Look Before You Bake (10 page)

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice grave. "I'm sorry I lied to you. But I wanted to give you a chance to prove yourself. To convince me to help you. In the heat of the moment, it was the only way I could think of."

"And the rest? Selune? Your solitude? Everything you told me? Was that a lie too?"

He shakes his head. "No. All of that was true. I just didn't tell you how during my travels after leaving the clan I discovered the glade. Or, more accurately, was led to it. How I was asked to become its guardian, and how I accepted. It's the true reason I've been alone these many years."

"Oh." I turn this over in my mind. I don't know what to say. "Wait. So does this mean you've decided to share the honey with me?"

Soren stares deep into my eyes, and then slowly nods.

I feel a spike of unexpected joy. That means I'll be able to get the investment from Whitman. I'll be able to pay off Harold. I'll be able to save my father. My joy lasts only a moment. Those thoughts – of Harold and Gerry and Whitman – they're of a more complicated, darker world. A world of debt and payment. Completely different from the simplicity and purity of this wilderness, of Soren's company. It's a world I suddenly don't want to return to. But I have no choice. I can't abandon my father. I have to return. This sojourn with Soren is temporary. A moment of bliss that I can't capture. This can't be my life.

I return to the blanket. Soren is watching me carefully. He's sharp. He can tell there are complex thoughts running through my mind. I sit next to him, and he wraps an arm around my shoulders. He's so comforting. So strong. Like a force of nature.

"Thank you, Soren." My voice is soft. "Thank you for trusting me."

"You don't have to thank me." His voice is a rich rumble. "I trust you because of who you are."

"But why? Why do you trust me? Is it just because of our chemistry?" Part of me doesn't want to know. Another part just has to.

He pulls me in closer. "That's part of it, a sign that my bear approves. But it's more." We both stare into the fire. "I trust you because of your honesty. Your values. Who you are."

"Who I am?" I look up at his face, searching.

He nods. "You're... you're amazing, Anita. You're amazing, and you don't even realize it. You don't know how beautiful you are. How sexy. How special your generosity is, your thoughtfulness."

My face burns hot and I quickly look at the fire. I want to deny it, to laugh it off, but after our lovemaking, doing so seems small. If that's how he feels, then – well – I'll respect his opinion. Even if I'm not quite convinced of it myself.

"And your food." He groans and covers his eyes with his palm. "Your food. Good lord, your cooking."

I laugh, surprised. "What? What about my food?"

He grins. "Anybody who can cook that way has to be divine. I can taste your love in your food. How much you care. It's in the richness, the way everything is perfectly prepared. How you packed for this trip. That alone could have conquered me. Those sticky buns? Your sandwiches? Your pasta? Woman. You defeated my resolve with that crazy sugar glazing."

I giggle and grin up at him. "So you didn't mind
too
much?"

He roars and swings me into his lap, holding me close, effortlessly so in his powerful arms. His face is over mine, primal and strong in the firelight, all raised planes and dark shadows. "My bear is telling me to do all sorts of dirty things to you."

I suddenly can't breathe. Is this really happening to me? "Then listen to him," I hear myself say.

Soren smiles, an expression that sets a storm loose in my blood, that makes me feel more alive and desirable than I have ever felt before in my life. "As you wish, my Anita." He leans in close to kiss me again, hands already moving over my body. "As you wish."

Chapter 10

We wake up late and make delicious love all over again before slowly breaking camp and hitting the trail. Everything seems magical. My hand in Soren's. The fiery color of the autumn foliage. The cries of geese as they arrow overhead, heading south for the winter. Small, brilliantly colored mushrooms hidden beside fallen, moss-covered logs. Once Soren pulls me to a stop and points up the slope to the left, and I see five deer standing frozen, heads raised, watching us with their wide black eyes. I blink, and they turn as one and disappear into the woods.

Somehow I don't mind that the trail grows steeper. Maybe it's because Soren keeps pulling me close for a kiss, or the way his hand envelops mine, giving me just the right amount of help when we have to scrabble over rocks or navigate a sharp series of switchbacks higher into the mountains. The air is delicious, with a bit of bite in it, the sunlight mellow, and my legs are finally adjusting to the exercise.

I wish this day would last forever.

