What was she to do?
If she disturbed the service to tell Benjamin, the Bishop and her father would dole out a punishment that would certainty not be anything she could live with. Not to mention Benjamin’s reaction to her childish prank. The widow, on the other hand, was right here. Could she trust the old woman with her secret? It would seem she had no other choice.
“What’s wrong with you?” the widow asked. “You look like someone just died.”
Bethany swallowed hard the lump of fear in her throat. “Or is about to!”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Bethany began to shake. “I messed up. I did something really narrish, and mei daed is going to have mei hide if I don’t fix it.”
The widow steered Bethany to a nearby chair.
“It can’t be all that bad, now, can it?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Worse. But I only did it because I wanted Benjamin out of mei mamm’s bakery.”
The widow sank into the chair across from Bethany, eyes wide. “This already doesn’t sound gut. Does this have anything to do with the cakes and whoopie pies your daed and Benjamin brought over here this morning?”
Bethany raised an eyebrow. “Benjamin came here with mei daed?”
“Jah, they have become close in the past two weeks. Your vadder talks very highly of him. I think it does him gut to bond with Benjamin. He offered him your bruder, Daniel’s, loft apartment yesterday.”
Bethany gasped and shook her head, feeling more confused than ever. Her father had changed so much since she and Levinia had run off to live at the B&B, and then even more after Levinia’s impromptu wedding. A lot had changed. But for her father to bond with Benjamin and allow him to use Daniel’s loft when he wouldn’t even allow his own daughters to live in it—that just didn’t make any sense. If he had become this close to Benjamin, it was more vital than ever that she get rid of the tainted baked goods to avoid blame against Benjamin—not because she felt he deserved anything from her after the way he’d betrayed her, but because her father would surely take his side in the matter, and she would end up with a sound lashing.
Bethany jumped up from the chair and crossed to the counter where the cakes sat neatly decorated. She had really done a nice job on them once Benjamin showed her how to make swirls along the edges by putting frosting on a piece of wax paper and rolling it up to make a tube for decorating.
What did it matter when the inside of the cake was ruined with egg shells?
Bethany picked up the cakes one-by-one and dumped them into the trash can.
The widow jumped up from her chair. “What are you doing? Jacob is going to wonder what happened to the cakes he brought in.”
“We will have to think of an excuse to tell him because they are not edible.” She crossed to the other end of the counter and began to do the same with the neatly-wrapped whoopie pies.
The widow grabbed her arm to stop her. “Why are you throwing all of this away?”
Bethany yanked her arm away and resumed her tirade with the whoopie pies. “I crushed up egg shells into the cake batter, and I poured a lot of pepper into the whoopie pie filling.”
“Ach, that is a problem,” the widow said as she grabbed the remainder of the whoopie pies and put them into the trash bin. “But tell me why you really did it.”
Bethany slumped back into the kitchen chair, discouragement clouding her thoughts. “Because I’m a fool.”
“I won’t argue with you there,” the widow said, chuckling. “I thought you liked Benjamin. I thought you were sweet on him.”
Resting her chin in her hands, elbows propped on the table, Bethany blew out a discouraging sigh. “I was—I mean, I am.”
“Then I’m going to have to ask you again why you did it.”
“Because I’m a fool,” Bethany repeated.
CHAPTER 18
“We have time to replace the whoopie pies,” the widow said. “But I’m not so certain we can do anything about the cakes. Not to mention, I don’t have enough pans or ingredients to make all of that.”
“But what about the fancy wrapping? Benjamin will notice they aren’t wrapped,” Bethany said nervously.
“We’ll say we unwrapped them. As for the cakes, you could say you dropped them!”
“I dropped them? Why me?”
The widow furrowed her brow. “Would you rather admit you put eggshells in them?”
Bethany thought about it for a minute. “Nee, but how can I explain dropping four cakes?”
The widow chuckled heartily. “Not my problem. You got yourself into this mess; you get yourself out. I’m only going along with it to keep your vadder from embarrassment.”
Bethany hadn’t thought about what this would do to her father’s reputation in the community, especially how it would make him look to the Bishop. She hadn’t thought about anything or anyone but herself. Shame flooded her heart, making it difficult to breath.
The widow put a hand on Bethany’s shoulder.
“Now is not the time to panic. We have just under three hours before the service is over and everyone will be expecting to eat. Let’s get the whoopie pies made so you don’t have to explain that one too.”
Bethany’s expression fell. “But I don’t even know how to make them. I did a lot of watching and not enough baking because Benjamin didn’t trust me.”
“Do you blame him?”
Shame washed over her again. “I suppose I don’t.”
The widow sighed heavily. “Well, let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to have to listen fast and do everything I tell you. I’ll make one batch and you can make the other. Do everything I do and it should turn out just right.”
“Should?”
“Jah,” the widow assured her. “Don’t worry. You worry too much. That’s what gets you into so much trouble—all that thinking you do.”
