Christmas Cake (16 page)

“Whatever,” Louise responded. “But why don't we wait until we're out of Hope Springs before we show her what she's traveling in?”

“Do you want me to help you with her and her stuff?” Beatrice rolled down the window and asked.

“I think we can manage,” Jessie replied.

Jessie walked to the door just as Margaret opened it. The two women smiled at each other.

“Your chariot awaits,” Jessie announced.

And at that moment, Beatrice honked the horn, scaring Louise and causing her to jump, letting go of the van door, which began to close, clearly exposing the sign she was trying to keep hidden.

Jessie, of course, was right. Margaret thought it was the funniest thing she had ever seen.

Orange Slice Cake

2 sticks margarine

2 cups sugar

4 eggs

3½ cups plain flour

½ cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon baking soda (dissolved in buttermilk)

2 cups chopped pecans

1 pound orange slice candy cut in small pieces

2 pounds dates cut in small pieces

½ cup coconut

 

Cream margarine and sugar; add eggs one at a time; add flour alternately with milk. Add nuts, candy, and dates rolled in flour. Add coconut. Cook in tube pan at 250 degrees for 2 hours and 30 minutes.

 

 

TOPPING

1 cup fresh orange juice

2 cups powdered sugar

 

Mix orange juice and sugar thoroughly and pour over hot cake just removed from the oven. Let stand in pan overnight or for several hours.

W
e're in Amarillo.” Charlotte couldn't hear Jessie very well. They were both on cell phones and there wasn't a very good connection. It was almost lunchtime. She and Rachel had slept late and then eaten a big breakfast. She waited. “Jessie, are you there?”

“Yes, hold on just a minute, let me see if I can get a better signal.”

The two women paused.

“Okay, is that better?” she asked.

“Yes, much better,” Charlotte replied. “So, where are you guys?” she asked.

They had spoken to each other over the weekend, once on Saturday before they left Hope Springs. And then Charlotte had called Jessie on Sunday evening to tell her that she and Rachel, one of the women from the shelter, were leaving Gallup on Monday morning and would make it to Amarillo to spend the night.

She knew that the group had left North Carolina Saturday eve
ning and were planning to be in Goodlett by Tuesday. She learned, however, from her phone call on Sunday that they had gotten a bit off schedule once they started their trip from Tennessee. Beatrice apparently persuaded them all to stop in Memphis and get a picture of the four of them at Graceland.

Based upon the conversation she had with Louise on Sunday evening, the women had gotten separated at Elvis's estate and Beatrice had gotten locked in the jungle room. There was some sort of trouble with security and they were asked to leave. She couldn't make out the rest of the story, the women were laughing too hard.

However, after the holdup in Memphis, Charlotte wasn't sure that they would make it to Little Rock Sunday night or if they would get all the way to Oklahoma City on Monday night. She hadn't talked to them since just after the Memphis side trip.

Every time Charlotte tried to call Jessie, she was sent directly to her voice mail. She knew that either there had been no good signal for her to return the calls or Jessie had still not quite figured out how to work her cell phone. Regardless, Charlotte was quite relieved to be able to talk to her friend on Tuesday.

“We're almost to Oklahoma City,” Jessie replied. “We spent last night in Fort Smith but we got up pretty early to start today. We didn't make it to the hotel Louise had planned for us but we're almost caught up by now. We're about to get on Highway 62. Then we drop down on Highway 83 to hit 287. We should be in Goodlett before it gets dark.”

“Louise and Beatrice still fighting?” Charlotte asked. She was grinning when she asked it.

“Bickering, like old hens,” Jessie replied. “But what else is new?” she asked.

“Lou started it,” Beatrice said, breaking into Jessie's conversation. “I could have gotten us to Little Rock by nightfall if she hadn't wanted to stay and sing with the Elvis choir.”

“I started it?” Louise said. She was driving, and Beatrice was beside her on the passenger side. “You were the one who was locked up in the hall closet in the King's house and stopped all the tours. I was where we were supposed to be, just hanging out in the souvenir shop waiting for you.”

“I was ready to leave while you were trying to sneak in the back row of the choir.” Beatrice folded her arms across her chest.

“You hear all that?” Jessie asked.

“Has it been that way since North Carolina?” Charlotte asked. She knew how Beatrice and Louise could argue.

Back in Hope Springs she had left them in the church after a meeting one evening fussing about something with each other and found them there the next morning, asleep in the day care center. Charlotte knew that these women could keep an argument running for days.

