Friendship Cake

by Lynne Hinton

  “Salt of the earth,” Jessie responded.

  “I have my clothes for the wedding in the car. If it’s all right, I’ll just change here and drive you to the church.” He was all tender and vulnerable again, and Jessie was blinded by it like it was a storm of snow.

  “Yeah, that will be fine. You can even help Wallace with his tie.” Jessie looked at her watch. “Oh, I better start getting ready myself. Wallace should be home soon. You can help yourself to anything to eat if you like. I’ll be in the back getting dressed.”

  James followed his ex-wife with his eyes as she went down the hall and into the bedroom they once had shared. He sighed, poured himself another cup of coffee, and took a cookie from the platter. He stood in front of the kitchen window as memories stirred in his mind and he was warmed by the possibilities.

  Jessie shut the door and leaned back against it. She thought about James, the way he looked, the years they had been apart. He seemed settled in a way that he hadn’t been in a long time. Something felt ironed out, smoothed down and pressed flat. It was as if nothing was in his way anymore. Jessie didn’t know what was different or what if anything the change meant, but she liked the way it felt. She liked that he was there, standing in her kitchen. And she liked it that, for whatever reason, he seemed right at home.

  *

  Roxie’s Angel Food Cake

  ¾ cup cake flour

  ¼ cup sugar

  10 to 12 egg whites

  1 teaspoon cream of tartar

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  ½ teaspoon almond extract

  Preheat oven to 350°F. Sift together two or three times flour and half of sugar. Sift rest of sugar and set aside. Whip egg whites until foamy. Add cream of tartar. Continue beating until mixture is stiff but not dry. Fold in sugar a little at a time. Fold in vanilla and almond extract. Sift flour-sugar mixture over batter a little at a time and fold into batter. Pour batter into an ungreased tube pan and bake at 350°F for 45 minutes. Then top with chocolate syrup or fruit and thank God you’ve got an angel.

  —ROXIE BARNETTE CANNON

  *

  On that blustery day in December, Hope Springs Community Church was crowded with well-wishers and church members to celebrate the wedding of Wallace Jenkins and Lana Sawyer.

  Dick Witherspoon and Beatrice Newgarden stood at the door to greet the folks and pass out bulletins. It was noticed that during most of the service, the music and the speaking of the vows, Dick and Bea were holding hands.

  Roxie and Louise sat near the back, and Roxie could be heard singing during a couple of the hymns. Margaret stood in the narthex, beaming with pride that her church had managed a miracle and that the wedding party remembered where they were supposed to stand and how they were to march in and out.

  Charlotte was relaxed and at ease, even giving an impromptu thank-you to everyone who had weathered the storm and was present for the ritual.

  Jessie sat with James and loved the nearness of his arm both beside and around her. Lana and Wallace were nervous as cats but somehow managed to say the vows and follow directions without a hitch.

  The wedding was one of the most beautiful Hope Springs had ever hosted; everybody said so. And the reception at Jessie’s was packed with people and overflowing with joy. No one believed that the community would be able to laugh so soon after their tears, but it felt easy and necessary, and the people obliged their hearts.

  It was a glorious day for the Hope Springs community, and afterwards the Cookbook Committee sat in Jessie’s den while a few family members stood around in the kitchen. Louise had taken Roxie into a bedroom for a nap since she kept falling asleep on the sofa. She was coming out when she heard Jessie ask the group how Roxie was doing.

  “She’s worse.” Louise got herself a cup of punch and sat down next to Beatrice. “But today was a good day. It was a really good day.” She smiled at Jessie, who nodded back at her.

  “I heard her singing ‘Here Comes the Bride.’ I didn’t even know there were words to ‘Here Comes the Bride.’” Margaret was nibbling on a piece of cake.

  “I’m not sure there are words, and even if there are, I’m not sure they were the words Roxie was singing.” Louise took a bite of her friend’s cake.

  “She seems really content, Lou.” Beatrice was fanning herself.

