Page 57 of Freedom's Kiss
Chapter 24
Present Day, Florida
Olivia punched the mound of dough in front of her, folded it over on itself, and kneaded her knuckles into its center. Baking wasn’t her go-to in the kitchen, but when her mind spun like a hamster in a wheel, it felt good to work everything out through her hands. That energetic, mental rodent had kept her up most of the night and woken her all too early. For the life of her, she couldn’t find a shut-off button, so she’d been going back and forth obsessing over her decision to either search for her biological parents or not, and reminding herself that Adam’s actions toward her were nothing special, that when he pulled her into hugs, squeezed her hand, or let his fingertips graze her arm, that was just him being a friend and offering support.
Placing the dough into a bowl, she chose a clean dish towel from the drawer and draped it over the top. She’d give the yeast about an hour to work and double the dough in size. Meanwhile, she’d work on the filling.
Problem was, even with her mental reminders, her body responded to the memory of Adam’s touch. And blast it all if she didn’t want to explore what his attention would feel like if it was directed to her on more than friendly terms. But then that would ruin everything. She’d only just found a way to work in a kitchen, have people other than family and friends taste her food. If she acted on her growing feelings, she could jeopardize this opportunity, and who knew when she’d find another one?
The timer buzzed, and she moved to the oven, opening the door. Heat greeted her face a moment before the smell of cheese, eggs, asparagus, and mushrooms filled her nostrils. With an oven-mittened hand, she pulled out the tray of mini quiches, the pastry golden brown along the edge, appetizing steam rising. She placed the quiches next to the other tray—this one filled with strawberry tarts—and removed the mitt from her hand so she could prepare tomatoes to roast.
“Something smells delicious.” Her mother walked into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively. She scanned the countertops filled with Olivia’s morning endeavors and regarded her daughter with sympathy. “A lot on your mind, huh?”
Olivia bit back a retort, an unwanted feeling rising inside her. She’d always been close to her parents, had a good relationship with them, but ever since she’d learned they’d kept the adoption from her, her first reaction to them had been on the snide side. Her head understood their reasons. Her heart still stung at the betrayal. “You could say that.” She turned to slide the baking sheet of tomatoes to roast into the oven. When she straightened, her mom stood at her back, sliding her arms around Olivia’s waist and squeezing.
“How can I help? Please. I want to help.” Eileen let her hands fall and took a step back. She cleared her throat. “Seeing all this, I’m surprised you missed your dad this morning. First day at the new job. He left around three in the morning.”
Olivia concentrated on the fresh basil leaves positioned on her cutting board.
“I’m not sure he got much sleep either. Too busy clicking away on the computer. He printed some stuff off for you.”
She ceased her chopping and glanced up. “What stuff?”
Eileen retrieved a small stack of papers from the dining room table, turning it and sliding it along the granite countertop, the movement pooling loose flour that Olivia had scattered on the surface and never cleaned up.
Wiping her hands on her apron, she flipped through the stapled pages, reading only the headlines in big, bold black ink.Seminole Tribe of Florida—the Official Home of the Florida Seminole Indians. Who Is a Seminole and Who Gets to Decide? Seminole Indian History. Seminole Indian Facts. The last dozen or so pages came fromWikipedia.
“Did you know that the Seminoles call themselves ‘The Unconquered People’? The government spent around forty million dollars on war efforts, and still a band of about three hundred eluded the army and refused to relocate to Oklahoma.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” Olivia said softly. She knew so little of her new heritage.
“It doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been a fighter too.”
Olivia met her mother’s eyes and swallowed. “I don’t feel like a fighter. I feel so mixed up, honestly. I don’t want to be angry with you and Dad, but I am, and I’m sorry for that. But even with those feelings, I don’t want to hurt either of you.”
“I know, baby.”
“What should I do?”
“I can’t answer that. Either way though, the things that really matter won’t change. I will always be your mom and love you not matter what, and your dad will always be your dad. If you feel like your story isn’t complete without knowing and decide to seek the woman who gave you life, we will support that decision, and more importantly, support you.” She rounded the island and set her hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “Just, please don’t shut us out. I get that you’re mad. Your dad and I can take it. Yell at us if you have to. Just don’t shut us out. Okay?”
Olivia sniffed and nodded.
The timer beeped again, and Eileen lifted her hands after a final squeeze. “I’ll get out of your way, but I hope you have a destination for all this food besides my waistline and thighs.” She winked and walked away, slipping her keys from off the hook by the door before stepping out.
Olivia chuckled, mixing the basil, garlic, cheese, and roasted tomatoes together. She removed the dish towel from over her bowl of dough and smiled at the dome. Pulling it out, she gently deflated it, using a rolling pin to stretch out a rectangle. She pressed the filling along the top and then, starting at one side, rolled the dough into a log, pinching the edges to seal them. Seal side down, she cut longwise down the center with a pair of kitchen shears, then, cut side up, formed an S, tucking both ends under the center to make a figure eight. She covered the whole thing to let rise a final time before popping it into the oven to bake.
Surveying the kitchen, she winced.Whatwasshe going to do with all this food?
* * *
Olivia sat in her car, surprised to see Adam’s Jetta parked behind Southern Charm. Usually she’d be at Seasideat this hour, but she had a rare day off. Still, she would’ve thought he’d either be sleeping in or at the market purchasing ingredients for later. Had he decided to open for breakfast as well? He’d work himself to an early grave at that pace.
Stepping out into the morning sunshine, she rounded the car and opened the trunk where the box filled with containers of quiche, tarts,pane biancobread, and blueberry scones waited for her. The corners of the cardboard bit into the underside of her arm as she hefted the box out of the car, shut the trunk, and walked to Southern Charm.
“Knock knock,” she said as she used her shoe to tap the side of the truck. Footsteps sounded inside, and the door squeaked open.
“Olivia? I didn’t expect to see you so early.” Adam stepped down and took the box from her arms. “What’s this?”
