by Darien Gee
“I’m not laid up. I’m working from home.”
“Fine. Tell yourself that if that makes you feel better. But we both know there’s only so much you can do from bed, Edie. Patrick knows that, too.” Richard rests on the edge of the bed and hands her the water glass. “Drink up. You’re only on your third glass of the day.”
Edie downs the water and hands the glass back to him. “I could really go for a plate of chili cheese fries. With a side of chili cheese fries. And topped with some chili cheese fries.” She pouts, frustrated.
“Hold on just a few more months and then I’ll make them myself if I have to. I am also going to make a bunch of meals before the baby comes so we can have something ready in the freezer. Let me know if you have any special requests, otherwise I’ll just make your favorites.”
Edie feels a swell of emotion. It’s her damn hormones, but it doesn’t help that Richard is so sweet. She knows that he would have the baby if he could, sparing her all of this. She watched four babies being born while living in Benin, and while the women were all remarkably calm and focused, Edie doesn’t feel quite so confident herself.
“I’m going to have to go in about an hour,” he says. Richard is part of an ad hoc medical relief team circulating through the county, helping hospitals and clinics that are trying to manage the influx of patients and flood-related crises. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about hitting a couple of bars, but maybe I’ll just stay put.”
“Smart-ass.” He leans over and gives her a nice long kiss that takes her breath away. “I have something for you. Hold on.” He winks and bounds out of the bedroom.
She stares after him. What’s going on? He’s not going to …
No. Oh God. She’s not ready. She hasn’t showered in two days! And she has the worst case of bed head from having been horizontal for the past week. Knowing Richard, there’s probably a camera somewhere for the obligatory self-portrait. There’s no way he would propose without getting evidence of it on film.
Richard returns holding something large wrapped in brown paper. Unless he put it in a really big, flat box, it’s obviously not a diamond ring. “Okay, are you ready?” he asks, grinning.
Edie’s confused, but nods.
Richard tears back one corner and Edie sees a flash of color. He pulls back the rest of the paper and she instantly recognizes the wide swath of purple, white, and red—a Mark Rothko print that she loves to see every time they go to the Art Institute in the city.
“You bought the poster?” she gasps. She props herself up on her elbows, anxious to get a closer look.
“I bought and framed it.” He rips off all of the paper and leans it against the wall. Then he disappears and returns with two more, one with squares of orange and yellow and another of a green rectangle divided by a blue stripe. “Where do you want them?”
“Are you going to put them up in here?” She claps her hands, beaming. Their walls have been bare for so long, a function of neither of them having time or interest in doing more than was necessary. Personally, Edie thinks that home décor is way overrated. So why then is she so happy?
Richard looks proud of himself. “I figured we should make the bedroom as comfortable as possible for you, so we can put them wherever you like. And …” He disappears again and returns with another large box, this one square in shape. It’s a package addressed to her. “I’ll help you open it if you lie down again.”
“But I’m only up on my elbows!” she protests.
“Down.” He waits until she’s flat on her back again before cutting through the tape with a penknife. He removes some wadded up paper and then holds up a brightly colored throw pillow that instantly reminds Edie of Africa. “They’re from Malawi. It’s traditional potato printing on mud cloth.” He tosses it to her and it hits her lightly in the face, making her laugh. He reaches into the box and pulls out another one with colorful glass beading. “Xhosa appliqué. I thought they’d look nice on the bed.”
“Where did you get them? I’m assuming you didn’t go to Cape Town to pick them up.”
“I found a place that sells them online.” At Edie’s raised eyebrows Richard adds, “It’s a fair trade organization that buys their products through African Home. Fifty percent of the profits benefit an orphanage in Malawi.”
Edie gives him a happy smile. “I love you.” She catches the other pillow as it sails in her direction. “Come here so I can kiss you.”
“In a minute. I’m not done.” Richard steps outside of the bedroom again and returns a second later with an armful of books. “I took the liberty of buying all of the books and music CDs on your online wish-list at the Avalon Book Nook, because I know how important it is for you to support the independent booksellers.”
