Marta didn’t even process Ezra’s father taking the dress from her. She just couldn’t take her eyes off of Ezra. It was like she was seeing a ghost. She was sure when she came in here, it would be a dead body lying on the ground. Marta couldn’t stop shaking, which didn’t help the pain in her stomach, but she ignored it. She watched as Ezra came over and felt his hand against her head. She reached up and started to touch any part she could reach. Almost as if making sure he was real and as she thought, a ghost.

She listened to his words, and even if she didn’t know what had happened, she could tell he was lying. And his joke about her thinking he was dead did not make her laugh one bit. In fact, it did the opposite. She let out a sob and continued to cling to him.

“I did think you were dead! I saw him, I saw Oscar. And I just knew, something bad happened. Did they hurt you? Did Oscar hurt you?” Her voice was frantic. She needed to know what Oscar did to him.

Not realizing she said Oscar’s name multiple times, she wasn’t aware of how Ezra may react. What would he think that she knew the man’s name who came in here? How could she even know his name? Heaven forbid he thought that she has been working with Oscar the whole time and this was just all some evil plot, because that was the farthest thing from the truth. Marta just put the puzzle together with the few pieces she had. And when Oscar attacked her, it confirmed her suspicions in an instant.

Ezra wasn't sure how to react to her outburst. Oscar? Was he part of the group that just left their bakery? His mind went racing trying to figure out how she could know that man. His first thought was she had slipped up. She told her mother or father about him and in return they got this man to go after him again. The look on her face and the sound of her voice and the way she began to weep in his arms. He hadn't realized how small she was until her tiny arms dug into his body. He embraced her quietly letting her cry. When she finally began to settle and he heard his father leave out the back he pulled himself out of her grip. He went over to the front door and locked it, pulling down the little shades to hide them.

"They just wanted to scare me. They stole my necklace and spit on my face, but they didn't do more than bruise my arms a bit. They knew about you though...but I guess you know about them...or at least one of them," Ezra said as he walked her over to the counter so she could lean on something. "I told you yesterday this was dangerous. If you saw them why didn't you leave? Why did you come here? I don't even know why I'm asking though. You're naive enough to convert at a time like this. Why wouldn't you run in the opposite direction?" He said trying to lighten the mood a little bit.

He wiped her tears and frowned a bit. She was worrying about him. She really thought she was going to find him dead in here. He hadn't realized just how much they invaded each other's lives until the moment he saw her come into his shop. Hearing her cry the way she was hurt his heart and put a gentle hand on her arm.

"How about I warm up something from the pastry case for you? I can even make you a warm drink. We have coffee and teas for customers that request it. Come around the other end and grab whatever you want and I'll heat it up for you," He said walking around the counter and waiting for her to join him. "You need to start getting used to these foods, if you become Jewish these are what you eat."

Marta continued to cling to Ezra’s clothes and body lest he disappear. How could this happen, so soon after meeting? How could Marta’s presence already being causing problems for Ezra? And was she really going to allow this to keep happening? She was truly a fool to believe everything would work out. But she couldn’t turn her cheek, she couldn’t pretend it all hasn’t happened. Obviously she had made things worse, but Marta still couldn't stay away. It was like some supernatural force was pulling her towards Ezra. She should have fled the minute Oscar attacked her. Better yet, she should have never come back today. But she did.

Her tears began to lessen, and she heard Ezra explain that they didn’t do much physical harm to him, though it was obvious he was shaken up once again. But he seemed to be holding it together fairly well. Marta would have felt awful if he went into a panic attack like that last night and became nonfunctional. If Marta’s presence didn’t kill Ezra, it would at least drive him mad. She wasn’t worth that so why did she come back? Because Ezra was worth dying for.

When Ezra asked why she didn’t leave when she saw Oscar and the other men, Marta began to say, “I did see them and I turned to leave, but they caught…”

She stopped mid-sentence, realizing she was about to admit to being attacked, but she didn’t want Ezra to know. She deserved her pain, the current pain aching in her gut. She was sure there would be a bruise where Oscar hit her. But Ezra mustn’t know because it validated all of his reasons for why this was the stupidest thing for her to do. And yet she also knows, if he found out, he would take care of her, like he always did when she was hurt and broken. He was just that wonderful.

She carefully followed Ezra behind the counter, watching him getting tea cups out to make them a beverage. At the moment, Marta didn’t want anything or deserve anything. She had to let Ezra know how she knew Oscar.

