Free Healing the Wounds by M.Q. Barber

down the line.” Emma took the wineglass Jay held out to her and inhaled the bouquet. “I don’t suppose I’ll have a daughter to pass the wisdom to, but you’ve a family to feed these days, Henry. Surely you can find some use in it.”
    “You wrote out a fresh copy for my own kitchen, Em?” He caressed the edge of the pages. “A thoughtful and tremendous gift.”
    Her gut twisted. Henry’s gentle tone belonged to her and Jay, for their gifts. Disliking someone who made Henry happy was irrational at best and shameful at worst.
    “They’re all in there, Henry. Including that spicy beef dish you loved for Saturday supper and the sweet pirozhki for Sunday breakfast.”
    Irrationality ripped through the room and took the floor under her feet with it. Emma’s wedding ring might not mean she still mourned her husband or even that their marriage had been monogamous. Santa had a wife, yet he’d been playing at the club. And Henry had Jay, but now he had her, too. But he’d said he and Emma weren’t lovers.
    “Thank you, Emma.” Henry closed the book with care. He dropped his arm into its former place, curling Alice into his side.
    She rested her hand below his breastbone. Mine.
    “I do enjoy the opportunity to instruct my dear ones in the kitchen, though some of them have terrible thieving manners.”
    Distributing the remaining wineglasses, Jay boasted an unrepentant smirk. “I’m chief taster. It’s an important job.”
    Emma laughed. “William used to insist he fulfilled the same function in my kitchen until I shooed him out.”
    Henry raised his glass in a toast. “To hearth and home, and all those who gather therein. Where’er they roam, may they find their way back again.”
    Glasses touched. Smiles passed around. The wine was cool and dry going down, with a sharp citrus aftertaste.
    Emma surveyed the room, making a show of peeking at everything in sight. “In all the years we’ve known each other, and all the time you’ve spent in my kitchen, do you realize this is the first time I’ve gotten a look at yours?”
    Her brain was developing whiplash. Categorizing Henry and Emma’s history necessitated revision with every conversational turn.
    “It’s that secretive quality of yours that kept all the girls and boys so intrigued before you settled down.”
    His kitchen wasn’t a secret. He’d invited her into it from day one.
    Her. Not Emma.
    “And here I’d labored under the mistaken impression that my skills held their interest.” Henry hung his head in mocking mourning. “All they sought was a glimpse of my kitchen.”
    “I want a glimpse of more than a kitchen,” Jay faux-whispered.
    Alice giggled. “Because you know Henry’s skills are excellent in every room.”
    “Ah, my lovely chorus of defenders to the rescue.” Henry’s eyes gleamed dark and intense. “I’m pleased to be more to you both than a full stomach. Though that, too, is important.” He gestured toward the dining room. “Jay, if you’ll seat our guest, please, and then come assist me at the stove.”
    Jay offered his arm to Emma and waggled his eyebrows. “Soup’s on. I haven’t tasted it yet today, but the chef is excellent. May I show you to your seat?”
    She laughed, polite but genuine. “By all means. I can’t recall the last time I had such a handsome escort.”
    Henry led Alice to the table and lowered her into her regular seat. Adjusting the back of her chair, he brushed his mouth against her ear. “I do so love to see you sitting here, dearest. Such a pleasant temptation.”
    Heat rushed to her cheeks and less-visible places. She’d been sitting right here in August when he’d spoken his first command to her. An order to stand. If she hadn’t listened then, no way would she be here now. Did he think of that life-changing moment as often as she did?
    Emma smiled as she unfolded her napkin. “I finally had the opportunity to drop by the gallery this week and see the fruit of Henry’s skills in the