“And she wonders why she isn’t one of my favorite people,” Gloria whispers as she turns to walk to Miriam.
“They’ve always been like that, right?” Andrea says, watching Gloria and Miriam quibble.
Lauren laughs. “As long as I’ve known them. But if you listen really close you can hear how much they love each other. They’re the best of friends. I want to have a Gloria or Miriam when I’m their age.” Lauren turns and walks to the door behind them. “What brings you to help here?” she asks, opening the tutoring door.
“Well, like I said, my kids are grown or nearly grown, and I have more time on my hands these days.”
“How many kids do you have?” Lauren says, closing the door behind them.
“Two. A boy and a girl. My daughter is in college and my son is a senior in high school.” Andrea watches as an older woman with dark almond skin leans over a child around ten and points to something in a book in front of him.
“That’s Heddy,” Lauren whispers. “She and Dalton have been here since the beginning with Gloria and Miriam. And that’s Amy over there. She and Gabe got married on the same day that Travis and I did, and they adopted Maddie, one of the children from here.” She signals for Andrea to follow her to the door and is quiet as she opens it, stepping into the big room again.
“There are usually two volunteers in the tutoring room at a time and we help with homework.”
Andrea smirks at the thought. “I don’t think I’d be able to offer much help. How they do things in school now is so different from when I was a child.”
“We all thought that when we started helping with homework, but everybody has their strengths and we all just pitch in and…” She stops talking and puts her hand on her stomach.
“Are you okay?” Andrea says, concerned.
“Yes. I’m afraid my husband and I ate some bad sushi yesterday.”
“He’s sick, too?” Andrea asks.
Lauren shakes her head. “No. Just me. Didn’t agree with me, I guess. It’s made me so nauseous.”
“And you’re the only one nauseous?”
Lauren nods, exhaling as if that will blow the queasiness away. “Yeah. Isn’t that strange?”
Andrea smiles. “Not really.”
THREE
May 1972
Joan retrieves a stack of recipe cards from a drawer in the kitchen and sits down at the Formica kitchen table. Her mother handed these cards to her just weeks before her wedding to John. “If you can follow the steps of a recipe,” her mom said, “you can make anything.” Joan’s trouble was following the steps; she usually managed to make a blunder and the recipe never turned out like her mom’s. Her mom, Alice, had written down her favorite tried-and-true recipes and the ones that Joan loved the most as a child growing up. Joan wanted to be a good cook like her mom but had resorted to quick and easy meals each evening. She thumbs through the recipe cards, thinking that if John is determined to make a beautiful table for the holiday season, then she is also determined to put a beautiful meal on it. She stops at a card that reads “Hummingbird Cake.” She used to love it when her mom made this cake but has been afraid to try it on her own, reasoning there are too many ingredients. She scans over them, reading her mom’s notes beside some of the ingredients:
3 large, room-temperature eggs. Put them in some warm water for a few minutes if they’re right out of the fridge.
2 teaspoons vanilla. Pay the extra money for the real stuff!
4 to 6 bananas. Roast them in the oven for best flavor! And keep the peels on! You need two cups.
1 cup pineapple. Buy a fresh one. Don’t waste your time with that canned stuff!
2 cups roasted pecans. Let them roast a few minutes in the oven to bring out their best flavor! One cup is for the frosting.
Joan groans looking at all the extra steps her mother did: roasting bananas and pecans and cutting a fresh pineapple! She walks to the phone on the kitchen wall and dials her mom’s number. “Mom! I’m going to make a hummingbird cake today.”
“Really? Is it the recipe I gave you?” Alice asks.
Joan can imagine the excitement her mother must feel right now. Joan has never been anything close to the cook that her mother is and has rarely shown an interest in cooking. “Yep, your recipe, but good grief! Is all this roasting really going to make that big of a difference?”
“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about adding just a little bit of heat to those bananas and pecans that brings out the best flavor!”
Joan sighs. She’s stuck with roasting. “I’ve never even bought a pineapple in my life, let alone cut one” she says. Her mom laughs, talks her through it, and then says, “Can I talk with my grandbabies?”
Joan leans down, looking at Christopher. “You don’t want a hummingbird cake for dessert, do you?” she asks, handing him the phone.
“I do!” Gigi says, making the toy car she’s been playing with fly through the air. “If hummingbirds love it, then I will, too!”
“Then you’ll help me make it?”
Gigi leaps into the air, holding the car like a rocket ship. “Yes!”
Joan chuckles. “Then say hello to Grandma and let’s go to the grocery store. We’ve got a lot of things to buy.”
May 2012
Heddy Gregory sits at a wooden desk with its too-worn top etched with jagged scars and stained with blotches of purple-black ink, and fills out paperwork for a new child at Glory’s Place. This is the same paperwork and the same desk she has used year after year, but today when she presses a ballpoint pen down onto the information sheet, a leg on the desk collapses, making Heddy and the mother of the child gasp together. “Oh, my word!” Heddy says, grabbing the pictures of the children on top
