Zook's Corner

By T A Munroe

“The girl between worlds,” Ty said, taking my hand again.

From the day Angela Burkholder’s brother drowned in the farm pond when she was six, nothing was ever the same. She never quite found her place in the Old Order Mennonite community where she grew up. When her husband, who was only Plain on the outside, left the church and their hometown, she had no choice but to follow.
Now, Angie is returning to Lancaster County divorced and educated, both forbidden by her upbringing. At the same time she learns her father is dead, her family disowns her to keep their secrets and minimize the shame she’d always been to them.

Alone and jobless, all she has is a rented apartment in a neighborhood known as Zook’s Corner. Other tenants are Ty and his disabled son Scotty. The Best boys have their own sad story. Angie’s nature as a helper, Ty’s as a people-fixer, and Scotty’s as a joker bond the three together in a warm, healing friendship Angie wishes would become something more.

But who is she to ask for happiness in a world she doesn’t understand?

• Language: English
• Publisher: T A Munroe
• Release date: Sep 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463790298

T A Munroe

One of my earliest memories is going to the library. I read a lot until I started writing seriously about 3 years ago. Some of my greatest joys when I was teaching was talking or listening to students talk about books and giving them time to write whatever they wanted. I live with my husband and two cats in a cozy home near Phoenix, AZ. We have two adult children in PA who also write. When I'm not writing, I like knitting while watching TV or movies. I love sewing, crafting, taking walks, sometimes painting and singing loudly in the car and shower. My husband and I attend a small church we love and where we are becoming more involved. Life is good!

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Copyright © 2018 by Theresa Munroe

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For Sarah,

My first creation,

who’s not afraid

to be smart and different,

and who grew up

in Lancaster County

Chapter 1

Cars were against my family’s religion. Literally.

I left my aging Honda on the side of the road and crunched down the gravel farm lane on foot. Although the air was frosty under a thick gray November sky, sheep still enjoyed bright green grass that hadn’t yet been affected by heavy frost. The friendly brook gurgled its song as I crossed the short cement bridge strong enough to support a huge milk tanker every day. I glanced left, but the sight of the pond forced my gaze ahead where it landed on the line of horse-drawn black buggies.

A decade had passed since I lived on this farm. Strong odors from the barn assaulted my nose that was more used to the smell of city traffic than animal waste and sweet hay. A horse in the barnyard sauntered over to the wall to see if it knew me, but we were strangers.

The number of buggies lined up wondered me. It must be a visiting Sunday. I didn’t know if this was a good thing or not. The presence of people outside my immediate family might have helped to restrain the strong reaction I expected my unannounced return would cause. Or, it could have just meant news of my ostracizing would spread quicker. Identical letters from a bishop had arrived at our first Phoenix address a few months after my husband Earl and I left Lancaster County. They informed us we were excommunicated from the local Old Order Mennonite congregation we had grown up in as well as all such churches in the Groffdale Conference and beyond. It was the prayer of the bishop and our families that we would be reconciled which would involve the humiliating process of confessing our transgressions to the bishop and the congregation.

I hoped nobody was betting their suspenders and cape dresses on that ever happening.

As I approached the house, a dread weakened me; stole my breath and heartbeat. This old white farm house with the generations of dark green trim had never felt like home to me. Maybe I had never even known what home felt like, but in my years away, I rarely yearned to be here. I must have been insane to have imagined those people would want me. The best I hoped for was kindness from Anna, the wife of my oldest brother Samuel. She had risked his wrath by secretly writing to me over the years.

The fear almost made me turn and run back to my car. But that was why I went there, why I packed my possessions in a rented trailer and hauled them across the country. To find out where I stood with my family so I could find a way to move up and away if I had to.

I climbed the two limestone steps to the wraparound porch and faced two doors. The GrossDaadi Haus was on the left. It was where my parents lived. The door on the right led to the parlor of the main house, occupied by Samuel, Anna and those of their children who still lived at home. I was born when Samuel was nineteen. We were practically strangers. He wasted no love on me.

When I turned the corner toward the kitchen door, there were a few men dressed in black church attire standing together on the grass. They looked at me but didn’t acknowledge me with even a nod. I didn’t recognize any of them immediately, but they were probably cousins. I was sure they knew who I was. The urge to flee was stronger than before. They muttered together in Deitsch and walked away toward the barn.

