Reunited at The Altar

‘So what do you do? How do you deal with it?’

‘Hit my kitchen,’ she said. ‘Baking always works for me. I think it’s the scent of vanilla that does it. Actually, I read an article saying it’s not just childhood associations with the scent that cheers people up—there’s something in the fragrance that’s calming and reduces stress, the same way as lavender works to help you sleep and lemon’s good for if you’re feeling sick or need to be mentally sharp. And that’s proper peer-reviewed science, not the woo-woo stuff,’ she added with a grin.

He smiled. ‘You sound a bit like me.’

‘It’s where I got it from,’ she said with a smile. ‘I kind of picked up from you what to look out for and what to ignore. But, seriously, do you want to skip the picnic and go back to my place for a baking session and see if it works for you?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you forgotten the time I made you pancakes and we couldn’t shut the smoke alarm off?’

She laughed. ‘No, but I’ll be supervising, and I promise it’s the easiest recipe ever. It’s also the best management tool ever.’

‘Management tool?’ He looked mystified.

She grinned. ‘I make them for my staff—they love me and will say yes to almost anything once they’ve scoffed the brownies.’

‘Got you.’ He nodded. ‘OK. I’ll give it a go. But it’d be a shame to waste the picnic.’

‘Let’s eat first, then.’

They headed back to the car, where he retrieved the cool bag containing their lunch, before finding an empty table at the picnic area.

Brad had chosen a wonderful selection of food: sourdough bread, Brie, tomatoes, ham carved off the bone, local crab and chilli pâté, local raspberries and smoothies from the local deli.

‘This is fantastic. Excellent choices,’ she said.

‘Glad you like it,’ he said.

On the way back to the car, they saw magpies. Three of them.

‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl,’ Brad said, recalling the old rhyme.

‘Maybe Ruby will have a honeymoon baby,’ Abigail said lightly.

She and Brad hadn’t discussed children when they’d got married; their tacit agreement was that they wouldn’t even discuss it until he’d finished his studies. By then, they’d been divorced, so it wasn’t an issue. Now, it might be. She’d barely dated since Brad, let alone met someone she’d think about settling down with and having a family with, and she was pretty sure it was the same for him.

But now they were on the verge of trying again...

They looked at each other, and she knew both of them were thinking the same thing, wondering if the other wanted children.

It was a conversation they might need to have—but not yet. Not until they’d decided what was happening between them.

‘Let’s go make some killer brownies,’ she said.

She could see in his face that he knew she’d chickened out of the conversation—but that he was relieved she hadn’t made an issue of it.

* * *

Back at her house, she took the ingredients from her cupboard.

‘Do you always have ingredients for brownies?’ Brad asked.

‘These ones, I do.’

And it was so simple: weighing the dry ingredients into a bowl, measuring the wet ones into a jug, and stirring the lot together with a whisk.

‘See? It’s not so very different from lab work,’ she said.

‘Oh, but it is,’ he said with a smile.

But as the scent of the brownies spilled from the oven, she could see his mood change. He relaxed enough to make them both a mug of coffee—and funny how nice it felt to have him pottering around her tiny kitchen.

He kissed her when she’d taken the brownies out of the oven. ‘Thank you. You’re right. The scent of vanilla and chocolate has made me feel better.’

‘Of course I’m right. I have two X chromosomes.’ She gave him a cheeky grin.

He didn’t correct her; he just smiled and kissed her again.

‘Now go and take these to your mum, then take her out to dinner. You can return the pan later,’ she said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I have stuff to do,’ she said, ‘and I think you need some time with your family right now.’