Play It Again, Spam (26 page)

"Yah?"

"You get to quit only fifty-two more times, and you have to tell Strubbly Sam that I'm giving him the old heave-ho."

"Ach! And you not even married!"

"I'm letting him go, dear. I' m firing him. Surely that's a word you understand."

Freni slipped out of my awkward embrace. "Yah, but I won't have to."

"What do you mean?"

"I fired him already."

"What? You fired him? You can't be doing that! You're not his boss - I am! Well, now, this changes everything."

I tried to grab Freni by an apron strap, but she stepped deftly out of my reach. "I've been like a mama to you, remember?"

"Yes, like Mama." I gritted my teeth. I might have lunged for Freni and wrestled her to the ground had it not been for the glove

that caught my eyes.

We were only yards from the pond now, and in one of the bushes that ringed the shore was a man's leather glove that had

not been there earlier that morning. I don't have a mind like a steel trap - aluminum sieve is more like it - but the glove looked

familiar.

I trotted over to retrieve the glove. Despite her age, Freni had no trouble keeping up.

"Ach, Magdalena, what are you doing?"

"I'm recovering what may be a valuable clue."

"An old glove?"

"A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, dear, but a hand in the bush - now that beats everything."

"Ach, riddles again. Must you always talk in riddles, Magdalena?"

I reached the glove. I was wrong - it had been there a long time. It certainly didn't belong to Johanne Burkholder. It may even

have belonged to Aaron Jr. I plucked it from the grasp of two stubborn twigs and turned it over. Sure enough, there was the rip in

the palm from the time Aaron held a barbed wire down, so I could step over a fence. We'd been - well, never you mind.

"Life's a riddle, dear. There's got to be more to it than this.

Freni sniffed. "Ach, there's grandbabies."

"But I'll never have any," I wailed. "I'm thinking of selling the inn and becoming a missionary. To Africa, maybe."

Freni poked me in the ribs with a plump finger. "Yah, and if they still have cannibals, at least no one will eat you."

"Very funny, dear."

Freni sighed. "Ach, no sense of humor, this one. Well, I tell you, Magdalena, becoming a missionary would be a big mistake."

"Why? Don't you think I have a serving nature?"

"Service, schmervice, you won't be going anywhere."

I stamped one of my size elevens. Thank the good Lord there were no patties to watch for. "Says who?"

"Says me," Freni said smugly. "I saw the way you looked at the English doctor back there."

"Wrong!"

But she was right. I know this is going to sound strange to you - maybe even worthy of Diana Lefcourt - but I could feel it in

my bones. Dr. Rosen and I were destined for each other. Never mind that we had nothing in common. God works in mysterious

ways, and sending a Jewish doctor to my faux-husband's former house was just one of many miracles. Sure, there would be

obstacles to overcome, but - I shivered as a single puffy white cloud blocked the sun-there was nothing two people in love

couldn't overcome.

Fortunately, I was blissfully unaware of an obstacle that lay right around life's next comer.

23

It was Susannah's fault. If she'd wanted a livelier party, she should have held it somewhere other than Elvina Stoltzfus's farm.

Elvina is a seventy-five-year-old widow, for crying out loud, and a member of the Tulpehocken Hill Mennonite church, which is

even more conservative than my branch. The woman is just a skip away from being Amish. I, on the other hand, am two skips and

a hop away. Clearly, the party should have been held at the PennDutch.

"It's gotten cold again," I whined. Gabriel gallantly removed his brown suede jacket and laid it across my shoulders. "There,

see if that helps."

"I mean it's too cold to bob for apples."

"Oh, will we be doing that? It sounds like fun."

It didn't to me. If you had a profile like mine you wouldn't get it anywhere near fruit. Once when I was ten I bobbed for

peaches, and much to my mortification speared .one with my proboscis. Sure, the peach was overly ripe, and therefore on the soft

side, but try explaining that to a group of fifth graders.

Gabriel had been late picking me up - he was a doctor, after all - and frankly, I was wringing my hands with despair when he

showed up driving a gray Datsun of dubious vintage. When I saw the car he was driving, I wrung some more. We Mennonites

might be a modest people, but since I'd already committed the sin of owning a red BMW, it would have been an even bigger sin to

leave it home and disappoint my critics.

"I'd be happy to drive," I said, and headed toward my car. My guests had long since left for the party, and mine was on the

only one left.

"No." He gently pulled me back.

"What do you mean 'no'?" I may be a traditional woman, but I won't stand for sexist treatment. Deep down everyone knows

women are equal, if not superior, to men. After all, men were God's practice run. You can read about it in Genesis.

"I mean, I'm in the mood to drive tonight. Besides my car is already warm."

I meekly allowed myself to be led like a sheep to the slaughter. "That makes sense," I heard myself say.

Gabriel was a gentleman and opened the door for me. I don't mind that sort of treatment from a man, just as long as he

knows I'm fully capable of opening my own door, and slamming it too, if need be. At any rate, the interior of the car smelled like

cigarette smoke and there was a pair of fuzzy dice and a pink lace garter hanging from the rearview mirror.

"My nephew's," Gabriel said, reading my mind. "He's a college student."

"Uh-huh."

For the record, Gabriel Rosen is the slowest driver I've ever met. I could have pushed the car to Elvina's faster than he drove.

