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Herman had a secret hobby he liked to indulge in every now and then…he never got to do it much when Johnathan was around because he feared how he'd be judged. Herman liked to bake…ever since he was a child he liked baking.
He used to watch his grandmother in the kitchen kneading bread dough with her dainty wrinkled hands. He'd watch her roll out sheets of gingerbread dough to make little stars and hearts for the children in the neighborhood during Christmas time and delicately pipe sweet vanilla Scented cream into the golden and flaky kremroles she'd make for afternoon tea if company was coming over. But his best memory of her was when she first taught him how to bake.
She started off small, giving him simple tasks like kneading the dough and brushing the pretzels with egg wash but as time went on she let him try to make some of these recipes on his own, with her careful guidance of course. Soon he was able to make things like bienenstich and streuselkuchen with little to no guidance whatsoever.
He always held those memories close in his heart…they cheered him up when times were bad. In a way it made him feel closer to his grandmother even though she'd long passed. As time went on those memories became even more of a comfort to him, especially when he started helping Johnathan. There were times where he'd silently cry himself to sleep at night and dream of his grandmother…of her big kitchen with the wood-burning stove and the delicious smells of her cooking. But when he'd wake up the images would vanish and he'd find himself in a seedy motel next to a man whom he actively feared.
Herman never thought he'd be able to bake again until the Brewster sisters offered to have him live with them in their big house in Brooklyn. He didn't know how or why they tracked him down to the tiny apartment he'd been using as a hideout in Manhattan but they insisted quite assertively that he was to live with them in Brooklyn and not in some ratty studio apartment that he could barely afford. He just couldn't understand it…why were they being so nice to him even though they knew he was an accomplice to Johnathan's vicious crimes.
It took awhile for him to get used to living in their house but he had to admit it was much nicer than where he was before…and the two sisters were so kind to him….they reminded him of his grandmother in a way.
Then one day Abigail asked him if he would help her make a cake for the new neighbors who'd moved in across the street. It wasn't anything fancy…just a simple vanilla cake with buttercream frosting. But to Herman, it triggered feelings of warmth and comfort that he hadn't felt in a very long time.
As he mixed the ingredients together for the frosting he was struggling to hold back tears and very quickly ended up losing the battle. Abigail took notice of the faint sniffles coming from the man behind her and turned around. "Herman…are you alright?" She asked softly, wiping her hands on her apron. "Y-Yes I…I'm alright…" Herman squeaked, a whimper escaping him. As she got closer she could see the fat tears rolling down the poor man's face. "Oh Herman…don't cry dear…you'll make the frosting all runny!" She murmured, trying to soothe him by placing a gentle hand on his back and rubbing in small circles. "I-I'm sorry miss Abigail….I'm just so…happy…" He choked out a sob as he quickly set the bowl of frosting on the counter, trying to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. "Oh dear…it's alright, come here now…" she pulled him into a tender hug as he cried into her shoulder.
"Abigail, is everything alright? I thought I heard a young man crying." Martha called, having come up from the cellar after collecting a few jars of preserves from the pantry. "Yes dear everything is fine, Herman is just feeling a little off today." Abigail called. "Herman?!" Martha quickly rushed to the kitchen after setting the jars on the dining room table. She took one look at the poor man and her heart melted. "Oh…there there now…what's the matter?" She asked sweetly, gently resting a hand on his shoulder as she fished a handkerchief out of her apron pocket.
"Oh miss Martha….I-I'm so sorry…." Herman whimpered, hiccuping a little as he looked up at Martha "I…I haven't baked anything in so long…baking reminds me of my grandmother…I…I didn't mean to worry you and miss Abigail…" "Nonsense dear, it's quite alright." She hummed, gently drying his eyes with the handkerchief "it's actually rather sweet." "It…it is?" "But of course!" Abigail chimed in, "baking reminds us of our mother…and besides, it's nice to do something that makes you happy."
Herman smiled, still sniffling a little as he once more wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "From now on…I think I want to be a baker." He said "No more running…no more living in fear. I want to do something I love for the rest of my life." "Couldn't have said it better ourselves." Martha replied, smiling proudly "and we'll be here to support you the whole way through."