Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

Groveling on His Knees

Ellen and Sarah had loved the flowers so much that Ana had sent some home with them, and asked if Jacob could run a message to the telegram later. Will had sit down and helped her figure out exactly what to say. It hadn't been easy, and they had run through five different versions before finding one that was acceptable. Oscar, I am not dying of an illness, but you hurt me greatly. I will be staying in our cabin in Vermont with Will until I feel better about returning to the city. You may write me, Anastasia.

"It's really the best you could do," Will said when he had seen Ana biting her lip after Jacob had left with the slip. "It's up to him now to make it up to you, at least you're letting him have the chance."

"I suppose." She muttered, moving over to where some of their purchases were spread out. Her fingers brushed over one volume, The Woman's Book. "I suppose I could try and cook something, if you'll help?"

He put an arm around her waist, leaning over the table and opening the book. "Of course I will, the only question is: What will you make?"

"Something savory?"

"I was thinking something sweet, perhaps that gingerbread? We have everything we should need." Will considered the recipe. "Although I have no idea what how much a gill is."

Ana leaned back against him, "I suppose we could just add milk until it seems right?"

"That sounds right." He gave her a squeeze, and they set to work. The first work was finding where everything was. The spices and baking needs were easily found in the pantry, the dairy goods in the icebox and Will found a sack of almonds in a corner of the cellar. Then it was locating the pans and bowls to mix everything. While Ana puzzled out how to sieve everything together and mix the butter in, he managed to slightly burn his hands while blanching the almonds. By the end of the afternoon Will never wanted to have to deal with shredding those damn nuts ever again.

Once it had all been poured into a tin, Ana hovered over it like a nervous mother. Every few minutes she would come and check the oven, peeking in to see what was happening. Will began keeping count every time she did, lining up little bits of eggshell that had been left over. By the time the clock, brand new from the dry gods store and freshly wound, chimed the hour and Ana opened the door for the last time, he had fifteen pieces lined up. She covered her hands with a towel, drawing out the pan and setting it down on a counter. "Is it done?

"I suppose so." Will tapped it quickly with a finger, "It feels firm."

"It doesn't look anything like Morgan's."

"Well, those were cookies. This is a bread."

She held her hand over it, gauging the heat. "How long until it's ready?"

"I don't know, but we might be able to speed it up if we put it outside." He chuckled, "Or it might freeze."

"Would it be good for it to freeze?" Her eyes darted towards the window.

"Leave it." Will reached down and grasped her hand, lightly dusted with flour. "Come on, let's do something until it's ready." He held his tongue from mentioning an activity that would have taken up all the time they needed. "We could unpack some of those books and put them on the shelves." That proved to be a rewarding activity, and it got Ana to exercise some by having to walk up and down the stairs as they carried stack after stack down.

Ana, her hands on her hips as she stretched after a trip, eyed him as he shelved a few volumes of poetry. "How many books did you tell them to pack?"

"Enough to keep us occupied." He grunted, joining her in stretching. "I don't know how long we'll be here, and I wanted to make sure we had everything we needed."