April 4th

“So, you’re at this again?” she asked. “Glutton for punishment?” She leaned back in her chair.

“What do you mean?” He folded the eggs and flour together while leaning over to read the recipe. “This is a joyous moment.” Flour and milk spotted the countertop. He bore down on the spoon.

“I still don’t understand why you have to do this. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re excited to be into a special project.”

“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming?”

“But... this event has never ended well. We have never finished a piece of cake. It’s charming and all. Seeing you in an apron covered in flour and batter.” She drank her tea. “How many years have you made this attempt?”

“Every year since we met.”

“That’s sweet,” she said. “Listen, I’m fine with a store-bought cake. I might actually prefer it.”

“Daggers!” He held his hands over his heart.

“Come on, Bill. Shall I remind you of some of the outcomes of this annual disaster?”

“No, Janet, I was there. Every time.” He reviewed the worn card with tattered edges and stains that made it nearly illegible.

“I disagree. Let me search the countless memories of this day. Oh, our last house:

“I knew you would try your hand at your grandmother’s chocolate cake. What was this, about 20 years ago? I knew there would be flour and sugar flying around. It was fine, except that none of the cakes that you have made turned out… how should I put it? Edible.

“This year was exceptionally bad. Dusty was just born. Our first grandchild. She was so cute. Josh and Katie were so excited and so tired, remember? Our first boy having our first grandbaby. What a time. Except for your attempt to make this cake. Everyone was in the living room. It was the first time we had three generations in one room. We had ordered food, but you wanted to bake that cake. It was April fourth after all.

“Katie’s a pretty good cook, but you wouldn’t take her help. You had to make that cake. All of that was fine, since she was so tired. You made a mess of that kitchen. Oh, that old kitchen. The ancient green oven. We didn’t know if was going to explode and take half of the house with it. And it was such a small space.

“I don’t know how we made it work in there. Two, maybe three feet of counter space. Oh, but it was our first house. It was charming, despite that it was falling apart. I loved that house, at least until that day.

“You found that card, and went about arranging the ingredients, mixing bowls, and the rest. I was actually proud that you navigated the small space so well. Maybe that would be the year that we would have a cake. It seemed like you had everything under control. You had come out to the living room to be with the kids. You were so proud.

“We played Scrabble while the cake baked. And we played cards. And we played charades. And we played ‘run out of the smoky house as fast as possible.’ Smoke piled into every room. We were lucky that it was just the cake in that old oven. The smoke damage was so bad that we decided to move. So, Bill, today, please refrain from burning down our house.”

“Ha,” he laughed. “Maybe I was tired of that old house.” He measured out some cocoa powder with a scrutiny that she rarely saw him apply. “That cake would have been magnificent had I remembered to set a timer.”

“And you have a timer ready today?”

He held out an old turn-dial timer. “This one,” he started, “this one is going to be perfect. Just you wait.”

“With baited breath.”

Satisfied that the cocoa was mixed into the batter, he poured the dark mixture into the glass baking pan. He worked the spatula to remove the last bit of batter and gave it a lick when he was done. His smile grew from ear to ear.

“This is the one,” he said. He opened the oven, slid the pan in, and shut the door. He made it a point to show her that he was setting the timer. With the cake baking, he went about cleaning up.

“That’s what you said for that trip we took to the Keys:

“‘This is the one.’ We were going on five years married, and had never taken a proper trip. Not even a honeymoon. I was so excited to have a beachfront room. Remember, that place even had a walkout pool. Drinks and food were paid. Oh, it was so nice.

“But it fell on April 4th. I still can’t believe that you brought those same plates that you never let me see. We had planned on scuba diving that day, but no. You had to go to the nearest grocery and buy ingredients. You know they served dessert at that resort? We spent the morning going to the store.

“But all hope wasn’t lost. We had everything we needed around one o’clock. We could still check out the activities of the resort. What you didn’t realize, is that the room had no kitchen. It was barely a mini bar. Oh, the look on the staff's faces when you insisted on using their kitchen!

“I just imagined you wearing a ridiculous chef’s hat ordering the kitchen staff to stand aside while you wowed them with your culinary expertise. I was still planning to have fun that night, even if it meant staying in our room. I had ordered their finest champagne, chocolate covered strawberries. Oh, did I have plans for you!

“But it wasn’t meant to be. What was it you said? ‘The cake was perfect, but you had to wait to use the oven. By the time you came back to the room I was already asleep. I don’t know why we couldn’t have eaten that cake in the morning. You know you can eat cake on days that aren’t April fourth, right?”

