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"Universe" Notes: This story takes place both in the present time (2002) and the past (1972)
A MOTHER'S PROMISE "Give light, and the darkness will disappear of itself." - Desiderius Erasmus, Dutch Priest, Humanist, and Editor of the New Testament, 1469-1536 October 31, 2002 "Tomorrow is the first day of Dia de los Muertos," Trixie said to her husband as he added more wood to the fire. "Got a card from Rosa," she added by way of explanation. Jim brushed his hands down his flannel shirt as he turned to look at his wife, suddenly remembering seeing a card with a grinning, dancing skeleton on the front. "So it is," he said, smiling at the sight of their new son, Andrew, who had finished nursing and was lying asleep in his mother’s arms. It was his first Halloween, and Trixie had him dressed in a sleeper meant to resemble a pumpkin, complete with a small, soft hat. Andrew didn’t seem to mind. "How is she?" "So proud. Petey…I mean, Pedro, started his senior year at ASU a few months ago and apparently aced his midterms," Trixie replied, smiling as she thought about the woman she and her friends had befriended many years ago, at Monty’s dude ranch, and of the rambunctious little boy who no longer went by his childhood nickname. "We ate skeletons at school today!" Katy interjected. She was dressed as a fairy princess, as she had been since that morning for her kindergarten class party. She was so enamored of the costume her grandmother Belden had made for her that she had wanted to sleep in it the night before, too. Now, she was itching for her father to take her downtown, where the merchants of Sleepyside were passing out candy, as they did every year. Jim always took his students, and, for the past few years, Katy. Trixie was surprised. "You did?" Then, she remembered that Katy’s teacher, Miss Sandoval, was of Hispanic descent. "Did she tell you about Dia de los Muertos?" Katy nodded vigorously, her golden crown almost tumbling off of her reddish-gold curls. "She said it’s not ‘sposed to be a sad time, that it’s fes..fes…" "Festive?" Jim guessed. "Uh huh. And then we had cake, cuz it was Ralph’s birthday!" Katy wriggled a bit as she imparted this tidbit. Trixie shifted Andrew to her other shoulder. "Did Ralph have any?" Katy giggled. "I got to put the piece into his cage, only it hadda be a really small piece. Miss Sandoval said cake wasn’t good for hamsters." Jim straightened Katy’s crown. "It isn’t good for little girls, either." Seeing Katy’s horrified expression, he quickly amended. "At least, not a lot of cake is good for little girls." "Gul!" Maddie interjected proudly. Like her "almost-twin" Andrew, she was attired in a bunny outfit her grandmother had sewn her of the softest fleece. Jim looked down to where his youngest daughter was playing with one of the logs he had carefully smoothed so her little fingers wouldn’t end up with big splinters. "That’s right!" he said. With the lightning fast change-of-subject all small children seem to excel at, Katy asked her father, "Daddy, are ghosts real?" Jim looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, sweetie, to be honest, I’m not sure." He’d had an experience when Maddie was first born that he still thought about, from time to time. Ill and lying in a near-coma, he could have sworn that he’d talked to his first set of parents, both dead for so many years. "Miss Sandoval says that now is when they can visit us. And that we shouldn’t be afraid," Katy continued. She scratched her curls where they stuck out from underneath her crown. "Can we go get candy now?" Jim, staring into the flickering flames of the fire he had built, didn’t answer. He was remembering his first mother, and the one and only time she had celebrated Dia de las Muertos. Just like Andrew, who was born on Jim’s 30th birthday, it had been his very first Halloween, too. His father had once told him, one Halloween not long before he died, about a dear wish of Jim’s mother’s that had not come true. And that it was why his mother always looked so sad the first few days of November. However, there was much that Winthrop Frayne hadn’t told Jim about that night. Some of the story was very private. Some, unknown… *** October 31, 1972 "Tomorrow is the first day of Dia de los Muertos," Katy Frayne said to her husband of a few months. Win finished laying the wood in the fireplace and turned to where his wife was curled up in his mother’s old rocker, their three-month-old son, James, as always, in her arms. "Dia de what?" "Dia de las Muertos…the Day of the Dead." Win involuntarily shivered. Jimmy’s birth had been a difficult one, and the doctors were still unsure what had caused the numerous and ongoing physical problems Katy experienced in its aftermath. Another child, they informed them solemnly, could possibly kill her. The liquid gold of the setting sun poured through the windows of the cozy farmhouse Win had inherited when his parents died, lighting Katy’s blond hair like a halo and accentuating the sunken shadows caused by pain and fatigue under her vivid