Friendship Bread

by Darien Gee

  When Julia pulls up to Livvy’s house, she feels that familiar pinch in her gut. Even though she wasn’t here when Josh died, she can’t help but picture him on the lawn. She wants to look away, but she doesn’t. Instead she steps out of her car, her arms filled with containers of food.

  There’s an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Perplexed, Julia rings the doorbell then peers through the windows.

  The house is empty. The furniture is gone, the pictures taken down from the walls.

  There is no one living in this house.

  Julia feels a rise of panic, of dread. Something important has happened and she missed it. She has the feeling of having arrived a moment too late, a door closing.

  Livvy is gone.

  “Livvy,” she whispers, and then finds herself calling her sister’s name again. “Livvy!”

  “What?”

  Julia turns and sees Livvy walking around the corner of the house, wearing an old T-shirt and shorts. She’s barefoot and holding a garden hose.

  “Livvy!” Julia breathes. She feels a wave of relief and doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I thought … what happened to your things? Where’s your car?” She resists the urge to rush forward and hold Livvy tight.

  “With Tom. That’s just a rental. It’s a long story.” Livvy tries to wind up the gnarled garden hose. “Tom got a job in Faberville. A really good job, so we’re moving. He’s already there.”

  There’s a prickle in her chest—Julia never considered that Livvy might move, might leave Avalon, might leave her. “Were you going to tell me?”

  “Yeah, sure. Of course. It’s just that everything happened so fast, and I knew you were busy with this whole Amish Friendship Bread thing …” Livvy tosses the hose to the side. “I always meant to get one of those hose hangers to mount on the side of the house, but whatever.” She gives the hose a frustrated kick.

  Julia is about to say that she and Mark can help, but she sees it’s too late. Not for everything, but for some things, that much is clear. She swallows, then holds up the containers of food. “I made chicken enchiladas for dinner and remembered you liked them, too, so I made extra for you and Tom. There’s some Spanish rice, a salad, and dessert …” Her voice trails off.

  Livvy hesitates but only for a moment. She steps forward and accepts the containers. “Thanks. I hadn’t figured out dinner tonight so this is perfect.”

  They sit on the porch steps and Livvy opens the container with the enchiladas.

  “The real estate agent is putting up the sign tomorrow,” she says. She picks at a tortilla with her fingers. “I didn’t want her to do it while we were still in the house.”

  “What about your job at the Gazette?”

  “Huh? Oh, I quit. I mean, obviously. I’ll find something else in Faberville. Eventually.” One hand flutters absently to her stomach while the other picks at her food. “Sorry I don’t have any utensils.”

  “Don’t apologize. I made it for you—you can eat it however you want.” Julia looks around. “Gracie said you gave Patch away. What happened?”

  “Oh, he kept going over to Mrs. Lowry’s yard, digging up her flower beds. He would jump the fence or find a way out, and it didn’t seem fair to keep him chained up while we were at work all day. He was really lonely. We thought he should be with a family that had time to play with him, take care of him.”

  Josh loved that dog. “Patch was a good dog. Do you miss him?”

  Livvy nods. “I do.” She looks at the food. “This is good, Julia. Thanks.”

  Julia doesn’t say anything, just picks up a leaf from the ground. “Faberville, huh?”

  Livvy says, “Faberville’s not too far away. Two hours if you drive straight through.”

  Faberville is easily a three-hour drive from Avalon. “Maybe the way you drive,” Julia says. “You have a lead foot, if I recall.”

  Livvy laughs. “That’s true, I do.” She eats a little more, then makes a face. “Oh, the cheese is going to give me gas.”

  Julia doesn’t remember Livvy ever having a problem with cheese. “Why?”

  “It’s just that with the pregnancy, dairy seems to wreak havoc on my digestive system.” Livvy looks for the container with the salad.

  Julia blinks. “You’re pregnant?”

  “Sixteen weeks tomorrow. That’s the other nice thing about Faberville. They have a good hospital. We toured the family birthing unit, and they have private rooms and labor tubs—everything. And we’re going to get a smaller house. Something more affordable than this behemoth. We’re staying in a rental right now.” She offers to share the salad with Julia.