“Ezra, I need to tell you the truth. I know Oscar. He is my friend Sarah’s brother… when I left last night, they drove by me and offered me a ride home...while in the car, Oscar made a horrible comment about this community and I snapped. I told him he was wrong, and how a family who owned a bakery helped me… I didn’t give him your name, I swear! But he must have figured it out...when I saw him come out of the bakery today, I knew. I knew he was the one to give you the scars on your body… I am so sorry! This is all my fault! Everything is my fault, I have been such a fool. You tried to make me see that, but I’ve been too stubborn. I am ruining everything!”

Her voice was rushed and breathless. She held onto the counter for support, in case she toppled over from fear and pain, and her other hand clutching her stomach. The tears once again returning. It was a battle to keep the sobs from heaving from her chest, cause the pain in her stomach doubled every time she did. What a disaster she has created.

Ezra glanced over at her as he gripped the counter so tight his knuckles turned white. She was taking the blame, but he hadn't placed any on her, not verbally at least. He knew now why they came back. She'd said too much without meaning to and he'd had to relive that day again. He wasn't angry with her. It was the whole situation that bothered him the most. The way she cut herself previously. They'd caught her and they'd told her she had to be scared for his life. That's why she was stupid enough to come back. She had to see if they made good on their threat. He refused to fall apart in front of her the way he did last night. He would hold himself together even if it hurt.

"Stop crying. I don't need or want your tears here tonight. Tonight you will eat with me and we will talk about other things. We will discuss why the sun rises and why it sets. We can talk about whatever you're learning in school. Tonight we won't talk about our religions or blame one another for things out of our control. We won't talk about the bad. We will talk about our childhoods and we will talk about whatever keeps you from crying. I'll make you a sandwich, okay? It'll be kosher, but like I said you need to get used to it," He said letting a smile creep up to his lips as he looked over at her.

Watching her react the way she was pained him and he knew if he let his real emotions show then she would suffer even more than she was already. He couldn't have this girl falling to pieces. If she cried too loud his mother might come down or a neighbor might hear. He had to keep her quiet and calm. He went to the case and pulled out a loaf of bread and began slicing it in half.

"If things we're easy then this wouldn't be love," he whispered to her.

Marta was having more and more a difficult time ignoring the pain in her stomach. It needed medical attention, or at the least, an aspirin and some ice. But Ezra couldn’t know. So to try her best to ignore the pain, Marta began biting the inside of her cheek, hoping the pain in her mouth would distract from the pain in her stomach.

She heard Ezra say to stop crying. She reached up, wiping the excess tears off her face and did her best to take in a calming breath, but it hurt too much. If Ezra wanted to ignore reality for a moment, Marta would not deny him that. From now on, all that mattered was what Ezra wanted. If he wanted to talk about school and their childhood, she would. If he wanted to teach her about the Torah and Jewish traditions, she would listen. If he wanted her out of his life forever, she would leave. All that mattered was the happiness of his boy. And she would give him as much of it as she could.

Marta barely caught his next comment, and when she did, she frowned. What was it suppose to mean? If this country wasn’t on the brink of war and Ezra wasn’t fighting everyday to survive, would they never? Were they even a thing now? Marta didn’t even know how to define their relationship. She cares deeply, admittedly loving him. But if yesterday had just been a normal day, a day where Ezra’s past didn’t include almost dying, a day where Jewish and Christians mingled with no tension or hate, would it have gone differently? For one thing, Ezra would have never judged her reason for walking into that bakery and she would have never fled from embarrassment.

How would things have gone if it was just a normal day?

Tasting blood in her mouth, Marta knew she bit down to hard on the inside of her cheek. At least now, she could focus on that instead of the pain in her stomach. She didn’t want to respond to his comment about love because he didn’t want to talk about their relationship, and she must do what he wants.

So pushing the thoughts, and as much of the pain as she could, to the side, Marta stepped a little closer to Ezra, watching him slice the bread. “So what exactly makes food kosher?”

Ezra saw her wincing in pain and reached under the counter for a couple pills. He slid the bottle between them and let her do what she wished. The medicine wasn't something you'd find in a store and they weren't given by doctors. It was a little illegal, but it was all they had and his mother swore by the stuff. He repeated her question in his head before responding.

