Page 78 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

The women took turns sharing pieces of their lives. Not all the stories were about bruises. Some were about grief, infidelity, depression, children, or loneliness. But each story ended the same way. Someone at the table understood.

I looked around the room and saw women wiping away tears. Danielle laughed even as she cried. Miss Evelyn smiled with quiet pride.

Then I looked at Camille. She seemed honest. Everything she said felt true, or at least most of it did. Her words sounded familiar, almost like the ones I’d read before.

Almost.

What stood out to me wasn’t what Camille said, but what she left out. There were small gaps and little changes. If you were hearing the story for the first time, you might not notice.

Stories changed a little every time they were told. Sometimes it happened by accident, sometimes on purpose.

Camille reached for her glass again. Her hand shook, just enough for me to notice. She steadied herself and wrapped both hands around the glass.

She looked up and met my eyes, her brow furrowed. Then Camille stood and began to gather the plates.

"I'll wrap the leftovers."

"I know everybody's husbands expect cake."

Laughter rolled around the table.

"I know mine does," Simone teased.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to eat lemon pound cake anywhere else," Danielle said.

"I'd be offended if you did," Camille replied with a wink.

I carried my empty plate into the kitchen and paused. The walls were covered with framed photos. Women in yellow dresses stood together, smiling at the camera.

My eyes moved from one frame to the next, then paused.

One frame hung a bit higher than the others. Another looked newer. It seemed like something else had once been there and was replaced.

"Beautiful memories, aren't they?"

Camille’s voice brought me back. I turned to see her standing in the doorway, holding a dish towel.

"They are."

She smiled.

"We've built quite a history."

"I'm sure you have."

Everything Camille said that afternoon was true. The Lemon Pound Cake Club really was made to protect women.

It was a true refuge, a place where frightened wives found safety, friendship, and the courage to put themselves first.

She was honest about that. She couldn’t hide it. The truth was too beautiful to keep secret.

But she also created something else alongside it, something hidden from everyone but herself. Sometimes, the safest places become the best hiding spots. After all, no one questions the woman who is busy saving everyone else.

Some women protect their legacies. Others bury them so well that people end up mistaking the grave for a garden.

Chapter Twelve

Maci