by Tamar Myers
Just about then, I stuck my finger in the little dog’s mouth and dislodged a glob of peanut butter. Immediately I heard Shnookums wheeze, and then his little chest began to move up and down. Seconds later he was revived enough to get loose with the most pitiful yowl I have ever heard. Even I felt sorry for the matted mutt.
“It is a dog!” I heard Lydia say.
“Rats can sound like that too,” Jeanette and Linda said together.
Susannah had, by then, regained consciousness and was struggling to her feet. Billy Dee, ever the gentleman, was concerned that she might collapse again and was trying to coax her to remain prone. “Please lie still, Miss Entwhistle,” he begged. “You’re paler than a Yankee come February.”
“Let me go!” she screamed. “That’s my baby over there!”
At the sound of his mistress’s voice, Shnookums began to wail even louder.
Reluctantly Billy Dee helped Susannah to her feet and walked her over to the sink. By then I had managed to do a fair job of cleaning the canine, and he bore at least a faint resemblance to Shnookums. Of course, any small animal, dog or cat, looks half their size when wet. Frankly, I’ve seen rats twice the size of the soggy Shnookums.
“See! It is a rat!” shrieked Jeanette. “It fell right from the ceiling into the pot. God knows what all we’ll be eating tonight.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” moaned Linda.
Susannah grabbed her baby out of my hands and held him to her face for close inspection. He continued to wail. She began planting kisses all over his tiny body. He wailed even louder.
“I think you’d best take him to the vet,” suggested Billy Dee.
Now Susannah began to wail. “My baby, my poor little baby, and it’s all your fault.”
I think she meant me. After all, it had been my idea that she cook something for supper. Of course she wasn’t being fair, but this was no time to point it out.
“I’ll get our coats and then we’re heading straight for Doc Shafer,” I said calmly. “Lydia, would you mind seeing to it that supper gets on the table and everyone gets a chance to eat? Mr. Grizzle, would you please call Dr. Shafer and tell him we’re coming? I think he closes at six. His number is by the phone at the front desk.”
Papa would have been proud of me for my level-headedness. I think I got that quality from him. Anyway, acting calm in a crisis and delegating responsibility seem to come naturally to me, except when something really serious comes along, like being shot at. Papa always used to say I should become a manager and manage something, like a business or an organization. Susannah, on the other hand, says I should manage my own business. Mama probably agreed more with Susannah than with Papa, but she was too gentle ever to say such a thing.
While Susannah and Shnookums wailed, I calmly drove them to Doc Shafer’s, who lives six miles on the other side of Hernia. Old Doc is primarily a farm vet, whose specialty is delivering breech births in cows. Doc has been treating our livestock since before I was born. In recent years, however, his arthritis has prevented his getting down on his knees and reaching up the birth canal of a Holstein, so he’s shifted his focus to treating pets.
“Evening, ladies,” said Doc cheerfully.
Neither Susannah nor Shnookums were at all coherent, so I filled Doc in on all the details. “I immediately got the chocolate mixture off and rinsed him with cool water,” I concluded.
“You did fine, Magdalena. I always said you would have made a good veterinarian.”
I felt myself blushing. By and large I get fewer compliments than Saddam Hussein. “Thanks, Doc. Are the burns bad?”
He shook his head. “As far as I can tell, mostly first degree. With these smaller breeds, the problem is shock as much as anything else. What I’d like to do is give him a sedative and keep him overnight for observation. But I think he’ll be as good as new by tomorrow.”
You would have thought I’d plopped her pooch in a bun and smeared him with mustard the way Susannah carried on. “I won’t leave without my baby!” she screamed. “My baby! My precious little itsy-bitsy baby! My Shnookums Wookums!” I had never, ever seen an adult woman carry on that way. If she had been a character in a movie or a book, someone would have slapped her silly to get her to stop. Although I doubt if it would have done any good.
“What you really need to do is give Susannah a sedative,” I couldn’t help saying.
“I could give her a shot of something to calm her down,” Doc agreed. He gestured at the rows of bottles on the shelves behind him.
