Summer of Secrets

by Charlotte Hubbard

  Sausage Breakfast Pie

  Practically makes itself, and the varieties are endless. Good for any meal of the day.

  1 lb. bulk sausage, cooked and drained

  1 C. shredded cheese (Colby, Cojack, or mozzarella

  are good)

  ¼ C. chopped onion

  ¼ C. each red and green bell pepper

  ½ C. Bisquick or “JIFFY” Baking Mix

  1 C. milk

  Salt and pepper to taste

  Dill, garlic powder, parsley to taste

  2 eggs

  Preheat oven to 400°. Spray a 10-inch pie pan with nonstick spray. Sprinkle the sausage, cheese, and veggies in the pan. Stir remaining ingredients until blended and pour over the meat layer. Bake 35–40 minutes or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. Let stand 5 minutes before cutting and serving.

  Infinite varieties: Try including ham, shredded pork, or cooked chicken and using mushrooms, black olives, diced fresh tomatoes, peas, or whatever you’ve got left over. Works for any meal of the day.

  Italian Green Beans

  Nice switch from plain green beans. If you don’t can your own fresh beans and tomatoes, use equal-size cans from the store.

  1 qt. green beans

  1 qt. tomatoes

  Italian seasoning and dried onion to taste

  ¼ C. real bacon bits

  1 C. shredded mozzarella cheese

  ¼ C. grated Parmesan cheese

  Preheat oven to 350°. Spray a 1-quart ovenproof bowl or casserole and pour in drained green beans. Add drained tomatoes, seasonings, and bacon bits; stir. Top with cheeses, cover, and bake about 30–40 minutes, until bubbly.

  Kitchen Hint: You can also add a can of sliced mushrooms, or use fresh sliced onion rather than dried.

  Cherry-Pie Bars

  You can use any flavor of canned pie filling, but cherry is the prettiest!

  1 C. butter or margarine

  1¾ C. sugar

  4 eggs

  3 C. flour

  1½ tsp. baking powder

  2 cans cherry pie filling

  Preheat oven to 350°. Cream the butter or margarine and sugar, then add eggs and mix well. Mix in dry ingredients, and save out 1 C. of the dough. Spread the rest in a sprayed 11x17-inch pan (or two 9x13-inch pans), then top with pie filling. Drop remaining dough by teaspoonfuls over the top. Bake about 30 minutes, until cookie seems firm (don’t overbake!). Cool and drizzle with frosting. Cut into bars.

  Frosting: 1 C.powdered sugar, ½ tsp. lemon flavoring, ½ tsp. almond flavoring, 2 or 3 T. milk.

  Kitchen Hint: No-sugar pie filling works just fine here!

  Strawberry Cream Cake

  Moist and delicious. Pretty enough for a party!

  1 strawberry cake mix with pudding in it

  1 3-oz. box strawberry gelatin

  1 10-oz. pkg. frozen strawberries, thawed but not

  drained

  1 3-oz. box of white chocolate instant pudding

  1 8-oz. tub of whipped topping

  Make cake in a 9x13-inch pan according to directions; cool. Use a meat fork to poke holes all over it. Dissolve the gelatin in 1 C. boiling water, cool slightly, and pour this liquid evenly over the cake.

  For the topping, stir the pudding mix into the thawed berries until blended, then add the whipped topping. Spread over the cake. Store, covered, in the fridge. Freezes well, too.

  Kitchen Hint: Sugar-free gelatin, pudding, and light whipped topping work fine.

  Skillet Baked Beans

  Faster than the oven variety, and keeps your kitchen cooler, too! Same great taste.

  4–5 strips bacon

  1 medium onion, diced

  2 20-oz. cans pork and beans

  ¼ C. each mustard, ketchup, brown sugar

  Salt and pepper

  In a large skillet, cook the bacon; remove, drain, and crumble. Cook the onion in the bacon grease (then drain the remaining grease if you wish) and pour the beans into the skillet. Stir in the condiments and bacon, season to taste, and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until beans are thick and most of the liquid is absorbed. Serves 10–12.

  Rhubarb Crumb Cake

  Moist and sweet-tart, this breakfast treat could double as dessert!