  “Yeah, she’s satisfied, I think; I mean, with being here.” Louise saw Jessie looking in the kitchen, soaking in James with her eyes. “You still got it for your old man?”

  Jessie was surprised at the question, surprised that everyone had figured out her secret admiration. She blushed. “You’ve got to admit, he still looks good.”

  James glanced into the den and noticed that the women were watching him. He raised his cup and grinned.

  “He looks all right, I suppose.” It was Beatrice. “If you like that sort of run off and forget you kind of guy.”

  “Oh, Bea. Leave them alone. Jessie’s a grown woman. She knows what she wants.” Margaret offered Louise another bite of cake.

  “You mean, she knows who she wants.” And Beatrice put her cup to her mouth, her little finger balancing the weight.

  “No, I think it’s more like what I want.” Jessie licked her lips while the other women laughed. James turned back towards the women.

  “Girl, I do know about that.” Beatrice put down her cup and looked over at Dick, who was sitting at the kitchen table flipping through a magazine.

  Louise and Margaret exchanged glances.

  “Really, Bea, you? I never had you figured for the, um,” Jessie struggled for a word.

  “Horny type.” It was Louise who finished the sentence.

  They all laughed. Beatrice seemed unbothered. “Well, a woman does have needs.” She gave a dainty wave towards Dick, who smiled back at her.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little weird being with a funeral director? I mean, has he asked you to do it in a coffin?” Louise whispered the question, and the women howled. Everybody in the kitchen looked their way.

  Charlotte walked over before anyone could respond. “And just what is the raucous topic for today’s committee meeting?”

  The women laughed again. “Sex,” said Margaret.

  “Oh?” said an embarrassed Charlotte. “Maybe I need to skip out on this meeting then.”

  “No, it’s plenty appropriate for a preacher’s ears.” And Louise motioned Charlotte to join her on the sofa. “Jessie here was only saying that she was glad to have James back.”

  Charlotte looked at Jessie, then over to James. She seemed to like the thought of the two of them back together.

  “And we know about Dick and Bea.” She smiled at Beatrice, proud that she was finally using first names with the women. “So what about you two, Margaret and Louise?”

  Margaret cleared her throat and shook her head with a laugh. “Not anything to know, Preacher. I’m used to living alone, and I can’t imagine being any other way. I’m perfectly content with the way things are.”

  Then they all looked at Louise, who started to get up from the couch. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.” And before anyone could ask another question, she walked into the bedroom and roused Roxie. After a few minutes the two of them were in coats and scarves, and Dick and Bea hurried to get ready so they could take them home.

  “I think I’ll be leaving too.” Charlotte hugged Jessie. “It was a great day, a beautiful wedding.” And she waited for Margaret, since the two of them came together.

  One by one they said goodbye until only James and Jessie were left. Lana and Wallace were staying the night at the Embassy Suites in town, a gift from Louise and Roxie.

  Jessie waved goodbye to everyone, closed and locked the door, and began cleaning up the dishes. James went into the kitchen and stood near Jessie as she put on an apron.

  “That wasn’t a bad party, for white people, I mean.” James smiled and started rolling up his sleeves.

  “Yeah, I thought it turned out real nice.” She plugged the drain in t
he sink and turned on the water.

  James reached below, got the dishwashing detergent, and poured a little in the sink.

  Jessie watched with surprise as he put the container back where he found it.

  “You know, the children are going to talk about this.” She reached in the water to find the dishcloth. She felt his fingers stop and spread apart while she moved hers across his.

  “So then maybe I should go?” He turned to face her.

  “I suppose you will eventually anyway.” Jessie pulled her hands from the water and dried them on her apron.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “You’re right about Washington. I’m too old for the job, and I’m too old for the city.” He reached for her hands. “I think I’d like to stay.”

  Jessie was surprised, but she let him keep her hands. Water trickled across his fingers onto hers. “What made you go the first time?”

  He looked down and then back into her eyes. “I got no excuse for what I did.” He caught a stream of water as it dripped down her arm. “Except I always felt like you were too good for me, Jess.” He dried her arm with the towel. “No matter how hard I tried, it always seemed like I was letting you down.”

