As the World Churns (2 page)
My dearly beloved must not have heard me. The walls of our Motel One (it charges by the hour) were sufficiently thin for me to hear his voice, but too thick to allow me to hear what was being said. Since he sounded agitated, I knew I’d been right: it was his mother. There are only two people in this world who can rattle my sweetykins: myself, and the woman who bore him.
I tried to dry off with the only towel, which was as thin as a facial tissue and not much larger. Finally I scooped up the bath mat, picked off a few hairs, and used that instead. After donning sensible Christian pajamas-flannel, and a good deal thicker than the towel-I slipped into my heavy terry robe and prepared to face the music.
“Okay, dear, let her rip.”
Gabe was off the phone by then and sitting on the bed, his back to the bathroom. His head was bowed, his face cupped in his hands. It was a typical post-Ida Rosen pose. Try saying that correctly three times in rapid succession. But beware: the prize for getting it right is a weeklong visit from the old badger herself.
I know, Jesus commanded us to love our enemies. But with all due respect, the Lord didn’t have a mother-in-law. Also in my defense, I’d like to add that I don’t hate Ida Rosen as much as she hates me. In fact, she
despises
me. Not only did I take her son away from her, but I refuse to lie down and let her run over me.
Literally-with her car.
My handsome groom turned slowly. “Hon, I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
“But you promised,” I wailed. There are those who claim that only sirens are capable of wailing, but those folks have yet to meet me. “You said that we could have the first three days of our honeymoon all to ourselves. You said-”
“Babe, I’m sorry.”
I eschew cussing, but sometimes a gal has to do what a gal has to do. “Ding, dang, dong, blast it all! If you think I’m going to share our room with-”
“The call wasn’t from Ma; it was the warden from the state penitentiary.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sit down first.” I waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, go on. Why would the warden be calling us? How did he even know we were here?”
“You left a contact number with Chief Ackerman, remember?”
“Yes, but it was for emergencies only.” Our little town has only one police officer-a young and inexperienced one at that.
Since I am the mayor, we are frequently in touch. “This is an emergency.
Please
, sit down.”
“No!” He stood. “The warden said that Melvin is-uh-ah-”
“Spit it out, dang it!”
“Melvin is missing.”
“Missing how? You mean like playing hide-and-seek?”
“They don’t know. No one has seen him since lockdown last night.”
“
What?
That’s almost twenty-four hours ago.”
“The warden said he didn’t want to get us worried, and then have Melvin show up in the bottom of a laundry bag like last time.”
“He works in the laundry room, for crying out loud. He knows they check the outgoing bags.”
“Yes, but this is the same man who once tried to milk a bull. Am I right?”
I felt my chest imploding for want of oxygen. “Does this mean what I think it might?”
Gabe nodded somberly. “That son-of-a-twitch has escaped.”
The room swayed, then spun, and soon my poor brain couldn’t keep up with all the motion. I have a vague recollection of Gabriel lunging for me. Then all went black.
My full name is Magdalena Portulaca Yoder. And no, I did not take Rosen as my new surname. Neither did I wish to add it with a hyphen. Why should I? Plain old Yoder has been good enough for my family for hundreds of years. Besides, if Gabe truly desired a linguistic connection, he was quite free to adopt the name Yoder-which he didn’t.
At any rate, I am a simple Mennonite woman, whose ancestors were originally Amish settlers from Switzerland. The older of two children, I was born and raised in Hernia,
My waiting list is two years long, but when it’s their turn, my lucky guests find that they have the privilege of signing up for ALPO, which stands for Amish Lifestyle Plan Option. In short, they can pay extra for the joy of cleaning their own rooms and helping with chores. Lately I’ve added Ultra-ALPO, which means they can shell out even more in order to have the full Amish experience of having their climate-control units turned off at the front desk. After all, the Amish don’t use electricity, so AC is unheard of, and a proper Amish home is heated only by a stove located on the ground floor level, whereas my guest rooms are all upstairs.
I run my business with the considerable help of my cook, Freni Hostetler, and
despite
the whining of my pseudo-stepdaughter, Alison Miller. This brings me to my sister, whom I love with all my heart. That said
,
Susannah is a free spirit whose work ethic is limited to putting on makeup and rearranging her CD collection. She is absolutely no help around the inn, even though she is half owner.
