A Plain Man Page 10

  Eli refilled their mugs. “Did the other men wish to leave the vehicle?”

  His son’s fingers tightened around the cup. “Jah. I didn’t force them against their will. Plus, it was a little cumbersome with five of us speaking in Deutsch and Jack and Bob trying to carry on an English conversation. Cumbersome, and a little silly.”

  Eli peered into his coffee, allowing Caleb to fully vent his spleen.

  “In the diner everybody spoke English. Once we had our pie, I’d planned to discuss how we might complete the roof on schedule.”

  Eli could stay quiet no longer. “What do you mean?”

  “We are so far behind I can’t imagine being done by quitting time on Friday. Your insistence of having two Amish crews and one Englisch has hobbled the warehouse project.”

  “Hobbled?” Eli slapped the tabletop with a palm. “According to you, son? This is your first project since you came back to work for me. I have installed plenty of new roofs while you were twiddling your thumbs in the Cleveland union hall.” In frustration, he repeated Caleb’s pet term.

  Caleb lifted his chin. “You still believe we can finish by Friday afternoon?”

  “I do, barring any more days like today. We can’t predict or change the weather, nor will we be held accountable.”

  Caleb arched an eyebrow. “The owner won’t hold you to the schedule if it continues to rain cats and dogs?”

  “He won’t, within reason, of course. But a week won’t cause either of us sleepless nights.”

  “You won’t be fined for each day you run over deadline?”

  “I will not.” Eli took a swallow of coffee.

  “That’s quite different from the commercial projects I’ve worked on. Fines are always levied for non-completion. Nobody gives allowances for rain delays.”

  “Perhaps I deal with more reasonable owners in Wayne County than those up in Cuyahoga.”

  Caleb nodded, yet didn’t appear convinced. “Will you at least consider my suggestion of two crews instead of three for future projects?”

  Eli chose his words carefully. “If the situation warrants, or if we’re hindering another trade by not finishing early, then jah. But I already explained my reasons for three crews last week. The feelings of the other district fathers have not changed.”

  “Fair enough.” Caleb drained the contents of his mug and rose to his feet.

  “Sit. I’m not finished. Give me another minute of your time.”

  His son frowned but slouched back into the chair.

  “You have expressed a desire to return to Amish ways and restore yourself to your family and this district.” Eli paused as they both listened to the ticking of the wall clock. “If that remains the case, you must reacquaint yourself with humility and restraint. You are not in charge of this crew, nor should you want to be. Although we work in this world, the Amish do not concern themselves with matters of this world. Do your job, praying daily for patience and strength of spirit. Don’t place yourself above your fellow workers because of your past experiences. Let me worry about schedules, contracts, and efficiency. Be thankful that those concerns aren’t yours.”

  “In other words, you’re the boss and I am not.” Caleb’s tone turned harsh.

  “If you insist on the simplest of terms…then jah. You’re not an Englischer anymore and my crew isn’t a democracy.”

  For the second time, Caleb jumped to his feet. “At long last, I think I’ve got it, Daed. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll make sure the livestock have enough fresh water for the night.” He grabbed his hat and coat and strode from the room.

  Eli stared at the closed door long after he had gone. Although his son had voiced the words, something told him that Caleb was as close to “getting it” as a plow horse learning to read.

  Sarah crept from her bed before dawn on Friday morning, careful not to disturb her sister. Rebekah had been in a foul mood all week. After their father’s scolding on Monday, at least she hadn’t argued with her openly, not at home or at the B&B. But Rebekah’s sullenness could be almost as tiresome as bickering. She never missed a chance to pout, roll her eyes, or sigh like a long-suffering saint on the way to a martyr’s death.

  Rebekah could be overly dramatic at best. And so Sarah decided to cook breakfast on her own. Downstairs in the kitchen she found Caleb sipping coffee, deep in thought. “Why aren’t you outside helping with morning chores?” she asked.

  His head snapped up. “Guder mariye.” He used a Deutsch greeting, unusual for him if their parents weren’t within earshot. “Daed asked me to pack our lunches while he fed livestock. Mamm’s down with a cold, so she’s staying in bed this morning.”

