A Plain Man Page 4

  “Because there’s not an inch of space from the last time we baked.”

  “They surely won’t go to waste here, not with your bruder home. Have you ever seen so thin a man eat so much? A person could think he never ate his entire time in Cleveland.”

  That’s not far from the truth, she thought. Sarah had tried to forget Caleb’s depressing apartment with strange odors emanating from the hallway and his kitchen, the threadbare carpet, and his stained and broken furniture. She had found only a couple Cokes, a six-pack of beer, a half-eaten pizza, and bottles of suspicious-looking catsup and mustard in his refrigerator. “He won’t stay skinny with you in charge of his meals.” Sarah grinned at her mother, grateful her parents never witnessed their son’s former existence. “Cal met me at the Pratts’ and walked me home.”

  “Whatever for? Was he worried you would lose your way?” Elizabeth unloaded the basket into their propane freezer.

  “He plans to attend an event in Shreve on Saturday. James Weaver wishes to meet Amish women not from our district, and Cal agreed to go with him.”

  “Great news.” Elizabeth clapped her hands as though at a horse show or theater performance. “But why did he meet you at Country Pleasures?”

  “He wants Adam and me to join them, believing there’s safety in numbers. Please don’t tell Rebekah. If she stalks James like a serial killer, he’ll be unable to make new friends.”

  “Sarah Beachy,” Mamm scolded. “A serial killer? Have you been watching TV at Mrs. Pratt’s? I suggest you limit yourself to the Hallmark Channel so you don’t put such nasty ideas into your head.” Elizabeth made that clucking sound with her tongue—a gesture every mother masters eventually. “Rebekah likes James in a perfectly normal way.”

  “Just the same, let’s give James a chance to see some new faces.”

  Begrudgingly, her mother nodded.

  “Would you mind if I walked to Josie’s? I’d like to take the Yoders a loaf or two of these sweet breads.”

  “Of course not. Why would I mind?” Her mother placed the last two tightly wrapped loaves by the door.

  “Daed gets mad when he comes inside and finds you fixing supper alone. He thinks I work too hard for Mrs. Pratt and not hard enough at home.”

  She laughed from the belly. “Eli is so old-fashioned. Don’t be surprised if he insists you quit your job the moment you and Adam announce your engagement. Run along. I’ll tell your father I ordered you to go, because that’s what I’m doing. Tell Margaret Yoder I’ll see her at quilting.” She transferred the breads into a smaller basket. “Are you up to something, sweet girl?” Elizabeth Beachy couldn’t be fooled for long; she could sniff out a sly plan while standing in a garden of summer roses.

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know if I’m remotely successful.” Shrugging into her cloak, Sarah grabbed the basket and headed for the door, kissing her mother’s cheek on the way out. “In the meantime, say a prayer that the love-bug bites not one, but two people in our neighborhood.”

  “The love-bug? First serial killers, now romantic insects?”

  Sarah closed the door behind her and headed around the barn with energy that belied her long workday. The Yoders lived on a different township road, but a well-trodden path connected the two farms. The trail wound between fenced pastures, through the orchard, around the woodlot that stretched into the hills, and past an abandoned gristmill. Seldom did a trip to Josie’s not include a five-minute break at the piece of history from a bygone age of agriculture. Sarah would stand on the ivy-covered stone wall and peer down into the cascading water far below. The mill itself was beyond repair, yet the grapevines and rampant wildflowers softened its decrepit appearance. A rusty waterwheel had locked into position for all eternity, but Sarah loved it here—so peaceful, so quiet. She could still her mind and listen to God prodding her in one direction or another. Right now, He told her to get a move on or there wouldn’t be time for her errand.

  Josie was outdoors when Sarah rounded the corner and approached the house. Josie Yoder—petite, small-boned, with sparkling green eyes and hair so dark it looked black. Since Sarah was tall, blonde, freckled, and brown-eyed, the two were polar opposites physically. But in other ways, they were sisters under the skin. They often guessed what the other was thinking with amazing accuracy.

  “Hi, Josie,” Sarah called while still yards away.

  Her friend turned at the clothesline, a billowy white sheet in hand. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you work at the B&B today?”

