The Pecan Man(35)

We decided to bake cookies, a task I previously thought to be a necessary, but not particularly heartwarming, part of the holiday routine. I helped Blanche by planning, shopping and organizing before the cookies were baked, and by packing and sorting for the various charities afterwards. That was before we had children in the house.

Knowing I had resigned from most of my civic duties, Blanche assumed we would omit the baking part of our routine when she asked about the cookies one night at the dinner table.

“I don’t reckon we go’n be bakin’ them Christmas cookies this year, 'less you got something I don’t know about.

Three little heads snapped to attention and the younger girls all spoke at once.

“Cookies?”

“Aw, I done said it now,” moaned Blanche.

“I’ll help, Mama,” Patrice said, more eager than resigned.

“Pleeeease…” came the chorus.

“I don’t see why not,” I said and Blanche smiled in spite of herself.

“Of course, we won’t bake quite as many as last year,” I added, as Blanche’s smile turned to a chuckle.

We decided to make Christmas Butter Cookies, so the girls could use the cookie cutters and sprinkles, and Lemon Squares, Blanche’s favorite. Then I said I’d add Bourbon Balls to the menu. They were easy to make and required no baking at all, so I thought I could handle those myself while the girls decorated their cookies.

“Bourbon Balls?” Blanche asked. “We entertainin’ this year?”

“Not on a grand scale,” I replied. “I just remembered that I invited Clara Jean and her date to stop by for eggnog after their Christmas Eve dinner plans and, to my surprise, she accepted.”

“Bourbon Balls and eggnog?” Blanche cocked her eyebrow at me disapprovingly.

“I’ll get the non-alcoholic eggnog, if that’ll make you feel better,” I said.

The thought flashed through my mind that Blanche must have some newfound system of ethics because we had always had alcohol in the house, despite our Baptist affiliation. Walter was by no means a drunkard, but he did like to have his one glass of Scotch and water when he got home. I had personally never cared much for liquor, but we kept several bottles in our cabinet for the rare entertaining we did.

Blanche glared at me and I must have looked puzzled because she cut her eyes pointedly in Eddie’s direction. He was picking slowly at his food and did not look up. I got the distinct feeling that he was well aware of the current exchange and wished he were anywhere else but there at the moment.

I may be a little slow, but I’m no idiot.

“You’s all outta whiskey, Miz Ora. ‘Member you had me pour all that out when Mr. Walter passed. Said it reminded you too much o’ him to keep it around.”

Well, I said no such thing, but I went along with the charade.

“That’s right, I’d forgotten all about that. Well, there’s no sense buying a whole new bottle of Jack Daniels for just a few little bourbon balls. I’ll come up with something else to impress Clara Jean and her new beau.”

I tried to sound nonchalant, but my response was stilted at best.

Later that night, after Blanche and the girls went home and Eddie turned in, I checked the liquor cabinet. It was empty, as I suspected. I didn't have time to ask Blanche about it at supper, but I assumed she had indeed poured out what little had been there. I'm not sure why I didn't know Eddie was an alcoholic. I suppose I should have wondered why a hardworking man was homeless, but instead I’d taken it for granted that he wanted it that way. It was years before I understood what Eddie would do for a roof over his head and three meals a day, and how much he would sacrifice for the daughter he loved.



I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how Blanche knew to pour out the liquor, so I asked her the next day before Eddie got up.

“Some things you just know,” was all she would allow.

We sat down later to make a list for our cookie baking adventure. I got out the recipes and Blanche calculated what we would need.

“Baking powder?" I read from the book.

“Pro'bly want to add that. What we got is pretty old," Blanche said.

“Vanilla extract - should have plenty of that," I said and tried to skip over it.

“We out of vanilla, Miz Ora."

“We can't be out, Blanche. I just bought a huge bottle."

“We still out of it," she grumbled.

“Humor me and check, would you?" I was annoyed.

“I can check all day long, Miz Ora, and we'll still be outta vanilla."

She went to the pantry and brought back the eight ounce bottle I had recently purchased. She held it up to the light to prove that the bottle was indeed almost empty.

“What in the world happened?"

Blanche gave me the look that I'd become accustomed to getting from her. I don't think she meant to, but she had a way of making me feel like a pitiful old fool.

“Some things you just know," she repeated.

I added vanilla extract to the list.



Eddie tried his best to stay out of the way as preparation for the holidays proceeded, but Grace would have none of that. She was determined to have all the members of our improbable family together as much as possible. We grew accustomed to seeing Grace clutch Eddie’s hand in both of hers and drag him down the hall toward whatever event or task we had going on at the time.