by Risner, Fay
“Because in Peter's mind his horse is alive. He'd have thought worse of me if I said the horse died a long time ago. He wouldn't have believed me,” Hal said.
Tootie pictured Peter with his arm out Sunday afternoon and the peculiar way he moved his hand around the top wire on the fence. Now she understood. “Does Peter have a dog?”
“He did. The dog died a while back, but Peter still thinks the dog is alive,” Hal said. She glanced at Tootie's miserable face. “Why?”
“No reason. What if Peter had picked out one of your horses and said that one was his. What would you have done?”
“I told him if he found his horse John would bring it home for him. If he had picked out a horse, chances are he'd forget what he did today by tomorrow.”
“But if he doesn't forget then what?” Tootie insisted.
Hal looked worried. “I don't have an answer, Aunt Tootie. I did the best I could on the spur of the moment. I didn't want to upset Peter anymore than he already was with us home alone with two babies.”
“Would he ever be violent?” Tootie asked, looking alarmed.
“Maybe. It's something to keep in mind with someone like Peter. Talking to a person with Alzheimer's is sort of like play acting to keep the person from being upset. We should go along with whatever Peter says. It's called living in his world, because he can't live in ours any longer,” Hal explained. “For a while, bad times will come and go. Sometimes, he can seem like his old self. The one we all think so much of. That was the Peter you took the walk with.” Hal glanced over at her troubled aunt. “Right now try not to think about Peter. We should enjoy our shopping trip and the scenery.”
It was a fine afternoon to be riding in the country. A beautiful, sunny day with a mild temperature and not much wind. Planting season was in full swing. Amish farmers were tilling fields with great jangling teams. Tootie pointed out a mule team driven by a farmer across the field and marveled. This farming wasn't anything like what she was used to seeing around her home. So very much different from the large machinery the English farmers used.
On a whim, Hal drove into the Walmart parking lot. Normally, she wouldn't spend idle time window shopping, but today she felt Tootie needed a distraction. Something to do that the elderly woman might consider fun. After all, it was her vacation. They walked around in the store, looking at clothes and jewelry.
As they came to the perfume counter, Tootie paused. “Do the Amish like perfume?”
“Ach, I think everyone likes to smell gute. Mostly that's done by taking a bath, but in your case no one would mind if you bought perfume,” Hal said.
“Help me pick out a bottle. My perfume is almost gone,” Tootie said.
“Sure, what fragrances do you like?”
Tootie thought a moment about when she planned to apply this new perfume. “I want a scent that smells like flowers.”
“We have plenty to select from. The small bottles in front of the row of large ones are a sample. You can see if you like the way each one smells,” Hal said.
When Tootie carried her small sack out to the parking lot, she felt more uplifted. It didn't hurt that she and her niece both smelled terrific from a mixture of perfume samples. The purchase she made was Delightful Rose. She wondered when the time came if she'd have the nerve to apply the perfume. Had she thrown her money away on a pipe dream?
Hal parked on the edge of the grocery store parking lot. Inside, she pulled a cart out of the corral and started down the first aisle. “Aunt Tootie, if you see anything you would like to eat tell me. I'll buy it for you.”
“I'm sort of partial to chicken. I like it fried. Prefer the breast,” Tootie said shyly.
“We have that already at home,” Hal said, looking in the cheese section.
“You have a deep freezer?”
“Deep freezer? Nah.” A light bulb went off in Hal's head. “Oh, I see why you asked. Nah, a freezer takes electricity. When we want chicken to eat we go to the hen house, catch and butcher them. If that's what you want for supper, you and I can do that when we get home. We'd only need two fryers so it wouldn't take us long to dress them.”
Tootie sniffed huffily. “You kill Emma's chickens that she is so proud of and eat them?”
Hal stopped the cart so she could look at her aunt. “Jah, nothing wrong with that Aunt Tootie. We do live on a farm you know. Animals are killed all the time for food.”
“Oh well, don't do anything special on my account. I'm partial to many other foods so let's see what else we can find,” Tootie said, backing down. Softly, she mumbled, “I'll bet Emma's poor chickens sleep with one eye open.”
