by Tamar Myers
“Acted like what?” Susannah asked. It surprised me that she’d even been listening.
“Ach, I have never seen such behavior. Even in springtime the animals don’t act like that.”
Susannah ignored my hand signals. “Like what?”
“Like he was crazy.” She lowered her voice and glanced at the windows, through which we could hear the distant voices of children. “Maybe possessed.”
Chapter Fifteen
My Mama’s Frankfurter Rafts
8 skinless frankfurters
Bacon grease
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon powdered onion
2 cups cold mashed potatoes
2 cups baked beans
1 cup shredded sharp cheddar cheese
Salt and pepper to taste
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and grease 8-inch-square glass baking dish.
Brown frankfurters in bacon grease. Set aside to cool. Beat egg with milk and onion powder. Thoroughly mix beaten egg mixture with mashed potatoes. Smooth mixture over bottom of baking dish. Cut cooled frankfurters into halves lengthwise. Cut again across the width. Arrange frankfurter slices over potatoes until covered. Spread baked beans over the frank slices. Sprinkle the grated cheese evenly over the surface of the beans.
Bake for 25 minutes or until heated through and the cheese is melted.
Serves four.
Chapter Sixteen
I was stunned. Mennonites and Amish don’t take possession lightly. We are forbidden Ouija boards and other types of entertainment that claim to make connection with the spirit world. Seance parlors and fortune-tellers are not even discussed, much less patronized. In a society without television, in which “new age” is what you become on your next birthday, the word “channel” is almost never used. Our faith is in God, and we look past the netherworld to the world to come. That is, the Kingdom of God.
Of course, the Bible is full of demons, as well as angels, so we believe that they do exist. We prefer to ignore them, however, as long as we can. If the subject comes up, it is never as a whim, or in jest. Sarah Yoder would not have suggested that her dear departed husband had been possessed unless she had ample reason to believe it. And unless there had been other witnesses.
“Can you describe his behavior for us in a little more detail?” I asked gently. I must admit that my naturally suspicious mind favored a human rather than a supernatural explanation. There is enough evil in the average human heart to make a personal appearance from the devil quite unnecessary.
Sarah nodded, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. “It was after supper that night. The children were already in bed, but Yost and I were still downstairs. I was reading a book and Yost was writing a letter. Suddenly he looked up at me with the strangest expression on his face.
“ ‘My eyes must be giving out on me,’ he said. "Suddenly the words seem to be marching right off the page. Look, there they go now. Can you see them?’ he asked.”
“Wow!” Susannah said.
“At first I thought he was joking. Yost liked to kid around a lot. He was always teasing the children, but he was especially fond of teasing me. I’m what you would call gullible.”
“I understand,” I said. And I did. Susannah was ten before she stopped believing everything I said. Still, a farm child half that age should have known, without asking Mama, that there is no such thing as a macaroni plant.
The tears began to spill from Sarah’s eyes, but she did nothing about them. “We were sitting right here, at this table. Suddenly Yost pushed back from the table and began to cry. The table was breathing, he said. It wasn’t a table after all, but one of the cows. The cow had somehow been made into the shape of a table, and it was in pain.
“Then Yost jumped up and grabbed a cleaver and smashed it down on the table. To kill the cow and release it from its pain, he said. Only he was crying.”
“Far out,” Susannah said.
“Here. Look here!” Sarah scraped some flour out of a deep groove with her fingernail, and we could see that the cut in the exposed wood was fresh.
“Oh God,” Susannah said.
I gave her a gentle kick under the table. “Then what?”
“I asked Yost to give me the cleaver, and he gave it to me. Then he started to moo like a cow. He got down on his hands and knees and mooed like a cow!”
“Jesus!” Susannah said.
I kicked her harder. “Then what, dear?”
“Then Yost started begging me not to kill him with the cleaver. Magdalena, it was like he believed he was the cow!”
I kicked Susannah in time to forestall her next utterance. “What happened next?”
