Whoopie Pie Secrets

by Rebecca Price

  “She did have a right, I suppose,” I say, suddenly reflecting on my own beliefs and wondering how far off the mark I might be myself. “Everybody believes in something, right?”

  Simon looks at me, tilts his head slightly as he considers, then takes another sip of the lemonade.

  I ask him, “And what do you believe?”

  “I believe in my feelings for you, Hannah. I believe in God and God’s will, and I believe I see that very selfsame thing standing before me, in the person of you. I believe I know now why I never loved Lilly fully as she does me. Now I know what that emptiness was, in my heart and my soul, which I thought would never be filled. That is the space God has reserved...for you.”

  My legs are trembling, my hands sweating and grateful not to be holding that tray, which they surely would have dropped. My mouth is dry, tongue sticking to my teeth.

  Before I realize, we’re kissing again, a long, deep, soulful exchange of wordless confessions and unspoken promises. Simon drops the glass and wraps both arms around me, pulling me closer to him. My heart is pounding, lungs pumping, blood racing in my veins. Our faces grind gently against one another, vague circles traced as we share our hopes and dreams, merging them together into a singular vision, a new reality.

  Our future together as man and wife.

  I hear, “Hannah?” before turning to see Rebecca glaring at me, her fists clenched. She stands there, in the shadow of my new love with Simon, then breaks off and storms into the house. Mamm, wearing an expression of confused offense, steps slowly toward us.

  “Mamm, this is Simon Troyer,” I say, turning to Simon. “Simon, my Mamm.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Simon says, extending a hand that she doesn’t shake.

  “I didn’t expect to return to find you two gallivanting naked through these fields.”

  “Mamm!” I say, “Simon came to help with the chores, that’s all.”

  She looks him over, and then me, in his arms. She knows that only part of what I said is true.

  “What chores are those,” Mamm says, “further degrading our standing in the community with your open copulation...?”

  “Mamm, stop!” I’ve never interrupted my Mamm before, certainly not Daed, but this time I just can’t help myself. And I don’t want to. For years I’ve been the beast of burden to them, denied the facets of a human life that everyone else enjoyed around me and continues to enjoy. I’m not about to let that continue, especially if it is against God’s will.

  And it is.

  I say, “Mamm...”

  But instead of hearing me out, instead of respecting my views as an adult, she just turns and walks wordlessly toward the house, her back to us.

  I turn to Simon. Our romantic moment is over.

  But our romance is only beginning.

  He says, “I’m sorry, Hannah, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

  I kneel to pick up a pie from the plate and as I hand it to him, I see that Simon is already putting his shirt back on. He bites into the pie, his eyes rolling with pleasure, a bit of whipped filling clinging to the corner of his mouth.

  I know it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten, that I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, that ours is the most wondrous kiss he’s ever experienced. I know that because these are true for me, and nothing so perfect as our kiss and our shared dream and our waiting future could ever be a lie.

  He says, “I should go.”

  I turn, casting a disappointed stare at our farmhouse, Rebecca staring at us from her upstairs bedroom window. I know what kind of challenges await me inside that house, and half of me wants to marry Simon right now, go off with him and never return.

  The other half of me knows that’s not right or responsible.

  No, I realize, God wants me to work this out, not simply run away from it. That’s not the person God wants me to be, nor the person I want to present - to God, to Simon, or to myself in the mirror.

  I nod and smile and give Simon a little kiss on the cheek before stepping back. “I do appreciate you coming,” I say.

  With a smile I know I’ll never forget and be unable to live without, he says, “I’ll be back.” I stand in the field and watch him walk away, his tall, strong body getting smaller as he fades into the distance.

  Yet I feel closer to him than ever before.

  Back in the house, I know the opposite awaits.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My Daed is furious, not even touching his roasted chicken. Mamm sits quietly while Rebecca quietly fumes. Abram is quiet too, but at least he’s not quietly hating me.

