“Nutmeg!” I cried.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Gabe sprang towards the door. ”Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”
He rushed outside just as the bakery gave another deep shudder. The sight of him disappearing into the night sent an unexpected ache through me. Whatever feelings I had lost, I still knew with quiet certainty that he mattered to me. That knowledge alone made the thought of watching him leave almost unbearable.
I hurried after him. “Gabe, wait!”
Outside, Nutmeg hovered only a few meters away, blinking in obvious surprise as the ground hummed beneath her tiny glowing form.
Gabe scooped her up just as another ripple passed through the forest. She squeaked in protest. Then, as though finally remembering the rules she ignored with such remarkable consistency, she wriggled free and darted back towards the bakery, slipping safely through the open window.
Relief filled Gabe’s face, but then it vanished. “Cecelia!”
The air shimmered between us as I reached the doorway, the edges of the bakery blurring like a reflection upon the surface of a pond. The transport had already begun.
My heart lurched. Even with all the emotions I’d already lost, I still knew I didn’t want to losehim. “Gabe!”
He lunged towards me, I reached for him. For one impossible heartbeat, I truly believed we would reach each other. Our fingertips brushed…then the world shifted. Golden light burst around the bakery, swallowing everything in its brilliance.
“Gabe!”
“Cecelia!” His voice faded with the forest until both disappeared into the night. The bakery settled with a gentle thud, and silence wrapped itself around us as softly as flour settling across a well-used countertop.
I stepped into the open doorway. Beyond it stretched an unfamiliar meadow bathed in moonlight. There was no forest, no winding paths that had become so familiar over the past month…no Gabe. I stood motionless, staring into the quiet, star-lit darkness.
Long after the bakery had settled, I remained before the open doorway, unable to move. Moonlight rippled across the meadow grasses as a gentle breeze stirred them, while beyond the clearing rose the dark silhouettes of ancient trees, their bowed branches heavy with years.
I had never seen this place before, yet something within the bakery seemed to recognize it. The floorboards released a long, contented sigh as the last shimmer of transportation fadedfrom the walls, leaving them still. No restless magic stirred beneath my feet, preparing for another journey. No invisible thread tugged at the bakery, urging it towards some unknown destination.
It had come home…and yet Gabe had not followed, despite the promise he had made.
“Gabe,” I whispered, but only the stillness of the night answered.
I stepped outside, alone. Granny still sat in her chair by the hearth, and Nutmeg hovered close to her, as though afraid to go near the door after her ill-timed escapade.
Cool grass brushed against my bare feet as I crossed the place where he should have been standing. I searched the shadows between the trees, although I already knew I would not find him there. The bakery had traveled farther than the edge of the forest, perhaps farther than any map I possessed could reach.
My hand rose to my chest. I waited for grief to come—for the sharp, unbearable wrench I had imagined losing him would bring. Instead there was only stillness. The emptiness was so complete that, for one disorienting moment, I wondered whether the transport had taken more than the recipe promised.
I tried to summon the memory of his face. I tried to summon the memory of his face. The memories remained, clear and precious as ever, but they no longer awakened anything within me. My offering had been accepted by the magic. I had saved him…and then I had lost him.
Granny called my name from somewhere behind me, but her voice sounded distant. A moment later came the familiar soft thud of her cane, followed by the gentle weight of her hand settling upon my shoulder. “Cecelia.”
I turned. She looked exhausted, her face pale beneath the moonlight, but she was standing. Nutmeg clung to the folds of her shawl, her amber-bright eyes unusually wide.
Relief should have rushed through me after the bakery’s unusually violent move. Instead, I merely observed that they were safe. The shallow response frightened me more than the unfamiliar meadow stretching beyond the bakery.
As though my emptiness had been written plainly across my face, as obvious as frosting on a cupcake, Nutmeg gave a small, distressed chirp and floated over to nuzzle my cheek with her soothing warmth. I remembered how dearly I cared for her and knew I ought to gather her close, but that fondness had become only another memory, my previous affection more fact rather than a feeling.
“Granny,” I whispered. “I can’t feel anything.”
Her expression softened with quiet sorrow. “You’ve endured a great deal.”
I pressed both hands against my chest, as though I might awaken my heart by force. “It took him. It took everything.”
She soothingly smoothed my hair back. “With time, your emotions will return,” she promised. “Our feelings are never experienced only once. They are woven through every season of our lives, returning again and again as we continue to love, to hope, and to grieve. This time, with the bargain broken, nothing will ever steal them from you again. Whatever grows within your heart will remain yours.”
Once, those words would have filled me with dread. Now they offered something else: a quiet hope.