“Well, that was before I found out that Lori Blair worked there.”
“But she doesn’t work there anymore, remember? She took your job.” He comes over and piles everything on the bedside table.
Edie gives him a teasing pinch. “Not funny.”
He holds up three red envelopes. “And I finally bit the bullet and bought a Netflix membership. I figured you can go online and build the list of movies you want to see. I reserve the right to get a couple of action films and the last season of Dexter.”
“I should probably be worried about that last one, but I’ll let it pass.”
Richard grins mischievously. “In the meantime, I got a foreign film from Sergei Bodro, the latest documentary from Michael Moore, and some indie film that got rave reviews at Sundance last year.” He walks over and puts them on top of the TV. “Maybe we should get one of those multi-DVD players so you can load everything up instead of having to get up and down.” He mulls this over as he slides one of the movies out of the envelope.
Edie flips through the books, deliriously happy. Or is it the hormones again? Oh, who cares? She wants to remember this moment forever. “Richard, you are too good to me.”
“It’s true, I am.” He grins. And then he knocks a hand on the side of his head. “Oh! I almost forgot.” He disappears once again.
Edie lies back and holds one of the Malawi pillows in front of her. Gorgeous. Everything that Richard is doing is so incredibly thoughtful, though he’s that kind of a guy. She hears Richard whistling as he comes back up the stairs. This is all really just perfect.
She pauses. Too perfect.
It dawns on her that maybe her gut was right, that she’s being set up. Richard is going to ask her to marry him tonight. But why tonight? What’s the occasion? She tries to think of when they first met, their first kiss, when they moved in together. Her birthday? His birthday? Valentine’s Day? Wait—next month marks their one-year move to Avalon. Was it on a Tuesday? Edie groans. What is Richard up to?
She knows she’s overthinking this but she doesn’t want to be surprised. Edie hates surprises. He needs to give her warning first. Twenty-four hours minimum. Obviously she’s going to say yes (they both know this), but he has to warn her. She made him promise that he would, and he agreed. So why is she so worried?
“Ready?” Richard peeks his head in the doorway, making Edie jump.
“No!” She tries to think of something—anything—to put him off. “Richard, it’s really not a good time to …”
His brow furrows as he holds up a large takeout bag. “Are you sure? I thought you were hungry.”
Oh. Edie feels a flush creep up her neck. “No, right. I am.”
He comes over and pulls out two containers. “Low fat, low salt, all natural. In this one, a green salad with cottage cheese, every vegetable under the sun, a side of tofu, a sprinkle of flax seeds. In this one, steamed trout and crushed new potatoes.” He grins, knowing he did well, even by Edie’s standards.
“Wow.” She opens the salad container and plucks a cherry tomato. She feeds it to Richard and nabs a cucumber slice for herself. “Where did you get this from?”
“From that tea shop place. Madeline’s. They have take
out in the evenings. But she did this kind of special for you.”
Edie feels a twinge of guilt. She knows Julia is good friends with Madeline. “Why did she do that?”
“Because I told her you had preeclampsia and needed to be on a low-salt diet. She sends her best wishes. Oh, and this.” He holds out a mini glazed lemon poppy-seed bundt cake. “Dessert!”
Now Edie really feels guilty.
“She says she cut out a lot of the oil and sugar and used a salt substitute. She gave us six of these cakes—said it freezes nicely. It’s one of her Amish Friendship Bread recipes and she didn’t charge me for it. Said it’s a gift.”
Giving Madeline their firstborn will be easier than the thank-you note Edie’s going to have to write. She’s definitely going to need some fortitude with this one. “I think I’ll start with dessert.”
Richard places the food on the small TV tray he brought upstairs. “I figured you would. Would you like some tea to go with that?” He pulls a fork and napkin out of the bag and hands it to her.
“No, thanks.”
