As The World Churns Part 25

"Oops," Agnes said, and giggled. "I guess compared to me, everyone is little."

Alert or not, it was still a struggle to think. "Why are we going to the hospital?"

"Because, darling, you're not well. If I wouldn't have been there to catch you, you would have fallen to the ground. You might even have gotten a first-cla.s.s concussion."

"Stuff and nonsense."

"You see?" Ida crowed triumphantly. "Already she dunt make no sense."

"That's because you don't read enough English novels, dear. I'm perfectly fine. Why don't you try saying this: how much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

"Hon, that's just mean."

"No," Ida croaked, "I try it already. How much vood can a vood shuck huck-oy, such shtuff and nonsense, I never hoid."

Everyone laughed. And not at my mother-in-law either. So much for this hero's fifteen minutes of fame; the clock must have started while I was unconscious. It wasn't fair.

"Tone it down, Ida," I said, "will you, dear? All this hilarity is hurting my head."

"Mom, you're jealous, ain't ya?"

"Moi? Please, everyone, I'm feeling fine. Really, I am. I just have a chip off my block-I mean I'm a chip off the old block- whatever. Now, would somebody please tell me the whereabouts of Plain Jane and her handsome hubby. Did Chief Ackerman and the sheriff haul them off trussed like Thanksgiving turkeys?"

"Mags, hon, we couldn't get through to either of those men."

"I know, only the Devil's cell phone works in that corner of the state, but the Maryland border was just a whipst.i.tch away. All one has to do to get a police escort, is press the pedal to the metal and lay on the horn."

Agnes switched from high beams to low. "That's exactly what I did, Magdalena, and was it ever thrilling. It was my first speeding ticket, you know. Anyway, the patrolman who stopped me- well, let's just say that if all goes according to plan, you could be trying on a matron of honor dress real soon."

"And I get to be a bridesmaid," Alison said. "But Agnes, you're engaged to one of the Dorf brothers!"

"That's Dorfman, Magdalena. Unlike you, I've never been married; I've never even come close. Now suddenly, the heavens are smiling on me, and all because of this silly Holstein compet.i.tion. I want to keep my options open, just in case one of them falls through."

"What if neither of them falls through?"

"Then who knows? I might just commit bigamy." She tinkled like a wind chime.

"Auntie Agnes," Alison said, sounding a mite worried, "if you marry that fat farmer with the cow, do I still get to be a bridesmaid?"

"Of course, honey."

"Vhat about me?"

"Sure, Ida," dear, sweet Agnes hastened to say, "you can be a bridesmaid as well."

"Nut dat," Ida said enigmatically. "I mean dee otter." At least that's what it sounded like to me.

"Oh yeah," Gabe said. "After we locked those two in the cattle carrier, and before we went off searching for a highway patrolman, we had to find Ma."

"And did you?" I asked pleasantly. "Yah, dey find me-in a tree!"

"How utterly romantic, dear."

"You see, Gabeleh, how meshugah dis von is? Better you should marry da zaftig von. Wid dose hips, she's got to be foidle, and wid so many men chasing after her-vell, mebbe dey know someting, yah?"

"Ma, that's a terrible thing to say. And besides, I'm already married to the crazy one." Honestly, my feelings were not hurt by this. At least not by the Babester's off-the-cuff comment (I'm sure he meant it lovingly). And even if I was offended, that was just too ding-dong bad, because, as I awoke from my fainting spell, it was with a clarity of vision that had thus far eluded me. Magdalena Portulaca Yoder Rosen (although officially still Yoder) had a serious crime to solve before she could take the time off to nurse hurt feelings.

Just before I'd gone under, I'd been utterly (please pardon my concussion-induced pun) convinced that the Pearlmutters were innocent of bludgeoning Doc. Now, suddenly, it hit me that Melvin's escape from prison, the a.s.sault on Doc, the men sighted running from our barn, and the break-in at Doc's place were all related. It all boiled down to one menacing mantis with wandering eyes and a brain the size of a baby pea: Melvin Stoltzfus.