Sarah glanced at the outside kitchen door and shivered. “Then he went out that door, still on his hands and knees, and I never saw him alive again.”
“You poor dear!” I thought for a moment. Mercifully Susannah must have been thinking too.
“But Sarah, dear,” I said carefully, “I was under the impression you found your husband in the morning when he didn’t come in from milking. Is that true?”
She shook her head, and I was glad that the bread was safely covered and in another spot. Bread dough is not that forgiving. “No, that’s what I told the sheriff. But what else could I tell him?”
I shrugged. “What else happened?”
“I ran outside after Yost. I didn’t even grab a coat first. But I couldn’t find him anywhere. Not in the barn, not in the dairy, not even the root cellar. It was like he just disappeared.
“Then I ran upstairs and checked on the children. They were all asleep. That put my mind at some ease, so I went out and hitched up the buggy. I looked everywhere one last time, but still I didn’t find him, so I drove to Annie Stutzman’s for help.”
“Is she your nearest neighbor?”
“Yah. I brought her back here so she could watch the children while I went to get Stayrook Gerber. He is the nearest man.
“Anyway, Stayrook was still up, and he came over right away. Stayrook and I looked together until Annie made me go back inside and drink some hot milk. She thought it would calm my nerves. Then she sat with me while Stayrook continued looking.
“Stayrook even walked across the north pasture to where we have some hay piled up for winter feed. He thought maybe Yost could be hiding in there.”
“But why would he be hiding?” Susannah asked. It was a reasonable question, so I kept my toes to myself.
Sarah looked at Susannah and then me. “I don’t know why he would be hiding. But we had to take everything into consideration. We had to think of all the possibilities.”
I patted her hand. It was ice-cold. “Of course, dear.”
“Of course, Stayrook didn’t find him there either. After that he stayed in the kitchen with Annie and me, and we prayed and read the Bible. And waited. It was just after midnight when I heard a noise coming from the dairy. It sounded like someone shouting.
“We all three ran to the dairy, and that’s when we found him. He was dead by then. Drowned in the milk tank.”
“But naked?” I asked gently.
Sarah froze, her eyes as big as buckeyes. “How did you know?”
“Annie Stutzman told me when she called about the funeral.”
Sarah’s icy hand grabbed my wrist. “You won’t tell the sheriff, will you? You must not say anything to him about that, Magdalena!”
“I won’t,” I promised. “And Susannah won’t either, will you?” I nudged Susannah with the toe of my shoe.
“Of course not. What do you think I am, stupid?”
I sipped my cocoa, which was getting cold.
“But you did call the sheriff,” I said after a while. “I mean, you did call him as soon as you realized your husband was dead, didn’t you?”
Sarah looked startled. “What? Oh no, we didn’t call the sheriff right away. I mean, we took him out of the milk first, and then Stayrook drove over and got the bishop.”
“The bisho
p?” Susannah and I chorused.
Sarah gave us each a challenging look. There was indeed mettle there despite the tears. “Yah, the bishop. We wanted his advice before we told the sheriff. You see, Sheriff Stoltzfus is not an easy man to deal with.”
Susannah sputtered in her cup. “Stoltzfus?”
“Yes, Stoltzfus,” I said. “But Marvin, not Melvin. I’ll fill you in later. Go on,” I said to Sarah.
She glanced at Susannah, who was still sputtering. “Bishop Kreider is a good and wise man. He said that the sheriff, who is English, might not believe that sometimes the devil or his angels can enter a person and possess them. Like in the Bible. He said the sheriff might order an autopsy, and that there could be a big investigation if he knew Yost had drowned without his clothes.”
She looked beseechingly at us, as if our approval was important. We both nodded, and she continued, “The bishop didn’t actually suggest it, but he hinted that it might be better if we dipped Yost’s clothes in the milk tank and put them on him before we called the sheriff.”
“I take it you found the clothes nearby?”
