Hugo picked up a cookie and took a bite. The sweetness of the cookie mellowed the sharp snap of the ginger. It was so familiar that a lump formed in his throat. His father had been gone for two years now, and he was sure this was the first time he’d tasted this cookie since his passing. For a heartbeat, that distance was erased.
“Just like his,” he said roughly after swallowing the cookie.
“Pfft, not even close. My cooking is passable at best. He was always a genius with food. He would have been a master chef even without his magic. I did some cooking prior to hiring a cook to give him a break,” she replied, moving over to a bookshelf to straighten some books.
“What’s wrong? Why can’t you sleep? If it’s about the palace, I’m fine. Everything worked out.”
His mother shook her head. “No, I guess I couldn’t sleep because I was thinking about that tiny house in Bog Hollow.”
Hugo had started to take a sip of his tea, but quickly lowered the cup again. “What house in Bog Hollow?”
“It was the first house your father and I lived in after we married.”
“I thought you and Dad lived on Maplehurst Square when you first married.”
“Ha.” The sound that broke from her throat was bitter and harsh. “That was our second home. The one we bought after your father began working at Mr. Davish’s bakery. We moved in a few months before you were born. It was small, and we had a devil of a time keeping the mice out of the pantry, but it was leagues better than Bog Hollow.”
She moved closer to Hugo and took a seat on the footstool beside Hugo’s leg, but she still refused to look up at him. Instead, she kept her eyes lowered and fiddled with the skirt of her dress.
“Bog Hollow has always been the very poorest part of Frostbourne. Our house had one room. There were floorboards you couldn’t step on for fear of your foot breaking through. In the winter, it was always freezing cold, with the wind blowing straight through. In the summer, the heat could roast you, and the smell was worse because the drainage gutters were always clogged with waste. Your father and I worked constantly, but it was still barely enough to pay the rent and buy food. Sometimes we’d alternate who got to eat that day because there wasn’t enough food to feed us both. It was decided by who had to work the longer shifts.”
“Mother!” Hugo gasped. He’d known that things had been rough in the early years, but he’d never known that his parents had gone without eating. Neither of them had worked easy jobs, but ones filled with hard physical labor. Even his father’s use of magic was incredibly draining.
But Jessamine continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “Those first couple of years, I’d cry myself to sleep, praying that I wouldn’t get pregnant. We wanted children so badly, but how could we bring a child into this world when we couldn’t even feed ourselves? What if something happened and I couldn’t work for a while? Your father’s job couldn’t support us and a baby.”
“I’m sure you would have figured something out. You’ve always been so resourceful.”
She shook her head. It seemed to dislodge a tear, and she quickly wiped it away with a trembling hand. “We were at the end of our rope. I didn’t have any brilliant ideas for our survival. At the end of each day, I was so exhausted my brain couldn’t think of any solutions. But I swear everything changed oneWinter Solstice. One of the noble ladies that I cleaned for gave me a bonus. I’d considered buying something special for our dinner that night. Instead, I went to the altar for Lady Brighid and bought a candle and three sticks of incense. I lit them and prayed as hard as I could. I begged her to help us have a good year so that we could afford to have a child.”
“You think the goddess intervened to help you and Dad?” Hugo couldn’t quite keep the skepticism out of his voice.
His mother lifted her face to him and smiled. “As I was leaving my prayers, an orange rolled from out of nowhere and hit my foot. I looked around to see who might have lost it, but I was the only one visiting the altar that late at night. Do you know how expensive oranges are in winter? Your father and I couldn’t have afforded it after a month of saving. I figured it must have been a gift from Lady Brighid, so I snatched it up and hurried home. Your father was in bed, but I woke him up and we shared that orange in bed together.”
Hugo squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to erase the mental images already forming. “Please don’t tell me that’s how I was conceived.” If that was where this story was going, he was done listening.
His mother snorted and smacked his hand lightly. “No, but the next day, Mr. Davish came into the bakery and tried one of your father’s scones. He offered your dad a job on the spot. Two days later, your father was the head baker at Mr. Davish’s Baked Delights. Your father was making more money in a week than we would see in two months. We could get out of Bog Hollow and into that house on Maplehurst Square. A year later, your father made the wedding cake for the king and queen. And a short time after that, you were born.”
“After Dorian’s birth, we moved over to Winchester Park.”
Jessamine hummed, her gaze getting misty. Winchester Park was the last place they’d all lived with their father. Before thehard times started and they had to move out to their current house in Buckleford.
“Those early days were so long ago, but I’ve never forgotten them.” His mother stared at him, her eyes cold and fierce. “I have never forgotten what it was like to be constantly hungry and exhausted. To have so little hope of things improving. There were times that I hated your father for not making enough money so our lives could be more comfortable. I hated myself for not being able to help him more. When I wasn’t exhausted and angry, I was scared. After you were born, we had more money and didn’t have to worry about putting enough food on the table, but I was still afraid of it all falling apart. I used to put money in secret hiding spots for later in case our world came crashing down. It wasn’t until Dorian was born that I stopped being so afraid.”
“And then Augustine exhausted us all,” Hugo teased, and she graced him with the smile he’d been hoping for.
“So true.” She sighed and took Hugo’s hands in hers. “Hugo, my perfect sweet boy, I am sorry for that stupid lie I told. It never crossed my mind that it would cause so much trouble. Your mother is not an idiot. She just does idiotic things out of fear sometimes. I don’t want you to suffer the way your father and I did.”
“Working and living a hard life doesn’t frighten me.”
“I know, my darling, but there is a difference between a hard life and a hopeless one. Your father and I had reached a point of hopelessness. It was a stroke of luck that saved us. Maybe it was the goddess stepping in, or maybe it was simply luck that Mr. Davish stopped in that bakery. I don’t know. What I do know is that you can’t rely on luck or a goddess to step in.”
“Or lies,” Hugo added, though he tried to do it gently.
His mother nodded. “Yes, you can’t use lies either. I’m not telling you this as an excuse for my behavior, but I’m hoping thatyou understand it came from a place of fear. I’m afraid for you and your brothers. There’s nothing I won’t do to make sure you don’t have to live and suffer like we did. I don’t want you to ever think that I’m not proud of you. If this were a fair world, you’d be as rich as a king because you are the sweetest, most generous, most honorable man I’ve ever known. Even more than your father, who was known to pinch bites while dinner was cooking or blame messes on you boys when I knew he was the culprit.”
Hugo was torn between laughter and tears. To solve the problem, he leaned in and kissed his mother’s cheek. “All is forgiven. Don’t worry so much. Dorian, Augustine, and I are all smart and crafty. We’ll find a way, and we’ll never lose hope.”
“Good.” She stood slowly, knees creaking a bit. She appeared less worn but still tired. “Try to get some rest.”