At the kitchen door, I heard the same language from inside. The speech of my youth, Pennsylvania German. Before I knocked, I checked my Englischer clothing. A calf-length dark blue straight skirt, a simple white blouse and a heather pink cardigan that was failing to keep me warm, black opaque tights, black flats. I had a cape dress from this old life in a box in my new apartment. But since I had no intention of being restored to the community, I did not wear it. My dark blond hair, however, was still long and pinned up in the traditional manner, although it lacked the white mesh prayer kapp with its white ribbon ties. I was dressed as Plain as could be without being Plain.

Anna answered my knock on the kitchen door and stepped onto the porch. Angela, you came! She embraced me with her strong arms, then stood back and smoothed a hand along my hair. Her light brown hair was grayer than the last I saw her six years ago, and she was a bit plumper. Her smile for me was as warm as ever. How did you hear? She whispered everything she said to me. You poor child. His last words were, ‘Tell Angela I was weak, and I’m sorry.’

"Daadi?"

Yah. He went home to Jesus yesterday.

I’m too late?

His leaving was peaceful.

A white wave of disbelief pushed me back toward the edge of the porch as my knees almost gave out. Things tore inside me, and something black climbed out of a hole in my heart.

"I’d like to see Mudder." I turned to move past Anna and finally realized she had been trying to block my way into the house. I only got a step before I hit the wall that was Samuel.

Anna, the people need more coffee. Samuel’s tone was stern and told both of us Anna had stepped out of place.

It took a long moment for my eyes to reach up far enough to find his. "Hello, Samuel. I’m sorry about Daadi. I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but I didn’t know. May I see Mudder?"

She does not want to see you, Angela.

Refusing the meaning of those words, I darted around him and through the door into the combined kitchen-dining room. Little had changed. The furniture, the light. The cupboard. Odors from decades past floated in the room like ghosts, released by the seasonal dampness. Roasting meat, baking bread, hard-working bodies of Burkholder kin.

Every face of the twenty or more that sat around the long dinner table turned to me. Very old aunts and uncles, cousins, my other three brothers and two sisters and their spouses.

My mother. Her spare face was lined with a stoic grief. Her mouth opened in recognition, then closed in resignation.

I held out my arms to her. She stood and turned her back to me.

One by one, everyone did the same. Even the children in imitation of their elders. Even the elders who could barely straighten up.

A child’s voice asked in Deitsch, Why don’t we like that lady?

Hush, Ruth Ann! Samuel growled behind me in the same language.

Little Ruth Ann with long golden braids turned to look at me, to smile and curl her chubby fingers in a brave wave.

God, no. I recognized her kindred spirit.

You must leave, Angela, Samuel said.

No, Samuel, please. The words came out as a whimper. My hands clasped onto his arms.

He shook me off. I will talk to you in the barn. His step forced me toward the door.

I dodged him again and dashed toward the crowd. Everyone’s back was still turned, like a retreating army. An ancient great-uncle sank into his chair.

Leave my house now, Angela. The quiet rumble of Samuel’s voice and his scarlet face didn’t match. He yanked on my arm all the way to the porch, then down the steps across the gravel parking area to the barn. The men who had gathered there left with a single glance from my brother. I had to run to keep up with him.

Still the same, you are. Samuel spoke with controlled anger in resentful English inside the barn. Still disobedient to the core.

The stench in the building, while ingrained into my DNA, nonetheless overwhelmed me at first. I panted, almost puked and doubled over.

You are not welcome here, Angela.

You’ve made that clear. Defiantly, I stood straight and stared him in the face. Why?

I’ll spell it out since you are too stupid to remember. His grip on my arm tightened. You divorced your husband. Then you lived in sin with an unbeliever. You drive cars and dress like an outsida. You are excommunicated from the church and no longer a part of this family. You have shamed us!

I married Earl like you said I should. My knees bent as if I wanted to plead with him. He didn’t love me, Samuel. He wanted the divorce so he could be with someone else. He just used me to— I’d promised Earl I wouldn’t tell. And the unbeliever was just a roommate, I rented space in his house. Samuel, I’m still—

You have always thought like a worldly outsida, Angela. You never believed God’s word like you should. He let go of my arm with a push.

If this is believing, I want nothing to do with it! I rushed past him.

He grabbed my arm one more time, stinging as he twisted me around to face him once again. You don’t get to choose! You were born into this family to honor God and live according to His call on your life. You were baptized!