“Yeah, but they were thrown everywhere. It was as if he had ripped them from his body.”
“How terrible it must all have been. But I take it the sheriff believed that Yost just happened to fall into his milk tank and drown? I mean, didn’t it seem odd to the sheriff, even a Stoltzfus sheriff, for such an accident to happen? Didn’t he suspect something?”
Sarah shook her head. “What other explanation could there be? Yost was a good man who was well thought of by everyone. You saw how many people were at his funeral.”
“Well, to be honest, just at the graveside,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind, but Susannah and I didn’t make it to the funeral itself.”
Sarah smiled wanly. “But you saw all the people who came, didn’t you? Anyway, Magdalena, strange accidents happen all the time.”
“I’ll say,” Susannah said helpfully. “I dated a guy once whose brother got his finger caught in the coin return of the vending machine. It was on a day even colder than this, and before help could come he had frozen solid. Like a popsicle. Only he had his clothes on, of course.” She ignored my kick. “They had to cut his finger off to separate him from the machine, and then wouldn’t you know they went off and forgot about it. Well, on the first really warm day that finger came popping out when a little old lady put in too much change to buy herself a Snickers bar. At the sight of the finger she fainted and—”
It wasn’t the first time I’d put a hand over Susannah’s mouth, but it was the first time she didn’t try to bite me. Maybe there is hope for my sister after all.
“So you see,” Sarah said stalwartly, “the sheriff wrote it up as an accident and there didn’t have to be an investigation. It has all been taken care of.”
“I see,” I said. But I didn’t. My handy little murder theory involving Susannah’s nefarious new boyfriend now had a hole in it big enough for a real cow to wander through. Even if Danny Hem, or his goons, had somehow been involved in the drowning, they couldn’t be blamed for Yost Yoder’s suddenly going bonkers and charging out into the night on all fours. And why would they have bothered to take off his clothes?
It was time to go, because suddenly I had other fish to fry. I am proud to say that both Susannah and I hugged our cousin and told her she would be in our prayers. If Sarah minded being included in Susannah’s Presbyterian prayers, she made no indication. We also thanked her for the hot cocoa and complimented her on her bread-making skills. Already the covered loaves had risen above the edges of the pans. I had the feeling that Sarah Yoder was going to be all right.
“Why didn’t you tell me Melvin had a cousin here?” Susannah demanded as soon as we got in the car. “Is he cute?”
Wisely I started the car and drove out on the highway before answering. “As cute as Melvin,” I said, without adding to the length of my Yoder nose.
“Dreamy,” Susannah sighed.
I bit my tongue. My sister believes that anyone who prefers to stand when visiting the outhouse rates an automatic ten on a scale of ten. Uniforms, titles, and fat wallets all add extra points, of course, so Marvin, being a sheriff, probably rated at least a fifteen, which somehow makes sense to her.
“But of course I wouldn’t have time to see him anyway, at least not tonight. I mean, we do have our dinner with Danny.”
“Say what?” I braked hard enough for Susannah to slam against her shoulder belt, thereby somewhat constricting Shnookums. I assure you that result was quite accidental.
After Susannah had finished comforting the mashed mongrel, and properly chiding me, she remembered my question.
“Ah, tonight,” she chortled. “Mags, you will be happy to know that you don’t have to sit around with the Troyers looking at four walls. I told Danny all about you, and he wants to meet you. In fact, he wants to take us out to dinner. At the fanciest restaurant in Canton. Cher something.”
“That’s Cher Bono,” I said. I may not listen to popular music, but I do pick up on things now and then. To hear Susannah talk, you’d think I live in a cave.
Susannah howled cruelly. “Sonny and Cher broke up years ago. Probably before I was born. The restaurant I’m talking about is French.”
“I don’t care if it’s Spanish,” I said. “What makes you think I’m going there with you and that criminal? Not after what he did to poor Elsie Bontrager. Or haven’t you heard?”