The widow quickly pulled two mixing bowls from the cupboard and gathered up eggs, flour, butter, and various small ingredients and tossed them onto the counter.
This did nothing but overwhelm Bethany.
“Now, pay close attention,” the widow warned. “Because I’m going to move very fast. Whatever I mix in my bowl, you do the same in yours and we should be alright.”
“There you go throwing out the word should again. Don’t do that because you’re making me even more nervous.”
“Well, then I suppose you’re just going to have to trust me.”
Bethany had no other choice but to trust the widow, and that worried her more than ever. If this backfired on her, there would be no turning back. Her mistake in judgment would be exposed, and there would be no way to salvage her father’s trust. It could even cause her to lose her mother’s bakery after all, and that scared her more than anything at the moment.
By the time they had the first batch in the oven, Bethany still had no idea how to make a whoopie pie. She was so nervous and so worried about mirroring the widow’s actions that she couldn’t remember one ingredient from the next, or one step from another. If the widow had asked her to repeat the process, she’d not trust herself to get it right.
“Do you remember what he put in his filling?” the widow asked.
“Nee—except cinnamon. He asked me to put in a pinch of cinnamon, but I added a handful of pepper instead.”
The widow clicked her tongue in disgust, causing Bethany to hang her head.
“You make me wonder how you’d treat him if you loved him. If this is how you treat him when you like him, how much more would he suffer from your love?”
If the widow was trying to make her feel guilty, it was working. But she was right. She had already begun to fall for Benjamin, but then, suddenly everything went wrong—especially with her thinking. How had she managed to let things get this far out of control? Was she losing her focus so much that she’d forgotten what was really important in all of this? She wished she knew what advice her mother would give her in this situation. Levinia would most
likely tell her to let go of everything except Benjamin. Only problem was; she didn’t know how to do that.
Once again, they’d made the filling, and Bethany was still oblivious as to how it had been made. They took the first batch out of the oven and set them by the kitchen window, which the widow cracked open, so they would cool faster. Once the second batch was tucked away into the oven, the widow tested the first batch and declared they were ready to fill.
That was the easy part. It was tedious work, but manageable for Bethany because it was a mindless task. Right now, she wasn’t capable of much of anything that would require any kind of real thought. She couldn’t stay on task despite knowing her life practically depended on it. Before she realized, they had finished the whoopie pies and had even managed to clean most of the dishes.
They’d made it in time. Now would be the real test—getting by her father and Benjamin without having to explain what had happened to the cakes.
From the other room, Bethany could hear the familiar sound of hymns being sung from the Ausbund, and she knew the service was coming to an end. How had the time gone so fast? She’d always struggled to sit through the long services, but this morning, the time had somehow passed without her even realizing it.
CHAPTER 19
“I’m curious about something,” Benjamin leaned in close and whispered in Bethany’s ear. “Why do you suppose these whoopie pies taste so different from the ones we baked yesterday?”
“I didn’t notice anything different,” she fibbed nervously.
He was right. She’d relished the taste of the filling Benjamin had made yesterday, and she’d never tasted anything like it. If she had to describe the taste, it would almost be like cotton candy. Light and fluffy, and airy like the clouds. The filling she and the widow had made was pasty and thick, and sticky.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Benjamin warned.
Bethany smirked. “It seems to me I just did!”
“It’s all going to catch up to you, Bethany. Don’t expect that I will be around to catch you when you fall—and fall you will.”
Bethany gestured to her father who was across the large sitting room conversing pleasantly with the Bishop while they each seemed to be enjoying their whoopie pies.
“See mei daed over there? Right now he’s proud of me—for the first time in my life, he’s proud of me.”
“Jah, but how proud would he be if he knew the truth about whatever it was you did with the whoopie pies and cakes we made yesterday?”
“I accidently dropped them on the floor, that’s all. I couldn’t very well serve desert with dirt on it. So I had to make new ones, and I didn’t do too badly if I do say so myself.”
“Dropped them on the floor? Don’t you mean whatever else it was you did to sabotage this? Don’t you see this was your chance to make an impression on the community so they would become customers of your bakery?”
“And I’ve accomplished that,” Bethany said through gritted teeth. “Look around you. Everyone is enjoying their whoopie pies.”
“They’re mediocre at best. And I’m certain the widow made them—not you! Mine were spectacular and you know it. I think you threw them away because you are jealous of me because I can bake and you can’t.”
“Nee, you have that all wrong.”
“Do I? I think you did something to the cakes and the whoopie pies, but you didn’t count on your vadder wanting them so he could show off your new skill to the Bishop. Jah, he’s proud, but only because he doesn’t know the truth. But you and I do!”
“You know nothing, Benjamin Schrock! You’re wrong about me!”
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, lingering; his warm breath making her regret ever trying to sabotage him. “I think I know you pretty well, and I’m not so sure I like what I know.”
That stung. But she could see by the look in his icy blue-green eyes that he knew just how much he’d hurt her with the comment.
