Rumor Has It

The loaf of quick bread sat on a circular crystal pedestal meant for cakes. It was Cranberry Orange flavor, decorated with little glimmering sugar crystals mixed into sparkling candied orange peels on top. Amy had baked it that morning right before arriving, twenty minutes early, to the women’s book club. It was one of the very few non-religious groups in Red Cloud, a tiny town deep within the Bible Belt. It was the kind of town where there was a church on every corner, and everybody knew everybody and everything. There were no secrets in Red Cloud. 

The book club was the only social group Amy attended. She had joined seven years earlier, when she first turned eighteen, graduating from the children’s book club to the women’s one.  She always arrived at least twenty minutes early every Saturday morning. It was her routine until nine and a half months ago.

She’d left tiny little Red Cloud all those months ago, but the whispers had started weeks earlier. Her departure was sudden. One day she didn’t appear at work. The head of HR, Mr. Hudson, would simply say she was “taking a leave of absence” and “she would be out indefinitely,” when asked. So the town talked, and speculated, and theorized. She knew they would. They always did.

She debated coming back. Her father, who she loved dearly, had always urged her to go against her cowardly nature and to do what she wanted and throw other’s opinions to the dogs. He had loved little Red Cloud, and he was buried there. For that reason, and that reason alone, she came back.

She returned to Red Cloud as abruptly as she had left, appearing at work in the dental office with little warning, flossing and polishing like nothing had happened. Mr. Hudson kept mum. Her coworkers were all too polite to ask.

               Now she showed up on Karen’s doorstep, to the Saturday Women’s Book Club, loaf neatly swaddled in a brand new tea towel, wearing a grey dress and even grayer cardigan, curly brown hair pulled back into a loose bun. Two women, one early and the other the illustrious hostess, stared, shocked, as she placed the loaf on the crystal pedestal where it now rested, its sugar crust glittering in fragrant temptation. Central. Silent. Waiting.

It was Karen who cut the first slice, with a practiced, steady hand. 

“I suppose we can dig in before the others arrive. Quick bread is always best when its warm, isn’t it?” She glanced, coolly at Amy, eyes full of judgement. They’d never gotten along.

“We’ve just started discussing some of Hemmingway’s short stories. They’re in this anthology we were supposed to get. Have you gotten it yet? Oh!” She let out a mirthless laugh, brushing her chin-length platinum blonde hair out of her face. “Of course, you wouldn’t have, you’ve been gone so long! About nine-and-a-half months if I had to guess?”

“Y-Yes,” Amy said, unable to meet Karen’s sharp gaze. Karen placed the thick slice on a little paper plate. The words “Happy Birthday”, each letter a different cheerful primary color, surround the center, trapping little cartoon pink and blue presents inside.

Another woman, Sophie, whose lips were adorned with scarlet red lipstick and whose shirt was always unbuttoned a little too low for Karen’s liking, snatched the plate away from Karen, and started in on the bread.

“I was so worried about you, Amy. I tried to call twice but it always went to voicemail.” Sophie tilted her head staring deeply into Amy’s downcast face, big brown eyes filled with pity.

Amy shuffled her feet. Sophie sensed her discomfort, placed her plate on the counter and quickly changed the subject.

“Did you hear Scott and Erica got married while you were away? Erica’s pregnant already, shes hoping for a boy.”

Karen sliced another piece of bread and took a bite.

“At least she waited for marriage.” She let out another cold, mirthless laugh. “Lord knows I did. So did my husband. We come from good, god-fearing stock.”

Sophie shot Karen a sharp look. Karen smirked and shoved more quick bread into her mouth. Sophie patted Amy’s small slumped shoulder, giving her a soft smile. She changed the subject.

“Thank you for this quick bread! Cranberry-Orange isn’t it? Delicious, I love the sugar on top! It’s just so pretty! You will have to give me the recipe. Here, you haven’t had any, let me cut you a slice.”

Amy looked up appreciatively at Sophie.

“Just a small one please, I’m watching my weight after my trip.”

“These breads just fatten you up. People are always watching their weight so it’s always difficult to get rid of these things if it doesn’t get eaten. Some people throw it out.” She sneered. “Though I never have. I would never have. I don’t throw out my cooking and I hope you don’t either, Amy.”

Amy looked down again. 

“I’m sorry…” The words left her lips like a tendril of smoke, hanging in the air for a little too long before it dissipated. Sophie stepped in between the two, blocking Karen from Amy’s vision.

“Don’t be sorry! There’s nothing to apologize for. You did what was right for you, I’m sure.”

Amy nodded and tucked a lock of her curly hair behind her ear.

“I wanted to make something quick. I’ve got so much to do at home, so many things I couldn’t get to when I was away. And if I have to bake anything for more than an hour I always forget and burn it.”

Sophie laughed.

“Me too! It’s always difficult to leave a bun in the oven.” She quickly realized her mistake and drew back sharply, stuttering. “I-I meant bread. I didn’t mean…”

Amy’s eyes filled with tears. Sophie swallowed and looked away.  “I need some water, excuse me.”

She walked out of the room, leaving Amy alone with Karen. They stood in silence for a little bit. Karen, chewed the last bit of bread, staring pointedly at Amy. She finally swallowed the last mouthful. Amy looked up. The two finally locked eyes. There was an understanding between them.

  “You didn’t keep the baby, did you.”

 Tears rolled down Amy’s face.

 “No. I didn’t.”