by Tamar Myers
Don’t think for a second that I was reluctant to enter the establishment because it sold booze. My Jewish husband drinks wine, and the Bible states that Jesus turned water into wine, but even Samson couldn’t have pried my dry, withered lips open wide enough to allow a drop of firewater to pass between them. I had seen how alcohol could ruin a person’s life, and I had enough troubles, without yielding to any new temptations.
I turned to my baby sister. ‘Before I go in, tell me, where is the real Miriam Blumfield?’
Susannah gave me a thin smile. ‘On a European tour with the money that Melvin gave her.’
‘What money? Where does he get money? He’s a schlemiel, for crying out loud.’
‘His mother, your birth mother, left him half a million dollars, Mags.’
‘Oh.’ To be brutally honest – and it is nobody’s business but my own – I felt left out. Maybe even jealous. Elvina Stoltzfus was my birth mother too; she could have at least left me enough money to buy a can of beans. Maybe even a can of beans with franks.
‘Don’t tell me that you’re jealous, Mags,’ Susannah said.
‘OK, I won’t,’ I said. ‘But Susannah, I want you to please tell me how Melvin knew about Miriam, and where she lives?’
Susannah shook her head. ‘You’re not going to like my answer, sis. It’s going to make you like my Mely-kins even less. You might even start to hate him, and that’s the same as killing him in your heart, and that’s a bad sin.’
I couldn’t tell if she was joking, but I certainly was serious when I answered. ‘Trust me, toots, I couldn’t possibly dislike your Ooey-gooey Toffee Bar any more than I do already. So lay it on me!’
‘Well, you don’t lock your doors, do you?’
‘Of course not. It’s Hernia; no one locks their doors. Besides, what good would it do? My guests are always coming and going at their leisure. And trust me, no authentic eighteenth-century inn is going to have magnetic door keys.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Susannah said. ‘And that’s exactly why it was so easy for my hubby-dubby to sneak into the PennDutch like a billion times and plant listening devices and video cameras. You guys have been under surveillance for the past three years.’
Every hair on my head started to rise. I could even feel my bun struggle for lift-off against its restraining bobby pins.
‘In our bedroom?’ I roared.
She nodded.
‘In the master bath? Anywhere near Big Bertha?’
Her eyes closed, she held her hands over her ears and nodded.
‘I’m going to kill that man!’ I shrieked. Then I gasped, for I realized she’d been exactly right. I did hate him, and it was the same as killing him – in my heart. According to Jesus, I was just as bad as Melvin Ichabod Stoltzfus, although I had yet to physically murder anyone.
I waited for Susannah to open her eyes, and then I gave her a ‘Mennonite hug’ – three pats on the back, as if I was burping a baby. I stepped back.
‘Susannah, I’m going in now. I will, of course, be telling the sheriff the truth, and nothing but the truth. Would you like to make an honest woman of yourself and come in with me? I would imagine that if you turn yourself in and act as state’s witness, you can make a deal for yourself. You might not even have to go back to jail. What do you think?’
My sister looked intently at me. I thought that I saw love in her expression. Maybe even contrition. Then she grabbed me around my bony shoulders and squeezed hard.
‘Love ya, Mags,’ she said, ‘but I could never rat on my sweet Mely-kins.’ Then she turned and ran off between two rows of pickup trucks and I never saw her again that night.
I am ashamed to say that I did not search for Susannah. I was emotionally broken, and physically exhausted. I just wanted the evening to be over, so I plodded straight to the door of the bar.
THIRTY
The following week, on her day off, Agnes invited me over to her house for coffee and stale pastries. It was a pleasant morning, just right for sitting outside on her back patio. To avoid contact with her uncles, I walked around to the rear of her house and phoned her when I’d arrived. When she answered the door, I handed her a thousand-piece puzzle with a dozen pieces missing.
‘This will keep the old dears occupied,’ I said, ‘because it’s missing a dozen border pieces.’
‘Mags, you wouldn’t!’
‘You’re right, not even I would stoop that low. It’s just temporary.’ I handed her a baggie with the missing pieces. ‘Sneak these into the mix after our gabfest and we’ll all have had a good time with no harm done.’
Much to my surprise, Agnes was pleased with my evil scheme. ‘I shall sneak the missing pieces into the mix surreptitiously. Goodness me, I don’t know why I haven’t thought of that before, given that they are such puzzle freaks.’
‘Well, unfortunately I only thought about it after one of my disgruntled guests swiped a handful of pieces out of a puzzle we’d set up in the parlour.’
‘Was it that tiny Texan married to a Texan named Tiny?’
‘No, this was a long time ago,’ I said. ‘By the way, I am so glad to get that tiny Texan out of my mousey brown hair. Him, I could stand, but her – never mind, I refuse to gossip. I’m turning over a new leaf.’
‘So then we won’t discuss her,’ Agnes said. ‘But please, best girlfriend, tell me how you stormed into the Bottoms-Up Bar & Grill with your guns blazing.’
‘Ack! I didn’t have any guns, and nothing was blazing. It just looked like a safe place to make a phone call. Besides, you’ve already heard the story.’