  “What is the matter with you?” Daed asks me. “Your sister is to be first married, you know this!”

  “I know you want it to be that way,” I say, hardly recognizing my own voice. I guess I’ve been sitting quietly long enough. Suddenly, whatever force or pressure that’s been keeping me quiet just isn’t as powerful as it used to be.

  Or perhaps I’m becoming more powerful than it. Either way, there doesn’t seem much chance of turning back now, as the hard, hateful glare on my daed’s face is telling me.

  Daed says, “Your sister is the firstborn, she’s the pride of this family!”

  “Doesn’t pride come before a fall?” I ask, not really a question.

  “Hannah, hold your tongue,” Mamm says.

  “All I did was meet a boy; that was bound to happen eventually, despite your best efforts...”

  Mamm repeats, “Hannah!”

  But I ignore her: “And if it so happens that I marry before Rebecca does, what’s so wrong with that?”

  “It’s not what God wants,” Daed says.

  “How do you know that, Daed? Maybe you’ve been fighting God all this time and you didn’t even know it.”

  “How dare you?” my Daed insists.

  “How dare you?!” I respond.

  “For you to bring that boy here was an insult to your sister and to this whole family.”

  “I didn’t bring him here, Daed, he just showed up.”

  “I saw you in his arms,” Mamm says, her voice low and cruel. “He didn’t just show up from out of nowhere.”

  “Well, I...” Words fail me, because what my mother is saying is true. But it doesn’t put me in the wrong. Does she think I was just going to let some stranger take off his shirt, do my chores and then fall into his arms?

  Yes, she does. That’s how little she thinks of me, I realize. That’s the daughter she thinks she’s raised. That’s the person they all think I am.

  I look at Abram, who looks back at me with a sympathetic half-smile. He says nothing. He doesn’t need to.

  Smart kid.

  So I follow his lead. What benefit can there be to fighting my parents now, here? They think what they want to think; I know now and have always known, there’s nothing I can do about that.

  But my parents don’t see the wisdom of my position. “And what kind of example are you setting for your kid brother?” Daed asks me, also not really a question.

  It’s a judgment.

  He goes on, “No wonder the boy’s become such a misfit. I heard about what happened at the grocery store.”

  “And that’s my fault?” I ask, by no means a question. “If you raised him yourself instead of blaming me...”

  “Oh stop it, Hannah!” I’m not surprised to hear it, but I am surprised to hear it coming from Rebecca, who hardly ever spoke and never spoke out. Her voice is unfamiliar in its screeching fury. “Look at what you’re doing to this family!”

  Me? I’m too shocked to say.

  But I don’t have the chance, because Rebecca is already stomping away from the kitchen table and toward her room, leaving the stunned silence in her wake. I can only sit under the accusatory stares of my parents, my guts turning with nervous nausea.

  Mamm stands up to follow Rebecca, as always.

  No, I say to myself, not this time.

  So I spring up and trot across the kitchen behind my sister. I ignore
my father saying, “Don’t you leave this table without excusing yourself, young lady!”

  I have bigger things to worry about.

  I knock and enter without being invited, closing the door behind me. Rebecca’s eyes shoot daggers at me and I feel them cutting into my soul. “How could you?” she growls at me.

  “Rebecca, I...it’s not about you. I met a boy, it’s not my fault.”

  “But I was supposed to be first!” she says.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re not going to be. Does it matter that much, is it that important? I mean, who really cares who marries first?”

  Tears stream down her face, promising or threatening a storm to come, the cusp of an emotional hurricane. “I was first, that’s who I was, that’s who I am. Don’t you know how many boys I liked that I had to sacrifice because of Daed, insisting that they weren’t good enough? I liked Samuel, I liked George.”

  “But that’s not my fault, Rebecca. I think you’re right, let’s go to him together, explain that he’s smothering you, preventing you from...”