Hal kept going with the cart, smiling to herself.
“Nora makes a sour cream potato dish that we like. She calls it Party Potatoes. I'll bet your family would like it, too,” Tootie suggested, catching up with Hal.
“You know what goes in it. We could buy the ingredients and make it for supper,” Hal told her.
Tootie thought for a minute. “It's a very simple recipe with mash potatoes, cream cheese, sour cream, garlic, salt and pats of butter on top.”
“Sounds easy. Let's find the cream cheese and sour cream. The other ingredients we have at home,” Hal said. “This is wonderful. We can fix something new to my family for supper tonight and surprise everyone.”
Chapter 11
Hal put the groceries away. Tootie watched closely what came out of the sacks. She questioned, “You bought a roll of cookie dough?”
“I thought we could have chocolate chip cookies for dessert tonight,” Hal said. “Would you rather mix up some cookie dough from scratch for me?”
“No, Dear, I guess that roll is sort of like baking and certainly quick,” Tootie relented.
Hal brought five tubes of biscuits from the sack and started for the refrigerator.
“You don't make your biscuits from scratch?” Tootie asked.
“Jah, Emma does for breakfast, but I had something else in mind for these,” Hal said.
“Well, they are better than nothing, aren't they?” Tootie replied with disdain.
Once Hal emptied the sacks and put them away, she said, “Maybe I should wash up before I start supper. The perfume smells strong on me yet.”
“I thought you said no one would mind?”
“I said no one would mind you wearing perfume. I'm not so sure John will be pleased about this much perfume on me,” worried Hal.
“You worry too much,” Tootie declared. “Don't wash all that good perfume off.”
“Well, maybe no one will say anything,” Hal relented. “I'll keep my distance from John until bedtime.”
Tootie giggled.
Adam Keim knocked on the front door. Hal hollered out the kitchen window, “Come on in, Adam.” She went back to the stove and took the lid off a kettle. As she stabbed a chunked potato, Adam appeared in the kitchen doorway and searched the room. “Emma's not here. She took my mother with her to clean the school house this morning. They should be home soon. Dad and John are in the field. Noah and Daniel are planting in the sweet corn patch. You might as well sit down and keep Aunt Tootie and me company until they come home.”
Tootie cut the cookie dough and filled a baking sheet. She was almost done when she stopped to look intently at Adam. “Emma said you are a furniture maker. Too bad business is so slow. Otherwise, you would be working instead of sitting around here with us.”
Adam looked like he didn't understand.
“That's all right. You can't help it if you don't have customers. It's just we tend to worry about these things you know. You're going to be the provider for our Emma some day,” Tootie prattled as she laid the raw cookies in rows.
Hal watched Adam and bit her bottom lip to keep from stopping Tootie. Adam frowned his dislike and started to get up to leave. She said firmly, “Sit down, Adam.”
He plopped back in his chair with his hands up in the air as a sign of surrender.
“Very funny,” Hal hissed. She came over close t
o his ear. “If you're a member of this family, you have to endure everything good or bad. That means no leaving me alone with her.”
Adam wrote on his notepad. “Unless you adopted me I am not a Lapp yet.”
Hal laughed.
Adam wrinkled his nose like a rabbit and sniffed.
“Aunt Tootie and I went shopping today in Walmart and sampled the perfumes. All of them. All right?” Hal asked, daring him to object.
Adam grinned and put his thumb and finger together.
Tootie stopped cutting cookies and looked from one to the other. “What's so funny?”
“Nothing important, Aunt Tootie. Adam just noticed how gute I smelled,” Hal said, patting Adam on the shoulder.
Tootie smiled at Adam. “ I smell as good at Hallie. We had fun today. Hallie, I filled the cookie sheet.”
“Gute job. I'll put it in the oven. The potatoes are ready to mash. The cream cheese is soft. You need to help me put this potato dish together so we can bake it.”
Tootie surveyed the counters. “Have you got a kitchen aid mixer somewhere?”
