Chapter 1: Three Bean Soup, Rain, and the Mercenary
THE Soup Forest was a little dining establishment whose main offering was a different soup each day. They were usually hearty meals filled with fresh vegetables.
It was eight in the morning and the restaurant’s owner, Olivia, stood in the kitchen, her warm brown hair pulled back to prevent it from getting in the way of her cooking.
“I think today I’ll do a bean and bacon soup,” she said.
It was spring, the season for fresh beans. Olivia had set the beans she got in stock yesterday to soak overnight, and it was about time to use the bacon she’d cured herself.
She lit the fire in her stove and set the pot with water and beans on it.
A pattering sound drifted in through the open window.
“The rain’s started,” she said, watching as the drops turned patches of the ground dark and smelling the scent of new rain. Her green eyes followed Rob, her dog, as he came back in through the doggy door with a resigned harrumph. He then cut right across the kitchen to his bed beside the stairs, where he turned circles several times before settling down on the mattress.
The rain quickly started coming down in earnest. She could hear the water sloshing as it rushed down the gutters into the rain barrels.
Soup Forest was a restaurant just off the road without any other buildings nearby. Olivia didn’t think anything of this—she’d lived there since she was five—but most women who’d grown up in the city would be afraid, unable to live out there on their own.
“I’m not, thanks to my boy,” she said, looking over at Rob.
He was lying curled in a circle, his tail tight against his body, but he opened his eyes and looked at her when he heard her.
“You’re a good boy, Rob.”
He stayed curled up, but the tip of his tail wagged back and forth.
Olivia smiled as she diced the bacon. She’d smoked it herself, and it smelled good.
Once finished with that, her eyes slid to look out the window again. “Oh, there’s someone there. I wonder if he’s all right.”
A man was walking down the road. There was nowhere for him to get out of the rain nearby, other than Olivia’s restaurant. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to seek shelter, though. He walked with his head slightly bowed against the rain, each step taken at a leisurely pace.
Perhaps he noticed Olivia staring at him from the window, because he raised his head and looked at her. Olivia hurried over to the front door, opened it, and waved, and the man changed directions towards the restaurant.
Once she was sure he was coming, Olivia rushed upstairs to get a towel.
The bell above the door rang by the time she’d come back down with a towel. The man was standing in the doorway, dripping wet and looking around. He must have been surprised by all the pots with shoulder-high plants arranged around the room, jugs with ferns hanging from the ceiling, and dishes lining the windowsill with flowers in them.
“Would you mind if I waited out the rain from here for a bit, ma’am?” said the man.
“Not at all. Take a seat wherever you like, and you can use this to dry off. Do you have a change of clothes?”
“I do, but I imagine it’s soaked through, too. Would it be all right if I sat near the fire?”
“Of course, right this way.”
The man took off his coat, heavy with rain, and hung it on a coat hook near the door. Water dripped off it, quickly forming a puddle on the walnut hardwood floor.
“Ah, sorry. Your floor,” he said.
“Don’t worry about it, it happens all the time.” Olivia smiled and moved the bucket near the entrance under his coat.
Beneath his coat, he had only a thin shirt on, which clung to his muscular chest from the rain, showing his tanned skin. He was a large man, easily over six foot tall, with gray hair and warm brown eyes.
Olivia was alone in her restaurant with a man she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t be able to run her business if she focused on her concern and unease.
She led him to the kitchen, moved a chair near the fire, and gestured for him to sit.
“Thanks,” he said.
“No worries, just warm yourself up here.”
She hurried upstairs to see if she could find him a change of clothes. She pulled the loosest fitting shirt and trousers she could find of her grandfather’s old clothing from a dresser. When she came downstairs, she found the man sitting in the chair warming his hands by the fire.
“Would you like something to change into?” Olivia asked. “It’s just my grandfather’s clothing. You’ll catch a cold if you stay in those soaked things.”