“Would that be legal?” I asked hopefully. “I mean, I don’t want to be doing anything wrong.”
Old Doc smiled. “I’ll be eighty-two next month. If they take my license away, I’ll retire. So, who are you going to trust, me or the legislators?”
I thought for a second about Garrett Ream, and decided to choose Doc. It was either that or leave Susannah with him for the night. I simply did not have the energy to sit up with her screaming all night.
“Stick it to her,” I said.
Susannah never saw it coming, but undoubtedly she felt it. But only for a second. Almost immediately her screams faded to sobs, and then weak little whimpers. Amazingly, Shnookums quieted down too, and soon it would have been impossible to tell, had I been wearing a blindfold, which sound was coming from whom. “Are you sure she’ll be all right?”
“She’ll sleep like a baby. Actually, maybe more like a lamb. That was my best sheep tranquilizer.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“Say,” he began almost shyly, “I’ve got some baked ham and scalloped potatoes in the back. I don’t suppose you’d join me for supper?”
Doc’s wife, the former Anna Speicher, had been dead for seventeen years. In the old days, Mama used to invite Doc to stay for supper all the time. Daddy use to tease Mama and say it was because Doc was easy on the eyes, but I’m sure it was more than that. Mama had a soft spot for anyone who was lonely or needy, and besides which, Anna Speicher Shafer and Mama were third cousins. Even without any “removeds.” So when old Doc returned the favor, it didn’t take me long to accept. Especially not after I let a quick vision of the bunch back at the PennDutch flit across my brain. “What about Susannah?” I asked.
“She’ll be just fine on the sofa in there. That way we can keep an eye on her vital signs for a while before you take her home.”
He put the now quiet Shnookums in a cage and I helped him get Susannah to the couch. Then Doc and I settled down and had a good old-fashioned meal, like the kind we were meant to eat. In addition to the ham and scalloped potatoes, Doc served up green beans with bacon, dried corn pudding, and rhubarb-strawberry pie. Both the rhubarb and the beans, he confessed, had been canned last spring.
“Do you eat like this all the time?” I asked in amazement. Doc waited until he had swallowed a bite of freshly baked roll dripping with butter before he answered. “Guess I have to. I live to eat, and if the eating’s not worthwhile, I may as well just give up and die.”
“Some people say they just eat to live,” I countered.
Old Doc snorted. “Then they’re sick.”
“Pardon me?”
“It’s a fact, at least with animals. If something doesn’t like to eat, chances are it’s sick.”
“Pass the ham, please,” I said quickly, proving I was healthy as a horse.
Doc smiled approvingly. “Makes my heart glad to see a woman eat like that, Magdalena. It’s a sure sign of passion, you know.”
Somehow I doubted it. “Look, Doc, I have to ask you something.”
“Then ask away.” The old geezer was waving a spoon full of scalloped potatoes seductively in front of me. Of course, then it all made sense. Old Doc must have been sweet on Mama too, and Mama had made Roseanne Barr look like a barrette.
I ignored the proffered spuds. “It’s this, Doc. I suppose you’ve already heard about the woman who took a tumble out at the inn.”
He nodded.
“Well, Chief Myers says i
t might have been an accident, and it might have been foul play. But if it was an accident, Doc, I could be sued for everything I’ve got. I might even lose the inn!”
“Says who?”
“Well, Melvin Stoltzfus, for one.”
Doc snorted. “That boy couldn’t find his way south from the North Pole. It seems to me, Magdalena, that you’d really have a problem if the other scenario was true.”
“You mean that nobody would want to stay at a place where someone had been killed?"
“That might come later. But for now, I’d say your biggest worry should be that you just might have a killer staying at the inn.”
“You mean now?”
Doc’s look was all the answer I needed. Melvin, move over. Why hadn’t I seen the ramifications myself? “Why didn’t Chief Myers make that a bit clearer to me?” I asked, as soon as I could speak.
“What? And spoil a perfectly good fishing trip?” asked Doc. He didn’t sound like he was kidding.
