Between a Wok and a Hard Place (23 page)

“Ach, somebody had to call, so I walked into Miller's Feed Store, You owe me, Magdalena.”

“I’ll put a quarter in the mail."

“Very funny, Magdalena. You haven't the slightest idea why I'm calling, do you?"

“Miller's is having a special sale and you didn't want me to miss out?"

“lt's your father-in-law, Magdalena. Aaron Senior is very upset. He barely slept a wink last night."

“How would you know, dear?"

“He and my Amos were up half the night talking, that's why. The other half I heard him crying."

"What? Pops spent the night at your place?”

“As if you didn't know. That poor man.”

“Just because I didn't believe his story about a flying saucer landing in the pond. Do you believe in flying saucers,

Lilibet?”

Of course she didn't. We are a practical people, with Bible-based beliefs. And there is absolutely no mention of flying

saucers in the Bible, the Book of Ezekiel notwithstanding.

She gave a little gasp. “What on earth are you talking about, Magdalena?”

“Little green men from Mars. Illegal aliens whose children we definitely don't want in our schools."

"Ach, you never could think straighter than a row of English fence poles. It's no wonder you did what you did. A mad

dog wouldn't be so mean."”

If there's one thing I hate, it's being called mean. I really do try to see the good in everyone. Hadn't I been proving it

by helping Melvin out in his time of need? And Pops - how many women these days would put up with their father-in-law

moving in the day after their wedding?

“Tell the old coot, I'm sorry," I said.

There was a pregnant silence during which the population of Bangladesh doubled, as did the number of Elvis

sightings in Fargo, North Dakota.

“I’ll tell him," she said at last, “but I am disappointed in you, Magdalena. You don't seem to feel the least little bit of

shame."

“Shame? For what?"

“Jesus forgave that adulteress, Magdalena, but the crowd was ready to throw stones. And there are lots of stones

around Hernia."

My ears were burning, but it was embarrassment, not shame. There is a difference, you know. The bee in Lilibet's

bonnet had nothing to do with Martians. I laid back against my pillows and pondered the possibilities. It could only be one

thing, but surely the Amish-Mennonite grapevine couldn't be that fast, not when half the grapes didn't own telephones and

relied on horses and buggies to get around.

"Before you lob a boulder at me, at least spell out the charges," I said bravely.

"Kicking an elderly man out on the street would be enough," Lilibet snapped, "but to do so in order to carry on an

affair is just - "

"Affair?"

"Don't you take that innocent tone with me, Magdalena. I've seen those loud, brassy outfits you wear into town.

Multicolor floral prints!"

I ignored her fashion observation. Surely it wasn't possible to have an affair and not know it. I know, there were times

- with Aaron-when I was a mite distracted, but I never got so lost in my menu-planning that I didn't know what was going

on.

"Who am I having this affair with?" I asked calmly.

"Ach, you have less shame than a dog in heat. Next you'll be saying that this affair was the back doctor's idea."

"Back doctor?"

"He was here trying to sell me one of those braces, you know. Magdalena, you could do better in the looks

department-as long as you're going to cheat, I mean."

Whether it was my looks, or Wilmar Brack's that went lacking, it wasn't clear. But it was finally as plain as dandruff on

Aaron's collars that there was a plot underfoot to disgrace me.

"Did he say I was having an affair with him?"

"Ach, I wouldn't have such a conversation with a stranger," she said, temporarily forgetting her high-blown ways and

lapsing into Dutch. "Even Jesus knew who his accusers were," I said.

During the ensuing pause the British learned to cook and the number of Elvis sightings in Butte, Montana, tripled.

"Aaron Senior," she whispered. "He said you and the doctor were carrying on like - like - "

"Dogs in heat?"

"Yah. He said that poor Aaron Junior couldn't take it anymore and had to go back to Minnesota just to keep from

going crazy. Aaron Senior said that Aaron would not be divorcing you-since it's wrong-but that the marriage was

essentially over. He warned me that you would deny everything. That you would pin everything on Aaron. He said I

mustn't believe a word you say."

I smelled cover-up just as definitively as I smelled gas whenever Aaron - my ex-Pooky Bear - ate cabbage. Pops

was already off to his dinner with the Augsburgers when Aaron called. Therefore, it was not a case of him misconstruing

our conversation. He had been primed beforehand, and planted at the Augsburgers to purposefully spread lies about me.

It was a very clever move on Aaron's part, turning me into the Whore of Babylon while he lollygagged around in Minnesota

with his real wife.

Turn the other cheek, the Bible says, but it also says that the truth will set us free. Since I can never remember which

is my good side, I did the only thing I could and told Lilibet the truth.

In the silence following that revelation the French learned good manners and Elvis was spotted riding a Harley-

Davidson through the streets of Nome, Alaska.

"You poor dear," she said finally.

It was as much of an apology as she was going to freely give. If I wanted more, I was going to have to work for it.

"My heart is broken," I wailed, which was true. "I will never be able to hold my head up in Hernia again." That was

probably not quite so true. I have broad shoulders and a strong neck, and I knew from past experience that most pain

eventually passes - either that, or you die from it. Frankly, I am not the kind who dies easily.

"You poor, poor dear," Lilibet said, scraping the bottom of her sympathy well. "Of course there is nothing I could do to

help."

"Then a cobbler can't fix shoes, dear."