‘I know, Mags, but I get such schadenfreude out of hearing it. Indulge me one last time, and I’ll drive you straight into Bedford and to that nail place I was telling you about that takes “walk-ins”. I asked your pastor, and he assured me that pedicures are not sinful.’
As my fubsy friend poured me a second cup of coffee, I considered her offer. Gabe has reneged on his private wedding vow of giving me a weekly foot rub. I had never had a pedicure – not because I thought the process itself was sinful, but that my response might be quite inappropriate. Confidentially, even the prospect of a stranger touching my tootsies gave me shivers of delight. Tiny shivers that were still manageable. Who knew what might happen when someone actually touched my feet.
‘OK, it’s a deal,’ I said at length. ‘But if I run out of the salon screaming something about Satan having to get behind me, it will be all your fault.’
‘I’ll be right behind you, laughing my head off,’ Agnes said. ‘Now humour me.’
‘Well, it was a dark and stormy night on a deserted mountain road,’ I began. ‘Correction. It was a bright moonlit night, and the parking lot was jam-packed, as you already know. When I stepped inside, it took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the bar. At first, I didn’t see that burly guy standing right inside the door.
‘“Hello sweetheart,” he said to me. “There’s a cover charge of twenty dollars and a two drink minimum.”
‘“I’m not your sweetheart, dear,” I said. I attempted to bypass his bulky frame, but he kept stepping in front of me, demanding that I pay him twenty bucks. What chutzpah.’
‘Go on,’ Agnes said breathlessly.
‘Then I remembered the tactic we girls used on Melvin in elementary school when he’d corner one of us in a school corridor and try to plant a booger on us. “Melvin, your shoes are on fire,” we’d scream. He’d look down at his feet, and we’d make a run for it. It worked every time.’
‘Yes!’ Agnes said gleefully. ‘But then what?’
‘“I’m going to be sick!” I shouted at that big man in the bar. He jumped aside to avoid my vomit, and I ran into the middle of the room, where I found myself surrounded by a crowd of gyrating men. Agnes, you know that I don’t have a judgmental bone in my body, but if I did, I could have sworn – if I was a swearing woman – that I’d landed in Sodom and Gomorrah.’
‘Hmm,’ Agnes said. ‘If dancing is a
sin in your book, is homosexual dancing any worse than heterosexual dancing?’
‘I really wouldn’t know which is worse, dear,’ I said drily, ‘since I’ve never seen straight men dance. But these gay men were pretty good in my estimation. Anyway, what’s important to the story is that suddenly I became aware that there was a man on stage singing in a high tenor voice – a very familiar high tenor voice. The song that he was singing was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. That’s one of Gabe’s favourite songs, so I stopped moving and paid attention, and that’s when my eyes nearly popped out of my head.’
‘Because?’ Agnes coached.
‘Because it was Melvin. Our Melvin Ichabod Stoltzfus in full Miriam make-up: lavender eyeshadow, sweeping false eyelashes, overly rouged cheeks, and bright red lips. Although he was shirtless, he had on men’s trousers, and men’s shoes.
‘But I must say that his voice sounded just like the Judy Garland record that Gabe has. Everyone there in the bar must have thought so too, because they’d stopped gyrating, and now the partners were swaying in those sexually suggestive postures that makes dancing so sinful.’
‘And then?’
‘The song ended and the dancers clapped and cheered so enthusiastically for Melvin that I couldn’t hear myself think. The patrons went on to beg Melvin to perform another song, which he did, and it was just as beautiful as the first, and met with just as much enthusiasm. Then Melvin spotted me, and he had a total meltdown on stage. He blithered, blathered, and squealed like a house full of parrots and pigs. At first his many fans supposed he was doing a comedy routine, but when he pointed at me repeatedly and said the most ungracious things, they turned.
‘I watched, transfixed by the spectacle for perhaps longer than was necessary. Finally I came to my senses and took refuge in the ladies’ room. The only reason I was able to do that unnoticed by the brute at the door, was because he was using the men’s room! At any rate, I was in the ladies’ room when I called Toy who, as you know, called the local sheriff. By the time Sheriff Jowlstump arrived, the wonderful bar patrons – drinkers and dancers, though they were – had subdued the malevolent Melvin, and he was tightly bound with leather belts. Of course in the interim, I’d called Gabe, but I had to call three times before I got through.’
‘That’s because he was talking to Alison,’ Agnes said. ‘So what was your immediate reaction to learning that she didn’t get on the plane to Puerto Rico after all? Relief? Or were you disappointed that she put off doing her volunteer work?’
‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘In fact, when I learned that Alex was one of her girlfriends, and not a boyfriend, I was so relieved that I did the one-step dance.’
Agnes laughed. ‘Pray tell, what is the one-step dance?’
‘Well, dear, there are several variations of the one-step dance. Mine was called the Jumping up and Down for Joy dance, and Little Jacob’s is called the I Have to Pee So Badly dance.’
‘Gotcha,’ Agnes said. ‘Once on a trip to Florida I did the I Stepped in a Nest of Fire Ants dance. Say Mags, now that this ordeal is over, and Alison is on her way to being a doctor, are you finally happy?’