Just as the sun is starting to descend toward the peaks, Soren slows, sniffing at the air, and then turns to me with a smile. "We're almost home."

"Home?" For a moment it sounds like he means
our
home, as if we live together, are a couple, and my heart thrills. Then my smile becomes a little brittle as I realize that's not possible. This is his home. I have obligations back in Honeycomb Falls. I can't stay, much as my heart might wish to.

"Yes. Come." Something about his manner urges me to tread carefully, and we round the last bend in the trail and step out into a magical glade. My breath catches in my throat. It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like it. A small goblet valley, tiny and precious like a gem. A series of streams waterfall down over little ledges, mixing into pools and then splitting off, a web of diamond water cascading softly over mossy banks that are glowing with vividly colored flowers.

Flowers? I blink. That's impossible. It's autumn.

But this little goblet valley doesn't seem to care. Large trees raise their branches high, so that there's the hushed and sacred feeling of a cathedral here, the light pouring through their fiery leaves as if it's passing through stained glass windows. I see gorgeous cardinals flitting from here to there like fleeting motes of fire, their plumage almost scandalous, and the air tastes sweet and fresh, cool and pure.

"Oh, Soren," I whisper.

He squeezes my hand, pleased, and leads me forward. The ground is a mixture of delicate grass and spongy moss, and he picks a path over the net of streams, occasionally even lifting me effortlessly by the waist to set me on the far side of a broader pool. Everywhere I look I see beauty, little details that beg to be examined slowly, at leisure. Small faces seem to peer at me from the whorls of bark in the trees, and I swear I see little forms darting out of view just as I turn to peer at them.

The first bee drones by, and I squeeze Soren's hand extra tight. It's like no bee I've ever seen. It's the size of a ping pong ball, with large, liquid black eyes, tiny little legs beneath it, and what I can swear is a little mouth curled into a sleepy smile.

"Is that...?"

He nods, amused at my reaction. "One of her servants."

"Her?"

"Come." He leads me deeper into the little goblet valley, which I realize is truly tiny. It can't be larger than a city block. There's an ancient oak at the very back, as wide as it is tall, broad as a house and bare of leaves. A stream of the large bees floats in and out of a huge crack in its trunk, and we stop at a respectful distance. "There," he says, "is where she lives, and where the honey comes from."

"She? The queen bee?"

"No, but good guess. Maybe she'll come. Iminyë?"

I wait, eyes wide. Nothing. The bees, however, stop issuing forth from the crack. Silence. I glance up at Soren, who nods reassuringly to me. I gulp. What am I about to meet?

There's a faint buzz, and then a plump little figure flies up out of the crack. No larger than my hand, she glows with a faint golden radiance, and the air immediately fills with the rich smell of honey. Her skin is dusted copper, and her eyes are at once alien and beautiful. She floats up, leaving a shimmering trail of golden light behind her, and then stops before us, hovering in mid-air.

She's beautiful. And curvy, just like me. Whoever this Iminyë is, she clearly likes her honey and other tasty treats. And, I realize, she's inspecting me just as closely as I am her.

"Soren," she says, her voice rich and elegant like that of a cat that's had its fill of cream. "Who have you brought to visit?"

"Iminyë," he says with a short bow. "This is Anita Hall, of Honeycomb Falls."

In a moment of panic I sketch off a curtsy, which seems to please Iminyë, as she smiles and claps her little hands. "Hello," I say. "It's an honor to meet you."

"Hmm," she says, and then darts forward, circling around my head. I turn, trying to keep her in sight, but she's nimble and quick, and quickly moves to my pack that's hanging from Soren's shoulder. "In here. I sense something delicious. Wonderful. Magical. What is it?"

Soren looks at me in confusion. My mind races. What is she talking about? I shrug to Soren, who lowers the pack to the ground and opens the flap.

Iminyë points imperiously. "Inside. Hurry!"

Soren looks like he doesn't know whether to laugh or look nervous, so he quickly starts pulling out my belongings. Each time Iminyë shakes her head, until finally he reaches the bottom of the pack and draws forth my rhubarb and strawberry tart in its beige Tupperware container.

"Yes!" Iminyë claps her hands. "This! Open!"