  1½ C. brown sugar

  ½ C. margarine, softened

  1 egg

  1 C. buttermilk

  2 C. flour

  1 tsp. baking soda

  1 tsp. vanilla

  2¼ C. diced fresh rhubarb

  ½ C. sugar

  2 T. cinnamon

  Preheat the oven to 350°. Cream the sugar and margarine, add the egg. Dissolve the baking soda in the buttermilk and add to the creamed mixture, then add the dry ingredients and rhubarb. Spread the batter in a greased 9x13-inch pan. Sprinkle the remaining sugar and the cinnamon over the top of the cake and bake for 40 minutes or just until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out dry. Do not over-bake!

  Please read on for a taste of the next Sweet Seasons novel, Autumn Winds, coming in September.

  Lord, if this rain’s gonna cause another flood like ya sent Noah, I’m hopin’ you’ll give me a sign to get to higher ground. Can’t have my bakery blowin’ off the face of the earth in this wind, either, as we’re countin’ on these pies and cakes for the big party tomorrow!

  Miriam Lantz slammed the whistling window shut. When was the last time they’d seen such a fierce wind? Rain pelted the roof of the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café, not quite drowning out the troubling thoughts that had wakened her in the wee hours. Too often these past weeks she’d dwelled upon Bishop Knepp’s vow to somehow get her out of this business and into his home. Ordinarily it wasn’t her way to fret so, but Hiram Knepp could stir up more trouble than a nest of ornery hornets, if he had a mind to. It hadn’t made him one bit happy, when an English fellow had outbid him to buy the café building last month.

  Miriam sighed. It wasn’t her way to start the day’s baking at one in the morning, either, but lately she’d felt so restless ... as unsettled as the weather they’d had this fall. Now that she and her partner Naomi Brenneman wouldn’t lose their building—or their booming business—she could focus on her daughter Rachel’s wedding plans. Such a happy time, because Naomi’s son Micah was the perfect match for her daughter! But even kneading the fragrant, warm dough for the cornmeal rolls on today’s lunch menu didn’t settle her.

  Miriam pushed the grainy dough with the heels of her hands, then folded it over itself and repeated the process time had so deeply ingrained in her ... sprinkled more cornmeal and flour on the countertop, and then rolled the sleeves of her dress another fold higher. “Awful warm in here,” she murmured.

  The oven alarm buzzed, and she pulled out six thick pumpkin pies. As she replaced them with the large pans of apple crisp on today’s menu, Miriam paused. Was that a horse’s whinny she’d heard outside?

  Not at this hour, in this storm. Who’d be fool enough to risk life and limb—not to mention his horse—travelin’ the dark county blacktop that runs through Willow Ridge?

  She inhaled the spicy aromas of cinnamon and cloves, imagining the smiles on folks’ faces after tomorrow’s preaching service at Henry and Lydia Zook’s, when they surprised the bishop by celebrating his fifty-fifth birthday. These pies, made from her sister Leah’s fresh pumpkins, would be the first to go—but their hostess, Lydia, had also ordered a layer cake and sheet cakes from the Sweet Seasons for the occasion.

  And if Hiram gets the notion I baked all these things especially to impress HIM, he’d better just find somebody else to court. And to raise his kids, too!

  Miriam chuckled in spite of her misgivings. If anyone could think of a way to dodge the bishop’s romantic intentions, it would be she and her girls. It was no secret around Willow Ridge that Hiram’s young wife, who’d died of birthing complications, had borne more than just the burden of being married to their moral and community leader. While Miriam believed she could live the upright life required of
a bishop’s wife, serving as an example to their Old Order Amish community, she had no illusions about sharing the same house with Hiram and his rambunctious kids—not to mention his daughter, Annie Mae, who was in the throes of a rumspringa no stepmother would want to deal with!

  A loud crash out in the dining room made Miriam jump. Glass tinkled over the tables and a sudden gust of wind howled through a jagged hole in the window before the power went out.