  Sarah spotted the loaf of bread, block of Swiss cheese, and tub of sliced ham still untouched. “You haven’t gotten very far. Let me help.” She pulled waxed paper and plastic bags from the drawer and mustard and a tomato from the refrigerator.

  “Danki. I’ve been distracted by something else.” Caleb filled their thermoses with hot coffee.

  “How’s the Millersburg warehouse project coming?” She deftly cut the tomato into uniform slices.

  “Fine. We’ll be done today by four o’clock, amazingly so. I didn’t think it would be possible, but the weather cleared. Daed might have been on target all along.” He murmured the words as though they were distasteful to say.

  Sarah glanced at both doorways. “Don’t you just hate it when parents are right?” They shared a good-natured sibling laugh.

  “I should lower my defenses and learn from him. He certainly knows what he’s doing.” Caleb retrieved the cold pack from the freezer, two bottles of water, and their soft-sided lunch cooler. “I’ll work up my courage and tell him.”

  “Is work the only thing on your mind, big bruder?” Sarah angled a droll expression. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Whatever do you mean?” he said, feigning confusion.

  “Don’t play innocent with me. I saw you and Josie at the picnic table last Saturday. You were eating supper long after everyone had finished. Then Josie just happened to bring more of her bean salad, straight from the house?” She winked. “Come to think of it, what happened to that bowl of salad in the fridge? It wasn’t there when I looked for it.” She wrapped the four sandwiches, slipped them into bags, and dropped them in the cooler.

  “I washed her bowl and left it in the mudroom. Don’t worry, I’ll return it.”

  “You ate all those beans yourself? You weren’t much of a fan before.” Sarah twirled a kapp ribbon.

  “Tastes change as we grow older, little schwester. Besides, this was Josie’s secret recipe—a bit different from yours or Mamm’s. No offense.”

  “None taken.” Sarah chuckled. “She saved the salad especially for you?”

  “Jah, I guess so. Thanks for packing our lunch. Maybe I’ll wait for Jack on the porch. Looks like fine weather today.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” She grabbed his arm with a viselike grip. “Sounds to me like you took my advice—to be nice to Josie and see what happens.”

  “I’m nice to everyone.” Caleb glared at her hand like a spider was crawling up his arm.

  “Sure, and Josie saved a separate bowl for every man who returned after farm chores were done. How did you two leave matters on Saturday? Have you seen her since?”

  “For your latter question, no—too much to do after work this time of year. For the former, I defer to a charming Englisch acronym: N-O-Y-B.”

  “What’s an acronym?” Sarah perched her hands on her hips.

  “Letters that represent words.” Caleb tugged his arm free.

  “Wait!” She re-fastened her hold while her brain figured out the meaning. “None of my business? After I’ve been your successful social advisor?”

  “What’s none of Sarah’s business?” Rebekah appeared in the doorway. “Or should I say what hasn’t she made part of her control?”

  Caleb smirked, shaking his head. “Oh, no, you don’t. I refuse to be drawn into the ongoi
ng Beachy sister war of words.” He freed himself again from Sarah’s restraint.

  “Are you going tomorrow night?” whispered Sarah, close behind him.

  “To the singing?” demanded Rebekah. She moved to effectively block his exit at the kitchen door. “Or did you think I hadn’t heard about the singing like I didn’t hear about the Shreve pancake breakfast?” Crossing her arms, Rebekah stomped a booted foot.

  “Simmer down. Let’s not start the day—” Caleb attempted to placate the sixteen-year-old.

  “I won’t simmer down. That was downright mean of you, Cal. I would have expected it from Sarah, but not you.”

  Sarah intervened on his behalf. “We weren’t trying to be mean, but Mrs. Pratt can’t spare us both on a Saturday morning. She always has a full house Friday nights.” Sarah patted her sister’s shoulder hesitantly like an unfamiliar stray dog that wandered into the yard. “But I promise I’ll work instead of you for the next Saturday event.”

  Rebekah’s gaze remained cool as she refocused on Caleb. “Is there some other reason neither of you told me? Such as James Weaver saying something negative about me?” Her voice sounded plaintive.

  “Absolutely not. It was as Sarah explained. But take heart, neither of you have to work at Country Pleasures tomorrow night, so both can attend the singing.”

  With eyes filling with tears, Rebekah didn’t move from the doorway.

