Friendship Cake (7 page)

Margaret nodded in triumph and touched the arm of Jessie, who was sitting next to her. “I second that motion.”

Beatrice was embarrassed. She had opened up the lid on her heart and now fumbled to tighten it back on. She replied quietly, “We have a motion and a second, any discussion?” There was a long and steady pause as everyone turned towards Louise. “Then all in favor say Aye.”

“Madam Secretary, please note that the Women's Guild has voted unanimously to collect recipes from the members of Hope Springs for our upcoming cookbook.”

“So noted,” said Margaret, writing the words down in her secretary's notebook. “Now, why don't we adjourn for refreshments?” She closed the book and winked at Beatrice.

“I think that's a great idea,” remarked Twila, and she hurried out the door to the kitchen to begin preparations.

“We haven't had our program yet.” Beatrice shuffled through her papers. “But I guess we don't have to do that tonight. After all, maybe some of us should go to the hospital to be with Rose Mary. Okay, then, the meeting is adjourned. Earnestine, will you lead us in a blessing for our food?”

Earnestine spun around to Jessie like she needed help and then led everyone in the Lord's Prayer.

Walking towards the kitchen, Margaret came up beside Louise. She was going to give her the chance to let her have it. It was Margaret's way to make amends, give Louise a clean and easy shot.

“Roxie has Alzheimer's.” It was so blunt and quick Margaret wasn't even sure she remembered who Roxie was. They walked through the hallway past the nursery until they came into the kitchen and stood together in front of the table where the refreshments had been displayed. Most of the other women were ahead of them.

“Twila just said that Sylvia Hilton had a lot of recipes from her mother's diner over in Liberty, Fran's Front Porch. Maybe we could borrow some from her. You know how folks love that place.” Beatrice came over and had returned to herself. She was filled with new air.

“That's a very good idea, Bea.” Margaret turned to Louise, who poured herself a cup of coffee and walked around the table to stand next to Jessie, who was arranging cookies on a plate.

“Thank you for handling Louise for me.” Beatrice nodded with her chin over towards Louise. She sidled next to Margaret like they were somehow closer than before the evening began.

“I'm not quite comfortable with the notion that I handled anyone, Bea. And even though she can sometimes be a little obstinate, Louise did speak out loud what most of those women were thinking. She's really not the enemy.” Margaret looked over at Louise, wondering about the announcement she had made about Roxie. Had she wanted some response? Margaret thought.

Just as she was about to go over and ask for more details, Rev.
Stewart walked in the door. All the women turned and looked at her. They were waiting for the report on J.T. and Rose Mary.

“You all are eating a little early tonight, aren't you?” Charlotte smiled, and Beatrice was quick to answer.

“We finished our business and decided to go ahead and have the refreshments. Have you had supper? Please, help yourself to something. And tell us what is happening at the hospital.”

Rev. Stewart looked tired. They were used to that. So her physical appearance did nothing to cause them to think in one way or another about J.T.'s survival. She was wearing a pale blue dress that was much too long. There was a stain just below the neckline.

“He's okay. They were able to stabilize him and run some tests. He'll have to have surgery, but they're going to wait until he's not in so much pain. Are those chocolate chip?”

Sarah nodded. She was proud that her cookies had been mentioned. “Sure. The ones on the top have nuts.”

“That's really good news about J.T. Is Rose Mary at the hospital alone?” Jessie had walked closer to the table where everyone else was standing.

“No, the children had come in by the time I left. After the doctor came and gave them the report, they were all going down to the cafeteria for some supper. So, how was your meeting?”

“Great,” replied Beatrice, not giving anyone else the chance to speak first. “We're going ahead with the cookbook, and things are just great.”

Louise cleared her throat and drank down the last of her coffee. “Well, ladies, I've caused enough damage for one evening, I'm going to head home. Earnestine, would you like to ride with me?”

Earnestine looked around, surprised at her neighbor's sudden announcement. “Um, sure, let me just get my cake plate.”

“Okay, so, good night, everyone.” Louise threw away her trash and walked back towards the meeting room to get her purse and Bible.

“Good night, Louise.” It was Twila trying to convince herself and the others that there were no hard feelings.

Louise nodded in her direction.

“I'll call you later,” Margaret said. But Louise had already left the kitchen.

The women glanced around at each other and then looked away quickly.

“Wow, it is later than I thought.” Jessie was studying her watch. All the other women then looked at theirs as well. With sunlight lasting way into the evening hours, it was always a surprise to discover that the day was gone. It was 8:45.

Small talk continued well past 9:15. Twila and Lucy cleaned up the table while Beatrice made a little plate for the preacher to take home with her. Margaret and Jessie walked out together, the other women close behind them, and Beatrice and Charlotte were the last ones in the church.

“So, your meeting went well, I hope.” Charlotte walked to the sink to put her glass down.

“It was a bit rocky at the beginning, but we hung in there and were able to carry out the important business.” Beatrice was wiping the seats of the chairs.

“Hmm.” Charlotte said this out loud, wondering how the word
rocky
might be thought of in referring to a Women's Guild meeting. It seemed quite incompatible.

Beatrice sat down on one of the chairs she was cleaning. “You know, when it's quiet in here, I feel like I hear angels humming.”

