Free The Hand that Rocks the Ladle by Tamar Myers Page B

the contrary, my baby sister drapes herself in yards of fabric, and floats through the house like the ghost of a half-wrapped mummy. “It gets worse.”
    I steadied myself against a stack of heavy barley bags. “Go on.”
    “She’s stopped wearing makeup.”
    I gasped, thereafter choking for a few seconds on barley dust. “None?”
    “Not a lick. I didn’t recognize her at first. She looked awful. In fact, Yoder, I thought it was you come to pay a visit.”
    “Thanks, dear.” I would have pinched Melvin, had my knees been strong enough to get me that close.
    “Oh, I’m not through yet, Yoder. We’re just getting to the good parts.”
    1  slumped to the floor. “I don’t know if my ticker can take any more.”
    Melvin leaned forward, no doubt checking for a shadow under the swinging metal doors. “This morning she made the bed.”
    “Lies, Melvin, those have got to be communist lies!”
    Melvin is linguistically challenged. “Now this is the piece of resistance,” he said, and proceeded to tell me the most shocking thing these ears have ever heard, bar none. If there had been anyone else present to revive me except for Melvin, I would have fainted.
     

Chapter Ten
     
    Easy Snitz Turnovers 1
    ♦
    2 cups dried apple slices
    ½ cup sugar
    2 tablespoons butter
    1 teaspoon cinnamon
    ¼ teaspoon nutmeg
    2 nine-inch pie crusts cut in half
     
    Soak dried apples in two cups warm water. Cook until tender. Drain off most of the liquid, and stir in sugar, butter, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Divide pie crust into halves. Spoon several tablespoons of apples on one- half of each pie crust half. Fold over, moisten edges, and crimp.
    Fry in deep fat at 375 degrees for approximately four minutes or until golden brown. If baking, bake in oven at 375 degrees for approximately twenty minutes.
    Yields four large turnovers.
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    “She what?” I asked weakly.
    “Your sister asked me to take her to church next Sunday.”
    I fanned myself with my skirt. Of course it was an immodest thing to do, but Melvin politely averted at least one eye.
    “Did you say church?”
    “Yeah, Yoder. Did you put her up to this?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. Susannah hasn’t listened to me since she hit puberty. I wonder what those pushy Presbyterians are bribing her with now.”
    “That’s just it, Yoder. She doesn’t want to go to the Presbyterian church, she wants to go back to the Mennonite church. Beechy Grove Mennonite to be exact.”
    I know, by now you must be wondering why it is I wasn’t rejoicing. I’ll tell you why. The Susannah that Melvin had just described was not my sister. Or if it was, she was deathly ill.
    “Shnookums!” I cried. “Does she still have Shnookums?”
    Melvin shrugged. “I haven’t seen that mutt around for ages.”
    I felt a sharp pang in my heart. Something was dreadfully wrong. Susannah and her pitiful pooch are inseparable. Who else would carry a dinky dog around in her bra? She even has that miserable mongrel trained to brush her teeth. That’s right—the dog brushes Susannah’s teeth.
    “What shall we do, Melvin?” My voice sounded like a little girl who’d been sucking on her helium balloon.
    Tears rolled out of Melvin’s left eye. “I don’t know, Yoder. That’s why I came to you.”
    I closed my eyes and prayed. I asked the Good Lord for strength, wisdom, and, above all, patience. Now that I’ve conquered pride, a lack of patience is my one shortcoming. At any rate, after praying for a few minutes I felt calm, collected, and as my former guests from Hollywood might have said, “centered.” I knew exactly what I needed to do, and much to my amazement, I didn’t even have to struggle to get to my feet. “Where are you going, Yoder?”
    “To see your wife!”
    “Good luck.” He was actually sincere.
    “Thanks, but I won’t be needing luck. I’m a woman on a divine mission.”
    I strode from the storeroom, through the swinging metal doors, and straight into the