Play It Again, Spam (15 page)

"Don't be ridiculous. I don't know anyone by that name."

"Formula number twelve - Peach Bark, I believe the color is called."

Lodema stifled a gasp. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you do, dear. Under those cheap plastic combs of yours is a mop of hair that hasn't been its true color for years. What

is the true color, dear? Asphalt gray?"

"Why, I never!"

"Sure you do, dear. What is the schedule? Once every six weeks or so?"

Lodema's hands flew to her head. "How did you know? Are my roots showing?"

I leaned closer. "Why, yes they are."

She turned the color of her hair, which was more the l color of cigar ash. "You - you - won't tell anyone, will you?"

"That depends, dear. Can you get Reverend Schrock back in Hernia by Wednesday?"

The ashes lightened. "He fishes in the mountains, Magdalena. In wilderness. I really have no idea where he is or how to

reach him."

It occurred to me that my pastor might possibly be partying in Parkersburg. No, that was on the Ohio River. More likely, he

was in the mountains - the Reverend is smart enough to stick close to the truth - and was having a highland fling with a lass with

even fewer forebears than I. Of course, I kept my suspicions to myself. There is no point in wasting ammunition, after all.

"Doesn't your husband usually fish with Hugh Gingerich?"

"That's who he's with now, but - "

"Give Hugh's wife a call, dear," I said, giving her another gentle push. "Maybe she knows, and even if she doesn't, she might

have some clues that the two of you could piece together. If Reverend Schrock ties Susannah's knot, not a word about the devil's

dye will pass these lips."

Lodema can move pretty fast for a woman with half a century under her belt.

Speaking of women in their golden years, that night I dreamed Freni came crawling back to me on her hands and knees. I

mean that literally. She was even wearing garden knee pads and gloves. I should have known it was all a dream when Freni not

only apologized for leaving me in the lurch, but offered to lick my muddy shoes. After all, I never wear muddy shoes.

At any rate, I guess I had Freni on my brain when I went to sleep. Sam had been the perfect butler and had even helped me

wash the dishes afterward, but he moved at half the speed of Freni. The gangly Marjorie had tried to pitch in, but after she broke

her third plate, I kindly showed her to the kitchen door. Samantha went straight to her room after supper, and as for the others-

well, if that new sofa in the parlor sprung a spring, someone was going to pay. So, I guess I'm going to have to come right out and

say it: There is no one on God's green earth quite as efficient as Freni Augusta Hostetler.

"Lick the left one a little more," I instructed kindly. "Up along the tongue."

"Ach!"

"I don't know what the big deal is, dear. You licked my right one until it sparkled."

"For shame, Magdalena! How you talk!"

I opened one eye, which by rights should already have been opened. Cautiously I opened the other eye. Binocular vision only

confirmed Freni's presence. Indeed, my squat bulky cousin was sitting on the bed, just inches from my face.

I popped up faster than a jack-in-the-box. "Freni! What on earth are you doing in my bedroom? And what in heaven's name

are you doing on my bed?"

"Ach, I was just trying to wake you up. You're like a bear in hydration."

"That's hibernation, dear, and that still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Me? Explain? It's you who should explain, Magdalena."

"I don't think so, dear. You're the one who was fired, and now it seems you've stooped to breaking and entering."

"Ach! I quit before I was fired, so that doesn't count. And I didn't break anything, Magdalena."

"That's a legal expression - it deals with trespassing."

"Ach! Me trespassing? I was here when you were born, Magdalena. Right in this room, right in this bed!"

"Well technically, dear, it wasn't this room. After the tornado - "

"But it was this bed, Magdalena. And I remember it like it was yesterday. Your mama was a skinny thing like you with no hips

to speak of. Ach, you should have heard her scream-like a sow being led to the butcher stand. 'Push,' I kept telling her. 'Push

harder.' But it was thundering and lightning so bad, she couldn't even hear me.

Of course I could hear her. Rachel Kreider said your mama's screams put the cows off milking for three weeks. But what

could I do? We were alone in the house - just your mama and me - "

"And me."

"Yah, and you. Your papa, you see, had gone off to get the proper midwife, and old Doc Shaffor - well, his wife had just died

and he was - ach, such a shame to say it - "

"In his cups?"

Freni frowned. "He was drunk, Magdalena."

"So he was, dear," I said graciously. "Go on."

"So what was I to do? 'Freni,' I said to myself, 'what would your Mose do if he was here, and not off buying horses in

Lancaster?' Then I remembered that pincher thing.”

"Mama's food tongs?"

"Yah. Mose uses big ones just like that when he births horses. So, I ran to the kitchen to get the pinchers and when I got

back, there you were, lying on the bed - all eight and a half pounds of you - and screaming even louder than your mama."

I must have heard the story a million times, but it never failed to warm the cockles of my heart. "And wasn't I just the cutest

thing?"

"Ach, such a red, wrinkled face! Like a shriveled apple."

"But a very large apple, right?"

"Yah, a very large, shriveled apple. So, Magdalena, do you want your breakfast now?"

"What?"

"I could serve it to you in bed, even."

"What are you talking about?"

"Buckwheat pancakes - real maple syrup, of course - melon, and some delicious fried SPAM® luncheon meat."

"Don't be ridiculous, dear. Mama always said it was a sin to eat in bed, and if I remember correctly, you always agreed."