"What makes food Kosher...hmm...well I could rattle off a bunch of information. When it comes to meat it must come from an animal that chews its cud and has split hooves such as cows, sheep, and goats. For birds they have to be domesticated creatures such as chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys, cornish hens. That kind of stuff. They also must be killed with precision and examined by a skill shochet, which is a person trained in kosher slaughtering. The meat also has to be soaked and removed of all traces of blood before it can be cooked and anything used to slaughter the animals must also be kosher," Ezra paused a moment and went to the kitchen to pull out some meat for their sandwiches and vegetables. When he came back he continued, "for dariy all our items have to come from a kosher animal. They must be free of any meat derivatives. They have to be produced, processed and packaged on kosher equipment. The foods that aren't meat or dairy are considered pareve, which includes eggs, fish, fruit, vegetables, grains, pasta, coffee, candies, and other snacks. Pareve items however lose their status if they're processed on meat or dairy equipment. The chocolate we use and cookies we bake all have to be certified pareve. We also have to make sure our fruits, vegetables, and grains don't have any small insects or larvae because those aren't kosher. Our eggs must looked at for any blood spots or else we can't eat them."

He looked over and saw the cap off the pill bottle and smiled a bit. She trusted him still. "I hope that wasn't too much information. You usually learn all this stuff while you're a child so by the time you're our age it's drilled in your mind and you can repeat it like a machine," he finished their sandwiches and passed one over to her.

He could see she was struggling and it made him a little irritated that she wasn't telling him exactly what happened. He knew something was wrong, but he didn't think she'd hide it. He was basically flashing his body to her, at least from the waist up, and she could see his markings. Why was she struggling to let him know what was wrong. He began to think he'd been too harsh when he told her to stop crying. She had every right to cry over what happened. Everything he predicted was coming true. Maybe she was struggling to realize the truth again.

"I know they hurt you. You don't have to act tough. I'm not going to shoo you away. You need comfort and you need to know I'm here for you the same way you were for me. I know I've been hot and cold, but I'll stop. I know you don't need that and after today...well people already seem to know. So there's really no point in pretending that I don't want to kiss you," Ezra said taking a bite of his food.

Marta watched as Ezra placed a bottle of pills on the counter. She frowned. He figured it out; guess she wasn’t a very good actress. How obvious was it that she was in pain? She held off taking them, because then it would be her way of fully admitting something happened. And Ezra didn’t deserve that. He was better off knowing, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore.

She gave Ezra her full attention when he started to speak about kosher foods. Marta had no idea it was in depth as it was, and it really was fascinating. She wished she was feeling better, so she could focus more, but she did the best she could. Marta never even considered where her food came from. It was prepared for her, given to her, and she ate it. She took her food for granted, but not Jewish people. They knew how to cherish food and treat it for the respect it deserves. It is what kept humans alive, so it should be natural to respect it.

Marta watched as Ezra went into the back, and she took the time to reach over and take a pill from the bottle. If she was going to be give Ezra her full undivided attention, she didn’t need any distractions. She popped the pill in her mouth and dry swallowed it just as Ezra came back. She watched him put their sandwiches together with such fascination. It may seem silly, but to her, this was like watching an artist paint a masterpiece. Marta doesn’t know how to cook a single thing. She has hardly ever stepped foot in her house’s kitchen. She didn’t have to when there was a full time chef always there, ready to prepare whatever she wanted.

Marta frowned again as Ezra admitting to knowing that she was hurt. What exactly happened, he was obviously still clueless about, but he figured it out regardless. Was she that easy to read? Or did they know eachother well enough already to not need words to communicate certain things? Marta would like to think that was the case. Hearing him mention that he really shouldn’t even bother pretending to not want to kiss her, Marta bit her lip, almost in a flirtatious way, but mostly in a shy way. Even though they have shared three kisses already, all of them had some other meaning behind them. They haven’t shared a kiss that was just a kiss. A moment of tenderness between two people.

“Then kiss me” she whispered back, looking at him with gentle eyes.

He put his sandwich on the counter and nodded, "Okay," was all he said before he took a small step and pulled her to him, making sure to be gentle so he didn't cause her any unnecessary pain. He tilted her chin up and parted her lips with his own taking everything in from the way his arms around around her frame, to the softness of her lips, to the way their noses brushed together as it intensified. She was like a flower blooming and he was the gardener. His hands moved into her hair, his fingers getting tangled inside the blonde locks and he wasn't sure how long they'd been kissing, but he didn't want to stop. He lifted her up and sat her on the counter so that she was more his height never breaking his lips from hers. When he finally pulled away he was out of breath and his heart was racing.

"A kiss is never just a kiss," Ezra whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose and detached himself from her.

He wasn't sure if he'd over stepped a boundary. That was kind of kiss you did in private with the person you were married to, not a stranger in a bakery. He'd wanted to keep going, to see what was under her clothes, but he kept those thoughts to himself knowing they were wrong. He picked up his sandwich and took another bite, motioning for her to eat with him.

