I didn’t care for the baker. That’s why I hid in the alley, hoping for a glimpse of his mother. She was kind enough to trade carrots for bread while the baker didn’t care how hungry a person was unless they had coin. My father, sisters, and I often went without bread because of it.
As I crouched, waiting for the baker’s mother, the smith’s wife, Sara, timidly knocked at the baker’s door. I saw him smile before moving to answer the door.
“Come in, dear lady,” he said, backing up to let Sara enter.
I found it odd that she used the side door. The shop, filled with the goods for sale, ran along the front of the building and had its own entry.
“How’s business at the smithy?” he asked in a cordial tone.
“You know it’s no better or Patrick wouldn’t have sent me,” Sara said.
I wondered why Sara’s husband had sent her to the baker if their business was slow.
“That’s too bad,” he said, clearing his dough from the table. “The price has gone up.”
“What?” Sara said in a shocked gasp.
“Don’t fret. You’ll be able to pay, I’m sure. I’ve looked my fill, you see.”
With the table cleared, he moved to Sara and helped her remove her jacket. Though an older woman, she still held her beauty. I’d heard many men in town comment on her pretty features and gentle bearing.
“A taste. That’s all I ask. If you don’t want to mention the increase to Patrick, I’ll not mention it, either, though I don’t think he’d mind.”
Sara chewed on her lip and struggled with threatening tears. She watched the baker as he laid a cloth on the flour-dusted table. Then he gave a single, curt nod, backed her up to the table, and helped her sit upon it.
I wondered what they were about. My curiosity held me in place as I continued to peer through a small crack in the wall, so that I might find out.
“As I promised Patrick in the beginning, I’ll not lay a hand on you.” The baker walked to the door that separated the bakery from the shop and locked it. Then he locked the side door.
“Flip back your skirts.”
Sara lay back on the table and did as she was told. I was shocked to see bare legs and no underthings, but I began to understand the baker’s price. At sixteen, though still innocent, I was far from naive. I’d spied my sister, Bryn, kissing Tennen on occasion. A loose blouse and a hand on her breast usually accompanied the kiss.
“Draw your heels up to the table, and drop your knees to the side so I can see you better,” the baker said in a husky voice. I could see a bulge under his apron as he watched Sara do what she’d been told.
He dropped to his knees, kneeling between her splayed legs. My view became slightly obstructed by her foot, but I saw and heard enough to know he licked her. Repeatedly. Sara started making little gasping noises, and I wondered if it hurt.
True to his word, the baker didn’t lay a hand on her, but he did on himself. He reached under his apron and began tugging on himself. His grunts mingled with her gasps. The sounds they made remained muffled until the end when they both increased in volume for just a moment. Then, silence fell. The baker gave Sara one final slurp and rose to wash his hands.
My cheeks flamed from what I’d just witnessed, and I felt sick.
Sara sat up, equally flushed. She refused to look at the baker as she straightened her skirts and stood on shaky legs. The baker wrapped a large loaf of bread, fresh out of the oven, and handed it to her.
I didn’t want to stay and hear anymore. Silently, I rose and crept from my hiding spot, willing to wait for another day to catch the baker’s mother. My list of reasons to avoid the baker had just grown.
That was when I turned the corner and ran into Tennen and Splane. They had both been leaning against the neighboring building, waiting for their mother. Neither had noticed me at first, until Tennen ran his hand through his dark hair. Splane’s golden head was turned to study his brother, until Tennen froze.
The pair had taken one look at my face, somehow sensed I had seen their mother with the baker, and had started toward me. Forgetting about the carrots in the pouch slung across my shoulders, I’d run, and they’d given chase.
A chase that could have ended much worse, I thought.
Sighing, I checked that the carrots were undamaged from my fall, grabbed one out, and started munching on it as I walked. There’d be no going back to the baker’s today. I hoped Bryn would be able to make something of the carrots.
Birds chattered around me, and the mist dissipated the closer I came to home. The trees thinned, and I spotted the curling wisps of smoke from Konrall’s chimneys ahead. At our cottage on the outskirts of the village, I wiped my feet on the rug before letting myself inside.