Chapter 17
The next morning I woke with hope and dread swirling through me in turn.
Yesterday’s joy of realizing that Gabe and I loved each other sweetened the morning, but it was tempered by the sobering realization that the month was nearly over.
Gabe and I had finally found one another, yet it seemed doubtful that we could be together while his curse remained unbroken and I was destined to follow the relentless movements of the bakery.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked out the window and noticed Gabe clearing some of the foliage that had begun to grow back over the path to the bakery.
We’d had remarkably few customers this month in our remote location, but he still faithfully kept the way clear and marked in case anyone needed my services.
I watched the person I loved, an ache tightening my chest. Was this the life we were meant to live—either wandering from place to place together, never finding a true home, or going our separate ways?
A stab of pain pierced me at the thought of giving him up, but how could I ask him to follow my rootless life, with no promise that we would ever be allowed to settle long enough to create a home of our own?
Even if he was willing to join my nomadic lifestyle, I had no guarantee I wouldn’t lose him as his curse led him astray.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t want the bakery to take me somewhere new. This was the part of love I had always feared—it gave me something to lose.
I’d spent years avoiding attachments because everyone eventually disappeared, convincing myself that caring less would spare me the pain of their absence.
Yet standing there watching Gabe with my forehead pressed against the cool glass, I finally understood the flaw in such reasoning.
Refusing to love had never protected me from loss, it had merely ensured there would be nothing precious enough to miss once it was gone.
I wasn’t sure how long I stood watching Gabe before I found the strength to push back my tears and pad softly to the kitchen to bake oat muffins for breakfast. I mechanically pulled out the recipe book and flipped to the correct page, though I didn’t really need it.
My hands automatically began to gather the ingredients, even as my thoughts remained elsewhere.
A quiet shuffle caught my attention, and I turned to see Granny hobbling into the kitchen, her face pale and her movements slow. She settled into her rocking chair and picked up her knitting, looking up at me with a reassuring smile that quickly faded when she noticed my expression.
“Oh, my dear.” She dropped her knitting and held both hands towards me, her fingers gently enfolding mine when I rested them in hers.
“What’s wrong?” She glanced around anxiously, as though searching for Gabe.
“Did he break your heart?” She dropped one of my hands and clenched her knitting needle as though planning a bloodthirsty revenge.
I gave a shaky laugh. “Quite the opposite, Granny. But finding love is painful when there are obstacles preventing a happily ever after.”
Even speaking the word brought yesterday rushing back with almost painful clarity—the warmth of Gabe’s hand against my cheek, the tender uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for me to understand what he was asking, the breathless moment before I closed the remaining distance between us.
I could still feel the softness of his lips and the way his arms had drawn me closer, as though he had finally found something he had wandered his entire life to reach.
The memory filled me with such piercing sweetness that my chest ached beneath its weight.
She stroked my hand. “I never knew you to turn away from an obstacle. What are you afraid of?”
I crumpled at her feet, resting my head in her lap. “There’s no future for us,” I wailed. “I can’t break Gabe’s curse. Even if I could, he can’t spend his life following the bakery around.”
“Is that your biggest worry?” Granny asked.
I shook my head, disturbing the quilt draped across her lap. “Even though I truly love Gabe, I’m not whole. I can never give him the fullness of affection, joy, and trust that he deserves, because I can only partly experience those feelings.”
Granny silently allowed me to pour out my frustration, stroking my hair from time to time.
When my sobs finally quieted, I noticed that the recipe book had slipped from the counter and fallen open beside me, tears blurring the pages until the familiar recipes became nothing more than dark smudges upon cream-colored parchment.
A lingering tear slid down my cheek, splashing onto a page.
I stilled when the ink beneath my fingertips began to shift.
Letters moved across the parchment like streams finding a new course, old words dissolving while new ones quietly emerged in their place.
I stared, scarcely daring to breathe, as writing spread across the newly blank page, replacing the familiar tracking tart recipe.
