He ’d been hoeing in the garden, moving slowly down the rows. I was spending time with Grandpa. Had me watering with the hose.
His wooden cane was hanging from a belt loop in the back. If Grandma had been watching, she’d have given him some flak!
I moved in close beside him, got his normal one arm hug. Then we took a swig of water from his Clorox drinking jug.
I’d barely turned fifteen and had an appetite to snack. I knew that Grandpa always had some cake in his knapsack.
He said, “We’d better take some time. Let’s have a little break.” Then he opened up his pocket knife, cut Grandma’s chocolate cake.
“I snuck it from the kitchen. I’ve been sneakin’ cake for years. If Grandma saw me take some she would prob’ly box my ears.”
Well Grandma knew too well that he was snitching on the sly. She said that’s why he married her. Her cake had caught his eye.
Grandma said that Grandpa had been working for her dad. Back then he was a young buck not much older than a lad.
And then one day he told her he was fifteen to the date. So, she baked a chocolate birthday cake, the best he’d ever ate.
Grandpa married Grandma nearly sixty years ago. And Grandma always baked a cake ‘bout every week or so.
She said she’d baked so many cakes and never had one fall. Grandpa liked her chocolate cake the very best of all.
Well Grandpa said, “I fell in love with cake and Grandma too. Not many young gals baked a cake. For danged sure were too few.”
“Then Boy,” he said, “When lookin’ and your bachelorhood’s at stake. The first thing you consider, does she bake a chocolate cake?”