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Link to Chapter 6

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Clark wasn’t sure what to do. His stomach still felt full from the incredible pancake and strawberries he’d had for breakfast. Yet Martha had him sitting down at the table again while she sliced up an apple for him to have as a snack.

He took a careful sip from the cup she’d given him—more orange juice, since he’d liked it so much that morning. And just as he set the cup back down, he heard Jonathan’s footsteps behind him. He turned to look at the older man, who had stopped in the entryway to the kitchen. Jonathan glanced briefly at Clark, and Clark immediately blinked and lowered his eyes…

Nothing bad happened. In fact, nothing bad had happened at all since he’d come here, despite all the rules he’d broken. Still, Clark figured it was just a matter of time. Either he’d mess up, or they’d realize they hadn’t been punishing him for all of his mistakes. And he’d made a lot of them.

Fear coursed through him. It was a familiar feeling, but one that made him slightly dizzy, and he closed his eyes and held his breath as he straightened in his chair again.

From behind him, he heard Jonathan clear his throat, and he tried his best not to flinch as Jonathan spoke.

“I’ll be heading out to the grocery store and to grab those few things you wanted from Sadie’s, Martha,” Jonathan said. And his voice sounded…well, Clark wasn’t quite sure what, but it certainly didn’t sound angry. It had never sounded angry. Only ever…nice?

“Thank you,” Martha said. “Oh! I think I forgot to add chocolate chips to the list. If you remember while you’re out?”

Her voice was nice too. Always so nice and soft. And she was…really, really nice to him.

He opened his eyes and glanced up at Martha, who had turned to address Jonathan. Her eyes met Clark’s briefly, and she smiled. He quickly dropped his eyes again to where his hands were still wrapped around his cup.

“Chocolate chip cookies are Jonathan’s favorite, right Jonathan?”

“Very much so.”

“Would you like to help me make them later, Clark?”

His fingers tightened around the cup as he felt a sharp pain in his chest. “I—I don’t…know how.”

There was a short silence, and Clark heard Martha’s footsteps—soft and even—approach the table, but he didn’t look up.

“Well, I’d love to teach you,” Martha murmured as she set down a plate of apple slices in front of him.

He kept his eyes on his cup and willed his hands to stop their shaking. “I’m…” He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn’t want to tell her. He didn’t want to say it.

There was another of those short silences, and then Clark flinched as her hand settled softly on his back. He shook his head again.

“I’ll be back, maybe an hour?” Jonathan said quietly, and Clark heard Martha’s equally quiet reply, followed by the front door opening and closing a moment later.

“Clark…it’s…”

He felt a tear slip out down his cheek, and he quickly reached up and wiped it away, his hand still trembling. Martha’s hand rubbed his back gently.

“You know these cookies, they’re my grandma’s recipe. And she taught me how to make them when I was about your age,” Martha said. “I’d really love to show you, but it doesn’t have to be today, either.”

More tears fell, and he didn’t even know why he was crying. He brought both of his hands up to his face and scrubbed at his cheeks. He should probably tell her, so she didn’t get mad later when she found out.

But the words were really hard for him to say.

“I’m…not t-too…smart. Pa says—P-Pa said I…don’t know enough, and…” And he didn’t want to mess up, especially if chocolate chip cookies were Jonathan’s favorite. He really didn’t want to mess them up. But no more words would come, and he wiped more tears off his cheeks and then clasped his hands together in his lap, waiting.

Surely, she’d be upset. Ma had always been upset. Ma and Pa both.

But Martha didn’t respond right away. Her hand stopped moving on his back, and he heard her sniffle. He didn’t want to look up at her, see the disappointment in her eyes, so he just stared at his hands while more stupid tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Stupid boy, can’t get anything right.”

“Don’t you ever learn! Git the hell outta here before I get real mad.”

He closed his eyes again. “I-I’m…I’m sorry. I’m real sorry.”

“Oh, no, sweetie. There’s no need to apologize. And I’m…” Clark heard her sniffle again, and his lower lip began to tremble. “I bet you’ll make the best helper. Do you want me to show you the recipe?”

He wouldn’t be the best helper. He did know anything about cooking or baking or anything, and he couldn’t even read, and his hands were shaky, which probably wouldn’t make anything easier. Certainly there would be much, much better helpers than him. So why did she want his help?

He’d just disappoint her.

But as she rubbed his back again softly, he found himself nodding. He was curious about the recipe. He still didn’t think he could help, but maybe…

“Wonderful, sweetie. Let me just grab it, and we can read it together. Okay?”

He nodded again, and she stood and headed over toward the cupboards, returning just a moment later with a really thick red and white book.

“Here we go,” she said, sitting next to him. “These”—she set her hand on the cover of the book—“are alllll of my grandma’s recipes. She wrote them all down for me and gave me this book when Jonathan and I got married almost…oh, almost fifteen years ago now.”

Clark risked a quick glance up at her and saw her soft, kind smile. Then he blinked and looked back at the book. There were letters on the front cover, and he knew most of them, but he didn’t know the words they made. He swallowed hard and screwed his eyes shut.

“So, she put the cookies as the very first recipe here, because that’s what she was most known for. Everyone in the family loved her cookies. And this recipe is really special to me too. You know why?”

“Why?” he asked, and he opened his eyes again and looked up at her. She gazed back down at him, still smiling so…kindly. Her eyes were so gentle, and he didn’t immediately look away this time.

“Because this is also the very first thing I ever made for Jonathan.” Her smile brightened, and she shifted her gaze to the book as she flipped open the cover to the first page. “Here we go. Brown butter chocolate chip cookies.”

