The Secret to Hummingbird Cake

by Celeste Fletcher McHale

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Me too,” Ella Rae said. “But I don’t mean it.”

  Laine laughed. “I love you both for supporting me, but it’s okay, really. I learned how to live with it a long time ago.”

  “But tell us if you want to talk to him, Laine,” Ella Rae said. “Really. We’ll find him. Promise?”

  “I promise,” she said. “And listen, now is a good time to say something to both of you too.” She sat up straight and looked back and forth between us. “And just listen to me, okay? I really want to say this. I know how much you hate sappy stuff, Carrigan, but you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

  I braced myself as Laine began to speak.

  “I wouldn’t trade a second of this friendship, do you hear me?” she said. “Not a night when you were both too tipsy to drive and I had to. Not being yanked out to a creek at midnight so y’all could skinny-dip. Not a time when I had to stand between you and somebody you wanted to punch, Ella Rae, and not even the night you punched me. I wouldn’t trade a single thing about my life, and that means Mitch too. He may have been the only man I have ever loved, but the two of you were the real loves of my life. The ones I could always count on to beat up a bully in first grade, or come to my rescue, or watch me walk to my house in the dark, or help me look for a lost dog for three days.

  “I was never lonely and I was never afraid I wouldn’t have somebody to do something with. I went on your honeymoon, for heaven’s sake, Carrigan! Some people go their entire lives without a friend like that, and I’ve had two. I have been so blessed. And I am blessed now. My heart is filled with gratitude. Look at all this.” She gestured at the beauty all around us. “Who gets to go out like this? Y’all did this for me. I love you both so much.”

  Ella Rae had begun crying after the first sentence and reached for Laine’s hand. “I love you too. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “Me too.” She smiled and wiped her tears. “But I don’t make the rules.”

  I felt the tears stinging my eyes too, but willed them not to fall. Then she mentioned the Rule Maker, and my hurt turned to anger. If I live to be one hundred, I will never understand the logic behind Laine’s illness. If God wanted me to talk to him, he needed to answer some questions first, and so far, he’d been silent. So that made two of us.

  “Enough,” Laine said. “I don’t want to waste days on tears. Let’s see the baby bump today.”

  I was glad to get off the subject and raised my T-shirt.

  Laine shook my belly slightly. “Asleep?” she asked.

  “All morning,” I confirmed. “Probably so he can wiggle all night.”

  “She,” Laine said.

  I smiled. I didn’t have a feeling either way, and Jack and I had decided not to find out.

  “You know that’s Henry the Eighth,” Ella Rae said. “Or Jack the Fourth, whatever.” She and Jack had been convinced from the start the baby was a boy.

  Jack walked up the steps then and reached down to pat my belly. “Jackson Madison Whitfield the Fourth,” he said. “What’s my boy been doing today?”

  We became engrossed in the daily argument over the sex of my child, and the Mitch Montgomery conversation was forgotten. Later that night, while I listened to Jack’s even breathing in bed beside me, I slipped out of bed, sat in the window seat, and thought about it again. Laine’s confession had stunned me. And my heart ached for her. Not just because of the circumstances, but because she never shared the burden with us.

  Things had always been easier for me because of Ella Rae and Laine. Whether it was choosing an outfit or some problem I couldn’t solve, they had always been my sounding boards and my touchstone. They kept me grounded, and even when they didn’t agree with me, or downright told me I was an idiot, I could always take my problems to them. I couldn’t imagine my life without either of them, although the day was approaching when I’d have to.

  “Hey, baby.” Jack’s voice was heavy with sleep. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I went back to bed, laid my head on his chest, and closed my eyes. But sleep didn’t come for a very long time.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On the first day of December I woke to muffled but clearly panicked voices. I grabbed my robe and rushed downstairs to see Jack carrying Laine in his arms out the front door. Debra had her nursing bag in hand as she ran after them and called back to me, “Laine is hemorrhaging. We’re headed to the ER.”

  My knees felt like jelly, but I ran back upstairs and woke up Ella Rae.

  “Get up, Rae. Laine is bleeding.”

  Immediately she was wide-awake and horror stricken. “What?”

  “Get dressed,” I said. I ran to my own room to do the same. The God I didn’t talk to heard plenty from me on this morning, but it was the same terrified plea over and over and over. Please don’t take her yet, please don’t take her yet.

  Within ten minutes Ella Rae and I were downstairs and ready to leave. Poppa Jack was waiting with his SUV running. My heart was full of love for Poppa Jack at that moment. He didn’t say a word, just took my hand, helped me into the front seat, and patted my shoulder. Then he made sure Ella Rae was secure in the back. And off we went to Shreveport at blazing speed.

  Ella Rae and I said very little during the ninety-minute drive. Each of us texted and called Jack and Debra every five minutes, but we never got an answer. Poppa Jack reminded us that Jack was probably driving faster than normal and unable to respond, and Debra was surely tending to Laine. He was silent for most of the trip too. But at one point he looked at me and said, “She’ll be all right. She’s a fighter in her own way.”