"Those pills will make you sick on an empty stomach. If you're still in pain I can walk you to a hospital, but the closest one without Jewish doctors is about a town or two over. You can stay here for the night. My parents won't mind if you sleep on our sofa. My mom is more doctor than she'll ever admit, so if you want her to look you over than I can bring her down. You just can't tell anyone she looked at you. Women doctors, especially jewish ones are very taboo. My family is already on thin ice with the authorities," he said keeping everything in a casual tone of voice like they were talking about the weather.

he didn't want her to worry about him anymore. One day she'd come to this bakery and he'd probably be gone. She'd have no idea where he was and until that moment came he would give her his full attention and all the love he had inside of him. He would be remembered by her. He would live for something.

The kiss was perfect. It soothed Marta and kept her grounded. It took away the pain, physical and emotional, even if it was just temporary. She wrapped her arms around Ezra’s neck, pulling him closer. Her chest pressing against his. Her fingers found their way into his curls, and she felt his tongue. Every nerve ending on her body was tingling, in a good way. At some point, she felt herself being lifted and Marta didn’t fight against it. She parted her legs slightly, not in a sexual way, but so Ezra could stand between her straddled legs and continue to closer to her. Marta had no clue where this kiss was going, she knew not much further, at least not yet, but she knew she didn’t want it to end.

But Ezra finally pulled back, Marta kept her eyes closed as he laid kisses over her face. There was peace. Even if it only lasted a second. Everything outside these doors did not matter for that mere second. It didn’t matter what religion they believed in, their social standings, their friends or parents. For that brief moment, it was just the two of them being together.

And in an instant, it was gone. Marta let her eyes slowly open when Ezra pulled away. She took a minute to compose herself, straightening out her dress before carefully climbing off the counter. She look over at the sandwich, picking it up and taking a bite. The bread, which was still slightly warm from the oven, was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. And the meat had a different taste than she was use to, a better taste. It tasted more natural and rich. Not tainted by chemicals or other by-products that are probably contained in the meat her family eats. It was so good, Marta took a minute to just enjoy it and sort of ignore Ezra.

She heard him mentioning staying at his place tonight, and that made Marta look up and stop eating for a moment. She did tell her mother as she was walking out the door earlier that she may spend the night at Sarah’s, so she was covered. She was hesitant about letting his mother look at her. The less involved his parents were, the better. Plus, Marta was too ashamed.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude…” she started to say. Her proper upbringing flashing through for a moment. It was impolite to invade a person’s home, even though she was invited. But it still felt like an intrusion because Marta could tell he was very close to his parents, especially his mother. She was sure that the evenings were their time to be together and just discuss their days with another.

Marta took the last bite of her sandwich, and noticed Ezra still had half of his left. She blushed, feel embarrassed that she ate it so fast. But it was seriously the best sandwich she has ever had.

“Did you make the bread?” she asked curiously.

"You're not intruding. You'd be keeping me company. I'd like it if you stayed the night. But anyway...my father made it this batch. I overslept and when I finally came down he had finished most of the baking. All I did today was stand around and wait for customers...and then..." Ezra paused a moment putting his food down and pushing it away from him. Suddenly he wasn't hungry as he reached for his throat. Still bare. He pursed his lips, "I can't believe I let them leave with my great grandfathers necklace. My dads face was so saddened when he saw I didn't have it anymore. He looked all over trying to figure out where I could have misplaced it. I didn't have the guts to tell him it was stolen right off my neck. That it was either my life or the necklace. I should have lost my life instead of let them take it from."

He shook his head and pushed his food towards her. She seemed to enjoy it more than he was. His family wasn't big on wasting anything so if it could go somewhere besides the trash than he was satisfied. He rested his head on his hands as he looked over at her and motioned with his eyes for her to eat some more.

"It was passed down from son to son. Once you turned 13 you were granted ownership of the necklace. If you didn't have a son and instead you were father to a daughter than you kept the necklace for your grandson. The girls in our family got other ones. I'm not sure where my grandmothers went to. My parents never wanted more than one. I think she gave it to my mother for safe keeping. We are very traditional when it comes to family. If my parents saw us though I don't think they'd mind that we differed in beliefs. I think they'd just fear for my life even more than they already do. I swear they'll die young because of me," he said closing his eyes a moment. He found it hard to open up to people.