I nod to Soren, who pries open the lid and sets the Tupperware down on a rock. Iminyë darts down and lands on the rock, leaning over the edge of the Tupperware to gaze at the crimson surface of the tart. "Ooh," she whispers, then looks up at me. "Did you make this?"

"Yes." My heart is racing. "It's an old recipe of my grandmother's."

Iminyë goes to sink both hands into the tart and then pauses and looks up guiltily at me. "May I?"

I smile. "Of course!"

The honey fairy needs no more urging. She scoops up maybe a tablespoon's worth, which looks massive in her hands. She happily licks the at the red filling, then groans. "Ooh. Delicious!"

Soren grins and sits on a rock close by, and I do the same. "You like it?"

Iminyë doesn't respond. Instead, she shoves an improbably large amount into her mouth, her cheeks bulging out like a squirrel's, and looks up at me, wide-eyed, lips smeared with red liquid, and nods emphatically.

"Here," I say, grabbing a cake knife from my pack and handing it to Soren. "Try some. I was planning to serve this as a celebration if all went well."

"Which," he says, voice a low rumble, "it looks to be doing." He cuts me a slice, then hesitates and cuts a large one for himself, and for a minute there's no sound but that of our chewing and Soren moaning as he frowns in surprise and delight, interspersed with high-pitched giggles from Iminyë, who can't seem to stop eating. I grin. I feel a pure and simple happiness. Joy. I'm sitting in a magical valley with a hunky werebear and the cutest honey fairy, and we're all enjoying my grandmother's tart. No matter what comes down the road, this is a moment I know I'll remember for the rest of my life.

Finally the tart is gone, and Iminyë looks like she's nearly doubled in width, which is surprising because as far as I can tell she's eaten nearly four times her size. She licks each finger carefully, then claps her hands. "Refreshments!"

I blink, but before I can ask a question, bees emerge from the hive, five or six to a fluted glass of what looks like champagne. I take mine, the large bees smiling at me as they bob and drift away. This is surreal. Amazing. Wonderful.

Iminyë lifts her glass, a tiny version of my own. "My own special brew. Try it. You will like it."

It's practically an order, so I taste it and immediately my eyes light up. It's delicious. A sweet cidery drink, light and tart, like a honey apple. It clears away the rich taste in my mouth from the several slices of tart, and fills me with an effervescent energy. "Oh." I have to fight to not drink the whole thing at once. "Wow. What is this?"

"I call it Honey Sunlight," says Iminyë smugly. "It's amazing."

"It really is." I stare at Soren, who clearly has tasted it before, because he's sipping it with annoying poise. "Wow. I love it."

"I knew you would." Iminyë flutters up into the air and drops her glass, which is caught by two bees before it can hit the rocks and borne away. "Why are you here?"

Just like that I'm on the spot, and just like that I'm suddenly tense and alert. I set my glass down carefully. "I asked Soren to bring me so that I could ask a favor. I'm going to open a bakery in Honeycomb Falls, and I would love to use your honey as an ingredient in my most special creations." I feel like I should say more, but at heart, that's all there is to say. "Please? I would be so honored to cook with your honey."

"Hmm," says Iminyë, floating lazily in the air. Her eyes half close as she considers me. The moment stretches out torturously. I realize I'm holding my breath, my tummy tight, my lower lip between my teeth. "OK," Iminyë says, and smiles.

I blink. "OK?" For a moment I don't even understand what that means, and then happiness bursts through me like the light of a rising sun.

"OK!" Iminyë says again with a broad smile, and floats down to the empty tart tin. She gazes sadly at the smears of red and the remaining crumbles, and then looks up at me. "This was good. It carried your heart and love. I tasted it when I ate. I trust you. You can have my honey. But I will want more tarts."

"Of course! I'll send you tarts every day!" I leap to my feet and clap. "Thank you, Iminyë. Thank you thank you thank you!"

She smiles at me like a satisfied three-year-old, her smile so wide her cheeks squeeze her eyes shut, and then takes to the air again. "Time to sleep. Goodbye, Anita Hall." And with that, she disappears back into the crack in the oak.

I turn to Soren, speechless, and then throw myself into his arms with a squeal of happiness. "She said yes! She said yes!"

He laughs and spins me through the air before setting me down and cupping my face in his palms. I cover his hands with my own and smile up into his gorgeous face. "Of course she did," he says. "I never doubted she would."