Christmas Cake (18 page)

Margaret shook her head.

“'Cause you look a little like the Richardsons.”

Margaret shook her head again.

Rachel answered for her. “She's a Hearnes,” she noted. “Her mamma was Elizabeth Hearnes.”

“She kin to Donald?” the man asked.

“That was my grandfather's name,” Margaret replied, sounding surprised.

The man nodded. “I'm Maurice Workman.” He leaned across the counter and held out his hand. “I think we might be family,” he added.

Margaret smiled and took his hand. “Well, how about that?” she asked.

“My daddy's mother's brother married Donald's sister's girl.” He paused. “Her name was Eugenia.”

Margaret looked a bit confused. She had researched some of her family history but she didn't remember the names of her grandparents' siblings. She had learned her mother's immediate family but that was all.

She considered what Maurice was saying. “So, I guess that makes us…” She thought about it.

“Related,” Maurice interrupted her. He grinned. “I'll just call you cousin,” he noted. “Cousin…” He waited for her to introduce herself.

“Margaret,” she said.

“Cousin Margaret,” he repeated.

“Do you know if any of my people are still around?” she asked.

He thought about her question. “I can ask Florrie,” he replied. “Florrie is my wife and she keeps the records for the Methodist church. She knows about every family in Goodlett.”

Margaret smiled. “Is that the little church with the cemetery behind it?” she asked. She wondered if that was the village church she remembered from her one visit to Texas. She wondered if the church was still there.

Maurice nodded. “That's the only church in town,” he replied. “And the only cemetery. I suspect your grandparents are buried there. Did your mother have siblings?” he asked.

“She had two sisters,” Margaret responded. She did remember that part of her family history.

“I'll ask Florrie if she knows your aunts. Maybe some of their kin is still around. Goodlett isn't that big, you know,” he added with a wink.

“I know,” Margaret responded.

She took in a breath, and Maurice noticed how tired she looked. “Let me show you a cabin and you and your friends can decide if you want to stay here or drive over to Childress.” He took the set of keys he had pulled out and walked around to where the women were standing. “'Course, now that we know we're related, I think you'll need to stay right here.”

Margaret smiled.

“Just follow me and I'll give you a peek at the finest accommodations in Goodlett, Texas.” He headed to the door and opened it.

The women walked past him and out the door toward the cabins behind the office.

“Mr. Workman, isn't this the only place to stay in Goodlett?” Rachel asked.

The man smiled. “Well, we don't need to be specific about that kind of thing,” he responded. “Besides, there's no better place in the world to be at Christmas,” he added, as the door shut behind him.

 

 

Aunt Maymie's Chocolate Syrup Cake

½ cup butter or margarine

1 cup sugar

4 eggs

1¼ cups flour

1½ teaspoons baking powder

¾ can chocolate syrup (1 pound can)

1 teaspoon vanilla

 

Cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Sift flour and baking powder together. Add flour mixture alternately with chocolate syrup and vanilla to creamed mixture. Beat well. Pour batter into 2 greased and floured 9-inch cake pans. Bake at 350 degrees about 30 minutes or until done.

 

 

ICING

15 large marshmallows

5 ounces evaporated milk

2 cups sugar

1 stick margarine

1 6-ounce package of chocolate chips

1 teaspoon vanilla

 

Combine marshmallows, evaporated milk, sugar, and margarine and bring to a boil, cooking 3 minutes. Remove from heat and add chocolate chips and vanilla. Beat until creamy.

T
he women decided to stay at the RV park and rent the three cabins. Beatrice and Louise were in the one closest to the office. Jessie and Margaret took the middle one. Charlotte and Rachel had the one the farthest away from the facilities. They all agreed that the youngest women would have the least amount of trouble walking to and from the bathroom. Although once that had been agreed upon, they all worried about the young woman who seemed to walk so carefully.

Once they got settled, putting the linens on the beds and unpacking, they rested for a bit and then decided to eat dinner at the place Maurice had mentioned. They all loaded into the funeral van. Charlotte had already heard the story of Beatrice's choice of vehicle. Once they started their short trip to the diner, Charlotte agreed with her friends that it was a comfortable ride.

The temperature had dropped at least ten degrees since they arrived in Goodlett and it was now below the freezing mark. Clouds
filled the evening sky, and the women huddled together in the van as they drove to the diner.

There were only a few people inside the small restaurant. There were two deputies enjoying their dinner and a woman with two small children just coming out as the women were going in. They waited for the family and then hurried inside and took a table in the center of the room.

“It is really cold out there,” Charlotte noted as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck.

“Cold enough to make snow stick,” Louise added. She was starting to get concerned about the storm and whether they would be able to leave Texas now that they had made it there.

“Are you getting worried?” Beatrice asked as she took her seat and began peeling off her gloves. She still had on her Santa hat and was looking quite festive.

“I just don't know if we want to spend a week in a cabin in Goodlett, Texas,” she replied.