I temporarily hoped that Tammy Myers not only stood too near Niagara Falls, but that she managed to pull the Chief in with her when she fell. I filled Doc in on a number of things.
Doc listened intently, but he seemed to be most interested in Jumbo Jim’s Fried Chicken and Seafood Palace. “How much is a bucket of extra crispy?” he asked, interrupting my narrative.
“Too much to go driving two hundred and fifty miles for,” I snapped.
“Easy, girl, easy,” said Doc. “I sense I’ve hit a nerve. How long did you talk to this guy?”
“I’ll let you know when I get my phone bill.”
“That long, huh?” Doc sounded like he just might be jealous.
“And he called me once, but I was out,” I said just to be nasty.
“How did he get your number?” Doc was definitely jealous.
“Beats me. Susannah took the message. Say, Doc, do you want to hear the rest of what’s been going on, or not?”
“Sure,” said Doc. “Anyway, Baltimore is a long ways away. You won’t be hearing from this guy again.”
I ignored Doc’s last comment and proceeded to tell him how I had found the fire escape door open, and that the trunk of Miss Brown’s car had been broken into. Of course, I pointed out, it was possible, even probable, that neither of those things had anything to do with Miss Brown’s becoming intimate with my impossibly steep stairs.
“Nonetheless, do you want me coming back to stay the night?” Doc asked kindly.
I declined the offer. What possible protection could an eighty-two-year-old Lothario provide? I thanked Doc for the bounteous supper and politely but firmly refused a good-night kiss.
Susannah snoozed all the way home and wasn’t any trouble at all. When I got back to the inn, Billy Dee was the only one still up, and I enlisted his help in carting Susannah off to bed. Then, as a reward, I made a pot of hot chocolate and invited Billy Dee to join me in the parlor.
“Just had me some tea, Miss Yoder. But I’d be glad to sit and shoot the breeze for a spell.”
I happily drank Billy Dee’s share of the reward. “So how did supper go?” I asked casually. I was dying to know. I also wanted to know who had done the dishes.
Billy chuckled. "You missed a night to remember, Miss Yoder.”
“Please... Magdalena.”
He nodded. “Yep, it was quite something. The Congressman and his missus, and that Delbert guy, they all liked my venison stew. Although the Congressman didn’t like the bay leaf. But them other folks! Whew! You’d’a thought I’d drug a skunk in, the way they all scooted down to the other end of the table.”
“How about the other dishes? Did you taste them?”
“Some. But you couldn’t pay me enough to taste that mess Jeanette served up. Leeks is something that happens to your faucet. Not something you oughta be eating.
“However, that casserole your cook brought over sure hit the spot. Had me two helpings of that.”
“What casserole, and what cook?”
“You know, that sort of short woman with the... uh... the uh... the big... uh...”
“Freni? Freni Hostetler was here?” The department Freni was big in was all too obvious. Susannah and I have often mused that her branch of the family had somehow usurped all the mammary genes in our pool. It may be only a slight exaggeration, but if Susannah and I laid flat on our backs we would make excellent putting greens.
“Yeah,” said Billy Dee, "Mrs. Hostetler, that’s her name.”
“But Freni doesn’t even work for me anymore!”
“You fire her?”
“She quit. But with Freni it’s all the same. How long was she here for?”
“Just brought the casserole and left. Oh, she did ask where you were. Seemed kinda disappointed you weren’t around.”
“Well, that’s the breaks. How was Linda’s salad?”
“Miss Yoder, I mean Magdalena, when I don’t know the name of something, I ain’t likely to eat it.”
“But it was just a salad.”
“That’s what she said, but there were vegetables in there I ain’t never seen before.”
Considering the state of Sam’s produce, I doubt if even Linda could provide the correct nomenclature. “What about Lydia’s vegetarian curry?” I asked. “That sounded delicious to me.”
Billy sighed. “Mrs. Ream is an awfully nice woman, and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, not after she ate my stew and everything, so I tasted the stuff.”
“And?”