green eyes. "Sounds cheery," Win tried to joke. "Actually, it’s considered a celebration—a celebration for the dead and for the continuation of life. Maricela says it dates back three thousand years in Mexico." Maricela Gallegos was Katy’s pen pal. The two young women had been exchanging letters since they were old enough to write. Katy bent her head and softly kissed the red fuzz at the top of Jim’s sleeping head. "Families set up an altar to commemorate family members who have died and to welcome them." "Welcome them?" Katy nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. "If they feel welcome enough, they come back for a few days...during Dia de los Muertos." She gave a short laugh. "You probably think that’s silly." Win crossed over to her and knelt down, lying a comforting hand on her shoulder without saying a word. He did, in fact, think the whole idea of ghosts was pretty silly, but considering everything Katy had been through, he’d be damned if he would admit such a thing. Katy sniffled. "I disappointed him so. He never got over it, you know?" Tears ran down her pale cheeks, and she brushed them away with her free hand. "He never even met Jimmy." She was sobbing now, and Win felt the usual combination of helplessness and anger whenever the subject of Katy’s late father arose. "He never saw how beautiful he is. How perfect."’ "I know, baby." "I just…I want him to forgive me." Win thought about Katy’s father, a man who had disliked him on sight, on principle. He thought with a twinge of guilt that considering what happened, he had apparently been right to dislike him. He kept his thoughts to himself and stroked Katy’s damp cheek. "I know you do." The last time Katy had ever seen her father was the day he threw her out of the house, screaming words like whore and slut, words that wounded and tore at a sixteen-year-old girl whose mother had died years before, who’d had nobody in her life who loved her but him until Win had come along. Win had tried to talk to him, burying his anger deep for Katy’s sake, but her father had only struck him and said things that Win wouldn’t repeat to Katy if his life depended on it; it would hurt her so badly. And he wasn’t going to let anybody ever hurt her again, especially not himself. He’d told her the black eye came from stumbling into the barn door. "Do you think he will come if I set up an altar like Maricela described in her letter?" Katy asked. Win shrugged, uncomfortable. He didn’t like this kind of talk, didn’t believe in the supernatural, or ghosts, or any of that crap. He believed in the earth. He believed horrible things happened, and you dealt with them because there was no other choice. He believed in his love for Katy and his son. And it was this love that helped him murmur something conciliatory. He forgot how Katy was able to read him as nobody ever could. "You think it’s stupid." Win looked up, flushing with guilt and was relieved to see a small smile on his wife’s face. "You’re about as far from stupid as it’s possible to be," he said and felt his heart swell at the look of happiness that filled her face. "But, well…I don’t…let’s just say I don’t believe some of the stuff you do, and leave it at that, okay, babe?" Katy nodded in agreement and handed him their son, rising. "How are you feeling today?" Win asked, noticing the slight wince as she stood. Katy grimaced. "My joints still ache. Honestly, it’s been over three months since Jimmy was born. When am I going to feel like myself again?" She began limping towards their bedroom. Win figured her for a nap and was surprised when she emerged only a few moments later carrying a framed photograph of her father she kept in a drawer. "The altar," Katy said, noticing Win’s puzzled look. She shrugged. "I know it’s a bit silly, but…" Win wisely said nothing, choosing instead to sit in the rocker his wife had abandoned. He settled Jimmy against his chest as he stretched his feet towards the fire. He watched as Katy carefully set her father’s picture on the mantle next to a small wooden vase filled with dried marigolds that Maricela had sent her, not long after her father died. The native Mexican had gorgeously hand-carved it. "They aren’t fresh, but I suppose they’ll have to do," he heard Katy murmur. He noticed a tantalizing smell drifting from the kitchen. "Speculaas?" he asked. Katy pinked slightly. "My father’s favorite. The scent of the marigolds is supposed to lead him to the right home, and having his favorite food persuades him to stay." Win didn’t know what to say to that. He rose, careful not to wake the baby. "I’ll just put him down," he said. Katy watched as he left the room. She had a pretty good idea what he was thinking and couldn’t blame him for not ever wanting to see her father again, alive or dead. Always overprotective of his only daughter, he’d made no effort to hide his displeasure at the fact that Katy was dating. Despite many overtures of politeness on Win’s part, her father had barely spoken to him. Until they’d gone, together, to quietly let him know about Katy’s unexpected pregnancy and their plans