Bethany bit her bottom lip, attempting to suppress the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. She turned her back on him and focused on her father. He turned to her and held up his whoopie pie, a wide smile crowding his face.
The man never smiled.
He had never been proud of her, but now, it seemed, he was proud and happy.
She scanned the room and locked her gaze on the widow, who flashed her a sympathetic smile. She’d really messed things up. She had no idea how to fix the mess she’d caused.
What was she to do now?
Bethany stepped out the back door of the widow’s house and walked across the snowy landscape to a nearby tree. She leaned up against the tree intending to have a good cry, but Benjamin had followed fast on her heels.
She turned around angrily. “Why did you follow me? So you could insult me some more?”
“Nee. So I could make you understand,” he said gently.
“What’s to understand? You’ve made your feelings for me very clear.”
He and the Widow Yoder were both disappointed with her, and her father held fast to a false sense of pride over her accomplishment as a baker.
Now she would surely have to eat crow.
She would have to swallow her pride and learn from the two of them to make up for lost time. That is, if they would even agree to teach her after the way she’d behaved. The widow had been kind to her, and didn’t deserve to be put in the middle of her mess just for sake of keeping her father from being embarrassed by her childish actions. As for Benjamin; he’d made it clear to her that he was both ashamed of her and uninterested. She’d lost any chance she had of marrying him, and she dearly loved him already.
Now it was too late.
Or was it?
She turned back to Benjamin, who held contempt in his eyes for her. “Please give me another chance. I promise I will listen to everything you say and will pay attention to your instruction. And no more dirty tricks.”
“As long as you realize that by sabotaging me, you are only sabotaging yourself and your bakery!” he said sternly.
Bethany hadn’t really thought about it that way. He was right. This was her bakery, and she needed to do everything she could to make it a success. If she failed at this, she would never be able to hold her head up in the community. It was bad enough they all knew about her getting let go from the B&B.
“So does that mean you’ll give me another chance?” she asked meekly.
“Jah, but it goes against my better judgment.”
Bethany flung her arms around Benjamin and pulled him into a hug. “You won’t regret this, I promise you won’t.”
Benjamin peeled her off of him. “There’ll be none of that. I’ve made my position very clear to you about our relationship. It will be strictly business from now on, understood?”
Bethany nodded, though she hoped she would have the chance to change his mind about that.
CHAPTER 20
“Your vadder is coming up the lane,” Benjamin warned. “You prop open the back door to let out the smoke, and I’ll dump these burnt muffins into a trash bag.”
Bethany scrambled to the door and flung it open, swinging it open and closed a few times, hoping to force in the fresh air and fan out the smoke. She couldn’t have her father seeing what a mess she was making of her mother’s bakery. Not now that she was actually trying to make it work.
The grinding of the buggy wheels against the gravel drive and the clip-clop of her father’s gelding drew closer. She went to the counter and tossed the scorched pans into the large, stainless steel sink and squirted soap over them and then turned on the water. If they could get rid of the evidence of her newest mistake, she might stand a chance of meeting her father’s approval.
Before she knew it, her father stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a stern look in his eye.
“Benjamin,” he bellowed. “I would like a word with you outside.”
Bethany jumped. Her father had a way of putting fear in her without even trying.
Benjamin nodded, worry creasing his forehead.
The two men walked out to her father’s buggy, and Bethany tip-toed to the doorway and leaned into the wall, hoping not to get caught eavesdropping. She desperately needed to hear the conversation between the two men, despite her father making it very clear to her that it was not any of her business.
“Before I picked you up on Sunday,” her father said sternly. “I dropped off one of the bakery cakes and half a dozen whoopie pies to a familye who have been struggling and haven’t made it to service in a while. When I went over there to check on them today, I was surprised and more than a little disappointed to hear that the food I took to them was inedible. Frau Fisher said she crunched on egg shells in the cake, and the whoopie pie filling made her kinner cry because it was so peppery. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think pepper is an ingredient in whoopie pies.”
“Nee, it isn’t,” Benjamin said quietly. “I will stop by the Fisher place after we close today and offer the familye a fresh cake and bread that is edible, along with my apologies. We have had a few setbacks in training, but I assure you we have things worked out now.”
Bethany clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped her lips. Why was he taking full responsibility for her mistakes?
“What I don’t understand,” her father continued. “Is how the whoopie pies that were served to the community were not damaged.”
“Bethany discovered the mistake when she arrived at the Widow Yoder’s haus, and they corrected it by making a new batch of whoopie pies. Unfortunately, the cakes had to be thrown away. I take full responsibility and promise you it won’t happen again.”
“See to it that it doesn’t happen again,” her father warned sternly. “Or I’ll have to ask you to find employment elsewhere.”
“I give you my word,” Benjamin said, humbly.
Bethany choked back tears as she ran to the bathroom. How could her father be so intolerant? Benjamin hadn’t done anything wrong, but he stood to lose his job because of her. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself.
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