Hal frowned at Adam as he put his hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Nah, Aunt Tootie. That kind of mixer takes electricity to operate. Is a mixer essential to make this recipe?”
“No, guess not. We have to mix the soft cream cheese and sour cream together in a bowl. If you had a mixer, we would add the potatoes next, but we can mash the potatoes in the kettle and mix everything together. After that, we add the seasonings and put the potatoes in a baking pan.”
Hal put a bowl on the table next to the hot kettle. She pulled a hand potato masher out of a drawer and held it up. “Which job do you want Aunt Tootie? Mash the potatoes or mix the cream cheese and sour cream together.”
Tootie looked at the potato masher as if Hal had tried to hand her the garden hoe again. Hal got a fork from the silverware drawer, dropped it in the bowl and slid the bowl over by Tootie. “There you go. Mix.”
Hal grabbed the kettle from the stove with a couple of pot holders and drained the potatoes. She had the mashing done by the time Tootie had the other ingredients and seasonings mixed.
“Okay, now what?” Hal asked.
“You mix the potatoes in my bowl and pour the whole thing in a baking pan.”
Hal did as she was instructed. Once the potatoes were in the large square baking pan, she asked, “That it?”
“Now you have to put pats of butter on top.”
“How much? About like a stick?”
“Sounds right I think,” said Tootie slowly, trying to rack her brain for the correct amount.
“We make our own butter so I'll just spoon some little mounds over the top.” Hal scattered the butter across the creamy potatoes. “How does that look?”
“I've kind of forgotten for sure. Plenty of butter is good. Maybe add a few more spoonfuls to make sure,” Tootie said.
As Hal added the extra butter, her head came up. She sniffed the air. “The cookies! We forgot the cookies. Adam, please rescue them.”
Adam shot out of his chair, grabbed two pot holders, opened the oven door and brought the tray out. He hurried to the table and plopped the tray down.
Hal said, “How do the cookies look?”
Adam made a circle with his finger and thumb.
“Gute,” Hal said with relief.
Tootie sniffed disagreeably as she inspected the baking sheet. “A little too crispy on the bottom for me, but maybe everyone else will eat them.”
“That's gute to know since those cookies are our only dessert,” Hal snipped as she put the potato pan in the oven.
The rest of the supper was made up of dishes she could cook on top of the stove; canned corn, greens, tomato gravy and biscuits. While she got the pans and a skillet from the cupboard she said to Tootie, “Open the jars for me. The can opener is in the drawer where I got the potato masher.”
Tootie stared into the drawer. She looked helplessly at Hal and said in a tiny voice, “What does it look like?”
Adam came to her rescue. He reached into the drawer and handed the opener, with a stiff pointed end for opening juice cans and a hook for opening jar lids, to her. “Thank you, Adam. I'm used to an electric opener,” Tootie excused.
About a half hour later, Hal said, “I smell smoke.”
Tootie added, “Something is burning in the oven. Smoke coming out around the door. Oh my, the oven is making an awful sizzling noise.”
Hal opened the door quickly. “Fudge! What a mess. The melted butter is running over the side of the pan and burning on the oven bottom. What can we do?”
“How about putting a piece of tinfoil in there to catch the butter.” Tootie glanced at the clock. “We still have at least fifteen minutes before the potatoes are done.”
Hal went to the pantry after the tinfoil. She tore off a large strip and folded it in half. She opened the oven door to place the foil over the burning puddle. Too late. Most of the melted butter had dripped over the edge of the pan. Dense gray smoke rolled out at her. As she shoved the tin foil in, flames ignited in the butter pool. The volcanic smoke cloud darkened to black as it bellowed out and filled the room.
“Adam, help. The oven's on fire,” Hal shrieked as she backed up.
Adam grabbed one of the larger pot holders from Hal's hand and batted at the flames.
“Quick, Aunt Tootie, we can't stand breathing this smoke. Open all the windows and doors,” Hal ordered. They scurried to let the smoke out. They came back to the kitchen to find smoke smudged Adam, watery eyed and flushed faced, standing in the murky haze, pointing to the shut oven door.
