Chapter 1

 I fidgeted in my chair, wanting more than anything to get up right now and leave. I knew I wouldn't thought. I sighed and moved around in the chair in the back of the room. Michelle was so good at keeping completely still even when no one was in the room. There was a small knock on the door, followed by another harder knock.

When Michelle opened her mouth she spoke clearly, saying, "Enter." A wide-eyed, black-haired, tanned skin boy stepped in the room. His face was sober. His hazel eyes scanned the room. First they settled on Michelle but only for half a second before moving his eyes to the empty chair in front of Michelle. He moved to the chair but his eyes still searched. Finally they landed on me and a small smile tugged on his mouth before disappearing. Seated he looked somehow smaller -- more vulnerable.

Before I could think much about it, Michelle started. "Please state your name.”

I sat up, straighter in my chair as he said, "Olive Owen Baker, son of Paul Leon Baker"

"And why are you here, Olive Baker," Michelle asked.

"To state my sins and ask for forgiveness," Oliver said, his words ringing in the mostly empty room.

It was my turn to speak -- my one line through this all. I took a deep breath and said, "Renounce your name before the gods." Olive looked over at me, surprised. He must have been expecting Michelle to talk.

Despite this, his voice was clear as he said, "I, Oliver Owen Baker, have committed a sin. Through High Priestess Rutherford take away my sin." I saw Michelle slump forward at the sound of her name, just as she did every time someone came to this point in confession.

"Tell me your sin son." Michelle said in a quite voice, giving Oliver the right to speak for as long as he needed.

"High Priestess. I have done something terrible. So terrible that it may be wrong to even confess this." He paused for just a second, as his eyes flickered to mine. "I seem to find myself in love with someone -- someone betrothed."

Michelle pulled a breath into her mouth, waiting for Oliver to continue. When he didn't she said, "The gods have heard your plea and..." Michelle closed her eyes tight, calling the gods to her. Something I had yet to be able to do. When I she spoke again her voice was think with tears. "The gods have forgiven you."

Oliver's eyes went to mine again while he said, "Thank you." Olive stood from his chair and nodded to Michelle.

"Rochelle," Michelle said, turning her head towards me, "will you please see Mr. Baker to the door." I stood, slowly, from my chair and stepped up to Oliver. I ushered him to toward the door with my arm. He opened the door and stepped out. With a quick glance back at Michelle, I did the same.

Just outside the door, Oliver turned to me and said, "Thank you." The way he was staring at me made my stomach flutter, for no reason at all. I tried to match his gaze with my own. "Do you have much more time to sit here...well in there?" I couldn't tell if he was just being polite or if he really wanted to know -- so much was hard to infer with Oliver. Even when we had been in school together, it had been hard to guess what Oliver was going to do next.

I gave him a smile and said, "No, actually you were the very last person today. I'm done with training at three everyday." Oliver glanced at the clock on the far wall, by the door. A broad smile stretched Oliver's features to the max. That was the one thing about Oliver you could count on -- his easy smile.

"Then," Oliver said to me, "you wouldn't mind coming to get some sweets with me? My treat." He looked like a little child asking his mother for the newest toy Christopher's was selling.

"I would would love too," I relied with a customary blush. I averted my eyes -- suddenly embarrassed. Embarrassed because for a fraction of a second I had entertained the idea that I was the girl Oliver was in love with. But that was ridiculous. I hadn't seen Oliver since he graduated from school five years ago. He was sure to be in love with someone from his Training -- Maggie or Dana perhaps. Not me, never me. Why was I even thinking about this? It wasn't as if I were in love with him. I wasn't in love with anyone. I doubted I would even be in love with my husband -- though I hadn't met him yet.

"So," I started, "where are we going?" He gave me a look of mock offense.

"We're going to Charlotte's. Where else would we go?" Oh! of course. We were going to Charlotte's Candy -- where Oliver was doing his Training. He was perfectly suited to be a Candy-Man. His optimistic attitude would please the children and other customers. His unpredictability would make the candy a surprise for everyone. I blushed a deep crimson and let my head hang.

