Anna poured the flour into the bowl of cinnamon and butter and whacked the powder with as much might as she had in her. The flour puffed up in a tendril of smoke and coated the girl's frock and bare arms.

“Whoops!” Anna said, dropping the whisk into the bowl, surveying the mess she had made.

“Oh, Anna!” Mother laughed, running over from her place at the washing bowl and dabbing a damp cloth on Anna’s flour covered dress. “You’re too harsh with that whisk! How many times have I told you to be careful?”

Anna shrugged, wiping her perspiration-covered brow, ironically causing a smear of flour on her forehead. “Only once. The second time it was Grandmother; she said she could see the flour dust coming out the windows while outside.”

Mother frowned, brushing off Anna’s collar. “Well, Grandmother can over exaggerate sometimes.”

Once she dusted off enough flour to see her dress, she gasped, “Where’s your apron?”

Anna could feel her cheeks flaring with embarrassment. “I think I might have parched it.”

“How?”

“By standing too close to the oven.”

Mother gave her a wry look making Anna bite her lip. After a minute, Mother sighed and pointed to the front door that was built off the kitchen. “Your siblings and Grandmother are outside. I think you’ve had enough baking for one day.”

Anna nodded, sniffing. Flour seeped into her nose and she tried not to sneeze as she opened the front door onto the porch steps.

Grandmother was sitting in her rocking chair, watching the soft cotton-candy clouds slowly make their way across the light blue sky. Tommy and Trixy were lying down on their stomachs, drawing pictures of small people with square heads on chalk slates.

“Surely you haven’t baked the cinnamon rolls yet,” Grandmother said with a cock of her head.

Anna shook her head and sighed as she plopped herself on the floor by Grandmother’s chair. “No. I made a whopper of a mess again…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to learn to bake.”

Grandmother’s eyes sparkled with humor as she said softly, “You’ll learn in time. It’ll just take practice.”

Anna leaned her head against the wall, fiddling with her dress skirt. “But I’ve had practice! I’m just a terrible baker.”

“That’s right!” Tommy chimed in, even though he had no idea what they were talking about.

He continued to draw.

“Now, now, you’re not going to give up. Baking is an important thing a young lady must learn as she grows up. Women were created to be in the kitchen, I think. To cook food for their husbands and families. You’ll just have to try harder.”

Tommy’s face perked up again, one dark eyebrow raised. “Is Anna getting married? Is she going to leave the house?”

“No,” Grandmother replied flatly.

“Aw,” Tommy sighed, then turned back to his drawing.

Anna tried to ignore this brotherly statement.

“Anna, have I told you the story of Luci Adam's and the Magic Whisk of the North?"

Anna shook her head, excitement filling her heart. She always loved when Grandmother told stories. They were always so fascinating! “No, I don’t think I’ve heard that one. Please tell it!”

“Yes, tell it, tell it! The one about the drunk cat!” Tommy yelled, jumping up from the floor and rushing to Grandmother’s side.

“Naw, not that one,” Trixy huffed, bringing her pencil to her lips in thought. “How about…the one when uncle Alfred almost got run over by a wild buffalo!”

“No, we’re doing none of those stories,” Anna said with a big-sisterly air. “Grandmother is going to tell us about Luci Adam's and the Magic Whisk of the North.”

“Sounds boring,” Tommy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sounds exciting!” Trixy nodded, but went back to her drawing with even more focus than before.

“Alright then, Tommy, you don’t have to listen. This is mostly for your sister’s ears anyway.” Grandmother said the last sentence whispering in the boy’s ear.

Tommy frowned. “I’ll scat, don't you worry! I won' t be listenin’ to any girly bakers of the midwest.”

“The north, not the midwest,” Anna corrected.

“Oh whatever,” Tommy dismissed, “I won’t be listening no-how.” He stomped over to the porch steps, turning away with his nose in the air.

Anna rolled her eyes. She propped her head on Grandmother’s knee and said politely, “You may begin.”

                                                        ***

     “Ever since this woman was a little girl, she had the heart and mind of a baker. Some say she was born with a whisk in her hand!”

“No,” Anna breathed in disbelief.

Grandmother nodded. “Yes, and from that day on she had the ability to recreate any goods she could get her hands on. When she was a toddler, she made biscuits for her mother, for the woman was very ill indeed. She would use her whisk to stir up the ingredients and-”

“Did she ever make a giant mess like Anna?” Tommy interrupted, snickering, but still keeping his face turned away.

“Well, no, because you see, Luci was already an expert, and the whisk knew how hard it must stir.”

Anna frowned.. “But it’s a whisk. How did it know?”