to marry. Katy’s heart ached. He’d had plenty to say, then. And, then, he’d died—unexpectedly, bitterly, and alone. She’d broken his heart, and he’d never recovered. Impatiently, Katy brushed away the tear that rolled down her cheek. She was tired. Physically, yes—she’d almost died having Jimmy, but mostly tired of the guilt that weighted so heavily on her heart. Had it been wrong to have sex with Win that first time? Katy had never hidden from the truth, and she wasn’t about to start now. At the time, yes. Simply, yes. She had been raised to believe that sex outside of marriage was wrong. She’d gone against her faith. Was marrying Win a mistake? He’d never left her side; not when she first told him she was pregnant, not when they told her father together, and not when he’d dropped out of school to marry her and take her away from Sleepyside, where she was stared at and whispered about. He was everything; he, along with Jimmy, was her life. Jimmy. Was he a mistake? She would never believe that. She thought about her precious baby son who, with his red hair and sturdy body promised to be the spitting image of his father, and again was almost frightened by the storm of feeling that consumed her. She was still stunned at how important he was, how necessary. She knew she loved her baby, had known it from the moment she’d realized the life she was carrying inside of her, but couldn’t have imagined the depth of it, wouldn’t have been able to believe it if somebody had tried to explain it to her beforehand. With all her heart, Katy believed that God didn’t make mistakes. It was at the core of everything she believed. If she could just make her father see. She went into the homey, yellow kitchen and carefully removed the spice cookies from the oven, gasping at the pain in the joints of her elbows. She straightened, trembling, and barely managed to set the cookie tray on the counter without dropping it. There was something wrong. She didn’t know what. The doctors didn’t either. But she knew it in her heart, and she was scared. She put the thought aside and focused on the task at hand – gently transferring the tender cookies to her cooling rack and then hunting down a pretty, little china plate that had once belonged to her mother. She let the cookies cool for a minute and then placed two of them on to the plate and carried them back into the other room to set next to her father’s picture. "Jimmy’s fast asleep," her husband said as she entered the room. Katy carefully set the plate down on the mantle and smiled at Win. "For now." She saw her husband glance at the cookies, and then away, but he didn’t say anything about it, only smiled back, love for her shining clearly in his eyes. Katy crossed over to him and hugged him around the waist, closing her eyes and breathing deeply as she snuggled into his chest. "I hate the way he treated you, Win. I hated it so much, and I was so ashamed." She felt his lips brush the top of her head. "Don’t. He had every right to feel the way he did." Katy jerked in surprise. "No! He didn’t! Why would you say that?" Win sighed. "Are you forgetting I got you pregnant? Are you forgetting that you had to quit school and give up any chance at a normal life because of me?" Katy pulled away. "Don’t say that! Don’t forget I played a part in that, too, you know!" It was old territory. "I know, but…" "No buts. Maybe we should have waited, but, Win, he never gave you a chance. Never gave us a chance." She broke off and looked at her father’s picture, speaking directly to it. "I love you, Dad, but it broke my heart the way you treated us. How could you send me away when I needed you? How could you turn your back on me, on your grandchild?" She began to sob as Win pulled her close and began to rock her. "You need to see; you need to see," she whispered brokenly. She let Win lead her to the couch and hold her until she was all cried out. "I’m sorry – I thought I was done crying," she said, pulling away so that she could wipe her eyes and blow her nose on the handkerchief Win gave her. She straightened and looked at him. "I’m done now." Win was relieved. "Good. I hate to see you so sad." He gestured at the mantelpiece and smiled his crooked smile at her. "Maybe this will work, and the old fart will finally come around, huh?" They were just the right words to break to tension. Katy started to giggle. "I hope so!" She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I wish he hadn’t hurt you," she said, stroking around the eye her father had once blackened. Win shook his head. "Is there anything I can hide from you?" Katy grinned. "Nope." "No fair." Katy continued stroking the side of his face. Maybe it was finally time to share something else that had been worrying her. "Win, why haven’t you…why haven’t we…" she broke off, her heart suddenly starting to thud. It was tougher than she expected, and her smile faded away. She was so embarrassed! Win looked concerned. "Why haven’t we what, babe?" Katy took a huge breath and let it out slowly. "I know I had all that terrible morning sickness, and then I was as big as a