  “I’m pleased to see you too.” Sarah wrinkled her nose. “Of course I did, but it’s after three o’clock.”

  “Time flies.” Josie concentrated on folding the bed linen before it dragged on the grass. “Mamm made me wash things that were perfectly clean.” She snuffled to emulate her favorite barnyard animal. “When she gets the spring-cleaning bug, look out. Soon she’ll have me dusting in between the windows and the screens.” Josie dropped the folded sheet atop her laundry basket. “What’s up? Did you hear gossip that won’t wait until Sunday?”

  Breathing hard, Sarah reached the triple clothesline. “I don’t gossip, but my mother and I were just discussing bug bites an hour ago. What are you doing the day after tomorrow?” She asked without preamble.

  Josie blinked her cat eyes. “Saturday? I haven’t thought that far ahead. I’ll probably help cook food for the Sabbath. You have something better in mind?”

  “Let’s go to the pancake breakfast in Shreve. They purchased Weaver maple syrup, along with fried Trail bologna, sausage patties, French toast, and Belgian waffles. Plus they will have craft displays, homemade candy, and quilts up for raffle.”

  Josie giggled. “Do you work for the Chamber of Commerce in addition to Mrs. Pratt?” She pulled a row of dish and hand towels from the line.

  “No, one job is plenty, danki. But I think we’ll have fun.”

  Josie’s pretty face turned suspicious. “Who’s this ‘we’? What are you up to, Sarah Beachy?”

  “Let’s see...there will be me, Adam, my bruder Caleb, and James Weaver—producer of Ohio’s best syrup.” She grinned as though selling toothpaste on television.

  Josie attacked a row of dresses, pulling until pins flew in every direction. “Oh no you don’t. I like James well enough, but as a friend. Don’t try fixing me up with him. If I give the tiniest amount of encouragement, his mother will plant half an acre of celery and finish our wedding quilt by month’s end.”

  Sarah walked around men’s trousers lofting in the March breeze. “No, not James,” she said softly.

  “Who then?” Josie yanked down socks and tossed them toward the basket.

  “My brother. You once told me that you liked Cal. You thought he was kind, sweet, and very handsome.”

  Josie faced Sarah eye-to-eye, or to the best of her ability considering her stature. “I believe I was fifteen at the time. I’m twenty-one now, Sarah. People change. Your bruder sure did.” She held Sarah’s gaze without blinking.

  “Maybe he’s the same on the inside.” Sarah tightened her cape against the wind.

  “Maybe so, but my father would never let your brother court me. Everybody in the district has heard how he sneaked around to get a driver’s license and then teamed up with a group of Englisch thugs. One of them hit a dog on Route 83 and didn’t even stop to see if the dog could be helped.” She shook her head.

  “How could they be sure it was one of Caleb’s friends? Anyway, you know very well my brother would never do such a thing, whether Englisch at the time or Amish.”

  “My daed said Cal threw keg parties where the sole purpose was getting drunk.” Josie shivered.

  Sarah paused to collect her thoughts. Once again she was defending Caleb’s reputation—something that shouldn’t be necessary. “I’m not condoning his behavior, but that’s all in the past. He learned a hard lesson up in Cleveland. He’s home and doesn’t throw keg parties anymore. He intends never to touch beer again.” She stomped her foot as her temper flared. �
�I didn’t think you of all people would be so judgmental.”

  “Easy there, friend.” Josie took her hand. “I’m not judging Cal, just saying my father wouldn’t like me courting him.”

  “Don’t you make your own choices?”

  Josie grinned, slowly at first. “My, you have become persuasive under the influence of Englischers. Okay, I’ll come to the pancake breakfast on Saturday with you and Adam, but I make no promises about falling in love with anyone.” She reached for a pair of pants. “Just make sure your mamm doesn’t start planting celery that’s not intended for you.”

  On impulse, Sarah kissed Josie’s cheek. “We’ll pick you up at eight. Don’t be late.” She started down the hill. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought two loaves of sweet bread to bribe you, but I didn’t need them. Return the basket on Saturday.” Sarah set the hamper in the tall grass and practically ran all the way home.

  Mrs. Pratt’s challenge had taken one giant step in the right direction.