I wanted this life, but it doesn’t want me. It let my family and my husband betray me. I tried my best!

I doubt that, he sneered. God made us all to conform to His ways, no matter what.

Not His ways. Some man’s ways. I’m not a bad person, Samuel. I backed off. Defeat was certain.

You are an evil person, Angela. Even your Englischer name mocks us all. You are a murderer.

What? The force of his words finally buckled my knees. I didn’t mean to kill Enoch!

But you did. He pulled me up with tight hands on my upper arms and held me at eye level. My feet barely touched the ground.

I was six years old!

You were told to never take him to the pond. He shook me.

Samuel! A man’s voice commanded its way in. Lester, my second oldest brother. Take your hands off her. She is no longer ours to worry about.

Before he obeyed, Samuel squeezed my shoulders, and it hurt like mad. I cowered at the sound of his rapid breath that flared his nostrils in and out like an angry bull. Then he let go and turned his back to me.

Leave, Angela. Lester’s voice was calmer but no kinder. Don’t return. He stepped away from the barn door. As I walked past him, I stopped and looked at his face. There was little in it I remembered as a child.

Outside, rain mixed with sleet had started falling. I started to trot to my car to escape the cold. My foot hooked something and I fell, arms reaching out to catch myself. Still, my face skidded on the gravel and my knee exploded in pain. A jumpy gold puppy yapped in my ear and tugged at my hair.

Oh, puppy, puppy! You made the lady fall. Bad puppy! The little girl that waved to me crouched in front of me, speaking Deitsch. "You have boo-boos. Daadi, the lady is bleeding!"

Go in the house, child, Samuel growled from a short distance.

"Who is she, Daadi—"

Go!

Samuel gripped the puppy by the scruff of its neck and shoved it at the girl. Slowly, I stood and brushed gravel and grit off my wounds, then began the trek to my car again. I should have been happy to leave, but the walk was like swimming through syrup. I hugged my abdomen and felt like I might throw up. A gust of wind blew little pellets of sleet into the cuts on my face and knee. I got in the car and started it, pulled out. A horn blared and another car made a sharp swerve around mine. The horn screamed again and a hand brandishing the middle finger rose from the window.

The entire world was saying that to me.

Chapter 2

I couldn’t think about what had happened and still function enough to drive.

Thoughts bubbled up like methane in a manure holding tank. There were too many to keep down. I drove along the road that bordered my family’s property. An idyllic meadow was cut through by the stream where I used to chase puppies and lambs barefoot when I was very young. Enoch and I spent many summer hours exploring the universe in our little world. I was his feet, his hands, and gathered little creatures for him to see with his crooked eyes and jumpy hands from the confines of his wheelchair and damaged brain.

Samuel finally said it, what I’d been thinking all my life. I had killed Enoch. My best friend and brother. I pushed his wheelchair into the pond and he drowned. Samuel made it sound like I meant to. Did he think I was jealous of the extra attention Enoch received, or that I resented the extra work he made for the family, some of which I had to do? It was normal life to me. However, now I understood why Mudder changed toward me. Why she treated me harshly and not kindly like she did my sisters, and didn’t laugh with me like she did my brothers.

The car swerved off the road and onto gravel, then grass. Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I returned my attention to my driving. At the edge of my family’s property, I turned off the road and crossed the stream on a bridge that was merely a large corrugated steel pipe covered with earth. Beyond it was wooded rocky land unsuitable for farming. Old equipment was hauled back there to die a slow death of rust.

My bludgeoned heart took up all of my chest. I could barely breathe. My open wounds stung. A week of packing and looking online for an apartment. Another week of driving. And there I was, back where I grew up. Was I really that optimistically foolish to have thought a few years distance would be enough to dull the shame and embarrassment I had always been to my family? Yes, foolish. And desperate.

Rain pattered and splashed on brown leaves left on the pin oaks and scattered on the ground. When I got out of my car, cold drops splatted on my head and ran down my hair and onto my neck. There was an earthy, musty smell I never experienced in the desert, cleaner than the barn odor that still remained in my nose.

Daadi and I had made the trek from the house to this place a few years after Enoch died. He told me stories from the Old Testament about what happened to people when they disobeyed God. Lot’s wife who turned to salt. Jonah who spent time in the guts of a whale. And Achan who saw his entire family die when he’d taken a souvenir from a battle after the Lord had ordered the entire Israelite nation to take no spoils. The stories didn’t make much sense to me at the time, but later their meanings were driven home when I sat in the churchhouse under the teaching of stern, humorless preachers.

