Page 51 of The Fixer and the Fugitive

“I don’t know, I thought we were using garden euphemisms. What are you talking about?”

She eased back so she could see his face. “Esther said the fruit trees are alive. If I can figure out how to take care of them, I think I could grow apples again. This could be an actual working orchard.”

His jaw dropped. “That’s spectacular. Isn’t it? You don’t look happy. I thought you’d be happy.”

“I’m too overwhelmed and terrified to be happy,” she explained.

“It’s going to be okay,” he declared.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because it’s my super power, starting over. Starting over doesn’t get much bigger than spring renewal and growing new fruit from once dead trees. Also it turns out I’m deep now, since arriving in Montana. Got to start writing this stuff down for my memoirs. How do you spell unfathomable greatness?”

“E-g-o,” she said.

“You can’t trick me. That’s eggo,” he said and Celeste collapsed against his chest in a fit of giggles. On the day she found out both her parents were dead, it wasn’t how she expected to end the evening. But as Sam waited for her to turn out the lights, walked her to her door, and kissed her goodnight, she didn’t think about her parents or her journal or anything but the warm feeling of contentment spreading through her chest.

And for the first time in forever she fell asleep without journaling, snuggling beneath the covers warm and happy, a slight smile on her face.

Chapter 25

In the morning Esther taught Celeste to make bread while the men went to the barn to “fix the machines and do man things.”

“This seems like a terrible way to spend the first morning of your honeymoon,” Celeste noted as Esther bustled around the kitchen, setting out bowls and ingredients. It didn’t escape her notice that she’d been there less than twenty-four hours and it already felt more hers than Celeste’s.

“Of course it’s not. Leo and I spend all our time together. It would feel silly to designate a day where we can’t be with other people, just because we’re married now.” She stopped short and blinked a few times, a bread pan Celeste didn’t know she possessed held aloft. “Oh, my goodness, we’re married now.”

Celeste laughed and Esther snapped to attention, shaking herself out of her trance. “That might take a while to get used to. Anyway, the most important part of bread, and really the only thing you can mess up, is the yeast. It needs to be fresh and still alive in order for the bread to rise. And you don’t want to kill it with water that’s too hot.” She spoke while running the tap with her finger under it until she was satisfied it was thecorrect temperature. She filled a measuring cup and held it out to Celeste. “Stick your finger in.”

Celeste dutifully complied.

“Notice that it’s warm, but not too warm. If you can’t hold your finger in it for a count of three, it’s too hot.”

“What if it’s too cold?” Celeste asked.

“Better too cold than too hot. From here on out, I’m going to tell you what to do and you’ll do it.”

“Okay,” Celeste said, tone uncertain. She needn’t have worried, though. Esther was a patient teacher who broke everything into simple steps and explained them along the way. In no time she was kneading her newly formed lump of bread dough, her first ever, and it was with a little bit of sadness that she tucked it into a bowl and put a cover on. “I’m going to miss it,” she admitted.

“You’ll see it again soon,” Esther assured her.

They sat at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee and some of the bread Esther had brought between them.

“You’re my first female friend,” Celeste admitted.

“I don’t have many, either,” Esther said.

“Why? You’re perfect.”

“I’m autistic.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “I lack a filter, am unable to read social cues or understand sarcasm. Complex social hierarchies are beyond me. I never fit when they’re established, and they’re always established. People find my plain spoken nature off putting and odd.”

“I don’t. I love it,” Celeste blurted.

“You sound like Leo,” Esther said. She took a sip of coffee and set her mug down. “He told me about you, before we arrived. He said he asked you out a bunch of times.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Leo had a past before we met. It doesn’t affect the now or our future,” Esther said.

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