  The two sisters sit side by side, picking at bits of lettuce and diced tomatoes in silence.

  Julia looks at Livvy’s belly and there’s a small paunch. You’d never notice it to look at her, but now that Julia knows, she feels that careful delicacy you have around someone who’s expecting. She tries to remember what wasn’t safe to eat … was it honey? Or was that just for the first year after the baby was born? Spicy food would always make Josh fuss when he was in utero. Tuna fish was something Julia ate in moderation because of all the reports of elevated mercury counts. She had avoided peanuts because she didn’t want to risk either of the kids getting a peanut allergy. All of that seems inconsequential now. “So is everything going well with the pregnancy? Tests okay?”

  Livvy nods. “They just did that AFP test to see if there are any genetic abnormalities. I couldn’t sleep until they called me and said everything was okay. I was driving Tom crazy with worry.” She catches herself and stops, then adds a bit meekly, “But everything came back fine.”

  “Good.” Julia smiles. She knows Livvy is a natural worrywart, that people sometimes assume she doesn’t care much about things, but really Livvy cares deeply about everything. She’s more sensitive than people realize—more sensitive than Julia, that’s for sure. Julia feels a rush of tenderness. She takes a chance and puts her hand on top of Livvy’s and gives it a gentle squeeze.

  Livvy starts, then relaxes, and offers back a small smile. But just as quickly Julia sees her sister’s eyes fill with tears. “Livvy? Is everything all right?”

  Livvy shakes her head, looks away.

  “Livvy, talk to me. Look at me.” Julia presses her palm against Livvy’s wet cheek, turns Livvy to face her. Her sister’s face is ashen.

  “Julia?” she whispers. “What if I won’t be a good mom?”

  Julia feels her sister trembling beside her. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, Livvy. I know you will.” She holds Livvy’s hand in both of hers. “You will, Livvy.”

  “But a real mother … I mean, if I were a real good mother … I wouldn’t have forgotten … I wouldn’t have locked the car …” Livvy starts to sob, then buries her face in her hands.

  Julia swallows hard. She’s fighting back tears but loses, and she can’t stop herself, either.

  “Julia,” Livvy says, crying. “I am sorry. I am so, so sorry …”

  It’s those words that slow Julia’s tears, that give her a moment to gather herself together. Livvy had spent the whole first year after Josh’s death apologizing, and Julia never felt like it was enough. How can you sufficiently apologize for something like that?

  She thinks of her conversation with Madeline and realizes, you can’t.

  “Livvy,” Julia says, and she takes her sister’s hands—both of them—even though Livvy is still sobbing and her nose is running. “Livvy, it’s not your fault.”

  “But I …”

  “It’s not your fault, Livvy. We can’t control these things, even when we think we can. It’s impossible.”

  “But if I had left the door unlocked or left him in the car …” Livvy starts to cry again. She falls into Julia, who wraps her arms around her sister.

  Livvy’s familiar smell makes Julia close her eyes. She wishes they could rewind time so they can start all over again. How nice it would be if they had done this earlier, had time to create a new history other
than the one they’ve lived for five years. But that, too, is impossible. All they have is this moment, and what’s ahead of them.

  She pulls back and looks at her sister. Up close, Julia can see how Livvy’s face has changed over the years, the slight wrinkles around the eyes, her laugh lines more pronounced. But she is still beautiful, and she is still Julia’s sister. “I love you, Livvy. And I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner.”

  This just makes Livvy start crying again. “I missed you,” she says between sobs.

  Julia kisses the top of her sister’s head, inhales her sister’s scent. “I missed you, too, Livvy.”

  Livvy sniffs and wipes her eyes. “Oh. It looks like I kind of used your T-shirt as a handkerchief.”

  Julia looks down and sees that Livvy has indeed used her shirt as a handkerchief, and she grins.