“Oh, we'll be fine,” Jessie said. She had taken the menus and passed them out to all the women. “Just order something hearty and you'll feel better.”

A waitress walked over to take the orders. She was young, not much older than Rachel. She chewed gum and wore a red bow in her hair. She also had on earrings that lit up, a pair of reindeer with bright, shining noses.

“Ya'll know what you want or you need a minute?” she asked.

“You got cake?” Beatrice asked. She winked at Louise.

“Yes ma'am,” the girl answered, not knowing that her customer was just trying to be humorous.

“Oh please,” Louise said, under her breath.

The waitress didn't hear her. “We got a chocolate cookie cake, and we got the house special.” She waited.

“Which is?” Beatrice was interested.

“A chocolate syrup cake,” the waitress replied. “It's real rich,” she added. “But it's good if you like that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I'd say we all like that kind of thing,” Jessie responded.

Louise just rolled her eyes and held the menu over her face. Clearly she had eaten enough cake.

All the women ordered and handed their menus to Jessie, who placed them between the salt and pepper shakers situated on the corner of the table. Beatrice glanced around and noticed that the deputy facing her seemed to be eyeing the group. She smiled at the young man but he didn't respond. She watched as he participated in a call on his walkie-talkie, which was attached to a shoulder harness. It wasn't long before the two men got up and left their table.

Louise watched them leave and noticed Beatrice as she followed them with her eyes. “What's the matter?” she asked.

Beatrice turned to her friend. “Nothing,” she replied. “I was just thinking about Dick and wondering if he got supper tonight,” she added.

“Have you talked to him since we left?” Jessie asked. She had managed to get through to James all three evenings they had been away.

Beatrice shook her head. Every time she tried to call, the line was busy or there was no answer. She thought about calling the funeral home but she didn't really want to talk to Betty. It wasn't a huge deal that she hadn't contacted Dick. She had left a couple of messages on the home phone saying that they were fine, telling him where they were staying.

In all the time away from home, she hadn't really worried about
the fact that she hadn't told him about borrowing the van. She hadn't even really thought about it since leaving North Carolina. She had actually forgotten that he didn't know.

She watched the deputies as they pulled out of the parking lot. The car stopped behind the women's parking place, but none of the other women noticed it.

“So, Rachel.” Beatrice turned to the young woman seated across the table from her. “You're from around here?” she asked.

Rachel's face reddened as all the women looked at her. She didn't like having that much attention on her. “Yes ma'am, from Childress,” she replied, and dropped her eyes away from the group.

“Beatrice, you look like you've lost some weight.” Charlotte was trying to divert the attention away from her young friend. She knew it was uncomfortable for her. “Have you been exercising?” she asked. She knew that Beatrice would love to talk about herself. And she was right.

“Depression,” she replied, in a very matter-of-fact style. She lifted the top of her Santa hat away from her face. “It's great for dieting.”

Charlotte was surprised by the answer. Since Beatrice brought up the subject, she thought it was fine to follow up. “You've been depressed?” she asked.

“She gave up the cookbook project,” Louise said.

The waitress brought out the drinks and passed them out to the women around the table. They were her only customers now that the deputies had left.

“Beatrice!” Charlotte said in a very surprised tone of voice. “You gave up a project? Were you hospitalized?” she asked, and then smiled. “Did they give you electric shock therapy?”

“Very funny,” Beatrice replied. “No, I was not hospitalized.”

“Turns out all she needed was a kick in the butt from her friends,” Jessie said.

“And a patch on her butt from her doctor,” Louise added.

“It's the hormones, dear,” Beatrice said in Rachel's direction.

Again, the young woman's face reddened.

“You'll learn one day too. Getting old isn't for sissies.” Beatrice took a sip from her glass of iced tea.

“And you're better now?” Charlotte asked.

“Much better. I was a little low on my estrogen,” Beatrice noted.

“A little low?” Louise asked. “You were on your way to the psychiatric ward if you didn't get some help.”

Charlotte laughed and shook her head in Rachel's direction. “They're best friends,” she said.

The young woman nodded, looking a bit suspicious.

“So, how are Wallace and Lana and little Hope?” Charlotte asked. She was hoping to catch up on all the community news.

“Great,” Jessie replied, pulling from her purse the picture that Lana had given her to share with Charlotte. “Growing like a weed,” she added, speaking of the little girl.

“And school for Lana, how's that?” Charlotte asked as she looked at the photograph. She was smiling at how much Hope had grown and how cute she looked sitting on Santa's knee.

“Making real good grades,” Jessie responded.

“She'll be an excellent nurse,” Margaret added. It was the first thing she had said since they arrived at the diner.

All the women glanced over at her. They were glad to hear her participate in the conversation. They had all noticed that she seemed happy to be in Goodlett, but that she was also growing more and more fatigued.

“Oh, she is still a cutie,” Charlotte commented.

“Can I see?” Rachel asked.

Charlotte showed her the photograph. She smiled.

“This your granddaughter?” she asked Jessie, giving the picture back to Charlotte.