Of course, I couldn't prove anything just yet. And since real law enforcers couldn't seem to bother themselves with my opinions, I would handle this one on my own, thank you very much. If I died in the process, then everyone would realize just how much they missed me. A grief-stricken Babester would kick his mama back to a New York curb (gently, and with the honor due a parent). Agnes would forget about marriage and devote herself to being my full-time friend (she was after all, very good at the task). Alison would rename herself Magdalena, and would strive to fill my brogans.

Perhaps even Hernia would be renamed Magdalenaville. Someone could compose a song, create a nonalcoholic drink . . . I shook myself. There would be time to daydream later. What I had to do now was play it cool, and respond to Ida's pointed remark that Agnes must be "foidle" because she had wide hips.

"And I'm not foidle?" I asked.

"Like da Goblin Desert, yah?"

"And you," I raged at Gabe, "you really think I'm crazy?"

"No-maybe-but in a delightful sort of way."

"That does it! Stop the car, Agnes."

"But Magdalena, we haven't gotten anywhere yet."

"We're on the outskirts of Hernia, for crying out loud; this most certainly is somewhere."

"Hernia's too small to have skirts," Gabe said. I think he was trying to be funny.

"Agnes! This is my car, and you are my friend, so- Oh my stars, I think I'm going to be sick."

"Sick?" My buddy may be large, but her feet are pretty darn quick. Had we not all been strapped in, one or more of us might have shot through the windshield.

"My hair," Wanda cried in dismay. "Look what you've done, Agnes. It's about to topple."

Sure enough, the infamous Hemphopple tower of vintage vermin was hanging by its last bobby pin. Even a small jolt would now send waves of filthy hair cascading in all directions, quite possibly killing us all with deadly toxins, which would then leak out the vent and spread like a plague across the nation. It wouldn't be the wrath of G.o.d that was ultimately responsible for the devastation, it would be some woman from the 1950s who had a rattail comb and a surfeit of hair spray lying around on a Sat.u.r.day morning.

"Everybody out," I hollered. "I'm about to blow my cookies!"

Trust me, that's the fastest way to empty a vehicle. Everyone piled onto the shoulder of the road, including Agnes, who should have known better-everyone that is, except for me. My buddy even left the keys in the ignition, which is exactly what I had been hoping for.

I made a show of clambering from the backseat, but I slid into the front seat just as smoothly as a key into a greased lock. Then, just like a key is supposed to do, I locked the doors.

"Hey," Gabe yelled, "what are you doing?"

"Chocolate-covered corn and the man in the moon," I whispered, whilst moving my lips in an exaggerated manner.

"What? I can't hear you."

"Seventeen blue monkeys are running for president." I pointed to some vague spot behind him.

When he turned to look, I mashed the accelerator into the floorboard. The car lurched forward, leaving everyone in the lurch. This unfortunate fact was regrettable, but could not be helped.

Besides, it wasn't like I left them in a dangerous situation. Outside of murder, there is very little crime in Hernia. Our worst offender is probably Cynthia Higginsbottom, who is fond of stroking ankles without their owners' permission. With the Pearl-mutters under arrest, my friends and family were safe-except, perhaps, from each other. I, on the other hand, had several metaphorical miles to go before I could sleep.

Doc's front door was ajar, permitting a spear of light to bisect his porch. After pausing to pray for a second or two, I pushed it open the rest of the way. I thought I knew what to expect, but boy was I dead wrong. I stood staring, dumbfounded, until she spoke first.

"Close the door, please dear. It's getting cold in here."

"Yeah, Yoder," he said. "Were you raised in a barn?"

"Fancy meeting you here," I said, having rejected a string of invectives unworthy of a Presbyterian, much less a Mennonite.

"I knew you'd be back," he said. "That's why I took the risk of returning to this dump."

"It's not a dump; it's quite cozy. You of all people shouldn't be one to complain."

"Skip the lecture and just bring your sister to me."

I glared at his mother. "How can you be okay with this? You can't possibly think you're somehow helping him."

"Shut up," he said, "and do as I say. That is, unless, you want someone to get hurt."

"Hurt? You'll be ruining her life if you convince her to go with you. You'll ruin your mother's life too."

"My mother's life is none of your business."

The Good Lord shut the lion's mouth for Daniel, but it was Mrs. Stoltzfus who shut mine. "It is her business, Melvin," she said.

"Mama." He managed to drag it out into an eight-syllable whine.

