Whoopie Pie Betrayal - Book 2 (The Whoopie Pie Juggler: An Amish of Lancaster County Saga series) Read online

  Whoopie Pie Betrayal

  Book 2 of the Whoopie Pie Juggler: Amish of Lancaster County Saga Series

  REBECCA PRICE

  2013 Copyright by Global Grafx Press, LLC

  All Rights Reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author or Global Grafx Press, LLC.

  To my mom, who always encouraged me to write even when she had no idea what I was writing about.

  Whoopie Pie Betrayal

  Book 2 of the Whoopie Pie Juggler: Amish of Lancaster County Saga Series

  REBECCA PRICE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  Venison is thick in the air, smoky and savory, saliva collecting at the back of my tongue. And that bear meat, so tasty when slow-cooked the way it is today, just three days after it was brought down in the hills north of the Lancaster County line.

  What a story Daed and the other elders brought back from that hunt, not only a fine stag for the marketplace, but that mighty male black bear as well. Not only would it be a stew that would be the highlight of the market, but the hide was already a rug that would bring in a lot of Englischer dollars, which we need to support the community.

  Simon approaches our booth, easing his way between the throngs of locals and others who line up each week for my Whoopie pies. I don’t mean to brag, of course, but I’m not about to lie about it, which would be worse. My pies are popular, what can I say? I’m glad people enjoy them, and they go a good way toward supporting my new family with Simon. Not that his beet farm isn’t quite productive because it is, but every little bit always helps, because there’s always somebody in need not far off.

  That’s a blessing, because a chance to help another is a chance to help ourselves, and to honor God.

  “‘Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’”

  But Matthew 25: 40 isn’t exactly what is on Simon’s lips as he creeps around into the booth and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “It took that black brute to outshine your pies today, Hannah.”

  “Between us two, I think I came out of the bargain more than slightly better off!” We share a chuckle, one of many. Simon and I enjoy a happy life together, even if it’s only been a few months since we wed. We had our Amish honeymoon, a casual series of visits with family individually. We spent time with Abram and my family, time over the county line with Rebecca and her new love, Beau Thompson, even taking the trip back to Indiana to introduce Simon to the rest of my relatives.

  Now I’m back, and establishing myself in the community here in Lancaster, which may not be as easy as it should be, but really isn’t as difficult as I thought it might be.

  So far.

  “Behold, the mighty bear hunter,” Olaf Thompson says loudly but lightheartedly as he approaches the booth with my daed, who can’t seem to stop himself from smiling, even if it’s just a little.

  “I happened upon the beast is all,” Daed says, waving his hand and shaking his head.

  “Such modesty,” Olaf says, slapping my daed on the shoulder, an intimate gesture my father visibly doesn’t appreciate. But his snarl hardly deflects Olaf’s attention. “Creeping toward the felled buck, the hairy beast comes lurching out of nowhere, all the advantages of surprise and size, weight and might on his side. You should have seen Hyamm here, a steely nerve, a dead eye...” Olaf mimes raising a rifle to his face, aiming and firing. “One shot and the beast reeled back, another put the animal on the thick, forest carpet of leaves and moss and muck. From the dirt he rose, and unto the dirt he returned. I’ve never seen such a spectacle, and I hope never to see it again.”

  “Amen to that,” my daed mutters.

  Rebecca and Beau stroll up behind them arm in arm. They are such a good match, fitting perfectly in each other’s embrace, a new light shared on their faces. “A lesser man would have frozen in the pitch of the moment, sir, happenstance or not.”

  “You don’t have to call me sir, Beau.” After what almost feels like a humorous pause (if I didn’t know the source) my daed adds, “I don’t forbid it, you simply don’t have to do it.”

  We all share a chuckle. What a rare thing, for my daed to make a wisecrack, and in public no less! I laugh as much in surprise as anything else, but I don’t question laughter when it comes, when I can afford not to.

  And this time, idle laughter is a luxury I’ve earned and can well afford.

  “Hey ho, the gang’s all here!” Lilly says as she and Jessup approach. Jessup and Simon embrace. Lilly says to me, “Your pies are as big a hit as ever, Hannah. And you look marvelous, married life suits you.”

  Reflecting on the rocky road which our relationship has followed, I’m not sure how to take Lilly’s compliments, but I decide not to fret over it. I’m a little more concerned about the tension between Rebecca and Lilly. I never found out how much Rebecca knows about the role Lilly played in her breakdown. Better to let the matter lie, I reason. But of course ignoring a thing can always lead to greater problems, which I have the awful feeling I’m about to learn.

  Again.

  My daed glares at Lilly. He’s not as accustomed to forgiveness, of himself or of us, much less of this strange girl who tried to taint my wedding feast. It was easy to see Lilly feeling his gaze and shrinking back into the crowd, something I have to admit brings me just a little bit of personal amusement and satisfaction.

  Well, maybe more than just a little.

  Jessup, forever at Lilly’s side, is always quick to defend her or, short of that, deflect any ill-will that drifts her way. Despite my best efforts, it happens from time to time. We live in a small-town environment, and that means everybody is closely invested in everybody else. A move against one of us is a move against us all, even when a long-standing member of the community like Lilly is the one making the move.