Beer cans and snack packages littered the area. Cigarette butts dotted the ground cover of moldy leaves and pine needles. I wondered who had been here—local teens or maybe rebellious nephews enjoying some worldly delights during rumspringa? I walked past the rocky area to peer between the trees at the farm fields owned by my family. Neatly furrowed, the closest was winter wheat that had already sprouted and would grow tall as soon as the weather warmed in the spring.

This part of the land would be mine, Daadi had said, if my husband didn’t have his own land and was a member of the church. He and my brothers would clear this area and build a house. I would have my own gardens and chickens and children. If I didn’t need it, I could give it to one of my children. But I could never sell it unless the elders of the family decided to sell the whole farm.

An acre and a half. Would I sell it if I could? There is no official deed in my name. It might have been worth a half million dollars divided up into a few large home lots. I would have considered it if only to make Samuel angry.

My face was wet and I couldn’t tell the tears from the rain. I straightened my back. They could disown me, disgrace me. They always blamed first and never asked any questions. Just assumed the devil begot me, God’s incarnated judgment for some secret sin no one had confessed in some past generation. The God they believed in did that. He was a God I wouldn’t believe in.

Driving away, I thought of poor Ruth Ann, the golden-haired child who asked why I was hated. Was she the next generation’s version of me? I hoped she didn’t grow up the same way I did.

Somewhere in my aimless driving, I realized I was famished. As the sun set, I arrived at an intersection at the far end of a town I recognized. A cluster of shops had one that sold pizza. And beer and wine. Perfect. I had never been one to drink alone, but that was going to change. Add alcohol to my list of transgressions, Samuel.

The young woman at the cash register stared at me. I touched the sore spot on my face. Oh, that. I tripped over a puppy a little bit ago. Ruined my tights, too.

Guess this will come in handy then. She bagged the bottle of wine.

Yah. Stocking up for the winter. I paid and took the wine and two six packs of beer to my car and returned inside to sit and play with my silent phone to wait for the pizza.

Since leaving the Plain life for good, I had taken quite a liking to modern technology. My phone’s GPS app came in handy guiding me home through the misty early evening. Drizzle still fell and added disorientation to my tension. I was used to dry roads. Fog occurred once, maybe twice a year in Phoenix. I only had two winters worth of driving experience before we moved west. Before that, I went only as far as my energy and my bicycle would take me, or only as fast as the horse pulling my buggy.

Earl would have accused me of white-knuckling it all the way home. But at least that bit of weather-related and probably unnecessary drama took my mind off of the disaster with my family.

My new home was the second floor apartment of a house recently converted to two units. It was just off Pennwick Road which ran tangent to New Holland Pike, a main road from farm country to the city of Lancaster. It was in an area known locally as Zook’s Corner. Not really a town or a corner, it was more like a wonky intersection near a curve in the road.

My new downstairs neighbor was a single man with a son in a wheelchair. His van with New York handicap plates was taking up most of the driveway. I had to park half on the grass and pray my car wasn’t swallowed up in mud and frozen there. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that cold, but I was used to wearing a winter coat when it was fifty degrees and it was below that. And the weather and the pain from the cuts, oh, and being disowned by my family was setting in so I was out of patience with the world.

The front doors to both apartments were right next to each other under a wide porch that would be nice on summer evenings. It was all wet, and I didn’t want to put the pizza box or a six pack down and have the cardboard get soggy. My mood became even worse as I struggled to get my key into the lock. The other door opened without warning, slamming into my elbow. Ow!

Hey, there! the neighbor guy said much too cheerfully. Oh my god! Did the door hit you? I’m sorry. Let me help. As he said all that, he stepped on the porch and looked the things in my hand. Pizza and beer! How did you know these are my favorite things? Angie, right?

Ty, right? I thought I remembered his name.

Totally. Totally Ty. Ty Best. He laughed a little. That comment and his bare feet caused me to question his mental status. Sorry. Guess I’m just a little loopy from spending all day with my boy who’s out of sorts from the move. But the reason I’m bothering you is the Gormans came by with groceries for both of us. Who ever heard of landlords doing that, huh?

Not me, I guess. This was my first place on my own so I didn’t know what normal behavior was for landlords.

