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Jacob the Baker: Gentle Wisdom For a Complicated World

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Noah BenShea

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“They entered the summer parlor, where the Ravenels chatted amiably with his sisters, Phoebe and Seraphina. Phoebe, the oldest of the Challon siblings, had inherited their mother's warm and deeply loving nature, and their father's acerbic wit. Five years ago she had married her childhood sweetheart, Henry, Lord Clare, who had suffered from a chronic illness for most of his life. The worsening symptoms had gradually reduced him to a shadow of the man he'd once been, and he'd finally succumbed while Phoebe was pregnant with their second child. Although the first year of mourning was over, Phoebe hadn't yet returned to her former self. She went outdoors so seldom that her freckles had vanished, and she looked wan and thin. The ghost of grief still lingered in her gaze. Their younger sister, Seraphina, an effervescent eighteen-year-old with strawberry-blonde hair, was talking to Cassandra. Although Seraphina was old enough to have come out in society by now, the duke and duchess had persuaded her to wait another year. A girl with her sweet nature, her beauty, and her mammoth dowry would be targeted by every eligible man in Europe and beyond. For Seraphina, the London Season would be a gauntlet, and the more prepared she was, the better.”

SistersDaughtersWidowPhoebe ClareGabriel St VincentEvangeline And SebastianSeraphina Challon
Book:Devil in Spring
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“My mother and I were on a plane. Before we left I talked with Elf. She didn't talk at all. I told her things would be okay, truly, that I needed her, that I understood her, that I loved her, that I'd miss her, that I'd be back for her, that being together in Toronto for a while would be amazing, that Nora was really looking forward to it too, that I understood that just because she didn't want to live didn't mean that she necessarily wanted to die it's just that that's sort of how that one goes, that she wanted to die the way she'd lived, with grace and dignity, that I needed her to be patient, to fight a little longer, to hold on, to know she was loved, to know I wanted to help her, that I would help her, that I needed to do some stuff, that mom and I had to go to Aunt Tina's funeral in Vancouver, that I'd be back, that she'd stay with me in Toronto for a while, a total break, that Nic was here now, back in Winnipeg, that he'd see her every day, that I had to go, that I had to know she'd be okay while I was gone, that I would bow down before her suffering with compassion, that she could control her life, that I understood that pain is sometimes psychic, not only physical, that she wanted nothing more than to end it and to sleep forever, that for her life was over but that for me it was still ongoing and that an aspect of it was trying to save her, that the notion of saving her was one that we didn't agree on, that I was willing to do whatever she wanted me to do but only if it was absolutely true that there were no other doors to find, to push against or storm because if there were I'd break every bone in my body running up against that fucking door repeatedly, over and over and over and over.”

DeathGriefSadnessSisters
Book:All My Puny Sorrows
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“Occasionally, Kat detects the aftertaste of a spell in Cosima's cooking- one to add extra flavor or mask the bitterness of being burned on a slice of cake or a pistachio croissant- but nothing too serious. As children, Kat had taught Cosima a few tricks now and then, including the odd baking spell, but her little sister had always been more interested in playing with her dolls than learning the magical properties of flowers and herbs. Cosima's games always involved weddings starring Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, or Rapunzel marrying Prince Charming.”

ChildhoodSistersCosima RubensKat Rubens
Book:The Witches of Cambridge
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“The jostling in the kitchen, though, was warm and companionable and for Olive, it was a rare spectacle. There was no other occasion that the three sisters came together in anything even approximating harmony. No one called anyone feeble or a martyr. No one got huffy and swept from the room in high dudgeon. There was a quiet, a hushed sense of almost-giggling as if the sisters might in a bizarre and spontaneous moment hang off each other’s necks to laugh about something from their childhood. It never happened but there was the feeling that it could.”

Sisters
Book:Little Gods
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