by Don Childers
After the service, Emily, followed by her husband Buddy, gave Bill a nice handshake. “Nice sermon,” Emily said with a smile that had a hint of the devil.
“Thanks,” Bill said, also with a smile. One of the last people through the line was Mabel Simons. Mabel was one of the many widows in the church. She always wore a beautiful hat and was dressed in a forties style.
“What a nice sermon, Reverend Thompson.”
“Thank you, Mabel.”
“Oh, you are to join me for dinner. My house is down one block at 231 Maple. That is, if you don’t have other plans?”
One of the traditions was that someone took the preacher out for the noon dinner. Actually, Bill counted on an invitation, as it was one of the best meals he would have all week. Mabel had yet to invite him. He was not sure how it worked, but he only got one invitation on a Sunday. He suspected they worked it out among themselves during the week. The Sunday before, Bill had been invited to the Benton’s peanut farm for Sunday dinner. They lived on several acres of land in which Pete struggled to make ends meet from his peanut crop. The farmhouse was in great need of paint. The previous Sunday had been hot, not unusual for Texas, so they had eaten out on the screened-in porch. Susie Q, Pete’s wife, had once been a honky-tonk piano player in various bars before she and Pete had met. She had long blonde hair that was tied up into a ponytail. She was rough around the edges, but had an inner sweetness that shone through. The family did not have much, but always put on a good dinner for the preacher when he came. You just had to sometimes brush the bugs out of the ice tea, served in jars, before sipping. Bill always stayed late when invited to the Benton’s. Suzie Q would bang out some numbers on their old piano and they would all sing. Pete would be churning homemade ice cream and the evening would end with ice cream and more ice tea.
Mabel lived in a two-story wood frame house built in the 1930s. Her yard was beautifully kept and even in the changing season still looked neat and tidy. Her front porch had an old swing with a flower-pattern seat. Her house was always meticulously clean and organized. Mabel’s husband had died four years before of a heart attack. Around the house were pictures of her husband, Don. The two of them had had no children, but there were many photos of the two of them scattered around the room.
Bill was invited in and handed an album of photos of Mabel’s family and of her time with Don. As he thumbed through the neatly kept pages, Mabel excused herself to finish up dinner.
“I hope you like okra,” she said from the kitchen.
“Sure do,” Bill yelled back, and then thought that he had really not acquired a taste for what seemed to be the vegetable of the state. He did like fried okra but the boiled kind was hard for him to swallow. It felt too slimy and he had the feeling that he was eating something that people shouldn’t be eating. The fried, however, was quite delicious.
“I am frying the okra if you don’t mind,” the voice from the kitchen said.
Bill breathed a silent prayer and said, “I love fried okra!” With that, he turned back to the photo album. Apparently, Mabel’s parents had been born in North Texas on the family farm. Her grandfather, who had come to Texas from Missouri after the Civil War, had started the farm. The story went that her grandfather had grown tired of the guerilla warfare that was fracturing Missouri and so left the northern city of Maryville for Texas. He settled around the Denton area but missed Missouri a lot. So after the war he decided to move the family back to Missouri. He took a trip back north to scope out land leaving the family to begin to get things ready. Somewhere around the Missouri border he met a family going south, wagon loaded. They stopped to talk and Mabel’s grandfather asked the family if the feuding and fighting was any better since the war was over. “Nope,” they replied, “if anything it is worse with that fella Jessie James and all!” Right then Mabel’s grandfather turned his horse around and never gave Missouri another thought. Bill loved history and the picture album was like taking a trip back into the past.
Soon Mabel called Bill to dinner. Sitting down, she asked him to return thanks and then they both dug in. Mabel had fixed quite a meal. There before them were roast beef, fried okra, and corn on the cob, bread, and mashed potatoes. Bill filled his plate several times.
“Now, you must leave room for my famous chocolate cake,” Mabel said with a big smile on her face.