He reaches into the bag again. “What about a diamond ring?” He brings out a midnight blue velvet box and opens it, revealing a sparkly diamond solitaire in a simple six-prong platinum setting.
Edie freezes. The fork is in her right hand and the cake is literally en route to her mouth.
Richard just smiles. “Great. I’ll take that as a yes.” He grasps her left hand and slides the ring on gently. It’s a perfect fit. He leans over to give her a kiss, not bothered by the fact that she’s still speechless. “And, not that you need to ask, but it’s a blood-free, conflict-free diamond from Canada.”
Edie’s eyes fill with tears. “Richard, I love you.”
He gives her a kiss and looks her in the eye. “I know, Edie. I love you, too, which is why we’re going to get married and live happily ever after.” He grins, clearly pleased he’s succeeded on his mission to surprise her. “I have to run. See you later tonight. I’ll clean up everything when I get back, so don’t worry.”
“But, but …” The ring sparkles and catches the light, sending small rainbows here and there. It is a very nice ring and Edie stops to admire it, then catches herself. She forces herself to give him a stern look. “But I thought you’d want to propose on a special day—you’re always into that. And you promised to warn me, by the way!”
Richard brings out his cell phone, checks the display. He pauses at the doorway. “Oh, that. That didn’t count because I was under duress and you know my position on coercion. And, for the record, today is a special day, Edie.” He holds the phone at arm’s length, the small camera lens pointed at the two of them.
She racks her brain but is still coming up empty. “It is?”
“Smile.” There’s a click as his cell phone camera captures the moment. “It’s the day we got engaged.” He winks and then disappears.
CHAPTER 22
The rain has stopped, the troubled skies finally making room for little patches of sunshine. Everyone in Avalon is silently relieved, having held their breath over the past couple of days. The high waters have receded, but they’ve left a trail of debris and damaged homes in neighboring counties across northern Illinois.
“We were lucky,” Julia tells Hannah and Madeline, who haven’t really been through this kind of weather in a town that doesn’t have resources like a major metropolitan city. Julia’s been listening to the news reports and checking updates online, knows it could have easily been Avalon under a foot of water.
She was grateful to be tucked into their sturdy house with Mark and Gracie while the storm raged, and there was a moment when Julia looked at the two sleeping bodies next to her and thought, I want to be free. Only it wasn’t the freedom she had toyed with before, that singular independence that excluded Mark and Gracie. It was a freedom that included them. She wanted to be free to love them, to be with them, to experience the rest of her life with them by her side. This is what I want, she thought as she closed her eyes. I choose this.
Now Julia drums her fingers on the table as she tells them what she knows. “There are hundreds of displaced families. I know the school gyms in Barrett have all been converted to emergency relief shelters. I don’t even know if they’ve restored electricity in some places.”
“It’s just terrible,” Madeline agrees. “I know they’re collecting donations for flood victims. I was thinking maybe I could do a canned food drive to help out. Maybe a thirty percent discount if you donate a can or two?”
“There are requests for other items, too,” Julia says. She fishes in her purse for a piece of paper and pen. She begins to write. “Organizations are asking for blankets, clothing. Things for children and infants, like diapers and formula. Toys. Books.”
“I’ve been thinking about how I can help, too,” Hannah says. “I spoke to someone at the Red Cross who thought it would cheer people up if I played some music. So I’m going to take my cello over tomorrow to play for the families, to help them get their mind off things.” She gives a shy smile. “I know it’s silly, but I haven’t played for anyone in such a long time. I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“Well, I’m coming, then,” Julia informs her. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’ll take Gracie out of school for the day and we’ll go over and help however we can.”
“Count me in, too,” Madeline says. “Let me check with Connie to see if she’ll be okay holding down the fort on her own tomorrow. I think she’s in the sitting room with all the ladies.” She gets up and heads across the hall.
“I’ve been thinking,” Hannah says, stirring honey into her tea. “If you and Gracie are serious about lessons, I’d love for you to be my first students.”