  The bakery grew eerily quiet, what with the freezers and the dishwasher shutting off. This storm was a reminder of how her gas appliances at home had an advantage over the electric ones required by the health department and installed by the Mennonite quilters next door. Miriam was no stranger to the darkness, as she started her baking at three every morning, but this storm had set her on edge. And when had she ever seen a huge tree limb on one of her café tables?

  “Lord a-mercy, what’s next?” she murmured as she warily made her way through the darkness, between the café’s tables. “Better have Naomi’s boys clean this up before folks come in for the breakfast—”

  Again a horse neighed, right outside the window this time.

  “Whoa, fella! Easy now!” a male voice soothed.

  A bolt of lightning shot across the sky to backlight the frightening silhouette of a huge percheron rearing up, frantically pawing the air. The horse’s handler stood near the damaged tree, struggling with the reins, still talking as calmly as he could while dodging those deadly hooves. “Pharaoh, take it easy, fella! We’ll wait out the storm right here, so—”

  But another ominous flash filled the sky and in his frenzy, the horse tipped forward to buck with his powerful back legs.

  Miriam heard a sickening thud as those hooves connected with human flesh, and then a cry of pain and another thud when the fellow struck the café’s outside wall. The percheron galloped off, whinnying in terror, its reins flapping behind it.

  Things got very quiet. Only the patter of the rain and some rapidly retreating hoof beats punctuated the darkness. Miriam rushed to unlock the café’s main door, afraid of what she might find when she stepped outside. A man was sprawled against the foundation of her building. She considered herself a fairly stalwart woman, able to heft fifty-pound bags of flour and such, but for sure and for certain she wouldn’t be moving this stranger—

  Best not to shift him around anyway, she reasoned, noting that his head was up out of the puddles. Should she find something to cover him, and then call for help? Or hurry straight to the phone shanty in the back? Best to call 911 and then ... but what if he was kicked in the head? What if he’s not gonna come around?

  Miriam hesitated but a moment. If the poor fellow was unconscious, at least he wasn’t in pain, and if he was already gone, well, the paramedics had better come to make sure of that. She started back inside but before she reached the door, the man groaned loudly.

  “Don’t be tryin’ to stand up! Ya got kicked mighty hard, by the sound of it.” Miriam sensed that he, like most injured men, would ignore a woman’s instructions, so she hunkered down beside him. The cold rain soaked through her kapp and the back of her dress, but that was a minor discomfort compared to what her visitor must be feeling. “Where’d he kick ya? A horse that big—and that scared—could’ve killed ya, easy.”

  The man winced, shifting. “I should’ve known better than...just wanted to get one town farther along, ya know?” he rasped. “Should’ve just stayed with my wagon instead of thinkin’ Pharaoh would get over bein’ spooked by this lightnin’. Smarter than I am, that horse is.”

  Miriam looked all around. She moved closer, under the eaves, where she wouldn’t get quite so wet. “What kind of wagon are we talkin’ about?” she asked. Could be this man was half out of his head after being kicked so hard. He had the nicest voice, though. And even if he was in horrible-bad pain, he was thinking of his horse’s welfare.

  “Smithy wagon. I’m a travelin’ farrier.” He looked at her then, gingerly rubbing his chest. “Lookin’ to find some reasonable land for a mill, so I can settle down. I came to these parts on account of the rapids I heard about on the river.”

  Miriam’s heart played hopscotch in her chest. “A travelin’ blacksmith?” she asked in a thin voice.

  “We’ve got an empty smithy right behind the café buildin’ here. Belonged to my Jesse, but he’s passed now, and ...”

  Had she said too much? It wasn’t her way to speak of her widowed state to strangers, yet this fellow seemed willing to reveal his own hopes and dreams to her. So what could it hurt?

  “I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am.” He inhaled, testing the pain in his chest. “Ya know, I think I if I could sit up against the buildin’—”

  “Here, let me help ya!”

  “—and draw a few gut, deep breaths to clear my head—”

  “Don’t try to stand up just yet!” Miriam knew she sounded like a mother hen clucking instructions, but she didn’t want him falling over. “If ya can wait here, I’ll call the ambulance and—”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” He grabbed her arm, then managed a tentative smile despite the rain that soaked him. His other hand remained on his chest, massaging where the horse must’ve kicked him. “A fella in my line of work gets some sense knocked into him every now and again. Probably a gut thing.”