“Great-granddaughter,” Jessie replied. “Her mother married my grandson,” she added.

Rachel nodded.

“Charlotte married them,” Jessie noted.

Rachel turned to look at Charlotte. She had not known that Charlotte was a minister. She knew that she used to work in a church but she never considered that Charlotte could have been an ordained minister, not that she really understood what that meant.

“You married them?” she asked, looking confused.

“I officiated at the marriage,” Charlotte explained. “I was the pastor of the church where they attend.”

Rachel nodded. She was starting to understand.

“And you all went to her church?” Rachel asked.

The women nodded.

“Why did you quit being a pastor?” Rachel wanted to know.

The women waited to hear how Charlotte was going to answer. They all thought they knew the reasons, but no one was really completely sure they understood why the young woman had left her work in the church.

Charlotte could feel all the eyes on her. “I guess I figured most of the folks in church didn't need me so much. And I think I like to be needed. So, I decided to go somewhere else where I thought I could do a little more, make more of a difference.”

The women considered her response. It made sense to them all even though they missed having her in Hope Springs.

“And you picked New Mexico because you had a dream?” Rachel recalled the conversation they had as they drove into Texas.

“That's right,” Charlotte replied.

“And how is it for you?” Jessie asked. She and the young pastor had talked about the transition, and she thought she could tell it had been a good change for Charlotte; but she wanted to hear an update, hear how it was five years after leaving North Carolina.

“Well, aside from missing all of the cookbook projects”—she smiled over in Beatrice's direction—“I'd say it's been perfect.”

Margaret nodded at her young friend. She could tell how happy Charlotte was doing the work she did, living in the place she lived. She was very glad that Charlotte enjoyed her work and she was very pleased to have the opportunity to see her, to be with her in Texas.

The food arrived and they all sat with their plates in front of them. They all turned to Charlotte, who reached out her hands. All the women took hands, including Rachel, who seemed a bit out of place with the religious demonstration.

Everyone closed her eyes except Rachel. She watched as Charlotte led the prayer.

It was short, mostly making note of the food and the traveling mercies they had all enjoyed. But Rachel watched Charlotte as she prayed, and she saw the young woman when she opened her eyes and looked at Margaret. As if being called out, Margaret had opened her eyes and looked too. At that part of the prayer, Charlotte thanked God for friends and for the allowance of possibilities to find peace. The two women smiled slightly at each other as Rachel then bowed
her head. She knew it was a private moment between the two and she didn't want to intrude.

Once the prayer was over, the women ate their dinner. Everyone finished at about the same time except Margaret and Rachel. Both of them seemed to have more difficulty eating. Margaret was slow just because she had no appetite and was eating only because she knew she needed the nourishment. Rachel was slow because her jaw had only recently healed after being broken. It was still very painful to chew.

“Do you have a toothache?” Beatrice asked Rachel, having noticed her wincing every time she bit down.

Rachel shook her head.

“Is it the steak?” Beatrice asked. She had ordered the fish, and she wondered how the steak tasted. “Is it tough?”

Rachel shook her head again.

Charlotte thought about trying to divert the conversation, worried that she should try to save Rachel from Beatrice's line of questioning, but before she could switch subjects, Rachel seemed ready to answer.

“I got beat up by my boyfriend,” she replied. She turned to Charlotte, who just looked at her. “He broke my cheekbone.”

She was surprised that the young woman had decided to answer so honestly.

“Why did he do that?” Beatrice asked. She had never met anyone who claimed to be a victim of violence.

Rachel shrugged as she continued to try and finish her supper.

“Bea.” Jessie tried to stop her friend from asking too many questions.

“What?” she asked, understanding what Jessie was trying to do. “It's a fair question, don't you think?”

“It's not really fair for Rachel,” Louise noted.

“Why?” Beatrice asked.

“Because she probably doesn't know the reason she was struck,” Jessie responded.

“Is that true?” Beatrice asked. She was not getting the message from her friends to stop her questions. She didn't think of herself as a busybody. “Do you not know why he hit you?”

Rachel finished eating and wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I forgot the potted meat,” she replied.

“What?” Louise asked. She sounded shocked to hear the answer.

“He was mad because I had gone to the store and forgotten to get his potted meat,” she explained. “So he got out the baseball bat and he hit me across the face, crushed my jaw, then he hit me across the back and he broke my hip. And I landed in the hospital for about a month.”

The women were silent around the table. They didn't know the stories of violence that Charlotte had become accustomed to. They had no idea that a person could suffer so much for something so trivial.

“And yet, you survived,” Margaret said. She had finished her meal by then too. “Look at you. You are to be honored. You're strong and you're sitting at a table eating dinner,” she added. “You survived.”

Rachel peered at the woman who had taken as long to eat as she had and smiled. She had not thought of her survival as a cause for celebration. She had not thought that her coming through such a violent rage was reason for any honor. But somehow, with the way this
woman said what she said, the way she looked at her, Rachel suddenly felt better about herself. She felt taller, stronger. She nodded.