A Plain Man Read online

  “Smart thinking to shake those troublemakers,” James whispered to Caleb, joining his other side. “I saw plenty of Amish women at those food booths. Besides, I eat tons of pancakes with maple syrup at home.” His spirits hadn’t been daunted in the least by the Englisch thugs.

  Caleb relaxed his shoulders and released his breath. “I could go for one of those greasy funnel cakes. I’ve been eating way too healthy since moving back.”

  “Gut, that means I won’t have to share any of mine.” Josie swung their arms like children on a playground.

  Caleb smiled at the prettiest and most clever woman at the Shreve pancake festival. His temper had reared its ugly head, but Josie had diffused a bad situation. Even if the lovely Miss Yoder never spent another minute in his company, Caleb Beachy would remain forever grateful.

  Caleb turned over in bed early Monday morning. Sleep refused to come. Too much had taken place during the last forty-eight hours for his mind to stop spinning. He hadn’t had so enjoyable a Saturday in a long time—five years to be exact. Who would have thought a tourist celebration in a small country town could change his outlook?

  Like throwing sand on a fire, Josie had doused his anger at the rude Englischers. The last thing he needed was to pick a fight with plenty of Amish and Englisch witnesses. The Amish were known to be pacifists—to turn the other cheek as instructed in Scripture. So why had he been eager to wipe away that man’s smirk with his fist?

  After Josie had guided them to the funnel cake booth, they bought sweets and cups of hot chocolate. Adam groused they were spoiling their appetites while munching an enormous elephant ear. Next Sarah led them to the display of Amish quilts, birdhouses, and feeders, and just about everything that could be crocheted or knitted. Although not a big fan of handmade creations, Caleb savored the feel of Josie’s small hand in his. When she finally let go, his fingers tingled for several minutes.

  Caleb had forgotten how graceful, charming, and sensitive to the needs of others Josie was. She knew how to handle Adam’s narrow viewpoint so she could enjoy the camaraderie of Sarah. Sensing James Weaver’s shyness, Josie fanned his courage like a flame. James had wandered off looking for familiar faces and found former district members from across the county. These women hung onto every word of his sugar production explanation. When their newly expanded group returned to the school for breakfast, the crowds had died down. Pancakes, sausage, and orange juice had never tasted so good before. James relished five minutes of celebrity status as everyone raved about Weaver maple syrup, while Caleb enjoyed his first outing with Plain believers.

  Josie had been so relaxed with him that for a brief moment, Caleb believed they might have a future together. Today he felt far less confident. Josie was an innocent girl whose rumschpringe probably consisted of buying lipstick or taking a trip to King’s Island to ride the roller coaster. What would she think if she knew what evil he’d been part of? Would she court him? Invite him for Sunday dinner with her parents? Caleb thought not, despite her encouraging words on the way home: I’m glad you’ve come home, Cal. If there’s anything I can do to help you readapt, let me know.

  Readapt—a five-dollar word for giving up his driver’s license and hitching up a Standardbred gelding whenever he wanted to go anywhere. Readapt—that meant throwing out his belts, Levis, and plaid flannel shirts. He’d looked for Josie at preaching yesterday, craning his neck left and right to no avail. Sarah heard from one of her siblings that Josie had come down with a cold. He’d endured a three-hour service, including two sonorous sermons, in hopes of seeing Miss Yoder.

  He should have paid attention to the service to reconnect with his religious upbringing. But God and Caleb Beachy hadn’t been on a first name basis for a long while. Once he left home and moved to Cleveland, he hadn’t bothered joining an Englisch church. Late-night carousing and early Sunday services didn’t usually mesh. And prayer? He’d prayed for a new job at the end of his first project, but God either hadn’t heard him or decided one fallen-away Christian wasn’t worth the trouble. Now he was between a rock and a hard place. You couldn’t be agnostic and be Amish, yet religion without faith was pointless.

  Caleb threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. He’d better not oversleep on his first day of working for his father. Downstairs, the Beachy family had sprung to action. Sarah and Rebekah filled travel mugs of coffee for their walk to Country Pleasures Inn. Katie was getting ready for school while his mother cooked a simple breakfast of oatmeal and toast.