  “I can’t do that, Hannah, I’d never do that! Daed dedicated his life to me, I’m not just going to turn against him! How dare you even suggest such a thing? You see? Do you see who you really are now? You only care about one person, and that’s yourself.”

  “Really? What about Abram, the kid brother you never speak to?”

  “Because you keep coming between us!”

  “You can’t really mean that,” I say, disbelief ripe in the crackle of my own voice.

  But that hateful stare tells me different, something I’d never wanted to believe but now really can no longer deny.

  These people hate me. I’m their daughter and kid sister. I spent a lifetime being quiet and subservient, doing chores, staying out of the way, asking for little and getting less, dutifully raising Abram practically single-handedly because they can’t be bothered to.

  And they hate me for it.

  No, I tell myself, these people can’t be reasoned with, they’re not reasonable. The way she’s talking, it’s like my own sister’s gone half-insane.

  And I’d walk away with that if I didn’t know how my parents also feel about me.

  No, I realize, it’s not just Rebecca who feels this way. And if she’s not in her right mind, maybe they’re not either. Maybe it’s not me, it’s never been me.

  Maybe it is them, I say to myself, for the first time but not for the last. I’d always assumed responsibility, some blame for having done something wrong or been somebody I shouldn’t have been, or doing something I shouldn’t have done without realizing.

  But now I know.

  Because this time I really didn’t do anything wrong. I met a boy, very innocently, and haven’t breached any of the rules we live by in doing so. I’ve upheld the family honor, I’ve stayed pure.

  So it isn’t me, not this time. Then I realize, It isn’t me at all. It was never me.

  It’s them. It’s always been them.

  So, realizing that there’s nothing I can say and even less I can do, I back out of Rebecca’s room. Mamm is standing silently in the hall. I pass her as she goes into the room, muttering, “I hope you’re happy with yourself,” before entering Rebecca’s room and closing the door behind her.

  * * *

  Simon and I get together the next day, each of us determined to take a few hours from our individual responsibilities to enjoy a nice stroll down Lancaster Avenue. We stroll past the shops, enjoying the hats and pet supplies and other things the outsiders enjoy. But the summer heat is cooler under the shop awnings, and it’s fun just to be out and off the farm.

  Out with him.

  With Simon.

  A car drives by, the toxic stink of its exhaust trailing behind it, lingering long after the roar of the engine has disappeared. “Wonder if that was a New Order Amish, or just an outsider.”

  “My daed can’t stand the New Order. He won’t even ride in a car, much less drive one. And own it? We’ve got two carriages just so he can show the world how much he hates cars.”

  Simon chuckles. “I don’t mind the New Order so much. I mean, I’m just as happy either way. If the phone’s outside or in, I don’t really care. I don’t think God cares either.”

  “Well, it’s not about God, He’s fine either way.”

  Simon says, “Hey, it’s good to be the king!” We both chuckle. “How do you want to raise our kids?”

  I feel like the air has been sucked out of my lungs. He hasn’t even proposed and he’s already talking about how to raise our kids?

  “Whichever,” I say.

  “Simon, Hannah!” We turn as Lilly approaches us from behind. I can see from Simon’s expression that he’s thinking what I’m feeling: Rats!

  “Lilly,” Simon says, hoping to prevent what is certain to be an ugly scene.

  “Simon, just hear me out, please.” Something about Lilly’s tone takes me by surprise. She sounds apologetic, contrite. She sounds sorry. “This is such a surprise to see you both here, but I guess there are no coincidences, right?”

  We stand in silence, waiting for her to continue. “Um, right, well, I just want to tell you both, while we’re here together, that I feel just awful about he way I’ve behaved through all this. The fact is, I’ve thought about it and I wish you both well.” She looks more at Simon and goes on with, “Simon, we’re such good friends, and...and I just always thought...but, y’know...I just want you to be happy, and if Hannah makes you happy then, well, then that’s what I want for you.”