“How's Margaret doing?” she asked, deciding to change the subject from Beatrice and Louise. She had been concerned that the trip was too much for Margaret. She didn't know the condition of her friend, but knew that Margaret had not been well since she left the hospital.

“She's a trouper,” Jessie said. She turned back to look on the seat behind her where Margaret was sleeping.

It was easy to see how frail she appeared, how much weight she had lost in the previous months, but Jessie could also see how peacefully she was resting. She didn't know how her friend could sleep through all the noise in the van.

“We've actually had a lot of fun,” Jessie noted with a smile.

And it was true. They had already seen a lot of sights in the three days they had been on the road. They had stopped in Nashville at the Grand Ole Opry and heard a Christmas concert, shopped at some outlet stores in Arkansas, and stopped at the monument in Oklahoma City that was just off the interstate. They had packed a lot into the trip. Memphis and Graceland was just one of many adventures they had shared.

“Tell her about the orange cake,” Beatrice said.

“Bea wants me to tell you about this cake we ate in Arkansas. We stopped at some truck stop off the highway and Bea ordered this cake for dessert. It was made with those candy orange slices. You remember those?” Jessie asked.

“Real sugary ones?” Charlotte responded.

“That's them. Anyway, it was certainly a different kind of cake. I didn't care for it myself but Beatrice wouldn't let us leave this diner until she could call the woman who baked this cake and get the recipe. She's pretty excited about it so you may be getting a cake in the mail in the new year.”

“She just can't get enough recipes, can she?”

The two of them laughed.

“Well, I'm glad you've been safe and I certainly figured you all would make this trip into something memorable,” Charlotte responded. “I hope you have your camera with you.”

“We do. And we have some fine photographs of Louise singing with a choir of Elvis look-alikes and Beatrice being escorted off the premises at Graceland by security guards.” Jessie laughed.

“I think that one big man with the Santa hat sort of liked me,” Beatrice said. She turned around in her seat to face Jessie.

“I think so too, Bea,” Jessie said, responding to Beatrice. “We
think we may use them for next year's Christmas cards,” she said to Charlotte. “So, anyway, we should be in Goodlett by suppertime. You got any idea where we could meet?”

“There's an RV park in Goodlett. It's off the highway going into town. It's got ‘cotton gin' in the name of it. We could meet there,” Charlotte suggested. “Rachel thought it had a little store, so we could just meet in the parking lot.”

“Cotton Gin RV Park,” Jessie repeated. She knew about Rachel because Charlotte had mentioned her passenger when they had talked on Saturday. “Sounds perfect and it shouldn't be hard to locate. We'll plan to see you there in a few hours.”

And with that, the signal was gone.

Charlotte placed her cell phone in the console beside her seat.

“You lose her again?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, or Jessie hit the end button with her chin.” She smiled. “I don't think she's quite gotten her cell phone technology figured out yet.”

Rachel nodded. “I never used one before.”

“Really?” Charlotte asked. “You want to use mine?” she offered, wondering if Rachel had even phoned her sister to let her know she was in Texas.

“Nah,” she replied. “I don't even know anybody to call.” She slumped down in the passenger seat.

Charlotte and Rachel hadn't talked much since they started the trip the day before. They left after the Christmas party at the shelter. Charlotte thought it had been a nice event for all the women.

She had arranged for a five-course dinner at a semi-upscale restaurant. A local church had paid for it, and all the women had gotten dressed up. None of them had ever eaten at such a nice place, and
Charlotte had loved how much the women seemed to enjoy themselves. After dinner, they went back to the shelter, had desserts, and opened presents, which Charlotte had arranged with another charity organization.

The women had all received gift cards, new coats, some pieces of jewelry, and perfume. And the children, Loretta's three, had all gotten toys and clothes and picture books. Charlotte had worked very diligently to make sure the women were well cared for during the holidays, and it had been a successful endeavor.

She had worked as the executive director of the shelter long enough to know that holidays were difficult for her clients. Most of them didn't have family they could visit and were sad about having to live in a women's shelter. Some of them even commented that they missed their abusers. She knew of some women who even went back into their violent situations just because the holidays were so lonesome for them.

Every year since she had taken the job in Gallup, she tried to make Christmas special and meaningful for the women. She knew that it couldn't take away the difficult circumstances the women were facing, but at least she could give them a little joy, a tiny bit of delight.

