"Your own plane, huh? And you're inviting me along."
"Yes, ma'am. Gladys hates to fly - won't do it more than she has to - anyway, I thought you might like to get away from things for an hour or two."
Would I! Besides, I had never had the privilege of flying. For years I've had to listen to my guests moan about the declining service on airplanes, the shrinking seats, and the insipid food. All the while I wanted to tell them to just shut up and count their blessings. You see, at first I couldn't afford to fly anywhere, but then when my business grew and I could afford to go just about anywhere I wanted, I no longer had the time.
But now, at me weakest point ever, when I couldn't care less about schedules and responsibilities, the good Lord in His mercy had sent an angel to fly me above my troubles. "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength they will soar on the wings like eagles," the Book of Isaiah says. Okay, so an airplane wasn't the same as an eagle, but I for one don't think we are required to take everything in the Bible literally.
"You bet your bippy, I'd like to fly with you," I cried. We Mennonite eschew betting, and shame on me for using the word, but that's what I said. "How soon can we leave?"
"How about now?"
I could feel life ebbing back into my veins. God had sent me an eagle, and G.O.D. was going to fly me on it to Pittsburgh and back. I couldn't wait.
"Now it is!"
People do look the size of ants from that high up. Houses are as small as matchboxes, cars even tinier, and trees are no bigger than broccoli tops. Only now that it was November, the trees looked more like miniature gray lace doilies than vegetables.
"Do you think we can see the PennDutch Inn?" I shouted.
I never imagined that a plane could be so loud. Gordon - or Gordy, as he asked me to call him - had given me a set of spongy earplugs, but they did little to muffle the roar of the engine. It was Gordy's voice I could no longer hear.
I cupped my hands to my mouth. "What did you say?"
He banked the plane and pointed vigorously. Frankly, at that angle I was afraid to look down, but by leaning away from the door and stretching my neck to giraffish proportions I got a glimpse of two matchboxes, one larger than the other, and several doilies that might have been the PennDutch and surrounds.
Then the plane abruptly straightened and we flew higher and higher until we actually pushed up through the clouds. I was astounded. They were far more wispy than I thought. It didn't seem possible for an angel to sit on one, certainly not one holding a heavy metal harp. I was going to have to do some theological revamping, once I was safely back on terra firma.
Despite the racket, it was so peaceful up there. Just a sea of cottony clouds, and an autumn sun hanging low in the sky. There were, of course, no roads, no cars, and most important, no people. I might not be able to sit or lie on a cloud, but that withstanding, I could live up there indefinitely.
"Where's Magdalena?" folks would ask of Freni or Susannah, and they would point to the sky, where I lounged, floating above a bed of white, dining on white seedless grapes and ladyfingers, or whatever else it is they serve in heaven.
My reverie was short-lived when Gordy banked the plane again, this time steeper than the first.
"Pittsburgh?" I asked in surprise. We couldn't have been in the air for more than twenty minutes.
Gordy shouted something that sounded like "out."
"What?"
He pantomimed removing my earplugs, which I gratefully did. The silly things tickled.
"What did you say?" I shouted. "It sounded like out."
Finally I could hear him his voice cut through the engine noise like a knife through one of Freni's gelatin molds.
"That's exactly what I said. Out!"
-30-GLADYS DOLBY'S TOMATO BRUNCH CAKE
2 cups cake flour
1 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
" teaspoon salt
¬ teaspoon ground nutmeg
¬ teaspoon ground cloves
¬ teaspoon ground ginger
1 cup tomato juice
" cup chopped golden raisins
" cup chopped dried apricots
" cup chopped dates
Cream shortening and sugar. Sift flour and salt, spices, and soda. Slowly add tomato juice, then beat into smooth batter. Dust dried fruits with flour and stir into batter. Pour into greased, no-stick loaf pan. Bake at 325 degrees for one hour. Slice when cool and serve with a dollop of whipped cream.
Approximately 8 slices.
-30-
removing the earplugs seemed to have improved my vision as well. Retired General Gordon Oliver Dolby was waving a gun at me.
"But -"
"Open the damn door."
"Don't be silly, dear, we're hundreds of feet up into the air."
"Five thousand two hundred and eighty, to be exact. I thought you might like to join the Mile High Club." He laughed coarsely.
"I've never parachuted before," I said, glancing wildly around for one. I had no idea what a parachute looked like when folded. Perhaps it resembled a knapsack.
"There aren't any parachutes in this plane. Miss Yoder. You get to do the ultimate in free fall."
I gulped. "No thanks, dear. I think I'll pass."
He brought the gun up and pressed it against my left temple. If I live to be as old as Zsa Zsa Gabor, I will never forget the feel of that cold metal against my bare skin.
"You don't get a choice, ma'am. You see, you have far too big a mouth."
I pursed my lips and rolled my eyes down as far as they could go. All I could see was a blur. Funny, but it was usually the Yoder nose that drew comments.
"Anybody ever tell you that you ask too many damn questions?"
"Oh, that kind of mouth. Well, actually, my husband Aaron used to say that all the time. Susannah and Freni do their fair share of complaining as well. But who are they to talk? I mean, Susannah says words all the time that I would never dream of saying, and Freni is constantly yabbering away to herself in Pennsylvania Dutch. As for Aaron, well - he wasn't really my husband, you know? No, I think - "
"Shut up."