  “Why are you crying?” asked Caleb. “I heard straight from the horse’s mouth that James plans to be there. Now may I get past you? I hear Jack’s van in the driveway.”

  Rebekah blinked several times. “The horse’s mouth?”

  Caleb grasped Rebekah’s upper arms, lifted her into the air, and set her down two feet to the left. “It’s an expression. It means you’ll see James tomorrow night, so wear your prettiest dress and be on your best behavior.” He ran from the house before either could utter another word.

  “Does that make you feel a little better, because we also need to leave for work?” Sarah asked, feeling a surge of pity for the girl.

  She nodded, swiping at her tears with a hanky. “I suppose so, but neither of you understand. You’ve got Adam Troyer wrapped around your little finger while Caleb seems to have caught Josie Yoder’s eye. I’m all by myself in the world.”

  Inappropriately, Sarah laughed. “Forgive me, schwester, but you’re only sixteen. You’ve got plenty of time for courting. I’m twenty, nearly twenty-one, and Cal’s already twenty-four.”

  “Mamm was only sixteen when she married Daed.” Rebekah marched to the sink to fill her water bottle.

  “True, but nobody Amish marries that young anymore.” Sarah’s assessment of their culture met with no reply as they both pulled on sweaters.

  “Are my girls ready for work?” asked Elizabeth. She entered the kitchen wearing her heavy flannel bathrobe.

  “Jah, but where’s Katie?” Sarah realized she hadn’t seen the youngest Beachy sister yet.

  “Down with a cold, same as me. I’m keeping her home so she doesn’t spread germs throughout the school.” Elizabeth set the kettle on a burner. “I believe I’ll have ginger tea today instead of coffee.”

  “Hope you feel better, Mamm.” Rebekah offered a lopsided smile and hurried out the door.

  “Stay bundled and drink lots of fluids,” added Sarah. She chanced catching the virus by kissing Mamm’s cheek.

  On the way to Mrs. Pratt’s B&B, Sarah would have been content to simply enjoy a perfect spring day. The sun was shining, the breeze felt warm, and daffodils and grape hyacinths bloomed along the fence. Young calves frisked in the pasture, bravely venturing from their mother’s underbellies. But Rebekah’s insecurity would not let the pancake breakfast matter drop.

  “Since you walked with Adam, and Caleb with Josie Yoder in Shreve, who did James walk with?” Rebekah kept her eyes trained on the gravel.

  “He seemed to amble competently along by himself.” Sarah chose not to mention the gaggle of women from another district who hung on to every word of his maple sugar saga. “He didn’t fall face-down in the dirt once.”

  Rebekah turned on her, scowling. “Must you always be such a smarty pants? Always clever—that’s Sarah. But you’re sarcastic, not clever. The young minister said sarcasm is just another form of self-absorption. You’re in for a rude awakening when you start membership classes.” After another frown, Rebekah lifted her skirt and ran the rest of the way to work.

  Sarah sighed, regretting she’d annoyed Rebekah with their entire shift ahead of them. During her solitary stroll to the Pratt back gate, she mulled over her sister’s prediction. She probably was in for a rude awakening at the classes. And it had nothing to do with her wry sense of humor.

  7

  Here I raise my Ebenezer;

  Here by Thy great help I’ve come

  Caleb paced from one end of the porch to the other. No matter where he sat—porch swing, rocking chair in the front room, kitchen chair, or hay bale in the barn—he couldn’t remain stationary. Would their Sunday afternoon guests never go home? Not only had his grandparents dropped by, but the entire Troyer clan was visiting. Adam had three sisters and three brothers, all but one married, with thirteen children among them. When Sarah and Adam tied the knot, she would gain an enormous extended family. Sometimes Adam’s sisters and sisters-in-law overwhelmed Sarah, but she adored their kinner. So she would do fine as a Troyer...as long as she kept plenty of food in the house at all times. Every single one of them possessed a hearty appetite.

  The younger females planted themselves in the kitchen with Sarah, Rebekah, and Katie. His mother entertained the middle-aged and older ladies in the front room, where they alternated between sewing, gossiping, and sipping coffee. His father and John Troyer were holding court in the main barn, surrounded by the Troyer sons, sons-in-law, and grandsons. Caleb couldn’t concentrate on their chatter about seed corn varieties, new equipment purchases, and endless boasting about spring lambs, newborn calves, and recent foals. He was happy as a part-time farmer, but with his first singing in five years later this evening, he yearned for some solitude to sort out his thoughts.