  I had never heard anyone call Laine a fighter. Quite the opposite. She was a peacemaker. A fighter? She wouldn’t even take the chemo. I wondered what in the world would’ve made him say that. Poppa Jack was wrong, and I was scared to death of what we’d find waiting for us at the other end of this trip because Laine wasn’t a fighter.

  Poppa Jack dropped us at the ER door and we ran inside. Jack was waiting for us.

  “They took her back as soon as we got here,” he said. “Laine said she wasn’t in much pain. Frankly, I’m not sure that was true. Debra said it started as soon as she got up this morning and it was a significant hemorrhage. I don’t know anything more than that.”

  Ella Rae cried. I got mad. In other words, things were as normal as you could expect them to be in this situation.

  For the next hour, I paced back and forth, trying to see between the crack in the doors, hoping to catch a glimpse inside the dungeon. She was back there somewhere, and I was in a state of high alert. But as long as I couldn’t see anyone in scrubs rushing or shoving carts around, or hear anybody yelling “code blue”—whatever that meant—I could convince myself she was okay. So I watched through that little sliver of daylight for nearly thirty minutes before Jack made me sit down. And I only complied because he said the stress wasn’t good for the baby.

  No one would answer any questions, and the sixteen-year-old gum-popping receptionist was about one more bubble from having Ella Rae snatch her out of her chair and send her back there to fetch some information. She was miraculously saved when an ER nurse came out and said, “Carrigan Whitfield? Ella Weeks? You can come in now.”

  We nearly ran over each other getting to the door.

  “She’s in room 8, to your left,” the nurse said.

  We walked into the small room and found her sitting up in the bed.

  “Hey, y’all.” She smiled.

  I could’ve slapped her. Then hugged her. Then slapped her again.

  “You scared us to death,” I said.

 
“What happened?” Ella Rae said.

  “The tumor started bleeding,” Laine said. “They’ve stopped it now, but I need a little procedure to have it cauterized. It’s not a big deal.” She looked more pale than usual, but her voice was strong and she was in good spirits.

  “Of course it’s a big deal, Laine,” I said.

  “No, really it isn’t,” she said. “They will do the surgery, give me a couple of pints of new blood, and send me home. I’ll be good as new. I’ve called Mama. Mrs. Diane called her right after we left this morning, then went to pick her up. They’ll be here shortly. It’s okay. Y’all go home.”

  Neither Ella Rae nor I had an answer for that.

  Laine gave me a puzzled look. “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter?” I said. “Really?”

  “We thought you were dying,” Ella Rae said.

  “I am,” Laine said.

  “Stop it!” I said. “I hate it when you do that. Be serious.”

  “Carrigan, everything about this place, this situation, this whole thing, is serious. It’s why I don’t want to be. This is no place for you right now. It isn’t good for the baby. You need to go home. Ella Rae, you too. I need to spend some time with Mama. I’ll be home in a couple of days. I promise.”

  “Why are you rushing us out of here?”

  “Because you don’t need to be here,” she said. “You could get the Swahili flu around this place. Now wash your hands and get out of here.”

  “You promise that’s all the doctor said?” Ella Rae asked.

  “I promise,” Laine said. “I would tell you if it were anything else. My oncologist was in the hospital making rounds this morning, so they paged him and he was the one who told me what was happening. I promise. He says I’ll feel better after this little procedure. It truly isn’t a big deal. I’d just like to spend this time with Mama. Alone.”

  “Do you need anything?” Ella Rae said.

  “Food, clothes, anything?” I said.

  “No,” Laine answered. “I’ll be in this lovely designer gown with my backside showing for a couple of days. Debra had the presence of mind to grab my robe when we left. I doubt I’ll go dancing on the way home. So I’m all set. Go home. Do something for the next couple of days that doesn’t revolve around me. It’ll be good for both of you.”

  We left reluctantly, with Laine shooing us out the door. Poppa Jack stayed to ride home with Mrs. Diane, and Debra rode back with Jack. Ella Rae and I left in Poppa Jack’s SUV.

  “That scared me, Carrigan,” she said.

  “It scared me too.”

  “I can’t believe she made us leave,” Ella Rae said. “But I get that she wants her mama.”

  “I get it too. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to stay, though.”

  I know,” Ella Rae said.

  “I wish Mrs. Jeannette would just come stay at the house. There’s plenty of room.”

  “She’s just a lady like that, Carrigan. Doesn’t want to impose. You and I are imposers.”

  I laughed. “You and I are a great many things.”

  “Carrigan . . . your shirt is moving back and forth by itself. Is that Henry the Eighth doing all that?”

  I laughed again. “It is. Wanna feel it?”

  “No . . . Kinda . . . I’m not sure.”

  “You’re thirty years old. You’ve never felt a baby move?”

  “Okay, I don’t just walk up to any random pregnant chick and put my hand on her stomach.”

  “Just give me your hand.”

  “No!”

  “Hurry while it’s still turning flips.”

  “Is it weird?”

  “Is that why you won’t ever touch my belly? You think it’s weird?”

  “Look . . . I just don’t have that whole ‘Wow . . . you’re glowing . . . I’m enchanted’ maternal thing going on.”

