Friendship Cake (16 page)

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 good-bye 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 good-bye 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 the 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.

E
lizabeth 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.”

Margaret pulled out drawers trying to find a spoon. “She does eat, at least. I take her meals to her, something warm to drink, and she goes into the church to relieve herself. They've been nice enough to leave the back door open.”

The women shuffled in and began taking off hats and gloves. They all stood near the table while Margaret went back around the counter to the stove. When she threw the lid of a pot into the sink, it slammed and rattled, and the women froze in their places. “She's lost her damn mind, and I don't know what I'm going to do.”

Jessie waited a minute, then went over to the stove and adjusted the burners. She picked up a spoon and stirred the soup, which was starting to boil over. Beatrice walked over to Margaret, putting her arm around her and leading her back to the table.

Charlotte looked towards Jessie, unsure of what to do next. Jessie nodded, a sign to say something, so she asked, “Why don't you tell us about the funeral and how Louise was doing with everything?”

Margaret sat at the table as Charlotte pulled out chairs for Beatrice and herself.

“Things seemed fine, I thought.” Margaret wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “We stayed here with George. He's not a bad guy, you know?” She said this to Beatrice. “Lou was civil, didn't say much, seemed like she was okay.”