  She turned away, pulling the towel from his hands. “You broke my heart, James Jenkins. That’s what you did. You broke it as sure as we’re standing here.” A tear fell from her eye.

  “Yeah,” he said, as he turned her face towards his. “I know that.” He looked into her eyes, captured her there. “I’m sorry.” He pulled her towards him, and there were no more words. He would be staying the rest of the night.

  WHEN LOUISE GOT Roxie home and in bed, she could tell that there had been a change in her breathing. Nothing very labored or drastic, but it seemed she breathed less, took in less air. She got the notebook and began to write down the things from the wedding and reception, then went back into the room where Roxie was sleeping.

  Roxie opened up her eyes and looked at Louise. “You’re my angel, Louie, and I want to stay here with you.”

  Louise reached over and touched Roxie on the cheek. “Of course you will stay here.” She kissed her forehead, and Roxie closed her eyes.

  Louise thought about sleeping in the room with her, sitting in the chair next to Roxie, but she was so tired from the day, she fell asleep in her bed before she could make a decision.

  She awoke late the next morning and was surprised to find that Roxie had not wakened her with yells to go to the bathroom. She glanced at the clock. It was well past 9:00. She looked out the window; the snow was still covering the ground.

  “You had a big day yesterday, young lady,” Louise was saying as she walked up the hallway towards the den. She was still wearing her pajamas.

  She went into the kitchen first, poured a glass of juice, and got Roxie’s morning medications. “You were singing and carrying on at the wedding like it was your big day.” She walked into the den and stopped. Roxie was pale, unmoving. Louise put down the juice and the pills and reached for Roxie’s arm to take a pulse. There was nothing. Roxie didn’t breathe or flutter her eyelids or smile. She was dead.

  There were no screams, not even tears. Louise laid her head on Roxie’s chest, listening for a breath or a heartbeat, but the woman’s body was empty of any life. Louise stood up, reached beside the bed for a brush, and fixed Roxie’s hair. Then she went into the bathroom, got a washcloth and towel, and gave Roxie a sponge bath. She cleaned her with great care. Louise then put on her own clothes, dressed Roxie in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, and fluffed the pillows behind her head. She made no sound. It was a silent, independent series of actions, pieces of an intimate friendship, tokens of love. She cleaned up around the bed and sat down at the telephone to make calls.

  First she spoke to George and then the children. She was informative and sympathetic. She waited until the shock wore off for each one, asking if they were okay, reminding them how much Roxie loved them, and how attentive they had been as her family, and then, with a professional and caring tone, she hung up the phone. Afterwards she called the doctor, who sent out an EMT and a deputy sheriff. She called Margaret, who came over immediately, and Dick, who came dressed in jeans and a sweater, since he knew Louise would feel more comfortable with him dressed like this than if he were in a suit.

  Charlotte arrived just minutes after the funeral home personnel. She was late because she had walked from the parsonage. When she got to the house, Jessie and James were taking down the hospital bed and Beatrice was fixing a pot of coffee. Margaret and Louise were sitting in the den.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long, I couldn’t get my car to start.” Charlotte took off her hat and gloves. “Guess it’s the cold weather.”

  “Where’s your car now?” Beatrice asked as she peered out the kitchen window.

  “I walked,” she said.

  “Walked?” Margaret got up to take the rest of her wet clothes. “That’s got to be five miles or more!”

  “Four and a half. But it’s okay. I find it stimulating.” Charlotte pulled off her coat, handed it to Margaret, and knelt down in front of Louise.

  “What happened?” Charlotte was flushed from the exercise and the cold.

  “I don’t know. I slept in my bed last night. I was planning to come back in here; I don’t know why I didn’t. I fell asleep in my room, I guess.” There was a long pause.

  “When I got up this morning, she…” Louise thought for a minute. It seemed as if she was remembering something. “She said last night she wanted to stay with me. I didn’t know what she meant. I didn’t know she was planning to…” Her voice dropped.

  Margaret sat back on the sofa, reached over, and put Louise’s head on her shoulder.

