Once upon a time, in a teeny-tiny village not far from the place where the wildflowers grow, there lived a woman who desperately wanted to become a mother. She searched the meadows and fields as well as the streets and alleyways for her true love, someone with whom she could raise a family, but it simply was not meant to be.
Instead of resisting her destiny, she chose to make peace with it. Thus, she opened a bakery on the village green, where she could share her heart with all the townsfolk. In no time at all, word spread of her delicious pastries, and people came from near and far to indulge in her tasty treats. She was best known for her honey cakes and lavender tarts, so it is perhaps no surprise that her shop grew to become beloved by the faeries, too.
Most of the fae would just stop by on their way to somewhere else. A few would linger for hours. She never rushed them along, for she enjoyed their company so very much. When one of the younger ones would inevitably find himself in trouble for causing mischief, she provided him refuge. Even when a fellow once got himself thrown out of his parents’ home, she allowed him to stay in the pantry with the flour and the sugar and the cinnamon until his bad behavior had been forgiven.
In return for her kindness, the Faerie Queen asked her to supply honey cakes for all of their festivals, weddings and memorials. Wanting to make certain that everything was perfect for her well-winged friends, she tasted the batter each time she placed a cake into the oven. While catering one especially extravagant event, she had prepared so many honey cakes that even the bluebirds could smell the sticky sweetness oozing through the pores of her skin.
The shop was so full of love that people–and faeries–would often come by to share their good news and tell of their most treasured moments. Poets would come to read her their verse, just as little girls with nimble fingers would play her the violin solos that they had mastered.
Yet, life being what it is, there were sad moments shared with her as well. One afternoon, a young lady entered the shop crying, for she had lost her locket in the nearby woods. And, who could forget the day Little Peter failed his mathematics exam?
There were bittersweet moments, too. But, none touched her heart more deeply than the day Niko came with his newborn daughter to tell her of his wife’s passing, for Chepi had succumbed while giving birth.
The child was so precious that the woman couldn’t help but to ask if she might hold her. With tearful eyes, Niko nodded and placed his newborn into the woman's arms. When she cradled his daughter against her breast, the girl smiled broadly and then began to make suckling sounds with her tongue and little rosebud lips.
“She must be hungry,” Niko said.
When the woman handed the child back to her father, the girl began to wail. Niko was at a loss, confused by his daughter’s need, until he noticed the glistening golden stain on the delicate fabric of the woman’s blouse.
Embarrassed, the woman stood and reached for her shawl, but Niko stopped her. He simply shrugged and returned the child to the woman’s arms. Instinctively, she unbuttoned her blouse and brought the girl to her breast to drink.
Perhaps, the woman thought, she was right to embrace her destiny, though never in her wildest dreams had she imagined it would lead her to become a wet nurse to a nymph.
Originally published in Fairy Chatter
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