He had friends, but not many. After his attack people began to distance themselves. He was too much of a liability. He had originally thought his attackers were sent after him as a warning to his father and all the debt he owed to keep their shop up and running. But after today he knew it was purely his religion. He shrugged a bit to get out of his own head and turned his attention back to her. She always listened to every word he said like it would save the world. Like there was some deeper meaning behind every syllable. He found himself smiling at her, flashing his teeth a little, a smile that reached his eyes and felt deep inside. It was warm and inviting. She waited to see if she had any more questions.

Marta nodded her head and smiled. If Ezra wanted her around, she wouldn’t say no. It was all she wanted too, so should we stay.

“Ok I’ll stay” she mentioned quietly, but listening to Ezra go on about how his father made the bread. It was so good, And she had a hunch Ezra made it just as good, assuming he learned from his father, which is usually how things worked in a family owned business. She was about to ask more about the breads, when she saw Ezra’s demeanor fall. He suddenly seemed sad and she listened as he went on about his necklace.

Glancing at his neck, Marta noticed the gold chain missing. She frowned. She knew right away that Oscar and his friends took it. Why was that necessary? Marta felt her blood boil, but she remained calm for Ezra’s sake. Marta started to think about how maybe she could get the necklace back. Maybe Sarah could help; Marta quickly shook that thought from her head. Oscar has most likely told Sarah about Marta’s new friends and choices she is making, and Sarah would be disgusted and never talk to Marta again. Marta just hoped she didn’t start gossiping all over her school. Marta would figure out who to tell and when to tell them in her own time. But having them hear it through the rumor mill would only end in a catastrophe. There was nothing she could do about it right now, so she put the thoughts on the backburner.

“Ezra I am so sorry...To have some so irreplaceable taken from you, I can’t imagine.”

It would be like you taken away from me , Marta thought to herself. Marta’s family didn’t have too many traditions or heirlooms. Since her father grew up poor, he did not have many possessions as a child, and Marta’s mother’s sister, who was the older one, ended up with all their family trinkets. So their belongings were fresh and new to them. Maybe Marta would start a tradition. Maybe she would have a daughter she could give something too. And maybe that daughter would receive the necklace from her grandmother, Edith. The thought made Marta smile to herself a little. Having children was 1000 steps too early. Plus, bringing a child into this world right now would be cruel.

She saw Ezra push the rest of his uneaten sandwich in front of her. She was still a little hungry, since all she ate for breakfast was a couple pieces of fruit, but she didn’t want to seem fat and gross and eat the rest of his. But he offered, and it was so good, so she picked it up and took a bite, but set it down for now. Maybe she would finish it later.

She looked up and saw Ezra smiling brightly at her. She hadn’t a clue what brought on the sudden joy in his eyes. Only moments ago he was mourning over his lost necklace. Out of instinct, Marta reached up and thought maybe she had something on her face and he was just teasing her about it.

“What?” she asked, a giggle escaping her lips, “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something in my teeth?”

"I want to remember your face right now. I don't want to dwell tonight on the bad things that happened today. There will be so many other things in the weeks to come that will give us wrinkles and make me go gray. Right now I want to remember your smile and the way your laugh sounds. I don't want to think about Oscar or the necklace. I want to be you for a moment and just focus on the good things," Ezra said surprising himself the most.

He'd meant those words more than anything else. There would be plenty of time for him to cry over the things that would happen in his life and what was sure to come. In the morning she would go home and relive her life separate from him and he would do the same, but right now she was learning about his own and he was opening up more to the idea that maybe her changing religions wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe they could be happy. Hitler would lose his power over the people soon. The attention span of a human was like a dogs. They would go hard at first with the beliefs, but then they would go back to normal. He was stupid to worry about the future when his present was this lovely.

"Tomorrow we can go back to reality, but right now I need to escape it and I want to escape it with you, Marta," Ezra said reaching out his hand and taking hers.

He wasn't sure if all the trauma had finally gotten to him or if he was slowly descending into madness. If his mother had heard him say those words she'd have smacked him back into the reality quicker than ever. She was never one to be a dreamer the way his father was. He had dreamed of owning his own bakery and he made it happen while he was Ezra's age. His dad and his mom had just gotten married and before kids they penned the whole idea down. It wasn't until after Ezra had turned 5 that his father started to grey and the dream seemed more like a burden.

Marta smiled brightly as she listened to Ezra. She couldn’t agree more. They haven’t had time to just be with each other, no drama involved. Marta wanted this to be special, and to her that meant knowing everything about Ezra. And if the only way to do that was to just pretend nothing else existed for a few hours, Marta would definitely join in. She felt Ezra take her hand, which she allowed. She would always allow him to take her hand, unless maybe if it was covered in mud or something, but even then, if he really wanted to, she would.