  “So what now?” Livvy asks, and Julia can see that their roles have been restored, Livvy automatically turning to Julia for the answers.

  “I don’t know,” she says honestly.

  “You’ll come visit, right? Help me with the baby when it’s born?”

  “Yes,” Julia breathes. “I’d love that.”

  “Or you can come up sooner,” Livvy suggests. “I hope you’ll come up sooner. Come anytime.”

  “I will,” Julia promises. “We’ll all come. Gracie, too. She’ll be so excited to have a cousin.”

  “She’ll be a great cousin,” Livvy agrees. She points to the last container sitting on the porch. “What’s this?”

  Julia grins. “Amish Friendship Bread.”

  “Of course.” Livvy grins back as she pops off the lid. “Good thing I can afford the calories.” She holds the container out to Julia, who takes a fat slice, and then Livvy does the same.

  “Are you staying here tonight?” Julia asks.

  Livvy nods. “Got my sleeping bag. I have to sign the papers tomorrow. I thought I’d be more sad to leave, but I’m excited, you know?”

  Julia does know. And she knows she doesn’t want Livvy sleeping on her floor alone.

  “Stay with us,” she says suddenly. “We have a spare room.” They both know the spare room is Josh’s old room so Julia quickly adds, “Or you can stay in Gracie’s room. I have utensils at my house. You can have a proper dinner, a proper breakfast, and then meet with the real estate agent and head back to Faberville.” She says this in a rush, and when she’s finished, she realizes that she’s holding her breath.

  Livvy seems to be thinking about this, her head bent over the containers. When she looks up, her face is shining. “Sure,” she says. “I’d like that.”

  THE START OF SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IN AVALON, ILLINOIS

  Reported by Edith Gallagher

  AVALON, ILLINOIS—For many residents in this small town in northern Illinois, Avalon has been the only home they know. Born and raised here, Avalonians are a content bunch, proud of who they are, proud of where they live, proud of what Avalon has become known for in recent months.

  Friendship. Family. Community. And all thanks to a single bag of Amish Friendship Bread starter.

  Google “Amish Friendship Bread” on your computer and be prepared to have enough reading for a week. It’s a slice of American contemporary history, an edible chain letter that fills people with equal amounts of hope and dread. But for families in Barrett and Avalon, it’s quickly become the epitome of what brings people—and towns—together.

  Like warring neighbors, for instance. Martin Colon and the Padillas, Lester and Marsha, have lived next door to each other for sixteen years. Their children grew up together. Many summer evenings would find the neighbors sharing a beer or glass of wine on the lawn. But two years ago Martin’s twelve-foot climbing wisteria caused subsidence of the Padillas’ home, damaging the foundation and drainage pipes. The two families became engaged in a two-year legal battle over a repair bill totaling $7,500, which Colon refused to pay.

  Fast-forward to this past May and cue Marsha Padilla and a bag of Amish Friendship Bread starter. Remembering her neighbor’s birthday, Marsha felt compelled to bake and leave the bread with a kind note. Now the neighbors are in mediation and have agreed to share the repair bill, restoring not only the Padillas’ foundation, but their friendship.

  Chief of Police Craig Neimeyer says that Avalon’s already low crime rates have dropped to almost nothing in the past two months.

  At the local YMCA and senior recreation center, the number of volunteers have increased, much to the delight of our young and elderly residents.

  School bullying and other classroom disruptions have also dramatically dropped.

  “Avalon has always been a nice town,” says longtime resident Octavia Stout. “But now it’s more peaceful. People seem happier. It’s a joy for me to say I’m from Avalon.”

  Doug MacDonald agrees. “My kids baked for Barrett. Normally they’re fighting and disagreeing, arguing with me and my wife about homework, but it’s like there’s been a hiatus from all of that. We can sit down at the table and have a good meal together.”

  At Madeline’s Tea Salon, an official room has been designated for the ladies who regularly make and share Amish Friendship Bread. Dubbed “The Amish Friendship Bread Club” by the media, this growing group of women has made it their ongoing mission to bake for families, organizations, and communities in need. They are currently providing loaves to women’s shelters across the county, and are available to guide interested parties in starting club chapters of their own.