  “George wants to take her back to Maryland. They have plots up there.” She sat up and wiped her eyes. “So I guess that’s that.”

  Beatrice whispered to the other women. “Dick said he’s to ship the body tonight or tomorrow. The funeral home up there is taking care of the arrangements.”

  Jessie was placing the bed rails on top of the bed when she noticed a piece of paper stuck behind the headboard. She pulled it out while Louise watched. “It looks like a recipe of some kind.” She handed it to Louise.

  “It’s for angel food cake. She loved that.” She read over the list of ingredients. “I knew she had written something those first few weeks she was here, but she wouldn’t show it to me. I thought it was a letter to George. She must have heard our conversations about the book.”

  Margaret glanced over her shoulder at the handwritten paper.

  “It looks like she didn’t get finished.” Louise showed Margaret. There was a list of instructions that ended with using an ungreased tube pan and baking at 350 degrees, but the rest of the words she couldn’t read.

  “Oh, the rest is easy.” Beatrice came over and reached for the paper. “It looks like top it with something,” she studied it, “but I can’t make it out.”

  Louise took it back, knowing what it said without reading it, “chocolate sauce and fruit.” She turned to Beatrice. “It was her favorite.” Then she looked back at the recipe. “But what about here, what does it say here?” And she pointed to the last line, which was written with a very shaky hand.

  The women passed the paper around, each one trying to decipher a word or a few letters.

  “And think sad…” Jessie had it and passed it on to Charlotte.

  “And think God you’ve, something, anger?” She handed it to Beatrice, who studied it awhile, then gave it back to Margaret, who was still sitting beside Louise.

  “And thank God you’ve got an angel.” Margaret read it, the words tight and sure, then she smiled at Louise, who sat back and cried.

  *

  Elizabeth’s Christmas Moravian Cakes

  ½ pound dark brown sugar

  1 pint molasses

  ½ cup lard

  1 stick butter

  1 tablespoon cinnamon

  1½ teaspoons cloves

  1
½ teaspoons ginger

  1½ teaspoons baking soda

  8 cups sifted all-purpose flour

  Add sugar to molasses and mix well. Add lard and butter, melted and cooled. Sift spices and soda with a little flour and add to the molasses mixture, stirring in well. Then add the rest of the flour until you have a stiff dough. Let stand overnight. Roll thinly on a floured board. Cut into shapes with cookie cutters, and bake on greased tins in moderate oven (350°F). This recipe makes about 3 pounds. Baking time is about 9 minutes.

  —ELIZABETH GARNER

  *

  Elizabeth Garner was the one who broke the news to the rest of the Cookbook Committee about Louise camping out at the cemetery. It was the day before Christmas Eve. Margaret had taken Louise up to Maryland for the funeral over four days ago. She was at her wit’s end since Louise wouldn’t come home. She called Elizabeth because she wanted to ask her son, the EMT, how long somebody could stay outside in the cold without getting frostbite. Margaret told Elizabeth that they needed to leave Maryland, but Louise wouldn’t listen and she wouldn’t come in from the cold. Elizabeth heard the panic in the otherwise calm Margaret and called the preacher immediately.

  There were no questions asked, no plans made. The women set out for Maryland to try to help Margaret and Louise. Jessie and Charlotte took turns driving while Beatrice served as navigator. They got lost outside Richmond, but they were still able to get to George’s house in less than six hours. When they arrived, Margaret was cooking an early supper. George and his girlfriend had gone to stay at her house, since things were a little awkward with Louise visiting.

  The women walked into the house and were surprised to find Margaret alone. She was glad to see them.

  She appeared frayed, stringy, like an old rug. “She’s at the grave. She hasn’t left since the day after the funeral.”

  She walked back to the stove. “We’ve tried everything. The funeral director talked to her. The preacher sent some suicide chaplain out there. George and the children tried to get her to leave. I even stayed with her a couple of nights, but I couldn’t stand it anymore. She’s planning on spending Christmas Eve out there, for God’s sake.”