“Adam, are you all right?” Tootie asked, coughing.
Adam shook his head no with his hand over his nose.
“You burnt anywhere?” Hal looked him over as he shook his head no. He handed her the charred and frayed pot holder. “Thank you, Adam. You're a lifesaver. What about you, Aunt Tootie? You have black smudges all over your face. You should wash that off before anyone sees you.”
“Your face is as black as mine and Adam's. You both should wash, too,” declared Tootie.
In the living room, the little girls belted out angry cries. John and Jim rushed in from the mud room.
“Where is the fire?” John demanded.
“It was in the oven. Adam put it out,” Hal said.”
“Good thing Adam was here,” Jim declared.
Noah and Daniel appeared behind the men. Noah asked, “Is it safe to come in?”
“The way all that smoke is shooting out of the windows and doors makes the house look like one big chimney,” Daniel exclaimed.
The front screen door slammed. Emma yelled, “Everyone all right in here?”
“Where are you?” Nora asked, coughing and waving her hand in front of her face.
“We're in the kitchen,” Hal called.
“Poor babies,” Nora exclaimed. She picked the little girls up and rushed back outside.
Emma waved her hand in front of her face as she turned in a circle, inspecting the kitchen. “My clean kitchen. It wonders me how it could have come to look like this in the short time I was gone.”
“I'm sorry, Dear,” Tootie said contritely as if she meant it.
Hal said, “We're going to clean this mess up. Aren't we, Aunt Tootie?”
“Oh yes, I'd be glad to help if I don't catch pneumonia first from breathing in all this smoke.” She had a coughing attack just to prove the point.
Suddenly from the living room came more voices. “Is everyone all right in here?” Stella Strutt demanded.
“Do you need our help?” Moses asked. “Should we call the fire department?”
Hal hissed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling “Just what we need for company right now. Moses and Stella Strutt. How cruel is this?”
“I agree,” spit out Tootie.
Stella tromped into the kitchen on her swollen feet, waving her hand in front of her face. “Need help?”
“Nah,” John said. “Denki, but
the fire is out.”
“Denki to God, you have the fire out already.” Moses looked around. “Where was the fire?”
John pointed to the stove. “In the oven.”
The oven was still making protesting sizzles as the last of the butter burnt on the hot bottom. Only a small trickle of gray smoke leaked from around the door.
“What happened?” Stella demanded, pushing the brim of her black bonnet away from her eyes.
Hal and Tootie looked at each other. Finally, Hal answered. “We were just baking a potato dish Aunt Tootie knew about.”
“Holy Buckets! The potato casserole! We better get it out of the oven, or it will be over cooked,” Tootie said urgently.
Stella gave Tootie a hard look as she and the others parted so Hal could bring the steaming pan to the table.
They forgot about Tootie's slip of the tongue as they stared at the cause of the fire. Hal said, “It looks all right.”
Tootie frowned. “Maybe a little browner than it should be.”
“Might taste like smoke,” Jim said.
“That looks just like my Party Potatoes. Is it?” Nora demanded.
Tootie nodded.
“That recipe may never be the same again. You maybe should change the name to Smoky Party Potatoes,” Jim said with a chuckle.
Nora elbowed him and nodded at how dejected Hal and Tootie looked from the teasing.
Hal grumped, “Aunt Tootie, this whole thing wouldn't have happened if you had let me stop with the first batch of butter. That last I added was too much.”
“Don't blame me. This whole mess was all your fault. The pan you put the potatoes in was too small. If you had gotten out a bigger baking pan, the butter would have stayed in it,” huffed Tootie.
John leaned against the wall and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as his eyes darted from his wife to her aunt and back to Hal.
Stella Strutt gave one of her finest, loud, throat clearing noises. Everyone quieted. She faced John. “This is a miracle, John Lapp. A miracle for sure.”
“I hardly think a fire in the oven makes for a miracle, Stella. It did not burn the house down,” John said dryly.