"Oh, oh no," Oliver said, distress in his voice. "Oh, Rochelle please don't be upset with me. I was only kidding." I looked up into his big, hazel eyes. In them I saw true sorrow -- he was more than upset that I had taken his joke the wrong way. For some reason I felt pain that he was in pain. I gave him one of my weak smiles.

"Let's go," I said, stepping out into the sunlight. I felt Oliver's presence behind me, but didn't look back. When we had reached Church Street, Oliver caught up to be and walked on my right. I heard his sigh, but still didn't look at him. We walked silently up Church Street and onto Main Street. When we reached almost the middle of Main Street, Oliver turned in Charlotte's on the right side of the street. As soon as I was fully in the shop I was hit by a thousand different sweet smells. My nose led me to a rack of different flavored sticks. I reached my hand out to grab one, but before I could close my hand around a blueberry flavored one, Oliver grabbed my hand and yanked me away. He tore through the shop and into the backroom. I felt my breath catch -- no one was allowed into the backroom of anywhere unless you were Working or Training. I looked up at Oliver, expecting an answer. He only squeezed my hand in his. Still holding my hand, and therefore dragging me along behind him, he walked to the back of the room. There I saw a big glob of glue.

I stared at it for a few seconds before saying, "What exactly is that?" A low chuckle rumbled from Oliver.

"That my friend is dough." I gave Olive a confused look and he countered it with an exasperated one of his own. Yet again be dragged me behind him. This time we went to the silver sink near the back door. He quickly scrubbed his hand clean and motioned for me to do the same. I stuck my hands under the lukewarm water and scrubbed at my palms and fingers. With my wrists I shut the water off and dried my hands on a fuchsia towel Oliver handed to me. I set the towel down once my hands were dry and followed Oliver, who was already walking back towards the dough. When I reached him, he was pulling an apron off a hook and securing it on himself. He motioned for me to come forward and I stepped towards him. He looked me up and down, surveying...something. Automatically I looked down. I realized I was still wearing my Training Cape. Before I could do anything, Oliver reached up and tugged the ribbon on the nape of my neck. The silver and blue cape fell with a whoosh to the ground, exposing my clothes underneath. Today, I was wearing a white sun dress that settled on my shoulders and flowed, fittingly, down my body, where it fanned out at the knee.

Oliver was, I just realized, staring at me straight in the eye. I felt my heart beat faster as he leaned down to pick up my cape, still staring into my eyes. It wasn't till Oliver finally broke eye contact , to turn and hang up my TC, did I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. When Oliver turned again, his eyes were still intense, going straight to  mine. In his hands was an apron exactly like the one he wore. He lifted his arms and pulled the hole over my head. When it was settled on my neck, Oliver ran his fingers along the edge of the apron. His eyes watched his fingers skim down the side of the apron. When they reached the widest part of the apron, that hung on my hips, Oliver moved his hands to my hips. With his hands, he slowly turned my body so I was facing away from him. His fingers moved to the strings of the apron. Slowly, he tied the strings of the apron. A tingle worked its way up my spine at his touch. The tingle mad me shudder.

Olive stepped away from me, taking in a sharp breath. Slowly, I turned towards him, expecting him to be standing there, perhaps even looking at me the way he had before. But, of course, I was wrong, he was already turned back towards the lump he called dough. I followed. Oliver’s arms were drowning in dough up to his elbows.

Slowly pulling his arms out, Oliver looked over at me and said, “Here.” Oliver went behind me and his face just to the side of mine and his hands over mine, which were hanging limply at my side. Oliver wove his fingers in min and lifted my hands to the dough.

“Ready?” His voice was a whisper in my ear. I could feel his cool breath on my cheek; I felt my heart stutter. All I could do was nod my head and before I knew it my hands, and his, were plunged into the glob. The inside felt sticky and somewhat lumpy. Using his fingers, Oliver made my hands work the dough Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the white glimmer of his teeth as he smiled boardly.