Ella: An Amish Retelling 0f Cinderella (An Amish Fairytale Book 2)

by Sarah Price

  Linda tried to respond, but no words passed her lips.

  Miriam bustled over to the kitchen counter. “Now, let me help serve the meal, ja?” She glanced up at Ella and smiled. “Just put me to work, Ella.”

  By the time the platters adorned the table, Drusilla and Anna had returned to the kitchen with the chairs. Hannes made certain that they sat on either side of him. Ella sat next to Hannes’s father, with Miriam seated beside her. And Linda was placed just to the right of John King.

  After the silent prayer, everyone began filling their plates. Roast chicken, herb-crusted potatoes, carrots cooked in maple syrup, fresh pumpkin bread, cinnamon applesauce, and chow chow. The food seemed endless, and everyone took a few minutes to sample everything before Linda managed to ask the question that was lingering in Ella’s mind.

  “I’m quite surprised to learn that you’re family to the Kings. I would have thought you might have told us that,” Linda said, addressing Hannes directly. Her voice was filled with trepidation, and Ella could understand why. She recalled only too clearly how Linda had spoken about Hannes to Miriam at the store that one day.

  But Hannes didn’t hear her question, or perhaps he was merely more focused on the food. As he sampled the potatoes, Hannes shut his eyes, a look of sheer pleasure on his face. “Why, these are so delicious.” He looked at Anna. “What are the herbs you used? Are they from your garden?”

  “I . . . uh . . .” Anna stumbled over words as she tried to respond but couldn’t.

  “And these carrots.” Once again, Hannes shut his eyes as if savoring them. “Which one of you cooked them? They’re absolutely perfect.”

  Both Drusilla and Anna stared at him, although Hannes had moved on to the next item on his plate.

  “And the chicken. Such flavoring. What is it?” This time, he turned to look at Anna and then Drusilla, clearly waiting for a response.

  Neither Drusilla nor Anna answered, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

  Finally, Ella cleared her throat. “Paprika and rosemary,” she said. “And a healthy salt rub on the skin with a fresh butter and garlic mixture under it.”

  No one spoke except Hannes, who lifted his eyebrows and took another bite. “How kind of you to help your stepsisters, Ella.”

  Linda leaned forward and gave Ella a stern look of reproach. Then, just as quickly, she plastered another smile onto her face and addressed Johannes directly. “I’m so curious, Johannes, to learn more about this surprise that you’re related to our dear Miriam.”

  This time, it was Miriam who responded. “Oh, Linda, surely you remember my maem talking about my older bruder when we played Scrabble, ja?” She laughed good-naturedly and waved her hand in the air dismissively. “In fact, I thought for sure that I had mentioned that my nephew was staying at my haus.” She pressed a finger against her cheek as if thinking. “Oh help. Mayhaps I didn’t. I was too interested in the game, I reckon.” She gave a little laugh. “I must have forgotten.”

  Ella was stunned by this new information. All those trips to Echo Creek, Hannes had been staying at the Kings’ house? She had never once thought to inquire about where he was staying when he visited their town. It was too far to go back and forth to Blue Springs. But she hadn’t thought to ask.

  Suddenly things began to make sense. After all, how else would Hannes and his father have heard about the store to begin with? If Linda had spoken to the deacon, certainly one of them might have reached out to Miriam’s brother in the hope that an arrangement could be made to help the Troyers.

  And then, something else dawned on her.

  Miriam.

  Stunned, Ella looked first at Hannes and then at his aunt. Both of them avoided looking at her, but there was a hint of a smile on each of their faces.

  Things aren’t always what they seem, Ella, Hannes had said to her before he’d left Echo Creek after determining that he couldn’t partner with Linda. Sometimes things might be going one way and then, when you least expect it, they turn around in your favor.

  He had been giving her a hint of things yet to come. Had he known even then?

  “Oh help!” she whispered and looked once more at Hannes, his words echoing in her head.

  And suddenly all of this made sense. The sudden interest in Drusilla and Anna. The surprise request to dine at their house. The strange desire for Drusilla and Anna to bake the pie in front of them. And then the inclusion of John and Miriam King at the supper.