If it’s okay, I’ll run your bag upstairs for you. Scotty won’t miss me for a minute.

Sure, thanks. I led the way upstairs then around stacks of boxes and plastic bins to the kitchen where we set the things on the counter. He turned to me as I looked through the paper grocery bag from the landlords.

Angie, I don’t know how to thank you for agreeing to switch apartments last minute yesterday. I had just met the Gormans through a guy at Sonshine Community on Friday. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I found out the complex we were set to move into had a fire in our building Thursday night.

It was Phyllis Gorman’s idea. I headed back to the stairway. Unselfish service to all of humanity was my Mennonite calling.

But you agreed. Ty followed me.

When I heard about your son, I couldn’t imagine taking him up and down the stairs every day. I worked with disabled people for a few years. At the bottom of the stairs I turned on the porch light.

Hey, are you okay? Ty was looking at the cuts on my face.

My insides cringed as I touched my face wound. It’s nothing. I just tripped over a puppy at my family’s farm.

Did you clean it? He squinted an eye at it.

Not yet. I’ll just get the other things in my car and take care of it. Thanks for your help. I dashed off the porch and listened for his door to close, but when I got back to the porch with the other six pack and the bottle of wine, he was still there. Great. He was going to think I was a party girl.

I noticed upstairs, he said, that your knee was bleeding, too.

It was a pretty wild puppy.

He gave me that one-eyed squint again, and I noticed his good looks. I looked at my ruined shoes and said, Thanks again for your help.

I’ll trade you first aid for pizza, a beer, and a half hour of your company. His hopeful smile was not the least bit creepy.

My eyes jumped to his. It was my turn to squint. I thought about what Earl and my roommate Donald said as they hugged me goodbye in Phoenix. Make sure you make some friends. I was tired and banged up inside and out. But Ty seemed nice and he had a kid so I handed him the beer. Let me change and I’ll bring the pizza down.

His face broke into a bright smile like he asked me to marry him and I said yes. I knew yesterday we were going to be friends. He stepped into his place and called inside, Buck up, Scotty me boy. A lady’s to come a-calling. He turned back to me. His grin cracked my defenses and I couldn’t help but smile.

Samuel owed me a pair of tights. I tossed the destroyed stockings into a makeshift trash bag. Samuel owed me a lot of things I’d never see from him. Like respect. It was evil of me, but I wished it would have been him who died. Or Mudder. I hadn’t thought much at all about my family and its angry dysfunction when I was in Phoenix.

My efforts to find something appropriate to wear in the morning had resulted in piles of clothing all over my bedroom. The sleep pants and ASU sweatshirt I wanted to wear were handy. It also didn’t take much to find a washcloth and towel. I cleaned the dried blood off my wounds before taking the pizza down to Ty.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to go into a stranger’s apartment. I didn’t really have good instincts when it came to people. But if he were an ax murderer, he might have done me a favor, as long as he were quick about it. He did seem kind of desperate. But if I didn’t show up, it would be awkward when I saw him out in the driveway or wherever. Besides, I didn’t have any first aid supplies. I made up two rules: not for long and don’t talk about why I tripped over a puppy.

A minute later, I balanced the pizza box and knocked on the door. The loud squawk that answered back startled me because Enoch had sounded like that. Ty opened the door. The Best boys bid you welcome. Sorry it’s a mess. But we did find the first aid supplies. Right, Scotty?

Other than his wheelchair, the most noticeable thing about Ty’s son was the scar on the right side of his head that cut a path through dark hair and ran down the side to his chin. The brown eye on that side of his face moved independently of the other one which appeared as though it could focus a bit. His smile was a much more lopsided version of his dad’s. Scotty raised a hand and brayed, Hhhhiiiiiiiihhh.

Hi, Scotty. I touched his hand high-five style. I’m Angie. It’s great to meet you.

He smiled and chortled and rolled his head around.

No flirting with the neighbor ladies, Ty said. That’s my job, remember? Have a seat, Angie. Let’s get you patched up. He indicated the sofa. I sat and he took a place on the coffee table across from me. He set to work like a pro, not at all hesitant. He started on my face and I lowered my eyes as his clear gray ones studied the scrape. You might want to cover this at night so you don’t open it by sliding across the pillow or whatever. Just let the scabs fall off on their own to minimize scarring. Looks like your knee got the worst of it. So, you’re a farm girl?

Former farm girl.