She inched a little forward, standing next to Ezra facing him, her hip leaning against the counter. She noticed the pain in her stomach was starting to dull, the pill must be kicking in. She smiled up at Ezra and said, “I would love nothing more.”

She looked in his blue-green eyes and truly began to look at his face for the first time. She noticed that his eyes were mostly blue, but there were little speckles of green that made it seem like she was looking into the ocean. Marta and her family would vacation in the south of France almost every year. This past summer was the first time they hadn’t gone; her father being too busy at work.

Marta also started to memorize all of Ezra’s feature. The way his brown curls were long enough to cover the tops of his eyes. His square jaw and how it gave him a mature look. When he smiled at her, he had one dimple on one side of his cheek. Ezra was truly a handsome man and Marta cannot deny the attraction. But her attraction for him goes much deeper than looks, but she can’t help loving what she does get to look at.

Unable to resist the urge anymore, Marta reached up, running her hands through Ezra’s hair, pushing his bangs away from his face a little. She loved how soft his hair was; maybe it was a secret baker trick, maybe flour was the best hair softener.

“So, how about you teach me to bake something?” Marta asked with a quirked eyebrow. Baking seemed to be something Ezra was good at and it would be a great thing for Marta to learn about. She hadn’t a clue how to bake anything. And it would give her a chance to get a glimpse more into Ezra’s life, and maybe her future.

Ezra raised an eyebrow while he thought about it. Teaching her to bake would be difficult, she didn't seem like the type of girl who spent her free time in the kitchen, but he wouldn't deny her the request. He enjoyed the smell fresh pastries and cakes. Baking them calmed his nerves and he could usually forget about whatever was bothering him, even if it was just for a moment. He nodded slowly as he brought his hands up to his face and thought for a moment. He wanted to give her an easy recipe. Something that would be nearly impossible to mess up so that she wouldn't feel overwhelmed or get discouraged. Cookies. There was no way she could mess that up.

He quickly turned on his heel and began to shuffle through some papers inside of a metal box. He had his grandmothers recipe somewhere within these piles of documents that was so easy a mouse could do it. He finally found what he was looking for and brought it over to her. "Cookies. Not just any cookies, my Savta's cookies. Impossible for anyone to mess up. It was the first thing I learned to make, so it should be the first thing you learn. Everything is basic and common knowledge. If you plan on baking like me then you start here. If you plan on baking like my father I can give you a complicated pie recipe, but that usually ends in disaster even when I try. Something always goes wrong with the homemade filling," he said getting lost in his thoughts, "anyway, cookies. I'll read the directions to you and then you can read them to yourself. Memorize them."

He held the paper in front of him like he was ready to give a lecture to a bunch of students. "These are called Hamantaschen cookies. We usually only make them during Purim, which is a holiday, but I like them all year round. We need cream cheese, unsalted butter, sugar, vanilla, kosher salt, flower, apricots, raspberries, and egg whites. These are my favorite kind of cookies, so don't mess up," he said with a smile to show her he was only joking.

He took hold of her arm and led her to the kitchen so that they could started. He grabbed all the ingredients from various places around the kitchen and laid them out on the table before them. They would make the filling fresh just like his grandma taught him. He looked over at her to see if she was still up for it.

"If it's too much we can bake bread...I just thought you'd prefer something sweet..." He said a little anxious. Had he assumed wrong about her? Was she joking about wanting to bake? He bit his lip as he looked at all the items in front of him. This recipe suddenly felt like it was too complicated and he mentally kicked himself for picking it.

Marta watched with curiosity as Ezra went over to a shelf a pulled down a metal box. Marta took a peek while he was looking through it and saw it was filled with recipes. All hand-written, probably passed down for generations. It made Marta smile, though it was slightly bittersweet for her. Just spending these two days around Ezra has made her realize, as much as she loves her parents, they lacked in that family bond and closeness that Ezra seems to have with his parents. Marta and her parents didn’t have many traditions, aside from a couple little things around Christmas, and they definitely didn’t have family recipes handed down from grandparents and their parents before that. No need to dwell though, maybe one day she would be joining Ezra’s family.

Marta’s smile grew, teeth showing, when Ezra said they would bake cookies. Her sweet tooth was itching now. If Marta could learn how to bake cookies, she would never have to worry about sneaking treats. She could just make some up herself. When Ezra explained this was his grandmother’s recipe, and it was the first thing he learned how to bake, Marta felt a warmth grow in her heart. He was including her in something special, and it made her feel special, even if that wasn’t his intention.