  Her mind reeled with all of this newly discovered information, which only made more questions for her, rather than answers. While she didn’t quite understand why this was happening, she certainly knew what was happening. She suspected, however, that she wouldn’t have to wait very long to find out more.

  Johannes clapped his hands together and pushed back his plate. “I’ve had my fill of supper. That was quite a fine meal, Linda. Why don’t we say the after prayer now and retire to the porch while your dochders make this famous apple crisp pie? A bit of fresh air and some coffee sounds just about right, ja?”

  A few minutes later, everyone but Drusilla and Anna sat on the porch. Ella had carried out a tray with a pot of coffee and empty mugs, and she began serving the guests. It was Johannes who frowned as she did so.

  “Danke, Ella,” he said. “But I must ask, why aren’t you in there baking one of the pies?”

  Linda’s cheeks drained of color. “Oh, but . . .”

  John King saved her from her humiliation. “Nee, Johannes. The pie was made by Linda’s two girls. They said as much at the event.”

  It was Miriam who chimed in. “That’s right. I remember it clear as if it were yesterday. I must have told John a dozen times if I told him once how impressed I was that Linda Troyers’ dochders baked a pie together for the auction, especially knowing that a young man would bid on it.” She leaned over and placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Didn’t I, John?”

  “A dozen?” He gave a single, hearty laugh. “Two dozen times.”

  But Johannes scratched at the back of his neck. “Well now, that does create quite a predicament. After all, what we discussed today was that Linda’s dochders would each make a pie. Doesn’t seem right that Ella shouldn’t be included.” He looked at his brother-in-law. “Don’t you think?”

  John shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t matter none to me who bakes the pies.”

  Johannes turned toward Hannes. “Seems you might want to decide. After all, you’re the one interested in marrying the baker of that pie.”

  At this, John raised an eyebrow. “Say now, what is this about?”

  Once again, Miriam placed her hand on her husband’s arm. “Oh, John, didn’t I tell you?” She gave a nervous laugh. “Silly me. I must have forgotten to mention that Johannes has agreed to buy Troyers’ General Store and the haus, as Hannes says he will marry one of the dochders.”

  John’s expression changed from curiosity to disbelief. He turned toward Hannes and simply stared at him.

  Miriam, however, seemed oblivious to her husband’s reaction. “Ja, Hannes said he would do just that, but he wants only to consider the one who baked that pie.”

  The shock in John’s face intensified as he looked from Hannes to Johannes and then to Linda. “Is this true?”

  Johannes gave a little shrug. “The boy’s insistent.”

  Hannes nodded. “Indeed I am.”

  “As for the store and haus, Linda and I signed all the paperwork this morning, didn’t we now?” Johannes glanced at Linda who didn’t respond. She stood there as if still shell-shocked at how the evening was transpiring.

  John King appeared stunned. “To marry someone because of a pie? Sure seems like a strange arrangement.”

  Miriam clucked her tongue. “I reckon people have married for even more peculiar reasons, John. Of all people, you should know that. Why, you counsel most of the married folk in this town!”

  But John was appearing increasingly unsettled. “A pie as a reason to marry? Why, I’ve n
ever heard of such a thing!”

  Miriam, however, was undeterred. Quickly, she stood up and approached Ella, reaching for her arm. “Kum, Ella. Let me go with you into the kitchen. I have a curiosity about this famous apple crisp pie, anyway. Mayhaps I might keep you girls company, ja? I’d love to watch how it’s made.”

  Without waiting for anyone to argue otherwise, Miriam guided Ella away from the others on the porch and into the kitchen, but not before Ella caught the suggestion of a smile on Hannes’s face as he watched her leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ninety minutes later, two of the pies were on the table, and Drusilla and Anna each stood behind one of them. Neither of Ella’s stepsisters looked as confident as they had at the charity auction. Ella, however, felt more nervous than either of them looked. What on earth was going to happen when Hannes tasted the two pies made by Drusilla and Anna?

