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“Thank you, Master Orwan. You are a life giver, no doubt.” I take a quick drink of the tepid water, my dry lips so appreciative that I take a second mouthful and then wipe my mouth with my sleeve.
He grins before wiping his own hands on his wide apron and goes back behind the bread table. “Miserable day, aye?”
“Not really. Only a usual day, honestly. But I will admit that I’m keenly ready for an olive loaf and my feet resting under our table.”
“Then I will not keep you waiting,” he replies. “I saved you an olive loaf in the back. Let me fetch it.”
“You are too good to me, sir.”
I watch as Master Orwan walks to the stock room, his round tummy parting the curtains before his hands reach the cloth. He is a robust fellow, jolly and pink in the cheeks, a sheen of sweat gracing his forehead, no matter the temperature. I smile when I think of Jordy, how he looks nothing like his father. Maybe he takes after his mother’s clan. I glance around for Jordy.Where in the world can hebe?
“Aye, Milla. Good evening, sweet child. How’s your grandmother faring?” Mistress Orwan pulls me into a tight hug when she comes in from the back room. “I’ve been so worried about her.”
“Gram’s cough seems worse to me,” I say, “although she swears she’s getting better by the day. But you know her, as stubborn as a mule and as strong as an ox. She’ll outlive us all.”
“Aye, to be certain,” Mistress Orwan replies. “Tell her she’s in my prayers. Is Master Orwan getting the olive loaf he put back for you?”
“He is.”
“Good, good. And take this too. It will complement the bread quite nicely.” She winks and hands me a jar of butter. “Churned it myself this morning,” she adds. She pushes aside a lock of golden chestnut hair, the tiny lines around her eyes crinkling when she smiles. It’s obvious she was quite the beauty in her youth.
Jordy definitely takes after hismother.
“Thank you, Mistress Orwan. You do too much for me and Gram. Truly.”
“Nonsense,” she says, waving a hand in the air. “Your Gram does more for the people in this village than any individual I can recall. She’s our healer, and some of us owe her our lives. I just wish I could do more.”
My throat’s tight from her sweet words so I nod at first, then manage to croak out, “Thank you for the butter, mistress. Your kindness is greatly appreciated.”
“Here’s the olive loaf,” Master Orwan announces as he bolts back into the room. He wraps it in an extra layer of parchment and hands it to me. “That’ll be one bit, my lady.”
I retrieve the coin and place it in his chubby palm. “Thank you, good sir. I’ll see you on the morrow.”
I’m almost to the door when Jordy steps in from the street, broom in hand. My heart thuds and my cheeks flame. I wonder if he has this same effect on every maiden he encounters.
“Where have you been, lad?” his father calls out to him. “This floor isn’t going to sweep itself, you know.”
Mistress Orwan tugs Master Orwan’s ear all the way into the stock room, whispering something the entire length of the bakery.
“Sorry about that,” Jordy says when his parents are no longer in sight. “My father has no tact.”
I hide my smile with the back of my hand. “Well, your father is very kind to me. I hold a high opinion of him.”
Jordy gives me a crooked smile that makes my knees go to mush. “Good to know.”
We’re quiet for a moment and Jordy begins to sweep up as his father requested. I steal glances as he works, admiring the line of muscles tugging at his white, linen shirt. Jordy is tall and thick-chested, and his skin is sun-kissed. His hair is resting against his chest, the color of molasses dipped in sunshine. His eyes are dark blue with brown streaks that remind me of the sweet called chocolate that he once let me try when his father bartered for it in the neighboring village.
I clear my throat when he catches me staring. “I suppose I should take my leave, Jordy. I’m sure my gram is hungry at this late hour. Very nice to see you today. Thank your mother again for the butter. It’s a welcomed treat.”
Jordy glances over his shoulder toward the stock room, then sets the broom aside. He clutches my arm at the elbow. “Well, if the butter excites you, wait ‘til you see what I have outside. Come with me.”
It’s hard to focus on anything but his hand on my arm. I wish the air wasn’t so chilled, that my arm wasn’t completely covered with thick material and layers. If it were spring, I might actually feel his touch instead of simply imagining it. But I will take what I’m afforded.
“Look, Milla,” he says when we’re outside, “I saved this for you. It was the extra that Father wanted me to barter with at market earlier today, but I sold some rye bread and honey instead. I hope you’re pleased. You should have enough for supper and to break your fast come daylight. I would have cast lots to get it for you or wrestled that bear in the traveling show. Whatever it took.”
Jordy reaches into a barrel and pulls out a slab of blue Stilton cheese. My arms are around his neck before I can contain myself.
“Oh, Jordy, I can’t believe we’ll have cheese. And it’s my favorite—”
