Chapter 3
H ENRY
Before I even see her, my schweschder’s annoying cackle hits my ears.
Ivy would have to enter the kitchen just after I’d donned my mamm’s frilly pink apron.
“What in the world are you doing, bruder ?” She says through a snort.
I hold up the cookbook. “Learning how to make whoopie pies.”
She pops up onto the counter, backside first, and squints her eyes. “Who are you and what have you done with my little brother?”
“Ellie Petersheim loves whoopie pies,” I say, as though that should explain everything.
“And?”
“And I want to make her the best whoopie pies she’s ever tasted.”
That comment elicits another round of giggles from my oh-so-supportive sister.
“Is that so unbelievable?” I study the recipe in front of me. Surely, whoopie pies can’t be that hard to make. Right?
“Being that I’ve never seen you in the kitchen with an apron and mixing bowl before, I’d say it would take nothing short of a miracle. You think you can just become the world’s best baker overnight?”
“A miracle? Really? They don’t seem that difficult.” My lips twist as I read the ingredients. Flour, baking soda, unsweetened cocoa, salt, butter… “Do we have vegetable shortening?”
“ Jah , we should.”
I open up the pantry and frown. Three hundred and twenty-two items stare back at me. “Umm…where is it?”
Ivy rolls her eyes. “You’re so blind.”
She reaches into the cupboard and pulls out the large white tub in front of my face, then hefts it onto the counter with a thunk.
“ Denki , schwes .”
Ivy grimaces. “I wouldn’t use vegetable shortening for those.”
I stare at my schweschder . “But the recipe calls for it.” I shove the book under her nose to make my point.
“Fine. Don’t listen to me.” She pushes the recipe book away and shrugs. “You said you wanted to make the best whoopie pies she’s ever tasted, but I guess you know better than your older sister, who has been making them since she was five. You’re the expert, bro.” She pats my shoulder then walks out of the kitchen.
I’m confused as I stare at her walking off. I desperately want to make the best whoopie pies ever. I need to make the best whoopie pies ever.
If I don’t make the best whoopie pies ever then Ellie won’t fall in love with me and she might marry someone like Simon Byler then I’ll have to see them at church every other Sunday with their entire clan of little ones and I would still be a bachelor because I don’t want to marry anyone other than Ellie Petersheim and I would just stare longingly in Ellie’s direction hating myself for the rest of my life because I didn’t make the best whoopie pies ever.
That. Cannot. Happen.
Desperation overtakes me, and I throw the cookbook onto the counter and run after Ivy. “Wait! Can you help me?” I jump in front of her to stop her trek toward her bedroom.
“It’s going to cost you.”
Great. I don’t know how I always get stuck in the middle of Ivy’s schemes, but here I am again. “What this time?”
“I need you to cover for me.” Her saucy grin tells me she’s up to no good.
“ Ivy .” I use my I should be the big brother warning tone.
“Don’t judge me.”
“You’re not going out with Jude, are you?” I narrow my gaze at her. Our Englisch neighbor has turned more than one Amish young woman’s head, but he signed on with the hockey league a year or so ago and has been away for a while.
Her look turns wistful. “Jude is back home again?”
“I’m not sure. I thought he was coming home for a visit this week.” I point at her. “And you’re changing the subject.”
“Maybe. Is he playing hockey with the guys this week?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Hopefully, my Ellie hasn’t taken a shine to the popular Englischer too. Although Jude and I have become great friends over the years, this is a hill I am willing to die on. Nobody is going to steal Ellie Petersheim’s heart. I have every intention of making her my fraa .
And it would start with making her the best whoopie pies she’s ever tasted. Which brings me back to the issue at hand.
“What do you need me to do for you, Ivy?” Time is running out. I sigh and tap my foot, knowing I won’t like her answer.
“Distract Mamm .”
“ Mamm isn’t here. Is she?”
Have I missed something? Is she taking a nap? Naps aren’t something Mom usually indulges in but she’d taken a few since Dat passed on to glory. Losing someone special did that to a body—zapped all your strength so that you had no choice but to stop and rest and cry. Don’t ask me how I know.
“She’s coming home tomorrow, remember?”
Right. I didn’t realize what day it was. How quickly I forget about everything else when Ellie Petersheim is on the brain.
“I’m glad I got that wood split and stacked.” I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I’ve forgotten anything else I was supposed to do while Mamm has been gone. Things were so much better when Dat was alive. When I didn’t feel like I had the world on my shoulders. But I won’t dwell on that right now. I can’t.
Not when I need to make the best whoopie pies ever.
Ivy continues, “Anyway, I’ve been making your meals since she’s been gone and I’m in need of a break.”
“What do you mean? A break?” I stare at Ivy. What is my schweschder up to?
“Let’s just say I got an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll be back home on Wednesday.”
“Where are you going, Ivy? And who with?” Yes, my big-brother complex is kicking in again.
Ever since Dat went on to glory, I feel like I have to fill his boots somehow. And that includes watching out for my schweschder , even though she is the older sibling.
“If I tell you, then you might feel like you have to lie for me. It’s better if you don’t know.”
“You have me worried, Ivy. I don’t like this.” I put my hands on her shoulders and look her in the eye. I may be the younger of us two, but I have the advantage of my father’s height and broad shoulders. “What’s Mamm going to say when she comes home and you’re not here?”
“ Mamm will be preoccupied with Mammi and Dawdi’s situation. She probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” She has a point. Last time Mamm returned home from a visit, it seemed like her mind was still in Ohio. But still.
“Of course, she’ll notice. And what am I supposed to say when she asks?”
“That I’m fine and I’ll be home in a couple of days.”
“But how will I know you’re fine, Ivy? She’s going to want to know where you are.”
Ivy smirks and pats me on the shoulder. “Which is exactly why I’m not telling you. I’ll call you. Will that set your mind at ease?”
“Twice a day.” Yes, I am overprotective. But I can’t help it.
My sister and mother and maternal grandparents are pretty much all I have left in this world. And at the rate things are going, I’m not sure how long our grandparents will be with us. I hardly see them as it is.
Hmm, maybe after Ellie and I get hitched, we can make a trip out to Ohio to visit them. Which reminds me. Whoopie pies.
Ivy rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll try to call you as often as I can. No promises, though.”
“Now. Will you please help me make Ellie Petersheim the best whoopie pies ever?”
“I hope she knows what a special girl she is. Any man who would make his woman whoopie pies is a keeper. She’ll love you forever.” Ivy grins.
If only…