Marja lifted a few of the buns to check for readiness. “Give these a minute to cool and we can pack Fofen’s order.”
Without being told, Rena went to the rear of the kitchen to the pantry and retrieved the handmade rustic reed baskets and long lengths of coarse linen they had always used to pack the bread. Ten years ago, Rena, as a little slip of a girl, would help Topa and Marja deliver these baskets to market or to the Cardassian barracks. As she and Marja plucked the rolls off the trays, Rena wondered if Marja had similar memories. Once the baskets were filled, they loaded them onto a two-wheeled pull-cart that Rena would tow, a splintery wood handle gripped in each hand, across the hill to the boardinghouse.
As Rena wheeled the cart down the passageway to the courtyard, she passed by Topa’s old bedroom, finding his door propped open. She saw through her grandfather’s window that the sun was now high enough in the sky to shine down through the mist and make it the same colorless color and density as the spray of flour that pops out the top when the sack is first cut open. He would love a day like today.
Once outside, Rena squatted down by the cart wheels to make sure the axle had been repaired since the last time she’d used it.
“Excuse me?”
Startled, she jumped up. “Yes? What? Sorry…what?”
A tall figure stood in front of her, silhouetted against the mist, its hand extended to touch her shoulder, but not touching her. “I’m sorry,” the figure said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Fofen sent me down to see if the bread was done—”
At the same time, both of them realized the other’s identity and startled, taking long steps in opposite directions.
“Jacob,” Rena managed to squeak out. To see him now, emerging from the mist, an otherworldly apparition…Rena struggled to shake off the shock.
“Uh. Yeah. Rena,” he sputtered. “I should have thought to ask if this was your family—I mean I had no idea that this bakery was yours—I, you know, ummm…”
The slap-slap-slap of leather soles on the wet rock pavement sounded; Rena and Jacob’s heads pivoted toward the lanky figure emerging out of the fog.
“Hey Jacob! Genn just heard from Marja. The bread is on its way….” Fofen Parsh’s voice trailed off as he saw the pair. He looked from Jacob to Rena, then back again. Smiling shyly at her, Parsh dropped his eyes and said, “Rena—nice to see you again. Sorry I missed Topa’s funeral. He was a great old guy. If you ever want to talk, I’m always—”
“Thanks, Parsh,” Rena said, cutting him off. Avoiding further eye contact with Jacob, she stepped out from between the handles and offered the cart to the two men. “One of you want to take this up? I’m sure my aunt could use my help, since the customers will be arriving soon.” She crossed her arms over her chest, thrusting out her chin.
“You’d better believe Marja can use your help,” Marja boomed from behind.
Rena jumped visibly.
“Genn’s repair people aren’t available until after midmeal. In addition to our usual orders and what we need for drop-ins, Genn needs bread for meat and cheese bundles.” Marja stood beside Rena, scrutinizing both of the young men from their boots to their hair. “You’re looking well, Parsh. Being back in Mylea doesn’t agree with Rena, but it agrees with you.”
Rena inhaled sharply, flushing with embarrassed fury.
Squinting, Marja jabbed toward Jacob. “And this other fellow?”
Parsh, who had always been a little afraid of Marja, stammered an introduction.
Marja pursed her lips, studying Jacob for a long moment before turning to him with a sniff. “You’ll be coming back for the next order, Jacob?”
Jacob stood up straighter. “I expect so, ma’am.”
“Bring the cart back with you. It’s not like I can transport your food up the street.”
Parsh assumed Rena’s former position between the cart handles. “Why don’t you just stay here a little longer, Jacob, and wait for the next batch? I can handle this myself.” Lacing his fingers together, he stretched in an obvious attempt to show his muscles.
Rena rewarded Parsh with a tight-lipped smile.
Rena and Marja watched the young man dissolve into a curtain of fog before Marja pulled Rena toward the bakery. “Nice enough boy,” Marja said. “If Kail weren’t available, I’d tell you to accept Parsh.”
Rena refused to rise to Marja’s bait in front of Jacob. No need to give her aunt more ideas.
Marja pressed in the alphanumeric combination that unlocked the bakery’s business door, kicked the doorjamb into place, and raised a hinged section of counter, allowing her to step into the staging area. To Rena, she handed over trays of pale green nut puddings in fluted pastries, cookies erupting with candied fruit, and whole cakes frosted in a multitude of colors, the bakery’s signature, a series of white, interconnected ovals, etched into the surface. Jacob asked Marja what he could do to help. She tossed an apron over the counter, shoved a bucket with cleaning solution at him, and told him to start wiping fingerprints off the windows and doors. The trio worked in silence until another buzzer from the kitchen announced that the next batch was baked. Marja excused herself, leaving Jacob and Rena alone in the storefont.
“Why hello, Jacob Sisko,”Rena said under her breath. “Makes sense that the son of the Emissary is moonlighting as a steward to ladies in distress.”
“Talked to Kail lately?” Jacob retorted.
“Not today. But if you stay around a little longer, I’ll introduce you when he stops by for his morning pastry.” Rena unfastened the display cases mounted in the street-facing windows and started arranging the showy dessert pastries.
In his efforts to reach a particularly smudged windowpane, Jacob stood behind Rena and reached over her shoulders to spray the cleaner. Crouched down, Rena stepped back to survey her work and bumped into Jacob’s chest. The pastry tray she’d been holding tipped, sending a dozen mousse-filled puffs skidding down the polished surface; her heart plunged to her knees. She shifted the tray’s angle, preventing the pastries from splattering on the floor. She steadied her nerves before saying, “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”
“I’m just a hungry man who came searching for his morning meal,” Jacob said, retiring the cleaning bottle to the bucket.
Marja appeared carrying a smaller bread basket on each of her hips. “You two. Take this to Fofen.”
A protest would reveal more about her connection to Jacob than she wanted her aunt to know, so she accepted Marja’s basket without complaint and started out the door to Fofen’s, Jacob following by her side.
In spite of the strain between them, Rena was surprised how easily she slipped into the cadence of Jacob’s walk, just as she had when they hiked for the River Road. She stole a glance at him and wished there were a way they could start again. Starting over long before yesterday would work, too, back when she left secondary school and marrying Kail had seemed to fit perfectly into her life. But she had to remind herself of her commitment to Topa. Live for Bajor. Live for Mylea. Don’t let our ways pass into history. Give them to my grandchildren, he’d said.
Only a nudge from Topa’s paghcould have served as a greater reminder of her obligations than hearing Kail’s voice through the fog. Rena gathered that he was discussing solstice at Yyn with Parsh.
As they came into sight, Kail smiled broadly. “My woman has brought me food. Excellent.” He reached into the basket and took a roll. Rena slapped his hand; in response, Kail placed a peck on her cheek. She wished he’d make less of a show of their relationship. Poor Parsh looked on wistfully; he’d been soft on Rena since they were schoolchildren, and Kail’s displays merely reinforced what Parsh would never have with Rena. When they were younger, Rena had found Kail’s possessiveness endearing. Now it seemed a little cruel. Or maybe she was being overly critical because of her frustration. After Kenda, I should have stayed gone.