  3

  Teach me some melodious sonnet,

  Sung by flaming tongues above.

  Caleb woke before his father on Saturday morning, dressed quickly, and hurried to the barn. Yesterday’s cold wind had died down while the sky remained clear. When the sun finally rose above the eastern hills, the day promised to be quintessentially spring. By the time Eli arrived at the barn, the cows had been milked and Caleb was busily filling water troughs and feed buckets.

  “You’re up mighty early, son.” Eli Beachy stood in the doorway with his battery lantern and an unreadable expression. “Develop a taste for night crawlers instead of your mamm’s bacon and eggs?”

  The joke took Caleb a moment to comprehend. “No worms for me, danki. In fact, no bacon and eggs either. I’ve got plans for today. That’s why I started chores early.” He concentrated on filling the five-gallon bucket from the fifty-pound sack. They’d run out of last year’s silage and had had to purchase local grain.

  Eli set his thermos on the stall wall. “You already turn the sow and horses into the outdoor paddock?”

  “Jah. I’ll begin mucking out their stalls next.”

  “Mind if I ask what your plans are? I figured you were becoming another Amish hermit like your old pal, Albert Sidley.”

  Caleb peered up, unsure how to take his father. “Just waiting for the weather to clear before I make my social debut.” He clamped the feed sack shut and carried it to the wheelbarrow.

  “Debut? Rather fancy word for an ordinary Saturday morning.” Pushing his felt hat to the back of his head, Eli leaned against a post.

  Caleb realized his father wasn’t leaving without an answer to his question. He waited, however, until he’d filled both cattle troughs with grain. “I’m going to the annual pancake breakfast in Shreve with James Weaver. He talked me into it, but I’ll be back before afternoon chores. Sarah and Adam are coming too. Adam hired a van so we won’t have to take our rigs.” He wiped his hands down his pants.

  The expression on Eli’s face would be more appropriate after an alien spaceship landed in their recently plowed cornfield. “Your mamm and I went one year a while back. Big crowds. I couldn’t see standing in line for a stack of flapjacks.” He stroked his beard during the reminiscence.

  “Hopefully, the crowds have died down since then.” Picking up the shovel and pitchfork, Caleb headed toward the sow’s pen. But his daed stepped into his path.

  “I’ll do that, since I won’t have to wait an hour to eat.” Eli pulled the tools from Caleb’s grasp. “You jump in the shower so you don’t keep Adam Troyer waiting.”

  “Danki.” A short word that Caleb found hard to utter on his way out the door.

  Inside, his mother was in her usual position at the stove. “Coffee’s ready.”

  “Exactly what I’m looking for.” Caleb headed to the cupboard for a mug as his sister exited the bathroom, a thick towel wrapped around her long hair.

  “All yours.” Sarah smiled sweetly. “Adam will pick up James first and then come for us. We’ll make one more stop and arrive in Shreve before you know it. I’m hungry already.”

  Caleb filled a mug with black coffee and tried to step around her, but Sarah blocked his path. “If you’ll let me pass, I won’t attend the event smelling like barn stalls.”

  Sarah glided toward the coffeepot, still grinning.

  Caleb started to close the door behind him when a thought occurred. “What do you mean another stop? Who else did you invite along?”

  She blew on the surface of her mug. “Only my best friend, Josie Yoder. You remember her, don’t you? Tiny gal with dark hair, lives on Route 852?”

  “Of course I remember Josie. I saw her last month at a preaching service.” He shot Sarah a frosty glare before shutting the door.

  How could any man with blood in his veins forget Josie Yoder?

  The skinny little girl had bloomed into a beautiful young woman during Caleb’s long absence. Josie had taken a shine to him when she was seventeen, but he had already been twenty. He decided to give her some growing-up time before asking her out. Then the whole world had shifted beneath his feet. His father took a contract to build a new hotel in Wilmot, working alongside Englischers. Caleb had met a skilled carpenter from Cleveland and they’d become friends. Pete encouraged him to apply at a major construction firm by Lake Erie when they finished the hotel. Not that it was Pete’s fault. That summer Caleb had lost his common sense and his way...spiritually and emotionally. And his journey back was far from over.