"But - "

"You're at Miller's Feed Store, right?"

"Yes - "

"Share my story of woe with the next person you I see. Share the whole story. Tell them how Aaron married me

under false pretenses and then tried to smear my reputation. But make them promise they won't tell a single living soul."

"I always said you were a bright one, Magdalena. But how is it going to look for me? I believed" - she gasped - "oh

my gracious, he's here!"

"Aaron?" I will admit, that despite everything, my j heart was beating faster.

"Aaron Senior. I forgot that he was still at my house. He said he never wanted to go back to the PennDutch - to

Jezebel's Inn, he called it. What am I going to do? He can't stay here, Magdalena. We already have eight mouths to feed."

I thought fast. "Tell the old coot that Jezebel has declared a cease-fire until ten-thirty tonight. That's when the next

direct flight to Minneapolis leaves. Tell him that I'll even spring for the tickets, but how he gets to the airport is his problem.

You might suggest that he call a cab from Bedford. It'll cost him an arm and an leg to get to Pittsburgh airport, but hey,

that's what he gets for lying. Tell him that I'm only going to make the ticket offer once."

"I will. Thanks."

I was so shocked to hear the "T" word that I nearly blew it. "But you owe me," I said a microsecond before she hung

up.

"Anything," she said carelessly.

"Throw another potato or two on the stove. I'm bringing some English guests to lunch."

Frankly, I was quite satisfied with the way I was holding up, not to mention the way I had handled things with Lilibet

Augsburger. There had indeed been a seat available on the ten-thirty flight, and what's more, thanks to an airfare war, it

was undoubtedly cheaper than Pops' ride to the airport was going to be. I wasn't gloating, mind you, and I certainly wasn't

feeling like I'd extracted revenge, even though I knew that Pops hated snow and the Farmer's Almanac was predicting the

worst winter in a hundred years for the Upper Midwest. It just felt good to be able to function in a situation that, just

twenty-four hours earlier, I would have thought impossible to survive.

Something caught the comer of my eye and I sat up I with a start. There, not more than a foot from the end of my bed

stood little Caitlin, holding her sorry doll by one arm. Lord only knows how long the urchin had been standing there,

grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

"What on earth are you doing in here?"

She giggled. "Wan Oou wants to say good morning."

"Wan Oou needs to knock before she barges into someone else's bedroom."

Her laugh was an irritating mixture of joy and amusement. Mama wouldn't have put up with it for a second.

She laid the filthy doll on my bed. "Wan Oou thinks you're a funny lady, Mrs. Miller."

"I'm glad you think so, sweetie." Sarcasm was lost on the tyke, so I scowled appropriately. "Now scram, Wan Oou,

and take your doll with you."

Apparently I was funnier than a barrel full of monkeys, and I had to clap my hands to get her attention. She stared at

me, her pug features trying hopelessly to compose themselves, and then she burst into another fit of giggles so intense

they were almost contagious.

"You could at least let me in on your joke," I wailed.

"My name is Caitlin, you silly-billy! Wan Oou is my dolly!" Without further ado the tyke and her toy were shown the

door.

I had just finished dressing, having devoured a huge chunk of gingerbread fairly floating in lemon sauce, when my

private phone rang again. It is true, I frequently jump to conclusions - it is, after all, a form of exercise - but the male caller

did sound like Aaron. Perhaps I should have allowed him to say something in addition to my name.

"You have a lot of nerve," I shrilled. "It's one thing to lie to me but to lie about me - that's utterly reprehensible, you

two-timing, lily-livered weasel. And don't think your father is getting off easy. I just sent him packing to Minneapolis. You

can expect him on the ten-thirty flight out of Pittsburgh. Come to think of it, you just saved me a call. And for the record,

I'm paying for his flight." I gasped for breath.

"Since Papa died when I was three," Melvin Stoltzfus said with remarkable alacrity, "could you send Mama to

Minneapolis instead?"

"Melvin!"

"It's first class, isn't it? Mama's gained a few pounds lately. She prefers a wider seat."

"They don't make them that wide, Melvin, and besides, I wasn't talking to you! I thought you were someone else."

"Oh." He sounded genuinely disappointed. "What is it, Melvin?" I snapped.

"Ah, yes. There's been a complaint, Yoder. No, make that numerous complaints from outraged citizens. They all think

it's highly inappropriate. But it's more than that. It's illegal."

Bless the little man, mantis mandibles and all, for calling me Yoder. It felt good to be called that again - not that

Melvin had ever called me anything else, of course. Perhaps the man was prophetic in his persistent refusal to use my

married name. Still, what right had he to call me with complaints of impropriety? Melvin had never been married, but

despite his arthropodan looks and obnoxious personality, he had known enough women in the biblical sense to make an

NBA star feel inadequate.

"I didn't know! And I will not wear a scarlet' A' unless you do as well," I shouted.

Believe it or not I could hear his eyes rotating in their sockets. "You're nuts, Yoder. You know that?"

It was time to eat crow. But just one, baked in a nice flaky pastry crust and served with a giblet gravy. Melvin had

never been married and always, at least in my eyes - and I mean this charitably - been a loser. Perhaps I had gloated a

bit too much when I married Aaron. No doubt I was being punished, and deserved every bit of scorn Melvin threw my way.

Still, it was hard not to defend myself.