"Shut up, Melvin," she said. Her voice lacked invective, but not authority.

"Yes, Mama."

Elvina Stoltzfus turned her full attention to me. "Please forgive my boy, Magdalena. It isn't his fault-the way he behaves, I mean."

"You mean because he was kicked in the head by a bull? One he was trying to milk?"

"I was only nineteen," the mantis said. Perhaps it was due to his mother's presence, or perhaps it was due to the lack of starch in his prison clothes, but he did seem almost boylike. He certainly appeared smaller than I remembered.

Elvina Stoltzfus was in her mid-eighties. Although she'd been flirting with the Grim Reaper for several years, she reacted now with surprising vigor.

"I have to face it, Magdalena: I'm responsible for the miserable way my son turned out."

Miserable? Were my ears deceiving me? For years, I'd been referring to the mantis as miserable, all the while believing I was being unkind. But if his mother thought this, then I'd merely been making an honest observation.

Melvin's eyes bulged more than usual, causing his head to wag to and fro like a bobble-head doll. It was a wonder he could maintain his balance.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Mama, because I turned out all right."

She dismissed her son with the wave of a shriveled hand. "I shut down emotionally after I gave you away, Magdalena. I felt as if my soul had been ripped out of my chest. I had no business marrying anyone then, much less your father."

"My father? Forgive me, Elvina, but did that bull kick you as well?"

She blinked. "You really don't know?"

"I know plenty. I know that you Stoltzfuses are as nutty as a pecan pie."

"I honestly thought you knew-that they'd told you-and that's why you treated your brother so bad."

"That would be 'badly,' dear, if it made any sense. I don't have a brother, and since my parents have both been dead for over a decade, it's probably safe to say that I never will have a male sibling."

The mantis couldn't seem to follow these bizarre babblings any better than I could. "Mama, tell her to call Susannah and make her come over so we can get out of here."

But Elvina was not in the mood to indulge her son. "Be quiet, Melvin, so I can talk to your sister."

That's when the Devil possessed me lock, stock, and barrel. "Crackers," I said, and made a circular motion whilst pointing to my head. "Polly wants a cracker."

If Elvina was offended by my rude behavior, she didn't show it. "I was only fifteen when I became pregnant with you. I was too young to get married, and, of course, having an abortion was out of the question. I was a good Mennonite girl; we didn't get pregnant, and if we did-well, I had no choice but to go away and visit the proverbial aunt in some faraway city. But you see, I couldn't bear never to see my baby, not to watch her grow up." She took a deep breath, setting in motion rivulets of tears that coursed down the creases of her face. "Then I remembered your parents, that they'd been married for years and never had children. Fortunately, I had a real aunt who was in on my secret, and she approached your mother, who then talked with your father."

"Please excuse me," I said, "while I wobble over to the couch and lie down." I arranged my lanky frame over Doc's much-used loveseat. "Go on, dear, with your utterly fascinating deconstruction of my life."

"I'm sorry, Magdalena. I really am-for breaking the news, I mean. I always thought you knew."

"Ha! If I'd even as much as suspected that there might be a ghost of a chance that your murdering son and I were more closely related than third cousins, I would have jumped from my silo onto a strategically placed pitchfork."

She had the temerity to feign shock. "Well! I must say I am surprised that your mother didn't raise you any better than that."

"But her mama wasn't her mama," Melvin mewed. "You are."

"Hush, boy," Elvina said sharply. "Magdalena, do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

"Fire away when ready!" I closed my eyes, and put my hands next to my ears, just in case I needed to block out reality at a second's notice.

She wasted no time. "You see, the trick was getting the rest of Hernia to believe that it was your mother who'd given birth, not me. For the first four months, we both wore loose clothing. Then about the middle of the fifth month, we left town-not together, of course; your mother and I never got along. At any rate, I returned first, still wearing loose clothes. About a month later she returned with you in her arms. I tell you, Magdalena, the day I first saw you in her arms, I almost died of jealousy."

I opened one very skeptical eye. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that this story is true. Who is my papa?"

39.

"Why, my husband of course! May poor Siegfried Stanislaus Stoltzfus rest in peace." She seemed not to remember that her husband had been anything but a peaceful man. In fact, he had such a short fuse that he was known throughout the county as Dynamite Stoltzfus.