  Simon and I exchange a look that says, Do you think this is for real?

  Well, why shouldn’t she be able to assume a mature position? I have to ask myself. Maybe she’s seeing things differently. She might be maturing her point of view; it’s not like she’s a member of my family, after all.

  I say, “That’s really very sweet, Lilly.”

  “Not at all, Hannah, it’s the way it should have been from the start. You’re both so cute together, I don’t see how anyone could fail to miss it. And I just know since we’re over our unpleasant first few meetings that we can start again and maybe even become such good friends.”

  “Well, yes, I’d like that, Lilly.”

  Simon is smiling, wide and relieved. He says to Lilly, “I can’t tell you how happy this makes me, Lilly. You really are a dear friend.”

  Lilly nods demurely. “I’m just relieved that my...my childishness didn’t cost me your friendship, Simon. It means so much to me.” She turns to me to add, “And Hannah, I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll always be, no matter how bad things get.”

  What?

  Instead, I say, “Excuse me?”

  Very casually, she says, “Well, y’know, the...thing.”

  “What thing?” I ask.

  “Do you really want to go into it now?” she asks, eyes gesturing broadly in Simon’s direction.

  My words coming fast and frustrated, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Lilly, so if you’ll excuse us...”

  “The madness, Hannah, not that I wanted to say anything, but if you absolutely insist. Though I’m sure you told Simon all about it.”

  Now I begin to understand. “Lilly...”

  “Well, you know how these things are hereditary,” Lilly says. “And your granduncle, rest his soul, he was, um, well, everybody knew that he was...”

  “Lilly,” Simon cautions.

  “Well, all the screaming and raving, and with him alone in that house. So sad.”

  “He was a widower,” I remind her.

  Lilly nods and shrugs. “Oh I know, honey, I know, sometimes that’s all it takes to unlock the hidden madness, buried in one of those dark corners. But, y’know, they say these things skip a generation. And your parents seem okay.” She looks at Simon with, “He’s got a heart of stone, Jessup says, glad he’s not ever gonna be my father-in-law.”

  She’s hitting me where it hurts, I realize. She’s weaseled her way in wit
h that fake friendship routine and now she’s sticking the dagger deep into me.

  Deep enough to be fatal.

  But how can I deflect it now? She’s in, it’s too late to do anything but withstand it, survive it.

  Endure it.

  So she just keeps on cutting.

  “And the kids are all saying your older sister is half-cracked, muttering at the chalkboard, mad with loneliness.”

  “You’re still volunteering with the after school crafts?” Simon asks, more for my information than his own.

  “Well of course, how else would I ever hear the kids say such things?”

  I ask, “But were they talking to you, or were you talking to them?”

  Lilly chuckles, nervously. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Hannah, I’m just trying to help.”

  “Maybe I don’t need your help,” I say, my voice quick and angry.

  “Hannah,” Lilly says, “your kid brother is throwing fruit at people in public. People around town are starting to call him monkey boy.”

  “You’re testing my last nerve,” I say between tight lips and gritted teeth.

  Lilly goes on to say, “And they say he’s your responsibility. Sweetheart, we all need a little help sometime.” After a mean little silence, she adds, “Medical help, maybe?”

  “Now that’s enough,” I say. “You don’t know me and you don’t know my family and I’ll thank you not to be spreading these idle rumors, Lilly. I’m sorry for your sorrow and your bitterness and spitefulness, but I really don’t recommend you try to make me or my family the brunt of your misery, because I will not tolerate it.”

  “Hey hey, Hannah, I’m sorry,” Lilly says, “didn’t mean to touch a nerve. I guess it’s true what they say about that...that almost manic temper that runs in your family...”

  “Girls, please,” Simon says, holding one hand in front of each of us. “This is becoming inappropriate. Maybe we should just take a break and...”

  “You’re right, Simon, of course,” Lilly says, “this came out all wrong.”