Rachel seemed to be the most surprised by the dinner and the presents given at the party. Charlotte noticed that the young woman struggled through the dinner, appearing as if she was uncomfortable eating in such a fancy place. The other women seemed to notice it too, and they all tried to make her feel more at home. Then when they all went back to the shelter and received their gifts, Rachel had not opened any of hers with the rest of the group. She had taken them all back to her room.

Charlotte didn't know when she opened them, but she knew that
Rachel was wearing the new coat, and she thought she could smell perfume on the young woman. She hadn't said anything to Rachel when she left the party without opening her gifts. No one had. All the women knew that sometimes for a victim of violence, goodness can feel overwhelming. They had simply left her alone.

“Why did you come out here from North Carolina?” Rachel asked.

The radio was tuned to a station that was playing Christmas music. Charlotte liked the songs but she turned the radio down a bit since her passenger seemed interested in having a conversation.

“I don't know really,” Charlotte replied. “I read a book about the Southwest. It had a lot of pictures in it of the landscapes and the different pueblos and the sky, and it explained a lot about the history of the place. I had dreams about living in the desert. I just knew I wanted to live out here even before I ever saw it.”

“That's weird,” Rachel responded.

“I guess so.”

“You still feel that way about it?”

Charlotte nodded. “More so. It's exactly what I thought it would be, only it's more. It's like home, only it's brand-new.” She smiled thinking about her move to the Southwest, how odd it felt to leave North Carolina, how right it felt to be where she was.

“Do you like New Mexico?” Charlotte asked.

Rachel shook her head. “Not really.”

“Where would you like to live then?” she asked.

“I guess Texas,” the young woman replied. “That's the only place I know real good.”

“And what do you like about Texas?” Charlotte asked.

Rachel considered the question. Charlotte could tell that the teenager had never thought about her home state.

She shrugged. “I guess it's home. I know where everything is here, what people think about, what's important to them. I could never seem to feel that way in New Mexico.”

“Did you like growing up here?” Charlotte asked. She was hoping that Rachel might open up a bit with her since she had not shared anything about her life since moving into the shelter.

Rachel nodded. She glanced out the window.

They had taken the turn off the interstate and were heading south from Amarillo down to Childress. There were miles and miles of empty fields. They passed a few barns, a few houses situated far off the road. There were some oil pumps and a few head of cattle. They passed hardly any other cars on the road. It was quite a desolate place.

“It was hard, I mean. We were pretty poor. Grandma just got a welfare check and Uncle Nestor helped us as much as he could but we just never had much. Sometimes I felt bad about that. But mostly I didn't care.”

Charlotte glanced over at her passenger. She seemed so old and yet she was still so young. Charlotte wondered if there was violence in her childhood too. She knew there were often patterns repeated in the lives of victims of domestic violence. She wondered if Rachel had ever talked about it.

“So, what about Childress do you miss?” Charlotte asked.

Rachel smiled. She had thought about that. She had thought about that a lot. “There's a way that the wind sounds in west Texas. I've never heard it anywhere else. It's like a woman's voice.” She fidgeted with her seat belt. “My sister was always afraid of it; she thought it was a ghost or something. But I always liked it. Made me think of my mamma and her singing to me.”

Charlotte wanted to ask more about the young woman's mother
but she decided just to let her talk. She knew that Rachel was considering the prospect of seeing a counselor, and Charlotte was glad that Rachel was thinking about getting professional help. She decided to let her passenger talk as much or as little as she wanted. She would not push the conversation to such a deep level.

“Tell me what you used to do for Christmas.” Charlotte thought that was an innocent direction in which to steer their talk.

“They were kind of fun,” she replied.

“Yeah?” Charlotte asked, waiting for more.

“Yeah. My sister and me would start early on Christmas Eve and we would go to all of the churches in town. Grandma never really liked what we did but she didn't make us stop.” Rachel smiled as she remembered.

“They always give out bags of candy and fruit at the local Methodist church. And the Baptist church gave out bags of groceries. The AME Zion church made homemade pies and cookies, and then we would go to the fancy church downtown for a wrapped present. It would usually be some doll or maybe a book. But it was nice.”

Charlotte nodded. She had never thought about families going from church to church to gather up holiday supplies. Once she heard the idea, however, it made sense. In a way, that was sort of what she did as an executive director of a women's shelter. She would go through the yellow pages, getting phone numbers of local churches, and then call and ask for specific donations.