#bread lessons

I listen to the sound of raindrops pattering against our kitchen window and sigh. The sudden rainstorm started only moments before, trapping me in my house, with only the smell of fresh bread and Buttercup to keep me company. Those, and Peeta. I sigh again, kicking my arrows away dejectedly.

I hear Peeta smirk behind me. “Is someone sad?”

I turn in my seat to glare at him. “Have fun making dinner tonight without food.”

He rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter. “We do have food.”

“Yeah, rabbit food.”

“Salad isn’t rabbit food!”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. It’s not the same as fresh game.”

“Cheer up, Katniss.” Peeta says, “You can’t control the weather. It should clear up soon, anyway.”

This is Peeta talking logic. So I turn my back to him, going back to staring out the window. I hear him sigh behind me.

“Do you wanna learn how to make bread?”

His question causes me to turn around and raise an eyebrow. “What?”

He shrugs, peering at me through his wavy blond locks. “I don’t know. I just thought that you might like to learn, instead of pouting out the window all day.”

“I do not pout!” I say, forcing my lips down into a scowl.

Peeta grins. “Whatever you say.”

“Peeta, shut up.”

“Okay,” he says, “Seriously though, do you want to learn?”

No, I think. I then think of the pouring rain. It’s not going to let up anytime soon. I don't have anything else to do today, either. And Peeta’s face looks so hopeful...

“Fine,” I say.

“Great!” Peeta beams. He shuffles out to the guestroom, saying that he will be back in a second. I sigh and get up, walking to the counter. Peeta has set up bowls: the large ones filled with flour, sugar, and milk; the smaller ones filled with fragrant powders. I lean over and smell some of the bowls. I can make out dill and rosemary. I hear loud footfalls and turn around, just in time to see Peeta arrive.

His smile stretches from ear to ear. In his hand, he’s holding a large, dusty brown book. He sets it down in front of us.

“What’s this?” I ask, perplexed.

“It’s the Mellark recipe book.” Peeta explains, “It’s a family secret. I never thought I would get to pass this on to anyone...but here you are!”

Peeta looks so genuinely happy, that I try to make an effort to be happy as well. I am suddenly hit with a vision of a younger Peeta, a little boy or girl he could teach recipes to; someone he could pass the book on to. I give my head a slight shake. It’s only been two years since the war. Not this soon. What am I thinking? Not ever!

“Katniss?” Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in concern.

I smile. “No, I'm...thank-you. Thank-you for sharing this with me.”

He beams. “Don't thank me. You’re a Mellark now.”

I blush, recalling last month. The cake, the train, the wedding... “Well, officially, I'm Katniss Everdeen Mellark.”

“A Mellark all the same.” He grins, like he always does when he says my name...my new name.

Peeta flips the book open. Its set up much like my family’s plant book, or the memory book. It has a picture of the finished product, along with materials and procedures. I trace my hand along the page, realizing the writing is of Peeta’s father.

Peeta’s hand encloses mine. “Pick one,” he says quietly, “We’ll make whatever you want.”

I give a small laugh. “What I want to make doesn’t matter. It’s what I can make. Let’s start off easy.”

“How about cheese buns?” Peeta gives a teasing smile, dropping his voice seductively, “I know you crave my buns.”

I give a laugh, but it cuts off as soon as I make the connection. It was almost like Finnick was in front me, holding out a sugar cube. Inexplicably, my eyes tear up.

Peeta’s hand touches my cheek. “Hey,” he says softly, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.” My voice catches. “Nothing.” I repeat louder, forcing a smile.

Peeta looks sceptical. “Okay...”

“So what do we need for this recipe?” I ask enthusiastically, trying to veer off this topic before I start bawling.

Peeta gives a smirk. “Cheese.”