Chapter 2 - The Bakery on 4th Street
The bell above the bakery door chimed with a cheerful, high-pitched jingle as David pushed it open, holding Maya’s small, warm hand tightly in his own. The interior was warm, smelling intensely of vanilla, toasted pecans, and yeast. A display case near the front counter held rows of frosted pastries and apple tarts, but the shop was otherwise empty of customers. The afternoon shift was winding down.
Behind the flour-dusted counter, a woman with auburn hair tied back in a messy clip was bent over a stainless-steel mixing bowl, scrubbing the basin with a heavy sponge. Her back was turned to them, her shoulders slightly hunched with the familiar weariness of someone who worked twelve-hour shifts on her feet.
"Mommy?" Maya called out softly, letting go of David's hand and stepping around the swinging service gate. "Guess who I found outside?"
The sponge dropped into the soapy water with a heavy splash.
Anna straightened up slowly, wiping her wet hands on a checkered apron tied around her waist. "Maya, sweetie, I told you not to wander down to the corner by yourself—" She stopped mid-sentence as she turned around, her green eyes lifting to look past her daughter toward the doorway.
The color drained from Anna's face in a single heartbeat. The sponge slipped from her fingers again, hitting the bottom of the empty sink with a dull thud.
For five seconds, the entire world seemed to stop spinning.
Anna’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, her fingers trembling as her gaze locked onto David standing in the doorway. The shadows of seven long years—the fine lines around her eyes, the slight silver threading through her auburn hair, the sorrow etched deep into the corners of her expression—vanished beneath a wave of pure, paralyzing shock.
"David..." Her voice was a breath, a phantom sound carried across the warm air of the bakery.
"You're alive," David said. The words weren't a question. They were a shattered accusation and a prayer rolled into one. He took a slow step forward, his boots clicking against the linoleum floor. "You were buried in St. Jude’s Cemetery. I held the service. I paid for the headstone."
Tears spilled instantly over Anna’s eyelashes, tracking fast down her cheeks as she gripped the edge of the flour-dusted counter to keep from collapsing. "David, I'm so sorry... I had no choice."
"No choice?" David's voice rose, cracking with the agony of a ghost coming back to life only to find the grave locked from the inside. He stopped three feet away from the counter, his chest heaving. "My wife died seven years ago! My daughter was taken from me! You let me mourn over an empty box while you hid out in this sleepy little town baking bread?"
"Keep your voice down," Anna pleaded, glancing frantically toward the back service door that led to the alley. She rushed around the counter, dropping to her knees in front of Maya and pulling the little girl into a fierce, suffocating embrace, burying her face in the child's hair. "You don't understand what they would have done to us. If they knew you were looking for us—if they knew I kept her—they would have killed us both."
David stared down at them, his anger warring with a terrifying, cold realization. "Who?" he demanded, stepping closer. "Who are you talking about?"
Before Anna could answer, the glass front door of the bakery rattled violently. A heavy shadow fell across the afternoon sunlight streaming through the front window.
May you like
A tall man in a dark overcoat and leather gloves stood on the sidewalk outside, staring directly through the glass at the three of them with cold, dead eyes.
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