"Sin, shmin, what your mama doesn't know won't hurt her."

I braced myself against the hard wooden headboard of Granny's bed. If American scientists could harness the energy

created when Mama rolls over in her grave, we would never again be made impotent by Middle Eastern potentates. This time,

however, I didn't feel as much as a quiver. Perhaps it was lunchtime in Heaven.

Freni noticed the uncommon stillness too, and took advantage of it. "Your mama, rest her soul, was always too hard on you.

Give my Magdalena a break, I used to say. You remember all those times I stuck up for you, yah?"

"No."

"No? Well, maybe I should have. But you were always a queer bird, Magdalena - but a nice queer bird. Don't get me wrong."

"Aha, I get it! Freni, you're playing the sycophant, aren't you?"

"I am doing no such thing! I feel perfectly well, Magdalena. Here, feel my forehead."

"You just want your job back, that's why you're being so nice."

"Ach, is that such a terrible thing to want?"

"You tell me, dear. I thought I was impossible to work for."

Freni gulped. She was still wearing her black traveling bonnet, and I could see the bow bob under her chin.

" Ach, I - "

The loud rap at the door was sure to summon Mama back from lunch.

"Come in, dear," I called bravely. For all I knew it was Mama. Even in my theological circles, physical resurrections have

been few and far between, but if the Good Lord starts sending mortals back on a regular basis, you can be sure that Mama will be

among the first, Simply put, Heaven would be a more peaceful place without her.

"Gut marriye, Magdalena,"

"Sam!" I jumped back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. "Freni, you know Sam, don't you? Of course you do! I've

heard you say such nice things about him."

Freni colored. "What is he doing here?" I glanced at the clock on my night stand, "What are you doing here, Sam? It's only

six-thirty. I told you this bunch of English all said they like to sleep late. Except for Mrs. Burk - she's the one whose husband is

missing - they don't want their breakfast until eight."

"Yah, I remember, but last night Mrs. Burk said she wanted her breakfast at seven."

I groaned. "This would never have happened with the celebrities, They never ate breakfast before noon."

Freni hopped off my bed. "Breakfast? Why are you talking with this man about breakfast?"

I smiled sweetly. "Because he's my new cook. Don't you worry, dear, I'm sure Sam wouldn't mind rustling up a little breakfast

for you too."

"Ach!"

"Oh, that's right, you already made buckwheat pancakes, Well, since I'm not particularly hungry this morning, would you mind

terribly if Sam serves my share to Mrs. Burk?"

Freni's mouth opened and closed with the regularity of a pump valve, but no sounds came out.

"Yes, dear?" I asked patiently. Like the pump she started to sputter, and then the words came pouring out in a torrent. Since

my cousin is a god-fearing Amish woman they are all repeatable, but I won't waste your time. Besides, they were in Pennsylvania

Dutch. Suffice it to say, Mama would have approved of every one of Freni's admonitions, and even Lodema Schrock would have

little to add.

When Freni was quite through she bustled her broad back out of my room and slammed the door behind her. The way the

house shook I knew that Mama was adding a few vibrations of her own.

"Magdalena," Sam said quietly as the last bit of plaster drifted down from the ceiling, "maybe you go too far."

"Ettu, Brutus?" I wailed.

Samuel looked like a possum caught in the beam of my flashlight. It was time to bring him up to speed.

"She brings it on herself, dear. Last night was the fifty-second time she's quit since I opened the original inn. Now, don't just

stand there, dear, tempus fugit."

"Ach!"

"You're wasting time," I explained kindly. "After breakfast we have that search to organize, remember?"

Sam shook his head.

I sat bolt upright. Unfortunately, this sudden action allowed three inches of my flannel nightgown to show. Poor Sam's face

turned the color of Susannah's eyes the morning after her senior prom.

I clutched the blanket to my scrawny bosom. "You're not backing out of your offer, are you, dear?"

Sam looked graciously away. "No, I will help with the search. But now we must search for two people."

"Two people?"

Sam nodded, still focused on some dust bunnies in the corner. "Yah. It is terrible news what I must say."

13

Say it," I wailed. "It's Susannah, isn't?"

I am ashamed to admit this, but Susannah has gone missing more times than Freni's quit her job. Some might say that gal

suffers from wanderlust, but between you and me, it's just pure lust. That's right, it's nothing more than sex that has inspired my

sister to visit every roadside rest and truck stop in the lower forty-eight. As far as I know, Susannah has never been to Hawaii - or

had sex there - but she has been to Alaska, and it is rumored that her passion was responsible for melting several igloos. But just

for the record, she was not responsible for EI Nino.

"No, it's not your sister. It's Mrs. Yoder."

I drummed on the blanket with my long, slender fingers. Yoder is the most common surname in both the local Mennonite and

Amish communities.

"It's Irma Yoder," Sam said quickly. "Old Irma."

Ah, now we're getting somewhere. There are many old Irma Yoders in the area as well, but only one Old Irma Yoder. At one

hundred and two she isn't the oldest woman around, but thanks to that cheddar-shredding tongue, she is the most memorable.

"So, Old Irma's gone missing, has she?"

"Yah. I stopped by on my way here to give her some milk. She wasn't at home."

"Maybe she's off visiting relatives. Or maybe she went shopping." I shudder to say this, but Old Irma still drives. Not that I

have anything against the elderly drivers, mind you, but when they pull out on to a major highway, they should at least be going