“Chocolate cake! Wonderful! I always have room for chocolate cake.”
“Well, I am not one to brag,” Mabel said with a smile on her face, “but I believe God gives everyone certain gifts. You, for instance, are a great preacher!”
“Thanks,” Bill said turning a light shade of red.
“Well, my gift is baking. I have been baking for years and years. My husband Don always said, ‘Mable, what a treasure your cakes are.’ And then he would only eat a piece and insist that we share them with the neighbors. Since his death, God rest his soul, I have continued baking and I take the cakes around to the neighbors. Oh, they love the cakes.”
“Well, bring me a large piece,” Bill said.
Mabel brought in the most beautiful-looking chocolate cake Bill thought he had ever seen. Even the icing, which was made from scratch, had little swirls in the chocolate, making the cake a work of art. Mabel gave Bill a huge piece and eagerly waited as he took his first bite. Bill slowly bit into the cake and noticed a crunchy feeling as he chewed. In an instant Bill knew that this was probably the worst piece of chocolate cake he had ever allowed into his mouth. There were granules of pure sugar that crunched with every bite. His mouth full of cake, with some chocolate around the edges of his mouth, Bill smiled and gulped down the cake. He quickly grabbed for his glass of water and drank.
“Well what do you think?”
“It is the most interesting flavor I have tasted,” Bill said trying to think of a way to be diplomatic. Finally he thought to himself, “Oh hell, I can always be forgiven later” and said aloud, “Mabel you surely have a real gift. Thank you so very much. Aren’t you having a piece of cake?”
“Oh I seldom if ever eat sweets. Woman has to maintain her figure, you know, even at my age! No I just make the cakes for everyone else. My joy is just seeing the joy in their eyes.
Many times during the next few minutes Bill wished that he not taken such a huge piece. Little by little he worked at the piece of cake until finally getting the last one down. Pushing his chair back he exclaimed, “My, my, what a wonderful dinner. Mabel, I hate to eat and run but I need to get back to Fort Worth. Got a test tomorrow and I have to study hard.” Actually, Bill’s stomach was already beginning to rumble.
“Oh, sorry to hear that. But I understand, I surely do,” Mabel said masking some disappointment. “Well why don’t you take the rest of the cake along and you and your friends can have a midnight snack or whatever.”
With that, Bill said his goodbyes and left. As he loaded the cake into his car the thought of dumping it along the road occurred to him. As Bill was driving toward Fort Worth he decided what he would do with the cake. He would give the cake as a gift from him and David to Chris.
Later, Bill asked Sam about Mabel.
“Did she once have it and somehow lost it?” Bill had asked.
“No,” Sam said in his usually reflective way. “No she has never had it.”
“Well, she says she gives cakes to everyone in town.”
“Oh yes, she does. We all don’t want to hurt her feelings so we just throw them away a section at a time. That way if she drops by, well, she sees more of the cake gone each visit. Her husband Don was a real saint. He would bring me one of the cakes and tell me to take it to Denton and throw it out. He never wanted to hurt his wife’s feelings.”
Sam thought for a moment and then added, “No, you just don’t eat your cakes. Why one time our son came back in from football practice and saw this cake sitting on the counter. It was one of Mabel’s cakes. Well, Bobby ate the whole thing, right there,” Sam said and paused, then added almost as an afterthought, “We had to
take him to the emergency room to have his stomach pumped.”
-25-
Bill could never figure out why Christmas was always important to him, but it was. Growing up, Christmastime provided some of the best memories. His whole family would go across Eugene to his uncle’s home for Christmas Eve. His uncle “Red”, named for his flaming red hair, and aunt had a larger home and often hosted family gatherings.
The family custom was to gather at his uncle’s home on Christmas Eve for an Italian feast. Although there were no direct ties to Italy, the family did have some indirect ties; besides, they all loved Italian food. Bill’s uncle “Red” had been a pastor in the 1940’s. Perhaps it was his uncle’s passion that had sparked the interest in ministry within Bill. Even though his uncle had left the ministry only after a few years so he could support his family, his uncle never had lost his passion for the church.