house, and the doctor didn’t think…and then I had Jimmy and couldn’t…but now…Oh, Win, why haven’t we made love since that night in the woods? Don’t you want me anymore?" Win’s face burned red and then paled. "Of course I want you. I want you so much, but…" "But what?" Win took both her hands. "At first, I was afraid I’d hurt you and the baby. Then, just you." Katy nodded, relieved. He did want her! "I thought you didn’t…that maybe you were sorry you had to marry me." Win shook his head. "I never thought that," he said. "I never will." Katy lowered her eyes, happy, but also knowing that her cheeks were burning and no doubt bright red. Was she going to have to beg her own husband to make love to her, or had she said enough? This time, Win read her thoughts. He lifted her chin with a gentle finger. "I’ve felt guilty," he admitted. He involuntarily glanced at her father’s picture. "I felt like I didn’t deserve it or something." Katy nodded. "Me, too," she admitted. She put her arms around his neck. "I’m tired of being ashamed. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Win felt as if his heart might simply burst out of his chest. The rest of his life – that was such a long time! And he’d spend every second of it with this girl by his side, and the best son a guy could ever have. "I love you, too," he said, pulling her into his arms. He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly. The kiss grew urgent immediately, and Katy’s heart began to thud as she pressed into him as hard as she could, twining her tongue around his and moaning softly as he began to gently cup and squeeze her breasts through the flannel of her nightgown. She let out a surprised whoop as he rose from the couch and swung her up into his arms in one fluid motion. She reveled in Win’s strength. It would be enough for both of them; she knew it. "If Jimmy doesn’t stay asleep for a bit, I’m going to have to have a serious talk with that boy," Win said between kisses as he strode into their bedroom. Katy laughed with joy as Win placed her gently on the bed and laughed harder at the frantic way he began pulling off his clothes, letting her know that he’d been dreaming of this moment as much as she had. All her shyness and uncertainty disappeared as if it had never been, and she pulled her nightgown up and off, holding out her arms and gasping in pleasure as his naked body covered hers. Before tonight, sex had been a furtive, desperate, hurry-before-we-get-caught affair, with a dash of guilt thrown in for good measure. Katy closed her eyes as the sensations built, forgetting about pain, about worry, about everything but her husband and the way he was making her feel. She clutched him so tightly it was hard to believe any part of him could possibly be outside of herself, feeling his heart pound against hers as together, they forgot about the past and became the only future they ever wanted. Afterwards, she curled into his side and buried her face into the side of his neck as Win sleepily stroked her back. Katy lay drowsily content, careful not to drift off. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Jimmy woke for his late night feeding and wasn’t surprised when a few minutes later she heard the tell-tale whimpers coming from the bassinet that would segue into lusty wails if she didn’t hurry. "I’ve got him. Sleep, my sexy husband," Katy whispered with a smile. After Jimmy had nursed and been rocked back to sleep, Katy returned him to the old bassinet in the bedroom she and Win shared. She stood gazing down at him for a long moment, too restless to sleep. She grinned in the darkness. Maybe all she needed to get rid of the fatigue that had dogged her since the middle of her pregnancy was regular sex! She was giving serious thought to waking Win up when the oddest feeling passed throughout her entire body. The back of her neck prickled and the hairs on her arm stood on end as an icy chill seemed to sweep through the room. The candle she had lit earlier flickered and went out. "Win," Katy croaked. Her stomach was filled with ice. Then she heard it. "Katje" She looked fearfully at her sleeping husband. He never used the Dutch pronunciation of her name. Win’s breathing remained slow and steady, and Katy heard again the sound of her name. It seemed to fill the entire house, and yet was no more than a whisper. There was only one person who called her by her given name. She remembered the altar and her heart began to thud so hard she was surprised she couldn’t hear it. "Father?" she whispered. Her feet began to move towards the living room before she was even aware of it, and she braced herself for what she might see, for whom she might see.
