Chapter 7 #2
She handed Joe the wooden churn, the metal canister sitting loosely in the middle. “You’re a strong lad, I can tell. Let’s see if you’ve got the patience for it. Here we’re going to pour it into the churn now, and then we need to pack the outside with ice and salt. Krista knows where it’s at.”
Krista layered crushed ice and rock salt around the canister in the wooden bucket.
“The salt lowers the temperature of the ice so the cream freezes evenly,” Alice explained.
Joe crouched beside the bucket, fingers brushing against the cold rim. “Alright,” he said, settling his hands on the crank. “Let’s give this a go. ”
“Steady and slow,” said Krista. “You’ll feel it start to thicken as it freezes.”
He began turning the handle. The ice cracked softly beneath the lid, and the mixture made a faint sloshing sound that grew heavier with each turn.
Alice hummed along to a tune that drifted from the old radio, her voice thin but steady. She added more ice, sprinkled salt. “You’re a natural,” she said approvingly. “Some men rush things, but not you. You’ve got a steady calm about you.”
Joe smiled. “It comes with my job.”
Krista leaned against the counter, watching him. Forearms flexing as he turned the handle, eyes focused, the way he kept the pressure controlled. She couldn’t stop thinking that he’d take his time with her too. Until she was soft and shaking and asking for more.
When the ice cream thickened, Alice clapped. “There it is. You can tell by the sound.”
Joe eased the lid open, the cold mist rising in a soft puff. “Smells incredible,” he said.
“It’s the honey,” Alice replied, reaching for the spoon. Her hands trembled slightly, and Joe steadied the bowl for her. His expression was gentle, patient. Krista felt her heart twist.
“Mind if I take a few photos for my piece on Maple Falls?” Joe asked.
“Wait, I need to practice,” Krista said, moving to pick up the camera and praying she didn’t accidentally change any settings in the process.
Alice smiled. “You guys go right ahead, dear. It’s nice to feel useful again.”
Krista swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You always are, Gram.”
“Not as much as I’d like to be,” she replied honestly.
Soon, they sat down to bowls of the fresh ice cream, with strawberries on top. For a few minutes, there was only the sound of spoons against glass, the radio, the ticking of the clock.
Then Alice looked at Krista over her spoon and her gaze sharpened.
“Do you still have that photograph?” she asked.
Krista’s spoon froze. “The one from the attic box?”
Alice nodded. “The one of my mother.”
Krista set her bowl down carefully. “Yeah. I have it. I showed it to Joe last night. He used to be an investigative journalist.”
“Is that so?” Alice’s fingers tightened around her spoon. “I keep thinking about it.” She swallowed. “About that month. I can’t help but wonder what happened. She never talked about it,” Alice said, and her voice went quieter. “Mom was private. Especially about that. And I always wondered why.”
Krista leaned forward. “Gram…”
Alice lifted a hand, a small stop. “Listen. It’s not…it’s not just curiosity.” She looked at Krista then, eyes clear in a way that they rarely were now. “My memory’s slipping. Some days I reach for things and there’s nothing there. Everything is just blank.”
Krista’s eyes stung, and she could feel Joe’s gaze on her, seeing everything. She bit the inside of her lip and straightened her shoulders.
“And then that photo shows up,” Alice continued, a faint tremor in her voice. “Like it surfaced at the exact moment it needed to. Like maybe…maybe this is my last chance to know what happened to my mother. What she didn’t tell me.”
Krista swallowed hard. “You want me to find out.”
“I do,” Alice said simply. Then, softer, like admitting it cost her something.
“I always felt like she was holding something back. Like there was a piece of her life she kept locked away.” Her mouth tightened.
“And I don’t want to lose the chance to understand her before… before I can’t remember to ask. ”
Krista reached for her grandmother’s hand, gripping it firmly, hyper aware that Joe was witnessing this deeply private moment. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll find out.”
Alice’s brow furrowed, as if looking through fog. “I found some old photos in a box in the attic. They’re still up there. Might be something there you’d want to see?”
“Now?” Krista asked softly.
Alice nodded. “Go up through the garage. There’s an old trunk up there. It has a blue ribbon tied around the handle.”
“Thanks, Gram. We’ll look.”
Alice smiled, her gaze growing distant again. “Some stories wait for the right hands to uncover them. I wonder…You two are learning from each other on this swap of yours. But perhaps your grandma Isabel has something to teach you, as well.”
The room settled into silence except for the hum of the old radio. Still holding Alice’s hand, Krista glanced at Joe, and he met her gaze with a slow, easy smile.
How strange that this man, a stranger until just yesterday, already seemed at home here, in her world, her grandmother’s kitchen.
Krista had been guarding herself, trying to hide her emotions, yet those eyes…
they seemed to see everything without judgment, only understanding and respect. A slow unclenching began in her chest.
It certainly felt like the start of a story—not just Isabel’s, tucked away in a dusty attic, but theirs too.
Krista didn’t know where it would lead. Would it be beautiful?
Messy? Thrilling? Probably all of the above.
She knew their time together would be short, and reason said to guard the softest parts of her heart.
Yet she wanted to savor every moment of the journey.
Right now, she sensed they were about to uncover more than old photographs, alone together in the attic. Joe’s gaze dipped to her mouth and back up again, deliberate and slow, sending a low pulse of heat through her. And the tightening of his jaw told her he felt it too.