‘I’m content with my life – well, sort of.’
‘Just sort of?’ Agnes demanded. She was suddenly angry. ‘Mags, you have everything!’
‘I know,’ I said, defensively. ‘Wealth, health, husband, children – whatever order you want to put them in, but I miss Granny Yoder.’
Anger faded from Agnes’s face. ‘Still no sign of her, huh?’
‘Zilch, zip, nada. But last evening, after supper, the oddest thing happened. I asked Little Jacob to go into the parlour and see if I might have left my reading glasses in there. When he came out he said that there was an Indian man sitting on the floor beside Granny’s rocker. He said that the Indian spoke to him in the language that Freni sometimes mutters to herself in.’
‘Swiss German?’
‘Right. So I followed him back into the parlour but I didn’t see anyone, even though Little Jacob insisted that the Indian man was still there. I told Little Jacob to ask the man his name.’ I paused to gulp down some of my pale coffee, which was fast getting too cold.
‘Don’t stop there, Mags! What was the Indian’s name?’
‘Joseph Hochstetler.’
Agnes frowned. ‘That is not an Indian name.’
‘No, but it is the name of my eighth great-grandfather. Joseph Hochstetler was kidnapped by the Lanape Indians when he was a boy and adopted fully into their tribe. He was given to an Indian family to raise as their own son, and when he was rescued ten years later, he didn’t want to leave his new family.’
Agnes shivered. ‘Mags, this is very weird.’
‘It gets even weirder,’ I said. ‘Little Jacob said that this Indian sitting cross-legged in our parlour has blue eyes.’
RECIPES
Moreton Bay Bug Salad with Sesame Dressing
NOTE: Morton Bay or Balmain bugs (these are not really bugs, but are a little like a flat lobster – much smaller though), are from a bay hear Brisbane. A quick internet search will bring up the definition so you’re not grossed out by the word ‘bug’.
You could substitute lobster for the ‘bugs’. If you’re anything like me, I would substitute anything I like in a recipe. You could possibly use squid (calamari), prawns, or scallops. I think being inventive with a recipe to change it to suit those in the family will always work. It is, after all, a salad.
Serves: 6
INGREDIENTS
12 cooked Moreton Bay Bugs
1 cup brown rice, boiled in salted water until tender
1 bunch green asparagus, trimmed, blanched and sliced (see notes)
6 cups mixed baby salad greens, to serve
¼ cup flaked almonds, toasted (see notes)
Sesame dressing:
¼ cup rice vinegar
¼ cup peanut oil
1 tablespoon sesame oil
1 tablespoon light soy sauce
2 teaspoons grated ginger
1 small red chilli, seeded and finely chopped
1 teaspoon sesame seeds, toasted (see notes)
METHOD
Make sesame dressing: combine ingredients in a screw top jar and shake well. Set aside until needed.
Slice bugs lengthways and remove the meat from the shells, remove the digestive tract (grey thread) running down the middle of the tail meat. Cover and refrigerate.
Place rice, asparagus and salad greens in a large bowl. Add dressing and toss well to combine. Divide between plates, top with bug tails and sprinkle with almonds.
NOTES
If asparagus is thick and woody, discard the woody bottom section and peel the spears with a potato peeler. Blanch asparagus in well-salted boiling water for 30 seconds to 1 minute, then refresh in ice water, or cold running water, to stop the cooking. Toast sesame seeds and almonds in a dry frying pan for a couple of minutes, tossing gently to prevent them burning, or under a griller (but watch them closely).
Seafood Salad
Prep Time: approx. 15 mins
Cook Time: 2 mins
Difficulty: Easy
Serves: 4
INGREDIENTS
2 small/medium whole squid, cleaned, hood scored and cut into squares, tentacles cut in half
Olive oil
2 tbsp fish sauce
2 tbsp caster sugar
2 tbsp water
Zest and juice of 1 lime
1 long green chilli, finely chopped
1 small handful Thai basil leaves (or substitute coriander)
1 small handful mint
¼ green papaya, julienned (see notes)
½ punnet of cherry tomatoes, quartered
6 large, cooked prawns, peeled and cut into thirds
2 cooked Moreton Bay or Balmain bugs, remove from shell and cut in half
¼ cup crispy fried shallots
METHOD
Preheat a grill pan or barbecue. Season the squid with a little salt and mass
age it in with a drizzle of olive oil. Add it to the hot pan or barbecue and flash fry for one minute on each side. Once cooked, remove from pan and allow to cool to room temperature.
In a large bowl combine fish sauce, sugar, water and lime juice and zest. Whisk together until the sugar dissolves, then add the chilli. Toss the herbs, papaya and tomato in the dressing. Add the seafood. Toss again. Serve topped with fried shallots.
NOTES
This recipe uses Australian tablespoons and cups: 1 teaspoon equals 5ml; 1 tablespoon equals 20ml; 1 cup equals 250ml. All herbs are fresh, unless specified, and cups are lightly packed. All vegetables are medium size and peeled, unless specified. All eggs are 55-60g (about 2 ounces), unless specified.
If you can’t find green papaya, you could use green mango, cabbage or cucumber – something to give the salad texture.