*** October 31, 2002 "Jim!" Jim tore his gaze away from the fireplace and turned to look at Trixie. "Huh?" Trixie laughed. "You daughter asked you a question. Where were you, anyway?" "Daddy’s right here!" Katy said. Grownups were so weird, sometimes. She tugged at her father’s hand. "Can we go?" Jim smiled at his eager girl. His very existence had changed when she was born; when this very essential and indispensable being came into he and Trixie’s lives. "Our very own angel sent from heaven," Trixie had proclaimed after she was born, and the nickname had stuck, even when Katy was being what Jim privately thought of as "Trixie-ish". "Run and get your coat, and we’ll go," he promised Katy. "But Daddy, I can’t cover up my costume!" Katy wailed. "You’re not leaving this house without your coat," Trixie interjected calmly. Katy pouted, but knew better than to argue when her mother’s voice got that firm and quiet tone she was all too familiar with. "Oh, okay!" she said before scurrying to the hall closet. An angel sent from heaven. Jim’s father told him that when the angel that Katje Frayne expected didn’t show up, she had put her father’s picture with some of their things in the attic and never spoke of him again…or of Dia de los Muertos. Jim shook his head. It had probably been for the best, even if his mother had been sad about it. Some ghosts just needed to be laid to rest no matter how much you wanted to fix the past. *** November 1, 1972 Katy crept into the living room on wobbly legs and stopped short. She peered into the gloom, her heart stopping at the apparition before her. It was a woman, or, at least, she thought it was a woman. It was hard to tell because whatever was in her living room was mostly layers of mist, forming a shape that was arguable that of a human female. "Don’t you know me?" it asked. Katy took another step, and the mysterious figure wavered into a more solid shape. A recognizable shape. "I…think so. Yes, I’ve seen your picture. I’d catch Father taking it out and looking at it sometimes. Aren’t you’re my aunt, Betje Vanderheiden?" Her aunt had gone to live in Holland shortly after Katy was born, and so she’d never met her. Her father never wanted to talk about her, and Katy figured they must have had a falling out, perhaps about her wanting to move away. The disappointment was so crushing that Katy quite forgot to feel any fear over the fact that an actual ghost was in her house. He didn’t come was all she could think. "No," the voice whispered. Katy could feel cool air caress her cheek every time this…thing spoke. "If you’re not Betje, then who are you?" Katy was puzzled. Was this an ancestor from even longer ago? What had Katy set in motion? Whatever possessed her to meddle with anything called Day of the Dead anyway? "I am Betje Vanderheiden." The air grew even colder, and Katy shivered. "I don’t understand," she said. " I thought you said you weren’t." "I am not your aunt." Katy was puzzled. "Then who are you?" There was a long pause and Katy started to shiver violently, even before Betje replied, "I’m your mother." The words were meaningless. "My mother died right after I was born," was all Katy could think to say. "That’s what your grandfather told you, but it isn’t true." Katy rubbed her eyes with trembling hands. "I have her picture." She began to shake. Even though she couldn’t remember her, a day hadn’t gone by when Katy hadn’t longed for her mother, even crying out for her during the worst of her labor. She began shaking her head back and forth. "She died. She died," Katy repeated. Betje nodded. "Yes, I died when Wilhelm and I went off the road and into the canal." "My mother died shortly after I was born!" Katy tried to scream, but the words only came out as a tortured whisper. A horrid truth was slowly starting to fill her along with the memories of her father’s attitude, and the way she’d been raised. No, not her father. Not her father. Her grandfather had watched her every move, had lectured her always on the importance of propriety and of being "a good girl." And Katy had tried so hard to please him. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to fight him, my darling, my daughter. I was so young. I couldn’t stop your grandfather when he kept you and sent me away. And I believed him, too, when he said you’d be better off without me. I was so ashamed, you see." Katy found that she was nodding. She did see. She started to cry, silently. "Oh, God." She felt an icy breeze curl along her cheek and opened her eyes. "It was like my life was a dream, and only in death did I become truly awake," Betje said. Katy was filled with sorrow. "He stole you from me," she said, anguished. Betje nodded. "Yes. And you from me. Katy used a word she had never used before. "That bastard," she moaned. Then it occurred to her how that word could also be applied to her. "No more shame," Betje commanded, as if reading her mind. Ghostly tears like tendrils of mist slid down her face. "Who is my father?" Katy asked. "He was just a boy I knew," was all Betje would say. "Maricela says that the dead demand good behavior of the living, and they have the power to reward or punish the living," Katy said, her voice low. She thought about her precious son. "I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to Jimmy. Never." "I failed you in life. I will do whatever I can to help you in death," Betje promised. And with a gust of wind so strong the windows rattled, the apparition of Betje, of her mother, was gone. The