“As I recall,” he started, “we enjoyed the rest of our time at the resort just fine.”

“I just couldn’t believe it. The cake was such a big deal, and you just threw it away.”

“I gave it to the staff,” he said as he went about cleaning.

“Oh, at least it didn’t go to waste.” She drank some more tea and rose to observe the kitchen.

“Ah, ah.” He said blocking her entry. “Only the chef in the kitchen.”

“Honey, you understand that I make most of our meals? If any one should not be in here, it’s you.” She gave him her tea cup. “Will you at least make me some more?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the cup and gave it a rinse.

“May I at least sit at the bar with you?”

He contemplated the answer.

“That’s fine.”

“Oh, thank you, Master Chef.” She sat at a stool opposite him at the island. He made her a fresh tea, and he carefully handed it back to her. “Remember the first cake you tried to bake for me?:

“We were dating for a few months. I knew I liked you, but I don’t think you knew that yet. Movies, and boardwalks were where you always wanted to go. It was great. You worked so hard to impress me. Then the first April fourth happened. You were going to make me your grandmother’s chocolate cake.

“You were so nervous. I felt terrible. You went on trying to follow the instructions off of that very same card. You said that it was tradition to pass on something from your grandparents. It was really sweet. You didn’t know the flour from the baking powder, and you didn’t want my help. It was fun. You made a bigger mess than you did today. I remember those same plates, the same plates that you tried to serve on every year.

“Both carefully and sloppily, you iced it. We both had a slice, and I was ready to dive in. Strangely, that was the closest we got to eating the cake. We both took a bite of that good-looking cake, and we both spat it out. You must have put a cup of baking soda in that batter. You were so disappointed, and I felt bad. I knew then that you were a good guy that meant well. And a couple months later you proposed.

“And then another 50 attempts at making chocolate cake. Honestly, Bill, let’s have this be the last. Is that ok?”

He thought on it, and removed his apron.

“Let’s see how this one tastes. If it’s bad, then I won’t try again. If I’m right, then all bets are off. I might try baking once a week!”

“Lord help us.”

“Once it’s ready, we will try one more time.” He made sure that he was done cleaning. “How about this, you take your book and enjoy the sunset? I’ll bring out our dessert when it’s ready.”

“Fine, fine.” She gathered her novel, and left for the back patio.

He prepared the plates and forks, and made fresh decaf coffee. The timer rang, and he pulled the cake from the oven. He coated it with chocolate icing. A small piece went on each plate, and he met her on the patio.

“Here you are, dear.” He set the plates down and offered her the fork. She waited for him to sit, and he watched as she cut off a small piece. She slowly brought it to her mouth, and tasted it. She sat for a long while without a response.

“Well?” he asked.

“It’s… It’s wonderful.”

He smiled and relaxed in the chair. She took another bite.

“It’s about time.” They smiled at each other. “This was supposed to be a very different day.” She gave him a puzzled look. “April fourth. See:

“That first cake I baked for you; it was my grandmother’s idea. I was very excited. We even made special plates. The day was going to be one to remember. See, from the first time I took you to the carnival, I knew that I would marry you. It was frustrating and horrifying, the thought of asking you.

“Grandma said that sweets always make things easier, so I had a grand idea. She wrote down her recipe, and she showed me how to make it. That makes it even more embarrassing that I couldn’t get it right all these years. Even though I didn’t know what I was doing, I knew it was something I had to do.

“She gave me more than the recipe. She gave me her ring. The one that her husband gave to her. She said that it was tradition to pass it along. She was amazing. I was so sad when she passed later that month.”

“She did seem amazing from what I remember.” She took another bite of cake and a sip of coffee. “Bill, is that why you do this every year? To honor her?”

He took a bite. “Not exactly. I have been trying to get this right for our whole marriage. It’s just something that had to be right.”

She took the last bite of cake. “That’s sweet, honey. I thought that you bought the ring you gave me.”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you give me her ring?”

“Like I said, it had to be right.” He took another bite. “Remember that I made these plates?” He smiled and nodded toward her plate. Under the crumbs and smeared icing, it read 'Will You Marry Me?'

“Bill! Are you…”

He reached into his pocket and showed her an old jewelry box. Inside was a gold ring with a large pearl surrounded by small diamonds.

“What do you say, Janet. Will you marry me? Again?”