Not that I'm complaining, mind you. There are worse things than being cooped up in a small car with a handsome man. I could do

without the cigarette smell, however.

"So," Gabriel said, looking intently at the road, "you own and operate a bed and breakfast."

"Well, in a manner of speaking. I prefer to think of it as a cultural exchange program. I give my guests a sample of

Pennsylvania Dutch culture in exchange for a whole lot of cash." I laughed pleasantly at my little joke.

He nodded, but said nothing for the longest time. Since the devil is quite willing and able to fill silence, I saw it as my religious

duty to jump in.

"So, Gabriel, are you really a doctor?"

"Please call me Gabe. And you mean because of the cat, don't you?"

"Well, Gabe, you must admit, it isn't your typical doctor's car."

He glanced at me and smiled. He didn't have perfect teeth like Aaron, but they were close enough for me.

"It really is my nephew's car. I'm just borrowing it for a few days. In the meantime he gets to drive my Porsche."

"Get out of town!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"That doesn't make a lick of sense to me."

"Well, I didn't want to draw attention to myself, you see. Rich tourist in a fancy car - that kind of thing."

"And you don't think fuzzy dice and ladies' underpinnings draw attention in Hernia? Besides, thanks to the PennDutch, we're

used to rich tourists."

"That's a shame - what I mean is, I'd much rather be driving my Porsche."

"At thirty-five miles an hour?"

He chuckled. "I'm used to city driving."

"We're not in the city now, dear."

We crept up to forty, which is about the speed fall color spreads south.

"You mean you're a spy too?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not a spy. You see, I've always had this dream - oh, incidentally, the Immigration Service is sending

someone out to investigate, but it may take a couple of weeks."

"A couple of weeks?"

"Like you said, Magdalena, God works in mysterious ways. The government, however, works very slowly."

"But in the meantime - "

"In the meantime, would you like to hear about my life's dream?"

"Do tell, dear." Perhaps I was in it, wearing white - no, it would have to be off-white now. Darn that Aaron!

"I've always wanted to write."

"Write what?"

"Novels."

"What kind of novels?"

He shrugged. "I don't know - good novels. Mysteries, maybe."

"Wow!" I'd met many writers before - all of them guests - but none who could inspire me to a single- syllable exclamation.

"And I was thinking of writing them here."

"In your nephew's car?"

He smiled kindly. "No, here in Hernia. On that farm where we met today."

My heart tried to claw its way out of my chest. "So you were serious? You really want to buy the Miller farm?"

"Dead serious."

"But what about your practice, or whatever surgeons call it?"

"I've given it up. I've retired - I want to exchange it for a slower pace."

"I see. You're sort of like my guests, then. You want to exchange a large amount of cash for a taste of country life."

"Yeah, only I won't have to pay extra to clean my room."

I gasped. "Who told you?"

"Vee haf our vays," he said in the worst German accent I'd ever heard.

"Old Irma told you, didn't she? Why that garrulous old crone! I ought to wring her scrawny neck!"

"Now, now, be kind. A beautiful, talented woman like you can afford to be generous."

"Were you just describing me?"

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you are the most intriguing person I've ever met."

"Ditto, dear."

We glanced awkwardly at each other, and back to the road. What was there to say next? I surely wasn't going to be the first

to speak. Thank the Good Lord after all that Gabriel was driving at a snail's pace. That way I could count the dashes in the broken

white line that ran down the center of Hertzler Road.

"So," he said finally, "what sort of music do you like?"

"Hymns, of course. Onward Christian Soldiers is my favorite." I clapped a hand over my mouth.

"That's all right. We're allowed to have our differences. I'm rather partial to klezmeir myself."

"What's that?"

"Think of it as Jewish hymns. Lively Jewish hymns."

"I like Mozart," I said out of the blue.

"No kidding? So do I. What about art?"

"I can take him or leave him."

"You're funny as well as beautiful."

"Go on, dear."

"I meant it."

"I know. That's why I said 'go on.' Go on and tell me more."

"It would be my pleasure. Let's see, you're intelligent, resourceful - "

Unfortunately even snails get to their destinations, and we were at ours. I would have loved nothing more than to creep on

past the Stoltzfus spread, while my rich Jewish doctor regaled me with a list of my attributes, but alas, my only sister was getting

married, and this party was for her.

"Turn left into the next driveway," I said, "but don't forget where you left off."

Gabriel winked. "No need to worry about that."

I felt like Monica Lewinsky at a journalists' convention. Susannah, Sandy Hart, and Lodema Schrock descended on me like a

flock of chickens on a June bug.

Susannah was the quickest. "She's my big sister. I get to speak to her first!"

"Well, I'm a paying guest!"

"That may be, but I'm the pastor's wife."

It didn't take the wisdom of Solomon to figure this one out. "Everyone, this Dr. Gabriel Rosen. And ladies, since you've

already introduced yourselves, there's no need for me to do so further. You" - I said to Susannah - "show the good doctor

around.

"It would be my pleasure," Susannah purred.

"Now you," I said to Lodema Schrock, "are the best cook in all of Hernia, and I just know you brought some goodies to

contribute to the party. So why don't you fix a plate a plate of food for our guest? But no ham." I turned to Gabe. "You don't eat