  His mother smiled at him over her shoulder. “I packed your lunch, Caleb. Two sandwiches with chips and bottled water. I put them in the small cooler.”

  “You didn’t have to fuss, Mamm. I’m capable of making my lunch.” Caleb gritted his teeth. Coming home had reduced a grown man to boy status.

  “Oh, it’s no trouble because I’m already fixing your daed’s.”

  Eli Beachy exited the bathroom dressed and ready to leave. “There you are. Jack’s van will be here in ten minutes. Glad you’ve come down.”

  “I’ll get my tools.” Caleb carried his mug of coffee to the mudroom where he’d stashed his toolbox. At least they would be traveling back and forth to Millersburg in a vehicle.

  Eli followed him to the doorway. “Jack and Bob are my Englisch carpenters. They’ll run the power equipment if our hand tools aren’t sufficient for a particular task. They’ve been on my crew for years and have adjusted to our Ordnung.” He locked gazes with Caleb.

  If he wasn’t mistaken, his father’s words were laced with challenge. “How many men on the crew?” Caleb dragged his case from under the stationary tub.

  “Eight, counting you and me. You’ll know some of them from building barns long ago. And today you’ll meet two carpenters who live near Killbuck.” Eli shrugged into his black wool coat.

  Caleb pulled on his dark brown Carhartt jacket—the choice of outdoor American laborers everywhere.

  “We’ll have to replace that Englisch coat,” Eli muttered as he marched back into the kitchen.

  “The newest Beachy employee can’t leave the house without breakfast.” Elizabeth handed him a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon.

  Caleb practically had to inhale the food when Jack picked them up right on schedule. Crawling into the van’s third seat, he decided to remain low-profile on his first day. He had only a passing acquaintance with the Amish fellows. Surprisingly, they talked in Deutsch during the thirty-minute ride, even though Jack and Bob wouldn’t understand a word they said. Once at the site, the crew wasted several hours standing around while Eli conferred with the building’s owner. While they waited, the foreman closed the sidewalk in front and on one side with a yellow caution tape to protect passersby from danger. Caleb nailed up their work permits in a prominent position while two men moved the large dumpster into the best location for debris.

  During lunch—a wholly undeserved break since no one had done a lick of work—Caleb acquainted himself with the rest of the crew. Finally, a city councilman and the safety director of the city of Millersburg allowed the project to proceed.

  Eli divided the warehouse roof into sections so that the entire structure wouldn’t be exposed to the elements at the same time. They worked in three teams of two men to pry up layers of tar and felt that covered leaky three-quarter inch plywood. The seventh man gathered the old materials with a pitch fork and shovel to heave into the dumpster. With the sun warming his back and a breeze cooling his skin, Caleb liked the work. If nothing else, it distracted him from wallowing in self-pity. Playing games of what-if or if-only never did anyone a bit of good.

  After several hours, Caleb and his assigned partner hit a particularly rotted section of sheathing under the tarred felt. “Let me get something to cut out this whole corner,” he said. “None of this is salvageable.” Caleb climbed down the ladder to his toolbox in the van and returned within minutes. He had made only two cuts through the plywood before Eli appeared behind him on the roof.

  “What have you got, son?�
��

  Caleb glanced up. “It’s a reciprocating Sawzall. I brought it with me from Cleveland. This can get into hard-to-reach places better than a circular saw.” For demonstration he cut a second straight line through a section of underlayment.

  Eli huffed. “I know what a Sawzall is, Caleb. I’m just wondering why you have one. You said you wanted to return to the Amish ways.” Eli didn’t try to hide his disappointment.

  Caleb straightened, switched off the tool, and met his daed’s gaze. “The tool is battery powered. There is no cord. Nothing is connected to the grid.”

  “I understand how it works, but our district doesn’t use them. The ministerial brethren have discussed power saws in the past.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Caleb spoke without thinking. “If it’s battery-operated, what’s the difference between using a Sawzall or a flashlight or a nine volt wall clock? Jack or Bob could take my power pack home each night to charge it up.”