  “I’m honored to have the club here, as I am to be a part of a community that has done so much for others,” says Madeline Davis, owner. “The bread has touched my own life, bringing me good people that have since become good friends.”

  It is still a mystery as to how Amish Friendship Bread was initially introduced to Avalon, with the first known person being Julia Evarts. But according to Mrs. Evarts, she was “a lucky recipient of the bread just like everyone else.” While this mystery may join the archives of life’s unanswered questions, perhaps its origins do not really matter. What does matter is that the bread, and its starter, found its way to Avalon, and from it, something beautiful has been born.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was going to hurt?” Livvy demands into the phone. It’s the day before Christmas. Livvy looks out the hospital window and sees fat flakes of snow lazily making their way to the ground. The sky looks like it’s full of fluffy feathers.

  Edie laughs. “Because if I did, it would have made you crazier than you already were. I did you a favor.”

  That’s probably true. Livvy had been making lists of everything that could go wrong with the delivery, emailing them to Edie on a daily basis. Still, a little warning would have been nice.

  Livvy turns to look at Tom, who’s cradling their new baby, a perfect eight-pound, ten-and-a-half-ounce little boy. Aiden Logan Scott. “Oh, and the stitches were fun, too. Thanks for the heads-up there. Doctor didn’t realize until later that he didn’t give me enough anesthetic.” Livvy winces at the memory.

  “What tipped him off?”

  “Probably my screaming. But I’m good now. Just don’t ask me if I’ll ever do this again.” She says this dramatically, knowing that she sounds like those annoying pregnant women she always complains about, but Livvy has to admit that there is an odd pleasure in being able to say it at all, a roundabout way of announcing, I did it. Which Livvy still can’t believe.

  “Oh, you’ll do this again,” Edie says confidently. “Knowing you, you’ve already bought a double stroller.”

  Livvy reddens. “It was on sale,” she protests. “Thirty percent off. And I need room for all my things.”

  Edie gives a chuckle. “Of course you do. We’ll be up to see you next week, okay? Help you ring in the new year.”

  “Julia will be here, too. And my parents. Maybe I should just invite all of Avalon to Faberville to celebrate.” She and Tom were talking about how, when they had the big house, no one ever came to visit.
But next week they’ll have more people crammed into their small space than she ever thought possible. It’ll be crazy, that’s for sure.

  “I know I’m wasting my breath, but you need to be resting, not entertaining,” Edie tells her.

  Edie is wasting her breath, because having friends and family around her is the one thing Livvy wants right now more than anything. Aiden is only a few hours old, but Livvy wants him to know the people to whom he belongs, whose lives are already a part of his and will be forever. “So don’t come then,” Livvy says nonchalantly. She’ll kill Edie if she actually agrees.

  But Edie doesn’t. “Ha ha, nice try. Hold on a second. Richard, we have a diaper here!”

  “How is that beautiful daughter of yours?” Livvy wants to know. Miranda is two months old and looks just like a miniature Edie. Livvy can’t wait to see what she’ll be like when she grows up.

  “Giving me a run for my money. She nurses constantly and doesn’t want to sleep at night. Oh, and before I forget, Patrick has been asking after you. He wants to do a birth announcement in the Gazette, maybe even a short little feature story.”

  Livvy finds it amusing that Patrick seems to be taking such an interest in her after she’s left the Gazette. “Who would be the writer?” she asks innocently. “Lori Blair?” Livvy actually likes Lori, but she likes teasing Edie more.

  “Ha ha. You know it’ll be me.”

  “Are you back full-time now?”

  “Not exactly,” Edie says. “But enough. I want to stay home with Miranda as much as possible.”

  Livvy can’t believe her ears. “You’re actually going to be a stay-at-home mom?” she asks in disbelief. She was certain Edie would be back at work, back in the thick of things.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Edie scoffs. “Of course I’m not going to be a stay-at-home mom.”