My baby sister might have turned out quite differently, had not our parents been squished to death between a milk tanker and a truck loaded with state-of-the-art running shoes. Yes, she was already an adult by then, but a fragile one. Sadly, Susannah coped with her loss by becoming a world-class slut, sleeping her way from
Then one day, inexplicably, Susannah fell head over heels in love with Hernia’s Chief of Police, Melvin Stoltzfus. He professed to love her in return. Everyone in town was shocked, most of all me. I hadn’t thought that Melvin possessed a brain, much less a heart. I know that sounds uncharitable, but only to those who have never actually met the mantis-I mean, man.
I could go on and on about Melvin’s glaring faults, but in any event, I would finally have to admit that for a while he was actually good for Susannah. She settled down. True, she continued to wear her outlandish sari-like outfits-fifteen feet of filmy fuchsia fabric was her favorite-and
carry
her pooch, Shnookums, around in her bra. But she was
happy
. Ultimately, isn’t that what we all want?
Then a year ago, Melvin, who was supposed to be our law enforcer, was convicted of murder in the first degree. Not only that, but his victim was our minister. Faced with both undeniable evidence and a confession of his guilt, Susannah fell into a deep funk, one from which she has only just begun to recover. Today, at my wedding, was the first time she’d worn anything but black since the verdict was read (although her dark gray bridesmaid dress left something to be desired).
To learn that Melvin was on the loose would be like picking a giant scab off her heart. What’s more, it was bound to be utterly terrifying. I certainly was scared out of my wit (I’m down to my last). What was to stop him from returning to Hernia and killing me, the person who’d apprehended him? The answer is “nothing.” Evil, such as lives in Melvin’s miniscule heart, is as unstoppable as Congressional pork.
Was it any wonder then that I fainted?
2
“What happened?” I asked for the billionth time.
“You fainted, hon.
When
I told you that the warden called and said Melvin was missing, you just collapsed.”
I gazed up into my Pooky Bear’s big brown eyes. Or were they blue? He appeared to have two heads.
“I can’t believe they let him escape. It’s just so unreal.”
“Here, babe, let me help you sit up.”
“Mebbe she vants to stay on the floor.”
It was a woman’s voice.
A most unwelcome woman.
My blood ran cold. “No!”
“You see? She doesn’t vant to sit.”
I struggled, first to a sitting position, and then finally to my feet. Yes, I swayed a bit, but, like the
“Ida,” I gasped through clenched teeth-not an easy feat, mind you. “What are you doing here?”
“Ma just got here, hon.
She
was kind enough to bring me my pajamas. I was sure I’d packed them-”
“Indeed you had, dear, but I
un
packed them.”
“Oy!
Married yust a few
hours,
and already dis von’s a slut.”
“Ma!
Please, stay out of this.”
“Yes,” I agreed sweetly, “stay out of this.
Far
out of this.
I hear they’re having a sale on condos in Fiji. If you hurry, you can catch the slow boat to China out of
“Gabeleh, you see how she talks to me?”
“Ma, you deserved it.” He turned to me, flashing pearly whites that were the envy of dentists from Boston to San Diego. “You really unpacked my pajamas?
You little minx, you.”
I could feel myself blush. It started in my toes and worked itself up to the roots of my bun. At
How sinfully, deliciously erotic.
If it wasn’t for Ida, I’d have thrown my stud muffins on the bed and shown him what puts the yo-yo in Yoder-if you know what I mean. Alas, I had to settle for giving him what I’d hope was a suggestive wink.
“Hon,” he said, “is there something wrong with your eye?”
Before answering, I glared at his mother for good measure. “No, my eye is fine. Gabe, we’ve got to get back to Hernia immediately. Susannah, Freni, Alison-they could all be in danger. I need to call Chief Ackerman, then the county sheriff-”
“I don’t think he’d hurt them: it’s you he’s probably after.”
Ida tugged on her son’s arm. Apparently she’d yet to be filled in on the prison break.
“Who vants to hurt her?”
She sounded hopeful.
“Melvin Stoltzfus.
Our former chief of police.”
“My sister’s husband,” I added.
“You see, Gabeleh, vhat happens vhen you marry a shiksa? I told you it vas a terrible idea. Marry that cute little Schwartz girl, I always said. Mit hips like
dat,
she could give me lots of grandchildren. But no, you gotta marry dis-”
“Ma, butt out. Please.”
“Vhat?”
“You heard me, Ma. And you’re right: Magdalena is my wife. I won’t have you talking about her like that.”
Ida Rosen looked as if her only son had slapped her across the face. “
Nu,
so now you talk back to your mother?”
“I’m sorry, Ma, but you have to respect the woman I chose to marry.”
“Respect, shmect.
If dis von”-she pointed at me with her chin-”and me vere drowning, who vould you jump in to save?”
