrings. ”

“Weren’t you going into public relations or something?” Noah asked.

When I glanced across the table at him, I read the surprise on his face. He hadn’t meant to ask. That made it even better, as far as I was concerned.

“Yeah, that fizzled out fast. I switched over to psychology before the end of my first year and then switched to child development.” Since we were finished eating, I reached for his plate, stacking it atop mine. “I didn’t really have a specific plan—”

“Do you ever?”

I collected Gennie’s plate and added it to my stack. “Sometimes,” I replied with a laugh. “Teaching wasn’t on my radar until my last year when I had an internship based in an elementary school.”

“Did you stay at Boston College?”

I nodded as I gathered the utensils and consolidated the leftovers. “I did and I stayed an extra year to earn my teaching credential.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Noah said, reaching for the dishes.

“Maybe not but I’m doing it anyway.” I glanced to Gennie. “Do you think you can carry these plates to the dishwasher for me?”

She jumped up from her seat. “Aye aye, captain.”

“And you stayed in Boston after that,” he said.

Check out this chatty guy. I swallowed a grin. “I bounced around between districts for the first few years but then I found an independent school where I really connected with the leadership and community, and I’ve been there ever since.”

Noah pushed away from the table and circled the island.

He returned with a paper bag and dropped the remaining bread into it.

“Take this with you,” he said. Before I could reply, he gathered the last few dishes and set them in the sink.

To Gennie, he asked, “Do you want to feed the dogs? I bet they’d like to see you. ”

“Of course I want to feed the dogs,” she cried, jamming the last of the silverware into the dishwasher.

“You can walk Shay out and then head down there. Okay?”

That was one way to tell me I’d overstayed my welcome. It was a good thing I’d already been dumped so hard I was mostly dead inside and couldn’t take offense to this man’s mood.

But I had to talk to Noah about some of Gennie’s more concerning comments.

“Actually,” I started, gesturing toward him, “can I get a second with you? Maybe while Gennie tends to the dogs?”

He stared at me while drawing in a breath and then slowly blowing it out. It was as though I’d asked him whether I should saw off his arm with a butter knife or a rusty teaspoon.

He grabbed the paper bag and thrust it toward me. “Yeah. Sure. No problem. Lead the way.”