  Jessup says to me, “Lilly’s right, Hannah. You really have brought a new light to Lancaster, your whole family has!”

  Simon gazes into my eyes. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  “Nor I,” Beau says, looking just as lovingly into Rebecca’s eyes.

  “Time to check on my wife and son,” Daed says with a nod, and I watch him walk away without waiting to be excused. He makes his way through the crowd, careful of others but restrained in his movements, like a redwood stalking through a forest of smaller trees. He may not move quickly but there is also no reason for him to do so.

  I know to some people he is still intimidating and off-putting, that they don’t know how to approach him, or how he’ll react. His explosion at the children during their well-intentioned song in front of the house made a bad enough impression, but that wasn’t to be the end of it.

  And it doesn’t matter.

  Because by what he had done in joining the men in the hunt, and then by bringing down the bear, in addition to his attention to his duties to the blacksmith stable and to the farm, Daed had begun to find his place in the community. And to know that I played some small part in that filled me with a satisfaction and a closeness to God that I really cannot describe.

  And I don’t really need to.

  My eyes follow him to the third booth from ours, where Mamm sells the pies she
still makes and sells. It’s hard for me to get used to, but we each have to produce and sell for our own distinct families now. It’s a new and unfamiliar condition, but it does feel so right.

  A lot of great things take a bit of getting used to.

  All of them.

  He hugs my mamm and they share a quick nuzzle. But not a kiss. It’s a slow turning, and just to see Daed moving so relatively comfortably in public tells me that he’s moving in the right direction.

  Toward God.

  And Abram, who stands not far from my mamm’s booth, is the center of attention. He tosses five objects: an egg, a hammer, a brick, a stone, and a screwdriver. Amazingly, all these different objects stay aloft in the spinning circle in front of him, his eyes never leaving them, his hands a swirling blur.

  Then, one by one, he catches each object and sets it down at his feet until the egg is left. He catches the egg and, in a quick move he once described to me as pawning, he makes the egg disappear in his hands. The crowd claps and cheers, nodding their approval and dropping dollars into a nearby jar marked contributions.

  I watch my daed, holding my mamm and watching my brother, and I’m simply amazed that it’s happening at all. There’s no fury, no shame, no conflict.

  I thank God for the blessings I’ve found here in Lancaster, and I don’t dare wonder if they can’t go on forever.

  I know something’s going to happen. Soon. And I’m righter than I’d like to be.

  But things start off innocently enough, as they always do.

  Rebecca says, “Y’know, over in York County there’s a girl makes Whoopie pies...” She looks at me with a little flicker of awkwardness. “You know I love you, Hannah, but I gotta say, her pies might be as good as yours!”

  I search myself for a moment - for anger, for sadness, for some sense of threat to my notion of who I am and what I’m living for. So when I feel the smile stretch across my face, I enjoy it as much as I hope they do. “Why, does that mean you don’t love me, Rebecca? I don’t care if somebody makes better Whoopie pies than I do, I think that’s great. I’m not just some human Whoopie pie factory.”

  “Alleluia to that,” Simon says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “They can have their pies, even if they are...even more delicious than yours?” Simon turns to Lilly with a joking smile. “Well, um, is this person single?”

  We all erupt in a burst of laughter, enjoying Simon’s levity. I’m so glad I married Simon, more and more every day.

  Then Lilly says, “But what an interesting thing, if we could have some kind of festival, like a contest. We could raise enough money to finally finish that silo, and that extension to the schoolyard. You know how you like to stop by the schoolhouse unexpectedly, Hannah.”

  Nice one, I wanna say, but of course I don’t. I’ll give Lilly a lot: my patience, my forgiveness, my welcome.

  But not satisfaction.

  So instead, I say, “I’m sure there’s no reason to claim that anybody’s pies are better than anybody else’s, it’s silly when you think about it.”

  “Well, if you think that raising money for the community is silly,” Lilly says, “I guess that’s understandable. I mean, this isn’t Indiana, is it?”

  Simon says, “Jessup...”

  Jessup says, “Lilly...”

  Lilly says, “I’m just saying it could be something we could use to keep donations flowing in. What about the children? That’s all I’m saying.”

  I say, “They probably eat enough Whoopie pies as it is.” With Simon and the others looking at me like I’m half-cracked, I just wave them off and say, “Let’s hear no more about it, shall we?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Rebecca insists on picking me up to take me to visit Beau at his family home. We take the older carriage. It’s not a comfortable ride, but the carriage is lighter and easier on our family’s mare Rosalind, who is getting on in years.

  Because Beau is the county’s leading carpenter, he spends a good deal of time working on site, in people’s homes, and in shops. Lately, however, he’s been working on the fallow fields in the northwest acreage of the Thompson farm, where he’s laying the foundation for his and Rebecca’s new home, so that’s it will be ready to move into after their wedding.

  And that’s where we pass him and some friends, shirtless in the autumn sun, a pile of lumber waiting to be driven into the ground and nailed together.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” Rebecca asks me as Rosalind pulls us up to the house. “I’m so lucky.”