Julia regards her with surprise. “You’re definitely going to stay in Avalon?” She figured Hannah would return to New York. With her marriage over, Hannah has little reason to stay in Illinois, much less Avalon.
Hannah nods. “There’s no place else I need to be, so why not? The house is paid for, I have more than enough money to take care of myself here. But if I move back to the city, any city, I’ll have to figure out something else to make ends meet. Why put that kind of pressure on myself? I’ll have to work harder just to maintain the kind of life I’m living now—and what’s the point of that?”
Julia just smiles. She loves hearing the certainty in Hannah’s voice, the confidence. Her whole demeanor has shifted, and she notices that while Hannah is sitting up straighter, taller, she is relaxed and more at ease.
Hannah continues, eyes bright. “If I need anything from the city, I can just go there and get it. But I like the idea of Avalon being home. I like this neighborhood, I like my neighbors. I like it here. Plus I’ve already had quite a few requests to teach. If I get some private students and manage my money well, I’ll be able to do more things that I may not otherwise be able to do. Like teach music pro bono at the public school. I want to help them get some good-quality student instruments, give more children a chance to play.”
“I think that’s wonderful.” Julia leans over to give Hannah a hug. Hannah’s friendship has become so important to Julia that no matter where Hannah ends up, she knows they’ll stay good friends. But this, of course, is so much better. “I’m so happy you’ll be staying.”
“Me, too.”
They hear Madeline’s voice calling to them. “Hannah and Julia, can you please come join us in the sitting room?”
Hannah and Julia exchange a curious glance but get up and cross the hallway. There are about twenty women gathered in the sitting room, sipping tea and munching on sweets. They titter excitedly when they see Julia, who’s become somewhat of a celebrity and a hero to them, and Hannah, too, who actually is a celebrity of notable fame.
Connie is holding one of the Spare and Share baskets, which is spilling over with bags of starter.
“Well, the good news is that Connie can cover for me tomorrow,” Madeline tells them. “The bad news is, our starter runneth
over.”
“There are three more baskets over there,” Connie says, pointing with her chin. “But the bags in these baskets need to be used or divided today. I think I counted twenty-five bags.”
“So we’ve been talking and here’s what we’re thinking,” a woman says. It’s Irma Fagen of the Avalon Gutter, Avalon’s lone bowling alley. “Each bag will yield two loaves plus three more baggies, right? Rather than divide the starter, we’ll bake with it. So we’ll each end up baking eight loaves if we take a bag.”
“I still have starter at home,” Julia says. “I was going to bake tonight. But I don’t think I have room in my freezer for sixteen loaves.”
“Exactly!” This voice belongs to Claribel Apple. “Which is why we think we should do a Bake and Take.”
“A Bake and Take?”
“Yes! We gather up all our starters, bake our loaves or muffins, then take them over to Barrett tomorrow for the families in need. We can serve it with coffee or tea at the civic center.”
“I’ll donate the tea,” Madeline immediately volunteers. “And my ovens are open to anyone who wants to use them.”
There’s a murmur of assent as the women discuss the plan.
“I have a minivan we can use to transport the loaves over,” someone says.
“Me, too,” comes another voice.
“I’ll call over now to see if it’ll be okay,” Connie says, putting the basket on the ground. “So how many loaves do we think?”
The women do a quick count. Some have starters that are ready to use, others including Madeline have extra frozen in their freezer, which will take a couple of hours to thaw. Nobody minds baking round the clock, so when all is said and done, over one hundred loaves of Amish Friendship Bread have been pledged.
“I’m going to call my daughter,” Jessica Reynolds announces, pulling out her cell phone. She’s in a wheelchair, her body debilitated by lupus, but not her spirit. On her good days, her afternoons spent at Madeline’s are the highlight of her day, making her happier than she’s been in years. “She can help us get the word out, maybe put a sign up near the takeout windows asking people to help bake and donate their loaves.”