A title slowly settled into place: The Homecoming Loaf. An ornate image formed around the words, a heart woven of vines. Intrigued, I shifted closer and began to read.
The first lines told of the Wolf’s wandering—the ancient curse that had severed every road from home and condemned those bound to it to follow paths they could never choose.
Beneath them lay instructions for a loaf unlike any I had ever baked, one meant not to grant a longing, but to lead the lost home.
Hope rose so quickly I nearly choked upon it. “This could break Gabe’s curse. I can save him.”
Granny leaned closer, her eyes moving slowly down the page. “It appears this recipe has been waiting for you.” A crease formed between her eyebrows as she reached out a finger to trace the instructions.
The words blurred as fresh tears filled my eyes, though the realization settling over me carried none of the violence of the emotions that had driven me to my knees only moments before.
For me. This recipe hadn’t just been waiting to save Gabe, because he wasn’t the only person who needed to come home.
For years I had approached these pages searching for new ways to surrender another part of myself, but never once had I searched for a way to become whole. Only now, when I finally understood how precious those lost emotions had been, had the book revealed a path that might lead beyond the bargain.
All these years I’d believed maps preserved places, tracing landscapes and villages because I was terrified of forgetting them.
Yet I had willingly forgotten the people I loved.
No map could ever lead me back to the moments I had willing surrendered.
Places were only ink upon parchment—it was love that made them worth preserving.
“I want my heart back.” The words felt frightening to voice, yet also beautiful and liberating.
As though I’d spoken the final words of a spell, new ink blossomed beneath my fingertips. Lines curled across the bottom of the page, revealing the final ingredients that had remained hidden only moments before.
I reverently traced the delicate script.
For years I had believed the recipe book held all the answers, even as every bargain demanded another piece of me in return.
Only now did I understand that the path home could not reveal itself while I remained willing to escape the feelings that made me human.
The recipe hadn’t appeared because I had finally found one last thing to sacrifice—it had appeared because, for the first time, I wanted to keep every aspect of myself, even the painful parts.
The magic stirred again, black script flowing across the page beneath the ingredient list. But before the words could fully settle upon the page, the kitchen door opened.
Gabe stepped inside carrying an armful of split wood, his dark hair tousled by the morning breeze and a faint streak of dirt spread across one cheek.
The familiar sight of him filled me with such sudden joy that I nearly laughed. “Gabe, I found it.” I rose so quickly my chair nearly tipped over. Hope made every part of me feel weightless. After years of impossible roads and unanswered questions, the solution lay written before us.
The wood shifted slightly in his arms. “Found what?” he asked slowly.
“The blank page in the recipe book changed,” I said. “It revealed a new recipe—a Homecoming Recipe that us tells how to end the Wolf’s wandering.” My smile widened. “Gabe, it could break your curse.”
The words had scarcely left my lips before all color drained from his face. For a long moment he said nothing. I waited for relief and joy, but instead he looked almost…devastated. His arms loosened, and the firewood tumbled onto the floor.
“But you couldn’t have. I stole—” The sharp, unfinished words lingered between us.
I frowned, my heart suddenly pounding. “What did you steal?”
His gaze flickered towards the recipe book before averting his eyes, as though he could no longer bear to look at it.
Heavy silence settled over the kitchen. Slowly, I bent down to retrieve the book. My fingers turned the pages almost of their own accord until they when I came to a section where the parchment ended too cleanly, the fibers along one side torn by careful hands. A page was missing.
A quiet ache settled over me as I traced the ragged edge with a trembling finger.
I knew Gabe had never wanted to steal from me; he had only been reaching for hope, just as I had all these years…
yet that didn’t excuse that he had hidden what he’d found.
More importantly, why had he hidden it? Surely he knew he wouldn’t be able to complete a magical recipe without my help.
I gently closed the book and cradled it against my chest before lifting my gaze to his; he was still staring steadily at the floor, as though he could face every road in the world more easily than he could face me.