With an amused look, Grandmother replied, “Because, Anna, it was a magical whisk.”

“So just because she was born with a whisk meant it was magical?” Tommy scoffed, ever so slightly cocking his head. “So if I was born with a frog would it fly?”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Anna said with a short tone.

“Just let Grandmother tell the story!” Trixy exclaimed, drawing wisps of curly hair on her square-headed person.

“Well,” Grandmother continued, “She grew up to be a fine baker; ‘One of the best bakers in the land,’ some said. She could whip up anything the people asked of her, and if she didn’t have the ingredients she needed, she would ‘go along with it,’ and somehow it would turn out scrumptious!"

“Now how is that possible?” Tommy interrupted, turning around on his boot heel to face them. “If someone made a cake without sugar, it would taste somethin’ awful! No one can make cake without sugar.”

“But her whisk was magical and somehow did it for her. Well, when she was about eighteen, Luci was asked to run the town restaurant. She was much obliged to. She didn’t take any time in setting up her place there, and began cooking meals for her customers promptly. But as she whisked up the contents for a loaf of bread, her whisk split clean in half.”

“But it was magical! How did it break?” Trixy asked, looking up from her picture for the time being.

“Because whisks are made of wood and she was probably turning too hard, Trix,” Tommy answered, now sitting crosslegged in front of Grandmother.

Grandmother shrugged her shawl-covered shoulders. “No one knew for sure how it broke, but when it did, all of Luci’s knowledge about baking vanished, and she found she didn’t know what to do to finish the loaf.”

“But she has so many mouths to feed!” Anna said.

“Yes,” Grandmother nodded her white head with a grave air. “She did.”

When Grandmother didn’t go on, and she only continued to rock back and forth on her chair, Tommy exclaimed, “Is that it?”

“You can’t stop there!” Anna gasped, whipping her head up from its spot on her knee.

“What of Luci? Was she able to bake anything ever again?” Trixy implored.

Grandmother smiled down at her oldest granddaughter. “That is left for Anna to find out.”

Back when she was later back in the kitchen, Anna could only try to make sense of Grandmother’s story. Surely it didn’t end that way! She was probably testing her. Could the test be related to cooking? Anna’s eyes fell back on the bowl of flour and cinnamon. It was worth a try.

Her afternoon was filled with whisking, pouring, and forming. Flour puffed from the bowl and coated her arms and face. Multiple times did she feel like sneezing, but she held her breath until it went away. She didn’t want to sneeze on the goods.

Finally, she brought the tray out of the oven and breathed in the sweet aroma of crisply baked cinnamon rolls. The rolled bread had just enough cinnamon and the top was a lovely golden brown.

She brought it out to the porch with a smile plastered on her face. Mother was chatting with Grandmother, and Tommy and Trixy were out in the grass playing marbles.

When Anna cleared her throat and presented her creation, Mother gasped, “Anna! Why, you baked them! They look delicious!”

Grandmother's face turned a rosy pink. “I knew you could do it, if you set your mind to the task.”

Anna proffered them a cinnamon roll as she said, “Thanks to you, Grandmother, I can bake, and now I know the ending to your story.”

“Oh, do you now?”

Anna nodded, then, cupping a hand over her mouth, she called, “Tom, Trix! I know the ending of the story!”

“What? You do?” the twins yelled in unison, jumping off the grass and running for the porch.

Grandmother laughed. “Tommy said he wasn’t interested in the story. Look at him now!”

“That’s what happens when you leave him on a cliff hanger,” Anna giggled.

“So what is it?” Tommy asked, grabbing one of the cinnamon rolls off the tray and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Well—” Anna grinned. “Luci decided she didn’t need a magical whisk. She could make anything if she set her mind to it. So she sat down and looked up recipes; she followed every instruction until they came naturally to her. When her first customers tried her goods, they were surprised to find that they were even better than before. That is how she became the best baker in the north.”

“So she got down and did it, just like Anna.” Mother smiled. “Those are her rolls you’re eating.”

“Anna made these?” Tommy gasped, turning the roll over in his palm. “But…they’re delicious.”

Trixy elbowed him in the side.

“Ow!”

“Of course they are,” Grandmother said, grabbing Anna’s arm and pulling her close. Her eyes were sparkling with pure admiration. “I’m proud of you, granddaughter,” she beamed, pulling a wisp of golden hair behind Anna’s ear.

Anna smiled, warmth seeping into her heart. Maybe there was hope for her becoming a baker someday after all.

Suddenly she let out a giant sneeze.

“God bless you!” Grandmother exclaimed, her sparkling eyes widening.

Anna fought back a laugh. “Thank you; I’ve been holding that in for quite a while.”

                                                  -The End-