Memorizing was something Marta is very good at. Growing up, her piano teacher made her always memorize her sheet music for whatever piano piece she was learning that week. Because of that, the skill of remembering things became easy for her. She remembered numbers, dates and names very well. So when Ezra was reading part of the recipe out loud, Marta was glancing over his shoulders and memorizing all the measurements as quickly as she could. Even though Marta has not baked, she is still educated and has learned the fundamental measurements. She knows how many teaspoons make up a tablespoons. And how to cut a whole cup of something into parts. Maybe baking wouldn’t be too hard.

Her excitement growing, she followed Ezra into the back and watched as he pulled all the necessary ingredients and prep-items they would need. She looked at everything on the counter, already thinking of the first step of the recipe she had read. She looked up when Ezra said they could bake something else, she quickly shook her head.

“Cookies are perfect! The sweeter the better… plus apricots are my favorite.” she said, with a small wink as she walked up to the counter.

She bit her lip gently, and took a deep breath, the same way she always did right before she was about to play the piano. She reached over and grabbed the biggest bowl that Ezra got out. She spotted the cream cheese and butter and brought them over to her and looked at them. Ok now she was stumped. She knew she needed 4 oz of cream cheese, but cream is solid. How do you measure a solid using liquid measurements? She looked at Ezra for a second, a slightly puzzled look on her face, before glancing back and seeing a glass jar with markings on the side. She picked it up and saw there were measurements on it, like a ruler, and noticed one side said ounces. So carefully, she scooped the cream cheese into the jar until it measured 4 oz.

After a few minutes of checking and re-checking, Marta had the first part of the mixture in the bowl, ready to stir. She looked around for a minute, at a lost for what she was suppose to stir with to make everything “fluffy”. Having being stubborn and not asking for Ezra’s help, she was now stuck.

Letting out a slightly defeated sigh, she looked at Ezra, “OK now what?”

Ezra watched in amusement as Marta attempted to make the cookies without his help. He stood with his hands crossed over his chest trying not to take over, which was something his father always scolded him for. He loved cooking too much that watching someone else do it was painful. She wasn't doing bad though for it being what appeared to be her first time in any sort of kitchen. Eventually he found himself leaning on the table resting his head on his arms figuring out when she would ask him for help or if she would continue working on her own. The excitement in her eyes kept him entertained. He was actually quiet impressed that she had figured out what to use to measure items and how much each thing was. The directions were merely just there, it seemed like she had memorized the recipe before she'd even started and Ezra wasn't sure really how she did it. He'd always had bad memory so having the recipes written out for him step by step had a life savor when he started cooking himself.

When she finally let out a sigh and looked at him his smile grew and he picked up a whisk, "this will make it fluff up. Be gentle though. You want some air pockets," he said placing it in her hand. He stood half behind her while placing his hand over top of hers to show her how to use it properly. "Many people mess up here because they do it too much or too fast or too rough. You want to take it nice and slow," he whispered like he was trying not to disturb the mixture.

His body pressed against her back as he let go of her hand, but stayed close enough in case she didn't feel like she was doing it right. Once he saw her get the hang out of it he moved away and began slicing the fruit to making the filling of the cookies. He'd never thought he'd be teaching a girl to bake. Normally all Jewish girls were naturals in the kitchen and his need to learn had usually been a hobby, but with Marta he was glad he had the skill because he was pretty sure she would start fire if she ever needed to use the stove.

Marta saw Ezra watching her out of the corner of her eyes, but it didn’t make her nervous. If anything it gave her motivation to do better. She watched as Ezra picked up a mixing tool, which she was pretty sure was called a whisk, but she didn’t want to sound stupid and be wrong. She took the whisk in her hand and placed it into the bowl and listened to Ezra’s instructions. It made sense, but the execution may result differently. A person can will themselves to do something right, but when it actually comes time to doing it, it could fail miserably.

But she didn’t need to worry because the next second, she felt Ezra’s hand on hers and his body pressed against her back. She got chills from the closeness and closed her eyes for a second to calm the butterflies forming in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if Ezra being close to her would ever stop feeling so wonderful. She watched and felt how he moved her hand with the whisk, letting her muscles try to memorize the movement. It felt weird, but natural at the same time. Once he let go, and stepped away, Marta continued to mix. She saw Ezra starting to slice the apricots. They really were Marta’s favorite fruit; she had one almost every morning with breakfast.

Once the mixture was all nice and fluffy, she reached over a grabbed the flour. She took the 1 cup measuring spoon and filled it up before pouring it into the bowl. She began to use the whisk again to mix the batter, but it got harder with the flour since it was turning into dough. She felt herself struggling, but kept going. She saw Ezra watching her carefully again and she had a hunch she was doing something wrong.