“It may not be my place to say this, but you should be more careful,” he warned.
“What?”
“You invited a man you don’t know into your kitchen, then went upstairs. For all you know, I could’ve had a knife on me and attacked you,” he explained.
“Oh, that’s what you mean. Well, if you had tried anything, he would’ve rushed you and bit you,” said Olivia. The moment she did, Rob rose to his feet, locked eyes with the man, and moved so he stood between the man and Olivia.
“Hm, he’s well trained.”
“I trained him myself. Anyway, you’ll catch a chill if we keep chatting like this. Would you like to change into these?” she asked again.
“It’s much appreciated, if you don’t mind, ma’am.”
The man moved out into the front of the restaurant, and Olivia threw the diced bacon into a frying pan. Once it started sizzling, she used a wooden spatula to stir it, browning it on all sides.
She turned to check how the man was getting on, only to see the trousers were nowhere near long enough, but they were better than the soaking wet clothes he had been wearing.
“If it’s not too much trouble, could I wash my clothes while I’m here?” he asked.
“Feel free. The washing room’s through the door to the right of the stairs. You can use the soap that’s in there. There’s water in the jug, and the well’s outside.”
“Thank you.”
Olivia focused her attention on the soup. She set the bean and bacon soup to simmer, adjusting the stove so it didn’t boil.
The tantalizing aroma filtered through the restaurant as the rain continued to fall.
After a while, the man poked his head out from the washing room, holding the tub filled with his washing. She called out to tell him to hang it up on the drying line in there.
The soup was finished by the time he came back, as well as thinly sliced bread fried in butter until crisp and some scrambled eggs.
“Do you want to have some with me?” Olivia invited.
“Thank you. I was getting hungry. My name’s Arthur, by the way. Arthur Dariu.”
“I’m Olivia. Eat up before it goes cold.”
Arthur didn’t start eating until after she did. He carried a spoonful of soup to his mouth and, seemingly without meaning to, said, “That’s good.”
“I’m glad you like it. It’s the soup of the day.”
“Soup of the day? Does that mean you have a different soup each day?”
“It does. But, if there’s any leftovers, I’ll serve it the next day too. Some customers like it better that way, since the flavors meld together more and get milder.”
The next topic to come up was the number of potted plants in the restaurant.
“I renamed the restaurant ‘Soup Forest’ since all the potted plants I have make it feel like you’re strolling through a forest,” explained Olivia.
“It used to have a different name?” he asked.
“It was called Jenkins’s Diner originally. Jenkins is my grandfather’s name.”
“Hm.”
Arthur then told her bits about towns to the south, while she nodded and listened. He had a deep, gentle voice that was pleasant to listen to.
“Do you mind if I ask what sort of work you do, Arthur?” she inquired.
“I was a mercenary.”
“Was?”
“I quit. For fourteen years after I turned fourteen, I was a mercenary. Which makes me twenty-eight this year.”
“Really? I have helped my grandparents with this restaurant ever since I was ten. I’m twenty-five this year.”
All the dishes on the table were cleaned of food.
“Everything was delicious,” said Arthur. “The soup, the bread, the scrambled eggs, everything.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a meal with someone.”
Arthur raised an eyebrow slightly. “You really should be more careful. It’s not safe for a woman to tell a man she just met that she lives alone.”
“Huh, now that you mention it, it is a bit careless. But nothing bad’s ever happened before.”
“Disaster strikes last, ma’am. No one sees tragedies day in and day out, not until one happens to them. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times.”
“I’ll be more careful.”
“Please do. You seem like too good a person to let something bad happen to you.”
“All right, well, I think I’ll be a bit meddlesome while also being careless. Why don’t you wait here while your clothes dry? You can whittle away the time reading a book, if you like. You can just stay right there in that seat for as long as you want.”
The seat was on the verge between the kitchen and the restaurant front. Olivia’s grandfather used to take his break there, reading a book while he sat.