Friendship Cake by Lynne Hinton

either. And if your family forces you to make a decision like that, then you’ll choose love, however that looks, whoever that’s with. You’ll choose love because that’s more important than anything, especially for a baby.”
    Lana put down the mug and rubbed her stomach as if to make the words sink in. Her eyes were filled with tears.
    â€œNow,” Margaret said, looking at the wall clock. “We better go over and pick up Wallace and get to your mother’s house before she goes to bed.”
    Lana wiped her eyes again, brushed back her hair, pulled her chair away from the table, and stood up. “I think I’ll call Wallace first, you know, let him know I’m going to do this.”
    â€œSounds like a good idea to me. The phone’s by the fridge, there on the wall.” Margaret got up from her chair and took the mugs to the sink. She tried not to listen to the girl’s conversation, but it was hard to avoid eavesdropping.
    â€œI’m at Ms. Peele’s. No”—she looked towards Margaret at the sink—“she’s cool. We’re going to tell Mom. I want you to go with me.” There was a pause. “About fifteen minutes. Okay, we’ll meet you there.” She turned away from Margaret and faced the wall. “Me too.” And she hung up the phone.
    â€œHe’ll meet us at my house. I think he’s going to tell hisgrandmother before he goes. I’m sure relieved that I don’t have to be there for that one.” Lana walked over to the sink and stuck her hands under the faucet. She dried them on the towel Margaret handed her. “I’m really glad you’re going with me. My mom respects you. She won’t lose it too bad if you’re there.”
    â€œYes, I guess she’ll remember that I was her Sunday School teacher too. I have a few stories about your mother when she was your age.” Margaret folded the towel and set it on the kitchen counter. “If things start to get a little out of hand, I’ll pull one or two out of my memory bank and shake things up a little.”
    Lana nodded her head and smiled.
    â€œSo, you ready to go?” Margaret picked up her keys and opened the back door.
    The young woman looked around the kitchen as if she would be different the next time she came into the room. Then she nodded. “Okay, here goes nothing!” She walked out the door as Margaret turned out the light and followed her.
    The ride from Margaret’s to Dorothy’s daughter’s house was quiet as the two women tried to put their thoughts into the words they were going to say. Margaret wondered about how it must sound to a mother that her little girl is pregnant, if such news can really break a heart. She thought about her place in this mess and why it was she had been given such an honorable role among the young people in the community. She thought about her own barrenness and what it meant to her not to have children.
    She and Luther had had only one conversation about the fact that there were no children. And one question, with an answer of “I don’t know” hardly qualifies for a conversation.
    They had been married thirteen years when Margaret finallymustered the courage to ask. “Why do you think I haven’t gotten pregnant?” Luther paused for a moment, then picked up the newspaper and sat down at the table. “I don’t know” was all he said. And because she was busy enough with the farm and looking after her dad and because she wasn’t even sure she really wanted her own children, she had not pursued it any further.
    When Luther died and his sister, Carolyn, commented that it was a crying shame there were no children to share this tragedy, Margaret thought it odd that she did not even consider not having children as another reason to mourn. Perhaps because her mother died when she was such a young girl, Margaret had not ever had the space to entertain