Normally I might have, given that he had a gun. But I suddenly realized that the plane had rolled out of its bank and we were flying level again. Despite what he said, talking seemed to help.
"All right, dear, if you say so. But first, can you at least tell me what I asked you that was so offensive? I mean, no has ever wanted to throw me out of a plane before just because I'm inquisitive. Of course I've never been in a plane until now, but had I - "
"I said, shut up! You know damn well why I got you up here. Well, whoever finds you is going to have a lot harder puzzle to solve than the one involving poor George Mitchell. Hell, I made that one almost too easy."
Although I recoiled in shock, the gun barrel remained snug against my temple. Gordy had quick reflexes, I'll grant him that.
"You? You killed George Mitchell?"
"Yes, ma'am. I could have done a far neater job of it, but I wanted it to look like an amateur - a civilian - did the job. It worked too, didn't it?"
"Sure, if that's what you call sending an innocent mother to prison for the rest of her life."
"Someone had to die, didn't they?"
"Did they?"
"You're the damn right, they did. Food poisoning obviously didn't put a stop to that damn contestl."
"You poisoned Freni's bread pudding?"
"Vertrum alba - commonly know as false hellebore. Did I mention that I'm a Master Gardener of the state of Maryland?"
"You're a real Renaissance man," I said with just as much sarcasm that shouting and a gun to one's head permit.
"Yes, ma'am, I guess I am. I grew the flowers myself, you know. Dried them, and mashed them up in a stone pestle, just like the Indians might have done. Had a hell of a time sneaking it in that pan of bread pudding, though."
"There were two pans, dear."
"Which explains why only one person got sick."
"Actually two. A very innocent and dear Amish man suffered terribly because of you."
He shrugged, and the gun traveled a fraction of an inch along my scalp. "You would think they would call the damn thing off because of that. But hell no, I had to dig into my bag of tricks further and pull out that shard of glass."
"That was you too?"
"An air force investigator would have been on top of that in a minute. It should hav been clear that someone was trying to sabotage the contest."
"Well, this isn't the military, dear. This is Hernia, Pennsylvania, and all we have is a nincompoop police chief and one deputy, who is so in love with the chief, she doesn't know whether she's coming or going."
"And then there's you."
"Me?"
"The air force could use a woman like you, Miss Yoder. The marines claim they have the best men, but they sure the hell don't have anyone like you."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "And I'm sure the funny farm could use a man like you. Your daughter is a contestant, for crying out loud. Why on earth would you want to stop the contest?"
To my surprise, he smiled. "You've got moxie, Miss Yoder. Too bad I didn't meet you earlier. Maybe things would have been different."
I entertained the briefest of fantasies. "I don't even think so, dear."
"You ever been alone, Miss Yoder?"
I noticed for the first time that neither of his hands were on the controls. "Shouldn't you be steering, or something?"
"What?"
"You're not even touching the steering wheel. You don't want to die too, do you?"
"This is a yoke, ma'am, not a steering wheel. I've got her set on automatic pilot. How about you answer my question."
"Of course I've been alone. What a silly question."
"I mean all alone. With no one left you can count on."
Well, maybe not all alone. Freni and Mose were there for me when my parents died, and Susannah flits in and out of my emotional life like a hummingbird in a flower garden. And of course I've always had God. That's one of the advantages of being sure of one's faith.
"Is this about Gladys wanting to move to Albuquerque?" I asked, no doubt hastening my death.
"You see, ma'am, Gladys is the only person I have left. My wife died when Gladys was only three. I raised her myself, you know."
"You did a good job. But surely you have someone else."
"No, ma'am. My parents have both been dead for years. Last month my only brother died. I don't have anyone else, but my daughter."
"What about your air force pals?"
"I'm retired, ma'am. I see some of the guys now and then, but they're not family."
"Let me get this straight. You killed a man just to keep your grown daughter at home. Those are some apron strings, if you ask me. Apron strings of steel."
The gun barrel pushed against my skull. "No one asked you, ma'am. But now I'm going to ask you to unbuckle your shoulder belt and kindly open that door."
"You won't get away with this, you know. Chief Stoltzfus might be terminally stupid, but someone else will put two and two together."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but there won't be anything left of you to put together. You won't amount to much more than a pound or two of hamburger. Besides, that's the Moshannon State Forest down there. It's one of the largest wilderness tracts east of the Mississippi."
"It's almost hunting season!" I screamed. "Some hunter will find what's left of me."
He smiled. It was a sick, not a cruel smile. Believe me, there is a difference.
"The raccoons and coyotes will find you first. Did you know that there is a resurgence of coyotes in this part of the country? Some people even claim to see panthers."
"You don't say!" So that's how it was going to all end. I was never to know true love, never to experience the birth of a child - even Barbara's by proxy - but I did get the rare opportunity to end up as dinner for some yipping cousins of Shnookums. Well, Mama, what do you think of that? If you had let me go steady with Jimmy Kurtz in high school, things might have turned out a lot different. I might have married a farmer, raised eight kids, and never had the need to open a bed and breakfast. Well, Mama, think about this - falling from an airplane is every bit as dramatic a way of dying as being squished between a milk tanker and shoe truck. In fact, I think I've got you beat.