picture of the man Katy had always known as her father fell to the floor, the glass shattering, and Katy silently crumpled as she fainted. In the bedroom, Win startled awake, automatically reaching for Katy, but her side of the bed was empty. He felt uneasy and swung his long legs over the side of the bed and swiftly stood. He quickly checked the bassinet, relieved to see that Jimmy was peacefully asleep. "You can sleep through anything but being hungry, can’t you?" he murmured, tucking the blanket around his son before leaving the room. He stopped by the bathroom, but Katy wasn’t there and was heading for the kitchen when he saw the slight form of his wife lying so still in front of the dead fireplace. "God!" he cried, rushing over to her. He bent down and was dizzy with relief when he realized that he could see her chest softly moving up and down; she was still breathing. He carefully gathered her up and carried her to the couch, covering her with the knitted afghan draped over its back. "Katy," he said, over and over, stroking her cheek with a shaking hand. Katy opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw were the worried eyes of her normally jovial husband. Had it all been some terrible dream? She honestly wasn’t sure. She started to speak and then made a swift decision. Dream or no dream, the past was going to stay where it was, and she was not going to cause this boy, this man, any more worry. Not if she could help it. She and Win were going to build a gorgeous life together. They were going to take good care of their son. They were a family, and nothing, and no one, could take that away from them. "Should I call the doctor?" Win asked. Katy hated the fear in his voice. "I’m fine, baby. Really, I am. I…I’m just hungry. I was going out to the kitchen for speculaas, and I guess I got a little light-headed. It’s nothing." Win looked at her. "Speculaas, huh?" He bent down and brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, nose, and then lips. "Are you sure you should be eating your father’s cookies?" He expected Katy to smile and frowned at the expression on her face. "I guess he didn’t show, huh?" Everything came back to her in a rush. Katy shuddered for a moment, but only a moment. She shook her head. "No. Dia de los Muertos…I love Maricela to death, but she can keep her holiday." "I’m sorry. I know what this meant to you," Win kissed her once more, and then rose. "I’m going to get you a glass of milk and some cookies. Be right back." "Thanks," Katy called as he left the room. She leaned back against the soft cushions and felt her eyes fill with tears. Maybe it had been a dream, a product of an overactive imagination and the fact that it really was Dia de los Muertos. No, never again would she attempt anything like what she’d attempted tonight. She’d focus on what was now and what was in right in front of her. She thought about her son and a fierce love filled her. Jimmy would never want for anything, not if she could help it. She reached over to the small table at the side of the couch and snapped on the lamp, wanting the light to chase away the last of the shadows. Her gaze drifted over the fireplace and landed on the broken picture lying in front of it. She’d clean that up and put that picture far from her, but she wouldn’t destroy it. No. There had been enough destruction, enough darkness. She glanced at the mantle and sat up with a gasp. The beautifully carved vase shone in the soft light filling the room. But where a sprig of dried marigolds had once been, there was now a full bouquet of fresh marigolds, the petals a delicate, golden color. I will do whatever I can to help you in death… Katy could only hope that this was true. "Thank you, Mother," Katy whispered. The End Author’s Notes: Here is the recipe for speculaas if you are interested! Speculaas (Spice cookies) flour - 2 cups (* speculaaskruiden from your favorite Dutch import store or make it yourself: a mix of 20 grams [4.215 tsp] cinnamon, 10 grams [2.107] ground nutmeg, 5 grams [1.054] ground cloves, a pinch of cardamom powder, a pinch of ginger powder.) Sift the flour over a large cutting board or countertop. Sprinkle the baking powder over it, the salt and sugar. Thinly slice the (hard) butter or margarine and add it to the flour-and-sugar mix. Add the milk and hand knead all until there is a firm but malleable dough. Pack the dough into a piece of foil and keep in the fridge overnight (to allow the spices to penetrate the cookie dough). If you have a ‘speculaasplank’ (special wooden speculaas mold, available from some Dutch import stores) dust it with flour. Press the dough into the hollows, cut off the excess and sprinkle with slivered almonds. Shake the dolls out onto a dusted countertop. Put flat, almond-covered side down on a greased cookie sheet and bake in a preheated oven at 180ºC / 350ºF for 15 - 20 minutes, depending on the size of the dolls. If you don’t have a ‘speculaasplank’, roll the dough out into a thin layer and shape, use cookie cutters or cut it into squares.
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