  “Say, why don’t you bring Sarah and Rebekah tonight to the Millers? I’ll see that they get safely home.” Adam’s question nearly jolted Caleb out of his shoes. He’d been leaning on a tree, contemplating his next place to hide from the Troyer youngsters.

  Caleb peered down at his future brother-in-law, a man at least five inches shorter than him. “Sure, no problem.”

  Adam removed his glasses and cleaned them with his hanky. His striking blue eyes were definitely his best feature. “Since every Troyer is here, we’ll need the buggies to take my family home. But once I drop off Mamm and Daed, I’ll have the rig for the rest of the night.” Anticipation turned his blue eyes very bright.

  “Thanks for taking Rebekah too.” Caleb wanted to verify Adam’s intentions for his other sister. If God was merciful tonight, he might have some time alone with Josie.

  “No problem.” Adam replaced his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Your first singing in a long time, no?”

  “Jah, I’m not sure why I’m going. I feel downright elderly next to Rebekah’s friends.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll be there and I’m almost your age. Besides, it’s still the best place to meet an eligible Amish girl. Good luck, Cal.” Adam slapped him on the back before heading toward the kitchen, no doubt to see what Sarah was doing.

  Hopefully, some will be women and not girls, Caleb thought grimly. What if Josie didn’t show up? She barely said two sentences to him after preaching this morning. Josie treated him no differently from the man who delivered propane or the milk hauler from Walnut Creek. Of course, her mother and sisters had been present the entire time of socialization after the service.

  Caleb waited another ten minutes before walking into the house. Blessedly, people were packing up pie carriers and salad bowls, gathering children and sewing baskets in preparation to depart. After twenty
minutes of goodbyes as though it would be ages until the families saw each other again, the Troyers finally left. Caleb headed straight into the bathroom for another shower, a shave, and fresh clothes. All that exciting talk about Nathaniel’s new thresher had made him sweat. Turning the shower taps to full blast, Caleb couldn’t wait for the water to wash away his anxiety. In the steamy mirror, he saw bags beneath his eyes, indicative of too much worry about his future...or the lack of one.

  Suddenly, the sight of the name “Kristen” stopped him short. Caleb stared with horror at the colorful reminder of lost love and a drunken stupor. Funny how dressing and undressing in the dark, along with wearing long sleeves, had allowed him to forget his shame. Two ghastly serpents with long fangs writhed around a blood-red heart. His anticipation ran headlong into a brick wall. Some Christians considered vipers aligned with the devil. But he had played with garter snakes as a child and even kept one as a pet for a while. Snakes helped to keep the rat and mouse populations under control, so they were no more evil than rabbits or squirrels. But the Amish abhorred garish tattoos adorning a person’s body. Not to mention how Josie might feel about seeing another woman’s name on his arm. Would she be curious about his past or only repulsed by his actions? Stepping into the shower, Caleb let the water cascade over him until his sisters knocked on the door. Unfortunately, the twenty-minute shower did little to wash his sins away.

  On the way to the Miller farm Sarah and Rebekah kept up a lively discussion about who might be there and who might ride home with whom. For Sarah, the conversation was merely to pass time because she would marry Adam in the fall. But Rebekah grew more boy-crazy each day and more obsessed with James in particular. At least their chatter distracted Caleb from his worries. Tonight, he would be fully Amish—no Englischers attended singings. They would speak and sing solely in Deutsch. This would be a major transition for him—one he would survive as long as she was there.

  Josie Yoder strolled into the Miller barn ten minutes late. The songbooks had already been passed out. Young men and younger women sat on opposite sides of long tables in an almost spotless outbuilding. The deacon’s son had been appointed song leader and was already calling the next page number when an ethereal angel glided into the room as though on air. Josie wore a dress of deep mauve with a crisp apron and starched kapp. She had tied her ribbons behind her neck as though toiling in the garden. Her fresh face looked burnished from the sun while her emerald eyes sparkled and danced in the kerosene lantern light.