She reached over and put her index finger into the extra flour, then reached up and smeared it onto Ezra’s nose. She let out a small giggle before saying, “Clearly I am messing up, so tell me what to do.”

Ezra shook his head as he put the knife down and grabbed a little flour. He rubbed his hands with it and began mixing with his fingers. "You're relying too much on the whisk now. Kneed it a little and get the rolling pin to flatten it a bit. Then you'll take a knife and cut little triangles so you're not making one giant mess of a cookie. You can decide yourself how big or how little you want the cookie to be just as long as it can hold the filling. You weren't messing up, you just weren't exploring other choices. I don't use the whisk often, I prefer to feel the dough in my grasp so I know when it's ready to be turned into whatever we're eating," he said as he let the dough go and poured a little flower on the table and coated the rolling pin with it.

He turned to her and held her hands out so he could coat those in flour also. When he was satisfied he placed his hands on both of her cheeks and gave her a small kiss. When he let his hands fall she had white prints on her face and he gave a small chuckle. He went over to the kitchen sink and rinsed his hands off so that she could focus on doing the rest herself. He would just finish with the filling and she would be left working herself.

"I'll heat up the oven so it's warmed by the time you've figured out what to do. No more help from me. You're a smart girl, you can do it. If you mess up I'll still pretend it like it through tears," he said trying to make a joke.

Marta watched as Ezra took the flour and coated his hands before reaching in and started to move the dough around with his hands. Marta was definitely intrigued, she never imagined using her hands as the mixer, but it made sense. She watched him carefully, taking in his movements, how he rolled the dough and seemed to fold it over itself. He made it look so simple, yet Marta was sure she wouldn't be as successful. When he stopped, the dough still was only about half way mixed. She faced Ezra as he took her hands and put flour in them and before she could continue herself, Ezra put his hands on her cheeks and gave her a quick peck. She smiled, but glared playfully, fully aware there was now flour all over her face.

She reached up and wiped a little off on her forearms, and dropped her arms, instantly the flour getting on her dress. She went to go wipe it off, forgetting her hands were already coated in flour, and the result was even more flour on her dress. "Well good job Marta" she mumbled to herself, not caring about her dress so much as just making a mess in general.

Letting it go for now, she turned and faced the counter again and reached in and grabbed the dough. She smiled; it felt like soft clay, something she loved playing with as a child. She moved it around, trying to mimic Ezra's motions as best as she could. Once all the ingredients seemed to be blended together and the dough was all stuck together, she lifted it out onto the bowl, placing it on the counter which was covered in flour from her sloppiness. She looked around and tried to find the rolling pin, noticing it sitting on the shelf above her. She reached up, not realizing that on the same shelf was a box of flour, thankfully almost empty, but enough to create a disaster. Because as Marta pulled the rolling pin down, not realizing it, bumped the box of flour over and it all poured on top of her head.

She let out a gasp and jumped back, flour flying everywhere. Her hair, face and shoulders were ghost white now. She looked over at Ezra, a face of a guilty child who got caught trying to steal cookies, and said "I am so sor..." she began to apologize before sneezing and a flour cloud forming around her head.

"You certainly have never been inside a kitchen before," Ezra said with a little sigh as he grabbed a towel out of one of the shelves and tried his best to dust her off. "You're like a child, you know that? Watching you is like watching a baby take their first steps. Clumsy at first, then they get the hang of it, and then they fall down," he gave her a small smile as he got most of the flour off her head. He was half tempted to take over the rest of the baking, but then she'd never learn so he held back.

He was glad his dad had gone upstairs, if he would have seen the mess they'd made he'd probably have a fit. His father was a clean baker, never leaving a trace behind. It was like as he cooked he cleaned. There never seemed to be flour on the tables or dishes in the sink when his dad was in charge. While Ezra was more messy when he made things. You could tell he'd been in the kitchen because he never cleaned up after himself. Things tended to just sit over night until his mom or dad came down to fix everything up before starting the morning pastries.

"You can do it though. I have complete faith in your ability to make these cookies all on your own. Just....try to use a little less flour and try not to get it in your eyes. Trust me...it burns," Ezra said as he put the towel down and looked her over. She was a complete wreck and the kitchen looked like it had just snowed. He dusted some of the flour onto the floor and then grabbed a broom from the closet. He started to sweep up the mess making sure to keep a close on eye on her as she finished the last bit of preping before the cookies were to meet the oven.