The air was clean and crisp, and the small town was quiet, nestl

em back to life. The therapist, a kind woman named Sarah, was encouraging, but the progress was agonizingly slow. I could no

ho in my mind. "The magic is in the

ache and the phantom memory of

a simple kitchen, but I couldn't bring myself to use it for anything more than ma

d of the mixer door slamming shut ringing in my ears, Caleb's cold ey

"Baking Instructor Needed for Community Center." It was for basic classes. Cookies, simp

r's director, a warm, grandmotherly woman n

nage?" she

the fine work anymore, but I know t

hire

howed them how to measure flour, how to cream butter and sugar, how to tell when bread was perfectl

when she pulled her first perfect loaf of bread from the oven, watching a young coup

was still my father's daughter. The love for the craft, the heart of it, was still there, even if my h