  As Hannes walked into the room, his father and uncle following close behind, Ella noticed that Linda lingered near the doorway. For the first time in Ella’s memory, her stepmother remained unusually quiet.

  Hannes kept a pleasant smile on his face as he approached the table. Everyone watched him as his eyes scanned the pies, and to his credit, his expression never wavered.

  Ella imagined that was no easy task.

  John King, however, did not mask his thoughts. One look at the pies, and he was obviously taken aback. He made a face as he said, “What on earth . . . ?” He left the sentence unfinished, his manners catching up to his surprise.

  The first pie had an uneven crust, the edges broken in some places, while in others they were burned. Some of the filling had dribbled down the side of the glass pie plate and left black marks, making the entire dessert look amateurish and inedible. John King didn’t need to be a master baker to see that!

  The second pie was grossly shaped, with large and bulbous chunks of apple peeking through the broken, crumbly topping. Unlike the first pie, this one barely looked like it had a crust at all. It was so thin that the filling had bubbled over the edges, burying it in a sea of dark, sticky goop.

  “Oh!” The deacon’s eyes flew to look first at Drusilla and then at Anna. “Are these your pies?”

  They both nodded their heads, clearly proud of their creations.

  “Oh, my.” John looked at his wife in disbelief. “And they just baked these pies? Tonight?”

  As if immune to the dreadful-looking pies on the table, Miriam gave a delighted smile. “Oh, ja, John. I was in here just gabbing away and watching the whole pie-making process. How interesting,” she said cheerfully, “to see the different ways one can make an apple crisp pie!”

  From the doorway, Linda groaned.

  “And this is this same pie you both claim you made for the charity auction?” John asked the two girls, his tone displaying his disbelief.

  Neither Drusilla nor Anna answered. Instead, they looked to their mother for guidance. None came.

  “Of course it is!” Miriam said cheerfully in response to her husband’s question. “What do you think? That they would lie to the entire congregation?” She gave him a disapproving look. “Honestly, John, whatever are you suggesting?”

  John frowned and directed his next question to Ella. “And your pie?”

  She gestured toward the oven. “It’s still baking. There wasn’t enough room for all three at once,” she explained.

  “I see.”

  Miriam clapped her hands together. “Now, isn’t this exciting? Such suspense!”

  Ella noticed that Johannes remained silent, watching the whole scene unfold with an amused expression on his face. John looked confused, and Linda, who hadn’t moved from the doorway, appeared beyond miserable.

  Miriam, however, remained in a buoyant mood. She took ahold of Hannes’s arm and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the pies. “Why don’t you go on, Henry? Get started on tasting these wunderbarr gut pies, ja?”

  Slowly, Hannes approached the table. He stood in front of the first pie and leaned down, inhaling deeply. Ella could hardly imagine how awful it smelled. Burned pie crust was never a pleasant scent. “Why, this smells almost identical to the pie from last weekend,” he declared.

  Ella frowned. Surely he was jesting! However, Drusilla suddenly became much more confident in her baked creation. Puffing out her chest, Drusilla gave Anna a smug look, as if to say, I told you he liked me better.

  Patiently, Hannes waited for Drusilla to cut the pie and put a piece onto a plate. It fell apart on the plate, some of the apple mixture trickling down the side and plopping onto the tabletop. She didn’t seem to notice that she had made a mess. Instead, with great fanfare, Drusilla handed the plate to Hannes, a foolish smile plastered upon her face.

  “Danke, Drusilla. This looks quite”—he paused—“appealing.”

  Once again, Drusilla beamed with pride.

  With his fork, Hannes cut through the pie. Or, rather, he attempted to cut through the pie. “What’s this?” he asked as he tried again, forcing the fork into the pastry.

  But the fork met with resistance.

  He glanced at Drusilla and gave a short, bewildered laugh. “Seems to be . . . something wrong here.” Using the fork, he pushed aside the top layer of crumbs and exposed the problem: apple peels were mixed in with the apples.

  With his fingers, he lifted one up and held it before his eyes. “How interesting.”

  Drusilla gave him a pleased smile. “I thought it would add some extra flavoring.”