  Oh, but that smile and his touch set the butterflies to fluttering inside her! Miriam drew back, and he released her arm. She chuckled nervously and he joined her, a happy sound, even if the thunder still rumbled around them. “All right then, since you’re a man and you’ll do as ya please anyway, can I at least bring ya out a chair to pull yourself up with?” she asked. “Better than sittin’ in this puddle, ain’t so?”

  “Right nice of ya to look after me this way.”

  Miriam scurried inside and grabbed a sturdy chair from the nearest table. Part of her wanted to call the Brenneman boys—her Rachel’s fiancé Micah would be here in two shakes of a tail—yet she craved some time with this stranger. She told herself she was giving him a chance to recover before anyone else saw him in this sorry state—

  “If ya don’t mind my drippin’ on your floor, I’ll just rest here for a few.”

  Miriam jumped. Why wasn’t she surprised that the man had already stood himself up and come in without her help? He eased into the chair she’d pulled out.

  “I’d ask what ya were doin’ here at this crazy hour, in the pitch dark,” he murmured as he looked around, “but I guess that’s none of my business. I’ve got to tell ya, though, it smells so gut I must’ve passed through the pearly gates and into heaven.”

  Miriam laughed again in spite of her agitated state. “I’m bakin’ pies and decoratin’ cakes for the bishop’s surprise party tomorrow. Gettin’ the day’s breakfast and lunch started, too,” she replied. “Welcome to the Sweet Seasons Bakery Café. Can I get ya some coffee, or—”

  “Seems Pharaoh knew more about where to drop me off than I gave him credit for.” Her visitor leaned toward her, smoothing the wet hair back from his face. “I’m Ben Hooley, by the way, originally from out around Lancaster County. I appreciate your takin’ a chance on a wayfarin’ stranger.”

  “And I’m Miriam Lantz. So I guess we’re not strangers now, ain’t so?”

  And where had such boldness come from? Here they were in the dark without another soul around, chatting like longtime friends. At three in the morning, no less!

  Oh, the bishop’s not gonna like this! Not one little bit!

  The fellow extended his hand, and as Miriam shook it the kitchen lights flashed on. The refrigerators hummed, and for a moment she could believe it was the little spark of electricity passing from his hand to hers that had restored the building’s power.

  Ben’s laugh filled the empty dining room. “Well, now. What do ya think about that?” He looked around, smiling. “The Lord’s watchin’ over me for sure and for certain, bringin’ me here to your place on such a nasty night. A port in a storm. Just what I’ve been needin
’ for a while.”

  Miriam smiled at that ... at the sound of his mellow male voice and the way it seemed to make itself at home in her little café. Then she blinked, remembering the reality of this situation: she knew nothing of this Hooley fellow, except that his clothes and speech announced he was Plain and that he’d been kicked by his horse. But now that he was recovering, and the power was back on in her kitchen, she had no excuse not to get back to work ... and back to proper behavior.

  “If you’ll point me toward a broom, I’ll clean up this mess and get that branch back outside where it belongs,” he offered. “It’s the least I can do, seein’s how ya got me in out of the rain.”

  She’d been so busy following the lines of his smooth-shaven face when he talked, she’d made a fool of herself: there was a huge section of maple tree covering two of her tables and she’d all but forgotten it. “Oh, but ya surely must be too sore to heft—I can get a couple of our fellas—”

  “Comes a time when I can’t move that tree limb or push a broom, ya better just bury me.” Ben scooted to the edge of his chair and slowly stood up, testing his balance. “See there? I’m gut as new. A little soggy—but movin’ around’s the cure for that, and a way to keep from gettin’ stiff, too.”

  Miriam didn’t know what to say ... didn’t think it proper to examine his chest, even if he probably had a huge, hoof-shaped bruise and some broken skin where his horse had kicked him. It was the first time she’d been alone with a man since Jesse had passed— except for Hiram Knepp, and she’d ducked out of his embrace—so she felt acutely aware of Ben’s broad shoulders and how his wet shirt clung to them. He was a lean fellow yet muscular—