So on Christmas Eve the family would gather and sing carols and the children would dress up in bathrobes and act out the Christmas story, complete with a reluctant dog named Ling who was forced to be the one and only sheep. On the way home, late at night, Bill’s father Milt would always suddenly slow down the car.
“I don’t believe it!” he would exclaim looking out the window of the old Plymouth his gaze turned toward the dark night.
“What is it?” Bill’s mother would exclaim, usually awakening Bill’s sisters.
“Do you see that, over there, in the sky,” Bill’s father would say.
His mother Joyce would look and then exclaim, “Oh, Honey, I see it, that red dot moving across the sky.”
Bill and his sisters would be straining to see.
Milt would then say, “I think its Santa. I don’t think he has gotten to our house yet!”
“Well, honey,” his mother would say, “step on it. We need to get home and get these kids asleep so he doesn’t miss us.” For some reason Bill never had trouble going to sleep even after he had discovered the secret of Santa.
Then on Christmas Day, they would all awaken to find the cookies and milk left for Santa gone, eaten by the mysterious visitor. New presents would have appeared around the Christmas tree. After the ritual of tearing open the gifts, Milt and Joyce would set about preparing the turkey and dressing.
During college the family tradition continued even though his Grandmother Thompson died during his third year of college. They had grown too old for the “Look at that red light in the sky” trick, but Bill cherished and looked forward to the family gathering every year.
Thus when Bill got news that the family had all gone together to get him an airline ticket to return home for Christmas, he was overjoyed. Paul and Lynn had invited him to go with them back to Lynn’s folks in Montana rather than be alone. David and his new girlfriend Cheryl had also invited him to her home in Dallas for Christmas. Chris and his girlfriend had extended him an invitation but Bill would have rather eaten another of Mabel’s cakes than accept that one. So when the ticket came in the mail and Bill climbed aboard the airplane bound for Portland and then Eugene, he knew it would be a good Christmas after all.
When Bill arrived in Eugene it was raining. It was quite a contrast from the 70-degree weather he had left in Fort Worth. His dad, mom, and sisters were waiting for him. Julie, the older of the sisters, was in college at the University of Oregon. She was majoring in art and from her dress was also majoring in being a counter-culture person known as a “hippie”. Nicole was much younger than Bill and was just entering junior high school. Both his sisters seemed to have grown leagues since last seeing them a few months ago. After the hellos, hugs, and kisses, Julie motioned to Bill to step aside.
In almost a whisper she said to Bill, “We have to talk. After you get settled why don’t you suggest that you and I go out for coffee?” That was all she said, for by that time, Bill’s dad Milt was gathering up the bags and leading the way to the car.
“You have got to see my—OUR—new car. We just got a brand new Buick with a V8, air conditioning, everything! I’ve always wanted a car like this,” Bill’s dad said with great pride.
“Air conditioning? In Oregon?,” Bill said, hustling to keep up with his father. “Your mother said the same thing, but I say what the hell!”
There in front of them sat a beautiful Buick with a white top. Ever since Uncle Red had gotten his Buick, Bill’s dad had wanted one worse than ever. It was a beautiful car. The rain was beading up on the sparkling shine.
“Will we have room?” Joyce asked as they caught up to Bill and Milt
“No problem,” Milt said as he opened the huge trunk. Bill’s suitcase and carry-on looked lost in the huge trunk. “We can always put Nicole in the trunk.”
Nicole did not appreciate the joke and gave a disapproving glance. After some maneuvering they all piled into the Buick. Bill’s dad seemed to relish every moment and spent the first few minutes explaining every detail to Bill. Then he started up the engine and eased the automatic into drive and left the Eugene airport, turning onto the highway and headed for home.