  Adam Troyer picked them up at the appointed hour in a hired van. Always punctual. Adam might be wound a little tight, but he was a good man. And one thing was crystal clear: He loved Sarah and would be a dependable, devoted husband.

  James, as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as any squirrel, jumped out of the van as soon as it slowed to a stop. “Cal, let’s sit in the backseat so the courting couple has a chance to be together.” James imbued the term “courting couple” with a silly, juvenile inflection.

  “Guder mariye, Adam,” Caleb greeted, remembering to use only Deutsch with his future brother-in-law. “Hey, James, you scrub off all the dried sap just in time for today?”

  “You bet I did. I can’t wait to dig into those pancakes.” James rubbed his hands together. Caleb bit the inside of his cheek trying not to laugh. He knew James’s exuberance had nothing to do with food.

  Sarah monopolized the conversation on the way to the Yoders, filling Adam in with the latest news from home and the inn. Caleb contently watched the passing scenery. Everywhere were the green, fertile signs of spring and new life. When Josie Yoder skipped out her door and down the steps, Caleb forgot all about soggy farm fields. During the five years he’d been gone, the pretty girl had morphed into a stunning beauty with creamy skin and sparkling green eyes. One lock of black hair trailed from her kapp, offering a hint of her luxurious mane beneath. Caleb’s heart thudded against his chest wall. He glanced away before his blush revealed he was no more sophisticated than James, despite his years living with the Englisch.

  “Hi Sarah, Adam. How are you doing, James?” Josie called the first two greetings en route, but waited for the third until she reached the van. “Good to see you, Caleb. This is my first chance to welcome you home.” She locked eyes with him, much to his chagrin.

  “Thanks, Josie. Gut to be back.” Caleb studied the back of Adam’s head. Gut to be back—as though he’d been vacationing in Florida?

  “Josie, sit up here with me and the driver.” Sarah instructed through the open window. “Adam can crawl into the back with the men.”

  As Josie Yoder climbed onto the front seat, Caleb said a silent prayer of thanks. Praying hadn’t been a habit for a long while, but he thanked God Josie wasn’t sitting next to him. Now he would have thirty minutes to pull his act together.

  Once they arrived at the pancake breakfast, true to his father’s prediction, the line snaked out the door of the elementary school. But customers chatted and laughed as though waiting ho
urs to eat was normal. The party of five took their place in line in a crowd. Many of the people were Englisch, but there was a good smattering of Amish folks among them. Always the hostess, Sarah kept conversation lively, finding ways to include James, Josie, and Caleb.

  Caleb had just begun to relax when the rowdy locals behind them caught his attention. From the corner of his eye, he assessed the group—three muscle-bound young men with their overly made-up girlfriends. The men talked as though they wanted the world to hear them while the women giggled shrilly. Must Englischers be so loud? Caleb tried his best to ignore them and concentrate on Adam’s story about coaxing a bull back behind a fence. Then Caleb overheard the Englischer’s taunt clear and true.

  “Do you suppose there’s only one Amish barber in town, or do all the barbers learn only one haircut?” Laughing, the three girlfriends stole not-very-subtle glances at them.

  Caleb felt heat start in his chest and spread up his neck, but he focused on Adam. Adam either didn’t hear the comment or was able to ignore it. Sarah pulled Josie closer to her side as though closing ranks.

  “I know there’s only one clothing store in town. They dress so much alike, I don’t know how they tell each other apart.” That particular remark came from the shortest of the men.

  Caleb pivoted around to face them while his fingers bunched into fists. Five years of living in the city had taught him to be cynical, wary, and defensive—three traits frowned on in Amish society. He took a step toward his adversaries, but Josie Yoder grabbed his hand, halting his progress.

  “If my stomach grumbles any louder, I won’t be able to hear myself think,” she said. “Could we skip pancakes for now and buy one of those giant funnel cakes? A booth is selling them near where the van dropped us off.” Her dark lashes fluttered while she spoke.

  “Great idea,” said his sister. “I’m starving too. We can either check this breakfast line later or chow down solely on junk food. I vote for the latter.” Sarah began dragging Adam in the direction of the vendors and craft tables. Adam continued his tale about the wily bull without interruption. Josie didn’t release his hand as they fell in step behind them.