  “No, Rebecca,” I say, “not lucky, blessed.”

  We roll up to the front of the house and climb out, each taking one end of the long, antique rug we are gifting to Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Thompson, Beau’s parents. Mrs. Thomson, Ruth, steps out of the front door and stands there, her arms crossed over her chest.

  Rebecca offers a friendly, “Ruth, we brought you that rug I mentioned.”

  “Oh yes,” Ruth says, a little twitch pulling at the corner of her face, near her left eye. “A dusty old used rug. How thoughtful.”

  “It was our grandaunt’s,” I say, forcing a smile, “it’s a family heirloom, an antique.”

  “Then why not keep it for yourselves, darling?”

  The icy chill of her unwelcoming reception is quite stunning, really, and had I not been prepared for it, I would have been taken aback, to say the least. But I’ve met Ruth and Sam before, during our honeymoon visit with them. So I already know Ruth’s coarse demeanor and brusqueness. I’ve dealt with a lot worse.

  Doesn’t mean I like it, but I can surely deal with it.

  She is going to be my sister’s mother-in-law, after all, and I don’t want to cause any difficulty in Rebecca’s new family. If she can handle it, I figure, then I certainly can.

  “Where shall we put it?” I ask with a little smile, enjoying a private joke. From Rebecca’s demure expression, head down, slightly to the side, I can tell that maybe it wasn’t that private.

  Ruth looks at Rebecca, shakes her head and says, “We’ll put it in your new house, dear. Until then I suppose we can store it in the family room.” She steps aside and waves us in. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

  We carry the rug into the house, with Ruth closing the door behind us, shaking her head. “I suppose you’ll want to stay for a glass of cider.”

  “Well, we do have some errands to see to,” I say, hoping not to be rude while hoping even more to get out as quickly as possible.

  “And what’s so important?” Ruth asks.

  “There’s a baker in town, folks say her Whoopie pies are even better than Hannah’s.” Rebecca smiles. “We thought we’d pay her a visit.”

  “Try and steal her secrets,” Ruth says, more an accusation than an observation.

  “Of course not,” I say. “Just a friendly greeting, that’s all.”

  Rebecca says, “A friend of my sister’s suggested a contest, maybe raise money for the new schoolhouse in Lancaster.”

  “It’s just a lot of silliness,” I say, my voice slightly stern as I look at my sister. “And that’s not why we’re here.”

  “Just as well,” Ruth says, walking in carrying a tray with a tea kettle, three cups, and several tea bags. “I know the girl you’re talking about, has a booth in the marketplace, husband does carriage repair. That family’s been in York for generations.”

  Even though my granduncle Zeek was in Lancaster his whole life, as were his parents and theirs, I still feel like the new girl in town when I hear about somebody else’s family and their deep roots in the Lancaster soil. I’m not sure why. It’s as if they’re trying to make me feel like an outsider, an outcast. I’m still trying to establish myself in Lancaster, never mind York. Frankly, my own neighbors are hard enough to impress without me having to worry about these bristly folks.

  But none of that has very much meaning to Ruth Thompson, and neither, apparently, do I. “And I have to say, she does make the most heavenly Whoopie pies.”

  I nod. “I enjoy a good W
hoopie pie as much as the next person, I can’t wait to try one.”

  “Well,” Samuel says as he enters through the front door, “isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” Samuel crosses the room, small steps for a small man, shoulders hunched, his little mouth in a pinched smile. He leans over and gives Rebecca a little peck on the cheek, and I get one too, each seeming to make Ruth wince and twitch.

  Samuel goes to kiss her, but she waves him off. “Stop with your foolishness, Samuel.”

  Samuel turns to me. “How are your parents? We’ve been trying to arrange a dinner, but the opportunities keep slipping past us.” Samuel looks at Ruth to add, “Isn’t that right dear?”

  “You know how busy I’ve been! With Beau working on the house, I’ve got all the more chores to tend.”

  I say, “They’re quite busy too, so it shouldn’t worry you. My daed’s been joining the elders in their meetings, he’s becoming quite close to your brother, Olaf.”

  Samuel smiles, nodding to punctuate his satisfaction. “My brother is a good man.”

  “You must be quite happy with yourself,” Ruth says to me, adding, “marrying your sister into the best family in Lancaster - you’re all doing quite well for yourselves.”

  It’s getting harder and harder to restrain my temper, but my love for Rebecca is stronger than my sense of personal offense.

  Just.

  I say, “I’m glad Rebecca found a man of such high quality of character as your Beau.”

  Ruth sits, thinking things she’s not saying, which is certainly just as well. I know what she’s thinking: I don’t like you or your family, I’m worried that my grandchildren will inherit some madness that I hear runs in your blood, and I think my wonderful son is settling for a lesser choice.

  Samuel says, “Rebecca will be a most-welcome addition to our family, you all will be. But, in the meantime, that coup still needs to be repaired, and I think one of my chickens has stopped producing, I must see to that...if you will excuse me?”

  “Of course,” I say, Rebecca nodding as Samuel crosses the room and exits through the kitchen.