Charlotte was tying up the trash bag and putting the top on the can. “I think it's just the refrigerator, Mrs. Newgarden, but that's a nice sentiment.”

“No, it's deeper than that. Beneath the buzz of the icebox. It's like a current running through the place, something alive and old.”

Charlotte stopped and listened. She turned her head first one way and then the other. She could hear the drag and pull of the electrical appliances, the swishing sounds of a car going past, a distant chirp of crickets, but she could hear no heavenly hum.

Then she looked at Beatrice. Her head leaned back, teetered on her shoulders. She watched the smile stretch across her face, her eyes close, and her lips part. And she wondered if something had happened in the meeting that maybe she shouldn't have missed. Or was Beatrice Newgarden having some sort of ailment that might need a doctor's attention?

She watched and waited. She had never imagined that this woman might have a mystical side to her. And it surprised her to think that someone had sat in silence in the basement of the church and felt the call of angels. Maybe the older woman was expecting her preacher to pray; she wondered what kind of prayer might be appropriate for the kitchen after a meal.

Beatrice snapped open her eyes like an exclamation point and nodded at the preacher. At the ceiling. At the angels. Charlotte couldn't be sure.

“Well, I guess that's all I need for this evening. I will see you on Sunday. Are you okay here locking up by yourself, or should I wait with you?”

“No,” Charlotte assured her, “I'm used to being here alone. I need to go in my office for a few minutes anyway. You go ahead. I'll see you soon.”

Beatrice filled her arms with her books and papers, the corner of her elbow weighted down by her purse. She turned as she walked out the back door. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night, Mrs. Newgarden.”

“It's Beatrice, dear, or Bea. You're my pastor, I think that allows you to be on a first-name basis, don't you?” She smiled and waved with two fingers on her left hand.

Charlotte laughed at the thought of this woman. Her crazy ideas, her need to keep things alive. Louise Fisher was right, she was a worrisome creature. But she had honorable intentions, and her heart was open, and sometimes that meant a lot more than good sense or a clear mind. She was harmless, even better, she was deliberate with her sweetness. Even when she baked her meddlesome prune cakes, she did it without a string attached. This, Charlotte understood, was plenty to be appreciated.

In the silence of the evening's close, the young pastor sat down and listened hard for what it was that Beatrice Newgarden had heard. She almost desired to hear something different. But there were only the things she knew and the tight edge of sadness that wrapped fiercely around her heart. This, of course, could not be lightened or loosed, not even for the song of an angel.

I
t was Earnestine Williams who saw the cars hurry in and out of Louise's driveway. There were at least three cars with license plates from Maryland and one from Georgia or Florida. Earnestine had just happened by when she saw all the commotion. She had her son pull off the road onto Louise's yard just to make sure somebody wasn't stealing everything in her house. When she saw Louise come to the front door and wave her away, a signal that everything was okay, Earnestine became very curious and decided to call some of the other women to find out what they knew.

Once she got home and had a perfect view from her kitchen window, she saw five matching suitcases being taken in, a couple of boxes, and one apparently disoriented woman being supported on both sides by two large, strapping boys, followed by a couple of young women and one older man. Earnestine couldn't be sure if this woman was just old or sick or sick and old. But she watched as Louise stood holding open the door, her face twisted in a knot. Earnestine didn't think her neighbor had any elderly family left, certainly not any relatives in Maryland, and with an appropriate show of concern and worry, she called Margaret to see if she knew what was happening across the street.

Margaret was as cryptic as ever. Before Earnestine knew what had happened, Margaret had changed the subject, taking her mind off the important issue at hand. And not only was she waved away from the talk she desired but Earnestine was conned into taking nursery duty for two more Sundays, all because Margaret wouldn't answer any of her questions about Louise's
affairs. In not so many words, Earnestine was told to mind her own business. And she vowed to herself for the hundredth time that she wouldn't call Margaret again.

Everybody knew that you shouldn't call Margaret for gossip. She just didn't have it in her to comment on the affairs of others. It was, for her, a task for someone else's mind. She simply was not going to participate. However, unlike her attitude toward the regular gossipy phone calls, Margaret became concerned after this one from Earnestine. She knew that it was Roxie who was staying with Louise, and, despite her typical uncanny ability to stay detached from the problems and issues of others, she wondered whether or not Louise was doing the right thing taking an Alzheimer's patient into her home. She decided not to give in to these unfamiliar leanings, wait a couple of days, and then she would, as she was prone to do, stop by and check on her friend.

It was thus, early in the dance of autumn, when the leaves just began to open themselves wide to the colors of nature and the sun edged farther away from the tilting earth, that Roxie Ann Barnette Cannon moved in with her best friend, Louise. It had been suggested and requested by first one and then another member of the family, until they finally all agreed that this arrangement might be best.

Louise had begged Roxie to come back to North Carolina. But Roxie, in her occasional moments of clarity, wished for things to be the same, and that meant living at home with her husband and their carefully planned out lives. When she wasn't clear, which was now most of the time, she showed no connection to any place or person or sentimentality.

George had neither the initiative nor the aptitude to care for his wife. And the children, busy in their own lives, wanted to take her but knew it simply could never work for one reason or another. Louise was the only one who sincerely wanted and knew how to care for their wife and mother. So they decided and agreed to let this happen.