Clark sat up a little straighter so he could look at the page. It was a full page of handwritten words and some numbers. He swallowed hard again as he looked at the top. “B-brown butter?”

“Yep, so the trick is that instead of using regular butter, we cook the butter in a pan first to brown it. And that changes the flavor and makes the cookies sooooo much better.”

“Butter is yellow,” he said quietly, and he looked up at Martha, who was nodding with a big smile. “B-but if you…”

“If you cook it on high heat in a pan on the stove, it will turn brown,” she explained.

Blinking, Clark looked back at the page, but all the letters seemed to run together. He frowned and shook his head as he sat back in his chair. He felt his heart start to race.

“Dumb, useless child. Can’t even read. Go sit in the corner. I don’t wanna hear a peep from ye.”

“Here, sweetie, look at this.” Martha’s hand settled on his back again. “This says here that we can also add walnuts if we want. What do you think? Do you think we should add walnuts?”

She was pointing to one of the lines at the bottom of the page, marked with a little star. He stared at the words, wishing again that he could read them.

“D-does…does Jonathan l-like…them?” he asked slowly.

“Oh, that’s a great question, Clark. Actually, Jonathan prefers his cookies without nuts.”

“S-so we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t—we shouldn’t—” He scrunched his eyes shut and hit his forehead with one hand in frustration. The words stuck over and over and over. Sometimes they did that, and he couldn’t seem to keep going. He hated that. Pa hated that even more.

He hit himself again, wanting—needing—to reset his brain. But before he could do it again, Martha’s arms wrapped around him, and he felt himself pulled against her, out of his chair and into her arms. And it felt so warm and safe—as it had every time she’d held him. He curled up against her, shaking, and she rocked him gently and murmured quiet words of comfort, her voice muffled in his hair.

“Shh, sweetie, shh. It’s okay.”

When he finally stopped shaking several minutes later, she still held him tightly, rubbing his arm and rocking back and forth slowly.

“There we go, sweetie. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. P-please…please don’t be m-mad. P-please,” he stuttered, his heart still pounding. He was glad she was holding him, because he felt dizzy again, and he didn’t feel like he would be able to hold himself up.

“Oh, sweetie, no. I’m not mad. Why would…” She trailed off, and Clark buried his head into her shoulder as he started shaking again. There were a lot of reasons she should be mad.

But he didn’t say anything, and after a minute, she pushed back her chair a bit.

“Clark, sweetie, can you look at me?”

He shook his head and then choked back a sob. He was in so much trouble again.

“Okay, that’s…that’s fine. But listen, okay?” She paused for only a second before continuing. And when she did, her voice was quiet and soft, yet brimming with emotion. He thought maybe she was crying, but he didn’t look up. “Clark, I’m…not going to get mad at you or angry with you. I’m not upset, sweetie. And I won’t be. You are allowed to say what you want, what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking… Jonathan and I want to hear everything you have to say.”

Clark felt her arms tighten around him a bit, and she let out a long, shaky breath of her own.

“Maybe things were different with Ma and Pa,” she said quietly. “But…here in our house, you’re allowed all of that. Okay, sweetie?”

His jaw trembled, but he nodded.

“Good, and…it’s really very thoughtful of you to ask what Jonathan wants. But I also want to know what you want. Do you want to try nuts in your cookies? We could make half with and half without.”

“I…get to…have one?”

“If you want to, yes.”

“I…never…”

He pulled back just a little and looked up at her. She still had that kind smile, the same gentle blue eyes.

“You’ll get to today,” she said, and a wave of some strong emotion hit him as he lowered his head back against her shoulder. He felt her kiss the top of his head, and he closed his eyes. “Here, sweetie, let’s get started. We can get everything ready up until we add the chocolate chips. Then, when Jonathan gets back…”

She stood and carefully lowered him to the ground, supporting him until he got his bearings. Then, he followed as she picked up the cookbook and walked over to the counter.

“So, we’re going to need butter and eggs and…”



Clark carefully poured the mixture of flour and sugar and something else he couldn’t remember into the mixer, watching as the white fluffy powder churned, combining with the eggs and butter. Slowly, she’d said. Pour it in little by little, not all at once. And so he did just that.

Turned out he wasn’t half bad as a helper, or at least that’s what Martha kept telling him. She stood right next to him, one hand on his back, probably to make sure he didn’t accidently fall off the chair he was standing on.

And she reminded him as he poured the mixture. “That’s it, nice and slow… Give it a chance to mix before you add more… Yep, there, exactly.”

And when the bowl was empty, she took it from him and set it in the sink with the other dishes they’d already dirtied, and then helped him down off the chair.

“There we go. Great job, Clark! You did a wonderful job! I’m so glad to have you as my helper!”

Something about her words—the way she said them—made him look up at her. She leaned over the mixer to peer in at the cookie dough, one hand still on his shoulder, and he saw her smile. And it was bright and warm.

“I—” Martha straightened up and looked at him as he started to talk. Their eyes met, and he saw…he wasn’t quite sure what. Some emotion—whatever that emotion had been in her voice, maybe—he could see it in her eyes now. His chest filled with…pride? Maybe. He didn’t really know, but it felt good, and he somehow managed a small smile.

And that was worth everything so far. Because it made her smile brighten even more. And that felt amazing.

He tried his words again, closing his eyes and speaking very slowly so he didn’t stutter. “I liked to help you.”

When he opened his eyes again, Martha was still watching him, still smiling so brightly at him. He tried for another smile, since that had made her happier somehow.

“I’m so glad, sweetie,” she said, and she crouched down next to him and opened up her arms in invitation.

He barely hesitated before he wrapped his arms around her neck and let her hug him.

And that also felt amazing.



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