  “No? You’re kidding me.” I don’t think anybody had suspected Ella Rae of a maternal streak.

  “Ha-ha. I mean, I’m happy for you if you’re happy. I just don’t see me doing it. Ever.”

  “Never say never, Rae. And give me your hand.”

  She finally put her hand on my belly, and after a few seconds the baby put on a show.

  Ella Rae’s hand flew over her mouth. “Are you kidding me? That is so cool! It’s like a big lizard rolling around in there! I bet it’s all slimy and slick.”

  I threw her hand off me. “A lizard?”

  “No, let me feel!”

  “No,” I said, “you are not calling my baby a lizard. Now play with the radio and keep your hands off me. I’m driving.”

  “That was seriously different,” she said. “When we get home, I think I’ll watch Jurassic Park.”

  A classic Ella Rae moment.

  Laine rallied after the transfusion and actually looked and felt better than she had in weeks. Christmas was a happy time at the Farm for everyone, but I couldn’t seem to dredge up the spirit. I tried not to let it permeate everything, but in my heart of hearts, I knew this was Laine’s last December. I was moody and weepy most of the month, but managed to sell it as hormone wars. At least I sold it to everybody but Jack.

  “I don’t know why you think you have to be brave even when we’re alone,” he told me in bed on Christmas Eve. That was all it took. I cried myself to sleep on his shoulder and woke up Christmas morning determined to have a good day.

  And it was. The house was full to the brim with family—Jack’s, mine, Ella Rae’s, and Laine’s. It was a joyful day, full of laughter and love. Laine gave Ella Rae and me each a picture that she’d had enlarged and framed—a snapshot of the three of us sitting on the old stone bridge at Willow Creek.

  Tommy had snapped that picture of us with the new camera Ella Rae had given him for his birthday. He loved to take pictures of wildlife and said Ella Rae and I were the perfect example of that, and Laine was a doe caught in headlights. That was still a running joke.

  The bridge had long been out of use and was covered in moss and ferns. Laine was pointing to something in the water, and Ella Rae was looking at it, smiling. I had my head thrown back laughing. It was a beautiful, unplanned shot that caught the spirit of us all.

  For New Year’s Eve, Jack planned a fireworks show at the Farm. One of his buddies owned a demolition company, and another one owned a fireworks company. I knew Sean O’Reilly, the explosives friend. Years ago he blew up a beaver dam on the creek behind the old barn, and blew off his little finger in the process. Jack assured me there would be no holes in the earth this time and that Sean had gotten much better at what he did now.

  He was right. The show was spectacular.

  The Farm had become the gathering place for close friends and family as the months had gone by. New Year’s Eve brought a huge crowd. While Ella Rae had once been reluctant to rub my belly, it never fazed anyone else. Thirty people touched my stomach that night. I had become accustomed to it, but I don’t think Jack ever cared for it. Around ten o’clock, he came and stood behind me and laced his fingers across my stomach.

  I laughed. “Are you jealous?”

  “I’m not,” he said. “I’d just rather not watch everybody in town lay their hands on you.”

  “So you are jealous.”

  “Probably,” he said. “Anyway, problem solved.”

  The stroke of midnight came and we toasted with champagne, and for me, apple juice. This pregnancy had been relatively easy on me, except for the nausea early on. But for a girl who used to party until the wee hours, when ten p.m. ca
me, I was ready to go to bed. So midnight was a stretch for me. I said good night to the crowd and climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Jack walked up with me and asked me if I wanted him to stay.

  “No, not at all,” I said. “Go mingle with the peeps. I’ll be asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”

  He nuzzled my neck. “What if I want to love on my wife when I come to bed?”

  “You do whatever you gotta do, buddy.” I put my hands on either side of his face. “Just don’t wake me up.”

  “Ouch.” He winced and held his chest. “You got me.” He popped me on the backside with his palm and slipped out the door.

  I had just turned the light off when the bedroom door opened again. I didn’t bother to turn over. “Give it up, Jack Whitfield. No sex tonight.”

  Laine giggled. “Come on, just one time.”

  I flipped on the light to find Laine and Ella Rae standing in my bedroom, each holding a bottle of champagne and covered in confetti and streamers. “What are y’all doing?”

  “What are you doing?” Laine said.

  I sat up in bed and threw back the covers. “Ella Rae! Did you let her get drunk? You know she’s not supposed to drink while she’s taking pain pills!”

  “Will you chill out?” Ella Rae said. “She’s only had, like, I don’t know, a half a bottle.” Ella Rae looked at her own bottle. “And I’ve only had, like, two. It ain’t that big a deal.”

  “Half a bottle? She can’t drink a shot glass of alcohol, Rae, you know that! Sit down, Laine,” I said. “Are you okay?”

  She plopped down in the overstuffed chair and rolled her eyes. “You need to get over yourself, Missy. And by the way, I did have my medication and I did wash it down with champagne and it was goooooood!”

  Ella Rae jumped into my bed and stuffed the pillows behind her. “Here’s what,” she said. “Laine got a little drunk . . .”

  “I told you not to say drunk.” Laine put a finger to her lips.