ma taught me how to make pulled taffy. She made it every year for Christmas. I didn’t realize how good she was at it until we went to Toronto and her family begged her for a taffy pull.” She spoke to Pa as he headed for the store and the hope of customers. “Did you know she was the best candy maker?”
“It’s why I married her. Didn’t you know?” His eyes twinkled and she laughed.
“But didn’t you say it was because she made the best rice pudding? Oh, wait, wasn’t it because she baked the best biscuits, or was it because she had such a nice reading voice?”
“Yup. And lots more.”
Becca held his gaze a moment as they both silently acknowledged how much they missed her. Then Pa stepped into the store.
“Pa, don’t you want to take part in the candy making?”
He paused and sucked in air. No doubt the activity carried bittersweet memories for him. But Becca wanted so much for him to remember the good times they’d had and cherish them. A wish she had for everyone in the room.
“Call me when it’s time to pull it, and I’ll come back if I’m not busy with customers.” He turned to smile at Becca. “It will remind me of all the times I helped your mother.”
“She’d want to know you remembered all she taught you.”
She and Pa smiled shared love of her mother, then he closed the door behind him.
Becca glanced at Colt. He jerked his attention to a spot behind her, but not before she caught a glimpse of hunger, as if he liked hearing her talk about her mother...maybe he enjoyed hearing about a regular family. She made herself another promise—she’d show Colt what it was like to be in a family.
She pulled out the kettle Ma had always used. “The first time I remember Ma making taffy, I was about Marie’s age. We had just moved west. Ma had a job as a teacher in Fort Benton. She made taffy for the children on the last day of school before Christmas. I remember feeling so proud because all the children seemed to think she’d done something special.” She poured the sugar, water and vinegar into the kettle as Marie watched her every move. Colt stood back, Little Joe in his arms.
“Bring him closer so he can watch.” She saw eagerness in both expressions but Colt did not move, even though Little Joe wriggled, trying to force him to do so. She held Colt’s gaze, feeling his caution and reluctance. Her determination to give him good memories intensified. “Better pay attention in case you ever want to make this.”
At that he relaxed and chuckled. “Horses seem to think carrots are candy.” But he sidled closer to observe the ingredients in the kettle, close enough that she could feel him alongside her, even though they didn’t touch.
“It’s beginning to boil. Now we don’t stir it or jar it until it’s reached hard-ball stage. In the meantime, we get ready.” She pulled out the large pan her mother had always used. “It needs to be buttered. Marie, why don’t you and Little Joe do that?”
Colt put Little Joe at the table beside his sister, and Becca showed them how to dip their fingers in the butter and spread it on the pan.
“Can’y ready?” Little Joe asked.
“No, now we wait.”
When the boy moved toward the stove, Colt lifted him into his arms and held him where he could see but not grab the kettle.
“It takes time to cook,” Becca warned the anxious trio. She dropped a bit of the candy mixture into a cup of cold water. It dissolved as she pressed it with the spoon. “Not ready yet.”
“Why do you do that?” Colt asked.
She explained that it indicated how hot the syrup was. “When it stays in a little ball, then it’s ready to take off the stove.” She noticed with warmth that he forgot to be reserved with her. “It takes a bit of practice to recognize the right degree, but Ma taught me well. I’ll try and do the same for you just in case you decide to treat the horses.” Or maybe decide to get some people friends. But she kept that thought to herself rather than drive him back into his shell.
She’d gladly—willingly—be his friend. But she couldn’t even offer that. She’d made a promise to her mother and was obligated to keep it. She checked the syrup again. “See how the little ball stays in shape?” She tipped the cup of water toward Colt for him to study. “When I take it out and press it, it holds its shape.” She held out her hand. “See for yourself.”
Colt extended a finger, and she slipped the candy onto it.
Flesh on flesh sent a jolt through her. She wanted to prolong the touch, examine her reaction, analyze the accompanying emotions—excitement, aliveness—but Colt, oblivious to her reaction, pulled away and felt the candy.
“That’s amazing.”
Yes, it was, though she understood he meant how the texture had changed. But what amazed and pleased her was the way he’d forgotten to be nervous and distant around her.
Little Joe leaned forward, his mouth open, his tongue out, begging to taste the sample.
“Can he eat it?” Colt asked.
“Certainly,” Becca answered.
Colt let the boy lick up the candy, and Little Joe smacked his lips. “Good.” He angled toward the kettle. “More.”
“It’s not ready yet. But it’s almost time for the fun part.” She poured the mixture into the prepared pan. “We all have to wash our hands while it cools.”
They washed and then waited, rather impatiently, for the candy to cool.
Pa came in and sat at the table, anticipating the time for pulling.
Becca turned the candy from the edges several times so it would cool equally. She tested it. How hot could the children handle? “It’s still a little warm. Pa, what do you think?”
“I’ll partner with Marie and show her what to do. You can show Colt and Little Joe how to pull it.”
That wasn’t exactly her question, but she readily agreed. Pa took half and showed Marie how to stretch and double it. Becca did the same with Colt as he held Little Joe in his lap. They held the candy mixture gingerly. She folded her end toward his, and their hands brushed. She was again so aware of him that her insides felt liquid. “We are working in air to make it light. Sometimes, if there’s any left overnight, it turns all creamy. Yum.” Think of candy. Think of how everyone will enjoy this. Think of anything but this silly reaction to a simple task.
Somehow she managed to explain every step until the candy was too stiff to work further, and they put it on the pan and cut it. “We could wait for it to cool and harden more. Or—” She let her voice trail off and laughed as three faces looked at her with wide-eyed begging. It felt so good to see all of them relaxed and enjoying themselves. Step one in making this the best Christmas ever for them.
“Or we could have some right now.” She grabbed the big knife and sliced off a piece. She handed a small piece to Little Joe. He plopped it into his mouth and his eyes grew big.
“Good.”