  Eli’s face turned so red, Caleb feared he might suffer a heart attack. “Jack and Bob have their own power saws, including one exactly like yours. If you need to cut out some sheathing, Jack will do it. That’s how it will be done on my crew on this project.”

  Caleb felt the presence of several men who’d apparently taken a break to listen to their discussion. His face flushed with embarrassment from the dressing-down. His father was treating him like a teenager instead of an experienced, twenty-four-year-old carpenter.

  He set down the tool none too gently.

  Jack materialized at his side. “Let me cut out that section, Cal. No big deal.” The Englischer picked up the saw and put it to use, the noise effectively mitigating the tense situation.

  Grabbing the pry bar, Caleb began lifting off boards from the roof rafters. One by one the other workers returned to their tasks. But his father remained in place for several minutes, as though expecting him to use the taboo tool the moment he turned his back. Caleb concentrated on the loosened sheathing, transferring his negative energy into the decayed wood. In a few minutes Eli climbed down the ladder and returned to his portable table of blueprints and specifications. But Caleb couldn’t meet his eye for the remainder of the day.

  He was too close to saying something he would undoubtedly regret.

  Eli sat up front next to Bob while Jack drove the van back toward Fredericksburg. It had been a stressful day despite the fact that demolition hadn’t even begun until after lunch. Problems with the city safety director, the utility company, and the owner’s agent had upset his stomach during the morning hours. Not that construction projects ever began or ended without tension. It was the nature of the business—whether Amish or Englisch. But Eli really didn’t need a confrontation with his son on the first day of the job. Perhaps he should have discussed what was and wasn’t permitted on his crew, but Caleb had worked for him before he left to find his fame and fortune in Cleveland. He didn’t think his son could have forgotten a lifetime of learned Ordnung.

  Eli had been relieved when Jack picked up the saw and assumed responsibility. Nevertheless a heart-to-heart with Caleb was long overdue, but he would wait until they got home so as not to embarrass his son. At least Caleb talked to other Amish during the drive instead of forming instant bonds with the Englisch employees. Deep inside Eli feared a repeat of that heartbreaking summer years ago.

  When Jack dropped them off, Caleb scrambled out to retrieve his toolbox from behind the seat. “I’m leaving my Sawzall and cordless circular saw,” he said to Jack after walking around to the driver’s side. “They’re all yours, my friend.” Caleb spoke with an ounce of emotion.

  “Okay, but I’ll return them if your district changes their policy someday. You never know what the future holds.” Tipping his ball cap, Jack rolled up the window.

  The man had learned much about the Amish after working for him these four years, thought Eli. “See you tomorrow,” he called.

  Eli followed his son through the back door into the mudroom. While they pulled off their boots, coats, and hats, Eli chose this opportunity to set some guidelines before more time elapsed. “I didn’t appreciate you disagreeing with me on the roof, in front of the other men.” He kept his tone nonconfrontational.

  “I didn’t argue about anything, Daed. I merely pointed out my tool ran without an electrical cord.” Caleb hooked his coat and hat on a peg.

  “You should have respected my authority as your boss and your father and set down the tool without backtalk.”

  “Discussing something in a calm manner isn’t backtalk. It’s how adults communicate in the world. I am a grown man, but I’m also more than willing for you to call the shots on the job. It’s your company and I respect your position in it, in addition to you being my father.” Caleb slicked a hand through his tangled hair. He hadn’t raised his voice or used a defensive posture, yet Eli sensed resistance just the same.

  “Most matters aren’t up for discussion. We’re Amish and therefore subject to my decisions as your bishop and our Old Order Ordnung, whether district members are young or old. You still manifest ego and pride—both traits learned in the Englisch society. Those won’t serve you here.” Eli hung up his hat and coat on the next peg.

