Four hours after they first entered the tiny cement-block building, they managed to escape with their souls and bodies still intact but their wallets violated. This is the only church I know of that accepts Visa and MasterCard in the offering plate, although it won’t accept American Express. At any rate, Susannah’s and Chuck’s cards were accepted so often that morning, that Susannah had to scrap her plans of buying her own car, and Chuck had to take a second job working out at Miller’s Feed Store.
Anyway, besides church, gas, feed, and groceries, there isn’t anything in Hernia to spend your money on. Unless you’re farming, the odds are Yoder’s Corner Market has the corner on your pocketbook.
Samuel Nevin Yoder is my father’s first cousin once removed, but I have to pay full price, just like everyone else. Sam’s prices are high, I’m told by others who’ve shopped elsewhere, but since he has no competition, business is usually brisk. Sam’s best bargains come in the summertime, when he stocks fresh produce from area farms. His most ridiculous prices, as far as I’m concerned, are for the same items he has brought in from the outside world during the winter months.
Normally I would rather eat fruits and vegetables from cans than pay the outrageous prices Sam asks for his winter produce. Apparently everyone else in Hernia feels the same, because all Sam’s winter produce seems to be permanently limp and wilted. I’m sure I saw the same rubbery head of brown lettuce all season last year, and I half-expected to see it this season as well. I would have recognized it, had it showed up, because last year, after about a month of observing it, I gouged a chunk out of its base with my thumbnail.
Today, despite my principles, and my generally hard-to-open purse, I loaded up my grocery cart with Sam’s produce. After a great deal of deliberation—some of it while flat on my face in the woods—I’d come to the conclusion that I might actually hold my expenses down by unloading some of my crisp greens on Sam, in exchange for some of his limp greens. Maybe there was something to the notion that animal protein begets violence in its consumers. After all, I had never seen a violent deer, or even a violent cow, but I’d encountered plenty of snapping dogs. Since just one bite of animal-tinged pancake could turn Jeanette Parker into a howling banshee, threatening to sue, didn’t it make sound economical sense to try and placate her with rabbit food? I mean, I have never seen a bunny hopping mad, have you?
Sam seemed to think my idea was a good one. “Because you’re buying so much, Magdalena, I’m going to give you a ten percent discount,” he said cheerfully.
“Thanks a lot, Sam. Now I can afford that cruise to Hawaii I’ve been wanting.”
Sam smirked. He is genetically incapable of smiling. “Say, I heard that someone took a tumble out at your place last night. A fatal one at that. You give Alvin a call yet?”
My stomach suddenly felt like it was about to fall through me and hit the floor, and it had nothing to do with the state of Sam’s groceries or his prices. “There’s a lot of big mouths in this town,” I said weakly. “And anyway, it wasn’t my fault, Sam. There is a banister she could have hung on to.”
Sam smirked again. “Heard some other things too.”
“Like what?”
“Like, for instance, Congressman Ream is staying out at your place.”
“You’ve got good ears, Sam. What else have you heard?”
“Nothing much. Just that a bunch of hippy protesters are there as well. Sounds like you have a potential situation on your hands.”
“Sam, hippies went out with the sixties. These are just a bunch of concerned citizens.” I dug deep into my wallet to find enough cash. It always bothers me to have to do so. I’m always afraid I might somehow hurt the poor thing. Lord knows, I’d gag if someone stuck their fingers that far down my throat.
“Of course you know that the Congressman comes up for reelection next year, and that he’s already none too popular in these parts.”
“Frankly, I hadn’t thought much about it. So?”
Sam shrugged. “So maybe nothing. Or, maybe tangling with the protesters is a calculated move on his part.”
I wrenched the last buck from my wallet. “Why on earth would he want to do that?”
He shrugged again. “Who knows why the English do anything?”
I snapped my purse shut. “Don’t give me that, Sam. You’re a Methodist now, for Pete’s sake.”
Sam slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. “Ooh, that hurt, Magdalena. You know that when I married Dorothy she refused to change churches. Anyway, mark my words, it’s the Congressman, not the hippies, who came here to stir up big trouble.”