  Without commenting, Hannes placed the peel onto the side of the plate and managed to find an apple to taste. But as soon as he put it in his mouth, he began coughing and turned his back to the table. Ella thought she saw him spit out the contents of his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Miriam asked.

  Ella quickly moved to the sink and fetched the still-coughing Hannes a glass of water. She hurried to his side, handing him the glass.

  Still coughing, Hannes drank the water and took a moment to compose himself. Finally, he managed to say one word that explained Drusilla’s fatal mistake. “Salt.”

  Taking a step backward, Ella pressed her lips together and shut her eyes. She almost giggled but managed to suppress it. The poor man, she thought. She didn’t know what, exactly, Hannes was up to with this little contest, but she certainly hoped he survived long enough to taste her pie.

  Behind Hannes, John King’s brow furrowed, and he began to pay closer attention to what was happening, the horrified expression on his face changing into one of comprehension that something was definitely amiss.

  Next it was Anna’s turn. Now that Drusilla had clearly lost the baking contest, Anna appeared much more confident. Eagerly, she cut a piece of her lumpy-looking pie for Hannes and placed it on the plate. The apples dripped away from the crust as she handed it to him.

  Apprehensively, he glanced at it. “No peels?”

  Smiling, Anna shook her head. “No peels.”

  “No salt?”

  For once, Anna seemed to have triumphed over her sister. “No salt.”

  Hannes looked relieved.

  As he had done with Drusilla’s, Hannes made a big display of smelling the pie and commented that this, too, smelled almost exactly like the pie from the contest. He reached for a fresh fork and hesitated for a brief moment before he took a piece. Ella held her breath as she waited for him to taste it.

  The first thing that went wrong was that the apple slices were far too big. He withdrew a large chunk of apple that stuck to the fork. Holding it up, he stared at it. Then, in an attempt to be gracious, he put it back on the plate and sliced through it with his fork so that it was smaller. It slid across the plate a few times before he managed to cut it.

  Slowly, he lifted it to his mouth.

  In even less time than he had with Drusilla’s, Hannes promptly spit the apple back onto the plate, not even bothering to turn his back this time. He also didn’t wait for his aunt to inquire as to what he thought of the pie. Instead,
he ran directly to the sink, turned on the faucet, and quickly guzzled not one but two glasses of water.

  “What on earth . . . ?” John King put his hands on his hips and stared at his nephew.

  Hannes held his hand over his mouth. His cheeks were flushed brilliant red, and his eyes watered. “Hot.” He looked up, a tear falling from one eye. “Too hot.”

  “How could it possibly be so hot?” John asked, reaching for a fork to taste it himself.

  “No!” Hannes crossed the floor in two steps and snatched the fork from his uncle’s hand. Then he turned to Anna. “Did you put cayenne pepper in that pie?”

  Anna’s eyes widened, and she looked at Drusilla, who, despite her own cooking error, seemed satisfied that her sister had made one, too. “I thought I was supposed to,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “Oh, Anna,” Miriam said, shaking her head. “Cinnamon, not cayenne. How could you make such a mistake?”

  “I . . . I . . .” She stared wildly at her mother, and then at Ella. “I . . . misplaced the cookbook. I couldn’t find it.”

  Miriam walked over to the bookshelves by the sofa. “You mean this cookbook?” She withdrew a book and lifted it so that everyone could see it. “Or this one?” She held up a second one. “Where else would a cookbook be, Anna, but on the bookshelves?”

  Angrily, John turned to face Hannes. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s quite clear that you are not obligated to go through with any agreement you made. It appears you’ve been misled, Hannes.” He shifted his eyes to look at Linda. “I’m beginning to question all of the Troyers’ behavior—yours and your daughters’—and you can be quite certain that this will be discussed with the church leaders—”

  “Wait, John,” Miriam interrupted him, and she pointed to Ella. “You forgot that there’s one more pie to taste!”

  “Oh, nonsense!” He waved his hand at her. “Hasn’t our nephew already suffered enough?”

  But Hannes was adamant.