  “I doubt that Englischers are the only ones who develop pride. But I’ll do my best to respect your authority while at work.” Caleb leaned over the stationary tub to wash. His mother didn’t need any tar residue tracked into the household bathroom. Turning on the taps, he tested the water and stuck his head under the stream as though cooling off his hot temper.

  “That is true, but those in their permissive society learn no self-restraint or how to control their tongues.”

  Caleb straightened his spine, flinging droplets of water around the laundry and storage area.

  “I gave Jack the tools that you won’t allow. I don’t know what else you want from me. I didn’t argue. I only questioned what I didn’t understand.” While he talked, Caleb unbuttoned his navy blue shirt, dropped his suspenders to his waist, and pushed up the sleeves of his thermal undershirt. He was preparing to wash his neck and arms, but froze when Eli gasped. Every drop of blood drained from Caleb’s face when he realized his mistake, his complexion turning the color of woodstove ash.

  “What is that?” With a trembling finger, Eli pointed at a garish tattoo. The monstrosity stretched from his mid-forearm up to his elbow.

  Caleb turned away, grabbing frantically for his shirt. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

  “Let me see it,” Eli demanded, holding Caleb’s arm steady to get a better look. Twin snakes writhed and coiled around a fancy red heart. Inside the name Kristen had been inscribed in an old-fashioned script. Red outlined the bottom of the letters as though blood dripped from her name. “Vipers! That is an abomination.” He didn’t attempt to hide his disgust. “What kind of unholy alliances did you form in the city? Were you in some kind of cult?” He whispered the last word as though afraid of invoking evil.

  Caleb pulled away from him and turned back to the stationary tub. He thrust his arms beneath the taps and scrubbed with the bar of Lifebuoy soap. “I was in no cult. It only means I thought I was in love with a woman named Kristen.”

  “The body is a temple of the Lord. Yet you defiled yours with snakes and garish designs.”

  “Believe me, if there was any way I could rid myself of it I would. It was a mistake. I did a foolish thing when I wasn’t myself.”

  “Were you drunk?” asked Eli.

  “Yes, drunk and a fool. Two conditions I hope never to be again.”

  Eli rubbed his tired eyes with his fingertips. “You’re certain a doctor can’t remove this...this tattoo? Maybe scrape it off under anesthetic?”

  “I’m sure. It goes too deep, through several layers of skin. But I will never roll up my sleeves on the job, no matter how hot I get.” Caleb reached for the towel to dry his arms and pulled on the soiled shirt. No clean clothes were stored in the mudroom unless Elizabeth happened to leave her basket of laundry be
hind.

  Eli clenched his eyes shut. “There must be something we can do. No Amish woman in her right mind will marry a man who is marked in such a fashion.”

  “Then I’ll have to find one not in her right mind.” Caleb pressed the towel to his face.

  Grabbing the damp towel, Eli hurled it across the room. “Do you think this is a joke? I’ve never known an Amish man to disgrace himself like this.”

  “I don’t think it’s funny, but I can’t change my past. If I could I would.” Caleb’s voice rose with anger as he glared with more venom than his inscribed snakes.

  Shaking his head, Eli walked to where the towel lay and picked it up. “What about this woman—this Kristen? Were you betrothed to her? Is she waiting for your return to marry?”

  “I thought she was my fiancée, but when I lost my job, she lost interest and started dating someone else.” His voice cracked, betraying his emotion at last.

  Eli stared at his arm where the tattoo lay hidden by the work shirt. “For now, tell no one about this abomination. But I will have to discuss this with the other elders during your membership classes. There’s no way around it.” His anger changed to pity for a man who’d fallen so far.

  “I understand.” Nodding, Caleb opened the mudroom door.

  Inside the kitchen, they were greeted by an effusive Elizabeth. “Ach, my two hardworking men! How did it go on your first day on the job, son?”

  Her face was so filled with hope and love that for a second Eli thought their son might cry. But instead he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “Gut, Mamm. Glad to be back to work. Excuse me while I change into a clean shirt.”

  Eli slumped into a chair, feeling close to ninety years old. And he wasn’t even fifty.

  4

  Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,

  Mount of Thy redeeming love.