His expression told me everything. “Couldn’t get more than a bite down,” he said needlessly. “But I did like the Congressman’s beans. And you know what? Even that stuff Joel made wasn’t that bad. I ain’t never had broiled bananas before, but they’re better than they sound. In fact, everyone liked them so much, Joel had to get up and make some more.”
“I’ll have to get his recipe,” I said, although I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like them.
Billy Dee and I chatted on a bit more. He confessed that he and Lydia had done the cleanup and all the dishes, but Lydia had made him promise not to give her any credit for the good deed. He also informed me that the next day’s plans were pretty much the same as they had been for today. Except, of course, that his team was going to be more vigilant and not let the Congressman’s party get away from them. To that end he had already taken the liberty of making up some sandwiches for his group.
“And don’t worry about breakfast,” said Billy Dee. “We’ll each just make our own, if it’s all right with you.”
“That’s perfectly fine. Didn’t the Congressman and Delbert have any luck at all today in their hunting?”
“They claim they didn’t see a single buck worth taking. But,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, even though there wasn’t a soul awake to hear us, “just between you and me, I don’t think they even went hunting. Not after deer, anyway. No, sir, I don’t think deer’s their kind of game.”
“Then what is?” What a shame Billy Dee was slipping from the rational category into the absurd.
Billy smiled a wide, Cheshire-cat-like grin. “I aim to find out tomorrow. For sure.”
Chapter Seventeen
For only the second time I can remember, I outslept Susannah. The first time was the morning following my high school prom. No, I was not up all night partying and drinking. I was up all night crying because Mama wouldn’t let me go, even though I had been invited by Eldon Shrock, who was a fourth cousin twice removed, and the son of Hernia’s mayor. Mama said, and Papa silently agreed, that dancing was the tool the devil used to get younger people to fornicate.
“All that rubbing together,” Mama had explained, “leads to urges that the body can’t control.”
“But we’ll mostly just be doing the twist,” I argued. “We won’t even be touching.”
“Just the same, Magdalena, vibrations will be jumping back and forth between the two of you, like lightning between two thunderheads.”
“But, Mama, the twist is fun. It’s no wo
rse than drying off with a towel!” I demonstrated briefly for her benefit.
Mama had blushed and turned quickly away. “Not even with your Papa could I imagine doing such a thing!”
That was it, then. No prom for me, just buckets of tears and eyes that stayed red for a week. Of course, for Susannah, who is ten years younger, everything was different. They were no longer doing the twist. Even the Freddy had flopped by then. At Susannah’s prom couples groped and grappled in a dimly lit gym, as thoroughly entwined as a French braid.
By then it was no use asking Mama why Susannah got to go and I didn’t. By then the world had changed too much, and Mama with it. At some point in the interim Mama had cut off the long braids she traditionally wore coiled around her head. I was still recovering from the shock of that when she bought a pair of pants to wear for working in the garden. Had Mama lived longer, she might eventually have worn slacks into town and put on lipstick. I still miss Mama terribly, but there is a part of me that is glad she went when she did. Perhaps it’s unfair of me to say so, but mothers should look and act like mothers, don’t you think?
At any rate, when I awoke that morning, it was because Susannah was shaking me and shouting in my ear.
“Go away,” I said. I turned over on my right side and pulled my pillow over my head.
“If you don’t come with me, then I’ll just go by myself,” Susannah shouted. “Shnookums must be absolutely frantic, not knowing where his mama is.”
“His mama lives in a kennel in New Jersey, Susannah. Why don’t you just write him a letter explaining that?”
“Very funny, Mags. Are you coming with me, or am I driving your car?”
“How did you sleep? Like a lamb?”
“Not bad, although, frankly, I can’t remember anything after Doc said he wanted Shnookums to stay the night. Guess I was kind of tired from all the stress.” Poor Susannah, sometimes it’s not even fun pulling the wool over her eyes. Grudgingly I got up and drove her over to Doc’s. Even before I got out of the car I could hear Shnookum’s high-pitched barks through Doc’s closed door.