You don’t like farms?

Let’s just say I wasn’t invited to stay and leave it at that.

Ty paused dabbing my knee to look at my face when my voice caught. Sure. I noticed your license plates are from Arizona.

I moved to Phoenix with my husband and moved back here without him.

Ah, the old escaping the ex routine. Like me.

Not really, for me. My parents… I made myself stop there. I swallowed the lump and moved on with, You seem experienced with fixing banged up people.

Nowadays, most of my fixing is heads.

You’re a brain surgeon?

He paused in taping my knee and laughed. I’m a psychologist.

Oh, heavens. Well, our friendship was nice while it lasted.

I promise not to analyze you. Out loud, anyway. I was a cop for a few years after college, then went to grad school for psychology. Thought maybe I could help people not get into trouble. I was working on my doctorate when our lives…yeah. His voice cracked, his face went red and he twisted his mouth before he sighed and said, All done. Keep the knee dry and change the bandage day after tomorrow.

Thank you, almost Doctor Best. My stomach growled.

Our conversation over pizza and beer didn’t get too personal, thankfully. It only took a couple swallows of beer to get my joints feeling like mush and my eyes drooping. Scotty started banging his hands on the tray attached to his wheelchair and making raspberry noises.

Well, that signals the end of our social time for the day. Ty stood. Junior Best is at the end. He sure expends a lot of energy to let me know he’s tired.

I’ve had a long day, too. I’ll leave some pizza if you have something to put it on.

Wow, you’re super, Angie. If you don’t mind hunting around the kitchen—I have to get this guy to the bathroom.

He pushed Scotty out and I found the kitchen which was not at all unpacked. But there was a pack of paper plates on the counter so I took a couple of those for a make-shift pizza holder, then put the rest of the six pack in his refrigerator.

Ty was nowhere to be seen, so I took the pizza box and my open beer back up to my place. I put both in the kitchen and rooted through the groceries from the Gormans. Tired but usable produce, almost expired cinnamon rolls and French bread. Wolfgang and Phyllis Gorman struck me as more eccentric and spontaneous than businesslike, but it was obvious they put people first. Yesterday morning they asked if I would be willing to switch to the smaller second floor apartment so a man and his handicapped son made homeless by a fire could have the first floor. Their compassionate plea left my conscience no choice.

But that’s not what dropped me onto my bed in a storm of tears.

A knock on my door startled me awake and almost out of bed. It sounded like Scotty was complaining downstairs.

I padded down the steps in stocking feet. Who’s there? I needed to talk to the Gormans about a peep hole for the door.

It’s me, Ty.

Praying it really was him, I opened the door a sliver, then all the way when I saw it was.

Hey. Sorry to bother you. My neighbor stood there on the porch looking like a week of unwashed dishes. I really hate to ask another favor of you, but I’m stuck. I suppose you can hear Scotty.

It’s okay. I understand.

I’m sorry about his noise. I think it’s because he’s not using his machine that helps him breathe at night. He’s really used to it. It needs distilled water and I don’t have any. I had a bottle of drinking water I used last night. Would you by any chance…

No. I—

He bit his lips and looked into the night. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times. He was at the limit of his endurance, I sensed.

I’ll go get it, I heard myself say. The Turkey Hill up the road should have it.

No, I’ll-- He scrunched his face so hard he stopped looking like him. I don’t know what I’ll do. I had all this together back in—

It’ll take ten minutes. I’ll be right back.

So I ran upstairs and stepped into my old clogs, pulled on my hoodie, grabbed my purse and keys, and headed out into the cold windy drizzle on an errand for a nearly total stranger. Mennonite girls were raised to be helpful and self-sacrificing. Of course, if I were still a member of the community it would have been inappropriate for me to even speak with an Englischer man. I could remove myself from the culture, but I couldn’t seem to remove the culture from me. But what else did I have to do with the rest of my life?

Mission accomplished, I knocked on Ty’s door. He opened it and let out Scotty’s wailing. I can’t pay you back yet, but I do have these things. Are they moon pies? He held out two large puffy golden cookies, like large soft double-stuffed Oreos but lighter and softer.

No way! Here they’re whoopie pies! These look like pumpkin. I set the water jugs on the coffee table and received the delicacies. Forget I’m telling you this, but I’d do almost anything for a whoopie pie. My mouth began to water. I needed to get them where I could eat them before I drooled in front of the guy.