Arriving at their ranch-style home, Bill felt suddenly safe and secure again. When the family first moved in when Bill was in high school, the house occupied the last street in the sub-division. They had a wonderful view of the hills. In only a few years’ time, new streets were laid out and new homes were built. Now the view from the backyard was of fences and the roofs of a seemingly endless number of homes. In spite of the lack of view, for Bill, he was home.
“You have your old room,” Milt said as he hauled in the suitcase and small carry-on.
“No, I don’t expect Julie to give up her room,” Bill said as he followed his dad into the house.
“No problem,” Julie said with a smile. “I am staying over with friends for the holidays.”
“I just don’t know what to do with her,” Bill’s mother said, throwing up her hands. “Look at her! She is worse than you ever were. The beads, the long hair, and her boyfriend look exactly the same and he drives around in that damn VW van. The sixties are gone, the seventies are gone. I wish your sister would realize that.” Julie said nothing. Bill thought that this had been a recurring conversation. Bill actually had to admit that his sister had really grown up in the few months he had been gone. He was secretly cheering her on.
“Say, Julie,” Bill said as they entered the house and deposited the baggage. “How about you and I take a break and go for a soda or cup of coffee? You can tell me all about school and about this new boyfriend of yours.”
“Love to,” Julie replied, putting her coat on again. “We can take my car.”
“What?” Bill’s mother said, and gave Bill one of her looks. “You just got in; don’t you want something to eat?”
“There will be plenty of time for that later. If you all don’t mind, I’d like to see the old campus again, just for old time’s sake. What time is dinner?”
“Same as always: six o’clock,” his mother said. Then she did something strange. She looked at Joyce and said, “Yes, I actually think you two should talk. Just don’t be late.” His mother kissed Bill lightly on the cheek just as Milt was reentering the room with two beers.
“Julie and Bill are going out for a while,” Joyce said turning toward Milt.
Milt with a surprised look on his face said, “What? He just got in. Don’t you have time for a beer?”
“Julie has to get to her friend’s house. Why don’t we have that beer after dinner, Dad?” Bill said, moving toward the door with Julie in the lead. They climbed into her small Toyota and drove off toward campus. They stopped at a familiar coffee-house near the campus. They ordered espressos and after some small talk, Bill finally said, “What was that look you gave me at the airport? Is everything all right?”
Julie looked first down at her cup, then around the room. Tears began to form in her eyes, “No, things are not all right. You need to know,” she said, obviously having difficulty forming the words. “Dad has cancer.”
The words hung in the ai
r. They seemed unreal, as if a stranger had said them. Bill sat in silence, as did Julie. “What did you say?” Bill knew he had heard correctly.
“Cancer, Dad has cancer,” Julie said quietly so that no one could overhear. “About a month ago Dad went to the doctor about a lump in his breast. They told him it was cancer. He did not want to tell you because he was afraid it would spoil our Christmas. You know Dad, just ignore everything and it will be okay.”
Bill sat in silence for a few more moments. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We don’t know. They’ve scheduled surgery after Christmas. They should have done it before but he didn’t want to ruin Christmas.”
It was as though something finally clicked in Bill’s mind. “What a minute. Did you say he has breast cancer? That is something that hits women, not men. They must be wrong.”
“Bill,” Julie said taking his hand and looking deeply into his eye. “Dad has cancer, breast cancer. We thought the same thing, but the doctor said it happens. It is very, very rare in men. The doctor also said that the treatments that usually work on women don’t work on men, something to do with hormones and such. But the first step is surgery, then radiation, and then chemo.”
“Why didn’t Dad or Mom say something?”
“Mom wanted me to tell you. I think Dad also wanted me to tell you, although he acts like he wants to keep it all to himself.”
“What about Nicole,” Bill said his voice quivering?
“Well, Mom has not told her anything yet except Dad is sick and has to have an operation after Christmas. I think she should tell her the truth and I plan to do so later, but not now.”