HUSH, MY EX-CONVICT HEART

CHAPTER TWO: THE LISTING

ZORA'S POV

Just like every other day, the smell of freshly baked pastries filled my nostrils and my stomach danced in delight. I had been working in the bakery for the past four weeks and I had grown to love that smell.

As I walked into the kitchen where all the magic happens, I saw Gina kneading a dough gently.

“You're late,” she said, not looking away from the dough.

“Yeah, just 20 seconds,” I said looking at the watch on my wrist as I proceeded to take it off.

She glared at me and I smiled back at her.

“Just wash your hands and join me,” she said.

I simply did as she said and followed her lead, doing whatever she asked of me. Gina was very gifted. Her croissants were the best I had ever had.

In the few weeks I’d been here, I’d seen the reaction of people when they bite into her pastries – eyes closed, savoring the delicious taste of whatever came out of her kitchen.

On good days, her pastries would disappear faster than she could say “Jack”. But the only problem was that the good days weren’t much.

Even though she didn’t tell me, I could tell that the bakery was struggling. I noticed the little things she tried to hide – the supplier invoice she hid in the drawer whenever she saw me approaching, the way her forehead squeezed in disappointment when she counted the money made in a day.

“How are things going with the business?” I asked her one afternoon while she was doing the books.

“Walk-ins have been pretty slow this week,” she said with a tired voice.

I looked at her.

“What should we do to boost sales?”

“We could create a website to make pre-ordering much easier. Also, I’m thinking we partner with local cafes or event planners, although I doubt they would want to partner with a small business like this,” she said, looking exhausted.

I simply held her hand and gently squeezed it in a comforting way.

But this whole thing had woken something up in me. If she was struggling to keep this business afloat so both of us could survive, I knew I had to do something too.

But what?

That afternoon, Gina sat behind the counter while I wiped down the display case, just to keep my hands busy.

“Zora.”

The way she said my name made me look up immediately.

“Come and see this,” she said.

I dropped what I was doing and walked over to the counter, eager to see what it was that had gotten her excited.

She handed me her phone and the first words that glared back at me were: JOB LISTINGS.

Private nanny position for immediate opening. Candidates must be nurturing, passionate about children, and very patient. Selection is based more on emotional connection than formal credentials. The pay is competitive. Apply now if this sounds like you.

I don’t know why but my mind read it twice. I handed the phone back to Gina.

“You know I can’t do this, Zora,” I said as I made my way back to the display case.

“Why?” she asked in disbelief.

“You know why, Gina. No one would want to leave their child in the care of an ex-convict,” I reminded her.

“This one could be different,” she said.

“How so?”

“This is not a school or government institution. This is a more private setting. And according to the job listing, they care more about who you are than what’s in the papers,” Gina stated.

“That doesn’t mean a background check wouldn’t be conducted. How do I escape that?” I said.

This time, she was quiet.

Just when I thought I had won, she spoke again.

“I know you love working with kids. You love having them around and you can’t have the chance to enjoy that again because of what happened 5 years ago. This could be your only chance, Zo, to do what you love doing most.”

And with that, she dropped the issue and walked away as if nothing happened. Throughout the night, it was the only thing I could think of.

She was right. I loved kids. I loved having them around, which was why I was an elementary teacher at Haven Brook Elementary before the tragic incident that led me to prison.

If I didn’t take this job, I would regret it and on the other hand, if I did and I was caught, it could lead to something else.

“I’ll apply,” I said to her the following morning while she was making pancakes for breakfast.

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” she asked.

I simply nodded.

“Okay, let’s do this now before you change your mind,” she said. She walked towards me and pulled me towards the dining area.

For the next 5 minutes, we were bent over her phone, trying to apply for the position by filling out the online form. As usual, we bickered back and forth while trying to fill the form just like we had about everything else since we were both 16.

When we finally submitted the application, I sat back and looked at the ceiling.

“Just know that when they reject me, you have a lot of damage control to do,” I said.

She smiled.

“Don’t worry, you won’t get rejected. But when you do, you have your own personal baker to make you all sorts of delicious pastries,” she said jokingly and we both laughed.

Three days passed and I didn’t get any feedback yet. I guess I should have expected this and to be honest, I didn’t feel too bad about it. I decided to focus more on the bakery and worked with Gina to ensure that business ran smoothly.

Gina was trying her best to make me feel better, maybe because she also knew deep down that this was a closed case.

One evening, Gina and I were home, watching a movie when I heard a notification beep coming from Gina’s phone. She picked up her phone while I focused on the movie.

“Zora,” she called.

I turned to her.

She was staring at me with the same expression she had when Ryder, the school’s most popular guy in high school back then, asked her to be his prom date.

“What’s it, Gina?” I asked slowly.

She opened her mouth.

Didn’t say anything.

Then closed it.

“Say something, G. You’re scaring me,” I said, truthfully scared by her reaction.

She slowly turned to me.

“You’ve been shortlisted for the final interview, Zo,” she said.

I grabbed the phone from her and stared back at the congratulatory message, inviting me for the final stage of the interview the day after tomorrow.

I turned back to Gina who looked like she was about to shriek and sob at the same time.

“You made it. Just one more step,” she said, even more excited than I was.

Later that night, while in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I passed the first stage. That feeling that things would go wrong, just kept hovering over my head.

“Be positive Zora,” I tried to encourage myself.

As I closed my eyes to sleep, I felt something I hadn’t felt for the first time in the last 5 years.

Hope.

One that was terrifying and fragile.

And at the same time, calming.

God, I hope this wouldn’t break me, I thought as the sleep consumed me.