“Oh, that!” Susannah had the nerve to laugh. “All he did was compliment the girl on her eyes. Supposedly they are very blue. Since when did that become a crime?”
I pulled the car over to the side of the road but continued to grip the wheel tightly. “That’s certainly not what I heard, Susannah. And Elsie Bontrager aside, this boyfriend of yours has been nothing but trouble for the Amish ever since he inherited his uncle’s business.”
She whirled in her seat, and if the mutt got mashed then it was her fault. “How so? These are just more vicious rumors.”
I reminded myself to tread slowly. Speak now and pay later has not always been a pleasant philosophy.
“I have it from a good source that Danny Hem started taking shortcuts the moment he took over Daisybell Dairies. Eventually the Amish who supplied his milk had no choice but to quit supplying him and start up their own cooperative. Of course, no sooner had they got started on their own than two of the co-op leaders died under suspicious circumstances. Now the Amish are so scared they’re thinking of moving away from the area altogether.”
“Says who?”
“I can’t reveal my source, dear. But I am positive he wouldn’t lie.”
“So it’s a man?”
“Not necessarily. As a matter of fact, it’s a woman.” I ignored the twitching in my nose, since it was for a good cause. “And she says that your boyfriend, Danny Hem, even issued what could be construed as a threat.”
Susannah laughed. “Danny? Threaten somebody?”
I gave her a look that, if harnessed, could have turned milk into aged cheese overnight. “I fail to see the humor here. You could be dating a murderer, you know.”
Susannah yowled.
“But come to think of it,” I said, thinking aloud, “going out to dinner tonight might be exactly the right thing to do. It’ll give me a chance—” I caught myself before I went too far. It had been foolish of me to say that much.
Susannah was laughing far too hard to hear me.
Chapter Seventeen
An hour later Susannah was still laughing.
“I am not your mother,” I said. “If I’d known you were going to pass me off as Mama, I would have stayed home.”
The silver Mercedes had just pulled up in front of the Troyers’ house, and I suppose I could have balked then and refused to go along with my sister’s game. However, there was Lizzie’s supper to consider. The zucchini fritters I could handle, but the sardine lasagna was asking too much. Better to play mother to my sister and dine with a crim
inal than to dine on Lizzie’s cooking, which was a crime in itself.
“I only told him that because at first he thought I was too young to date and wanted to ask my mother for permission.” Susannah laughed gaily. “When he dropped me off last night he said we would only go out again if I brought my dear, sweet mother along.”
“Yeah, right.” Susannah is on the shady side of thirty. So shady that even mushrooms can’t grow there. Danny Hem was either blind as a bat, in which case he shouldn’t be driving, or Susannah was even more gullible than I thought—in which case I have been wrong to tease her all these years.
“So, you’re coming, and you’re going to pretend to be Mama?” Susannah begged.
I sighed deeply and spun my eyes around a couple of times. It was a small price for Susannah to pay for all the joy I was about to give her.
“All right, I’m coming. And I won’t contradict you if you refer to me as your mother, but don’t expect me to come right out and say it.”
“Love you, Mags!” Susannah gave me a quick squeeze.
I was understandably embarrassed by such sentimentality. “But I’m not going to raise your allowance, you know.”
“ ’Course not.” Susannah reached to hug me again, but I deftly dodged her and hurried to open the door.
It was wise to intercept Danny before he had a chance to knock. The Troyers knew we were spending the evening with him, but there was no point in rubbing their noses in our strange English ways. A silver Mercedes and a grown man in ten pounds of gold chains and a full-length fur coat (some of the skins still claimed their heads) were not the best cross-cultural ambassadors I could imagine. Susannah and I were probably more than enough for them to handle as it was.
“Ah, it’s Chez,” I said, “not Cher. Chez Normandy.”
“Same thing,” Susannah said. She snuggled deeper into Danny’s slain beasts. With Shnookums snuggled in her bosom, she should have felt deep shame.