A Plain Man Read online

  “Did your parents have Amish friends?” Sarah asked a fair share of questions too.

  Michelle shook her head. “Mom didn’t know a single one other than those we bought vegetables from. But she was fascinated with their large families and how they turned their backs on modern technology.”

  “Both are ways to stay close to God and His divine plan for our lives. The more children you have, the more you’ll be centered on your family.”

  “I never thought about it like that. I hope Pete and I have at least six kids. My friends only want one or two, but not me. I can’t wait until we marry and get started making babies.”

  Sarah blushed as they climbed the porch steps. She wasn’t sure if anything would embarrass this young woman. “Let’s have some iced tea on the porch. It’s warmed up quite a bit, but I’ll get a shawl to put around your shoulders.” When she returned, Michelle was rocking in the porch swing.

  “It is so peaceful here. I definitely want a swing for my back deck.” Her head was back, her arms crossed, and her eyes closed.

  “I brought a plate of oatmeal cookies to have with our tea.” Sarah hated to interrupt.

  Michelle opened one eye and then grabbed two cookies from the plate. “Did your mom bake these?”

  “My twelve-year-old sister, Katie, did. She’s getting quite good.”

  “Of course she is. Aren’t all Amish women wonderful cooks and bakers?” She practically swallowed the first cookie whole.

  “Of course not. Like every other group, some people are gifted in certain areas and some aren’t. But we lock the bad cooks and bakers in the attic whenever tourists stop by to keep up our image.”

  Michelle’s laughter could have been heard in the cornfield. “You have a great sense of humor. That’s why we get along so well.” She took another cookie from the plate. “Do you suppose I could see what your hair looks like under your bonnet?”

  “This is called a prayer kapp.” Sarah glanced around to make sure they were alone. Women’s hair shouldn’t be seen by men other than their husbands, but since they were both females she didn’t see a problem. Sarah pulled off the covering and turned to show the back of her head. “It’s just an old-fashioned bun held up with pins.”

  “My grandmother used to wear her hair like that.” Michelle patted the knot of hair gently. “Do you take it down every night or only every other? How often do you wash it? Do you think I could see how long it is?”

  Sarah pivoted around to assess the woman’s face. Michelle’s inquisitiveness appeared utterly earnest. “Yes, I take it down each night but sleep with a loose ponytail. Otherwise it would get too tangled. I usually wash it every third day unless my scalp sweats in the summer.” She sipped her tea and nibbled a cookie.

  “Makes perfect sense.” Michelle couldn’t take her eyes of Sarah’s kapp. “Mind telling me how long your hair is? I’ve never been able to grow mine past my shoulders. Then it gets on my nerves and I chop it off.” She fingered one of her own dark locks.

  “Why don’t I show you?” She pondered only a moment before pulling out the dozen pins that held her bun in place. After all, the men would be in the cornfield for several hours. When she shook her head, her waist-length hair cascaded down her back.

  “My goodness, I’ve never seen such beautiful hair before.” Michelle reached out tentatively to touch a strand. “It’s so thick and shiny. You should do television commercials for hair care products.”

  “I don’t think my parents would approve, especially since my father is the bishop.” Sarah lifted the bulk off her neck, feeling the sins of vanity and pride take hold of her better judgment.

  Michelle pawed around in her oversized purse, spilling half the contents on the porch floor. Finally she extracted a plastic brush. “Would you mind if I brushed it? I promise this brush is clean.” When Sarah didn’t respond, Michelle’s face turned the color of ripe tomatoes. “You probably think I’m weird. Sorry. Pete says I always push things too far.”

  “I don’t think you’re weird in the least. When we were young, my sister and I loved brushing each other’s hair. Now Rebekah would prefer pulling mine out by the roots.” Sarah perched on the edge of the swing. “Go ahead.”

  Michelle dragged the brush through Sarah’s long tresses, gently working out snarls instead of yanking them free. “Maybe I’ll return to school for cosmetology. These paralegal classes get boring at times.”

  For five minutes Michelle brushed, Sarah rocked, and they both shared their plans for the future. Despite her fancy car, flashy clothes, and extravagant wedding plans, Michelle had a practical head on her shoulders. “When my children are old enough for school, I’m sending them to a Christian school where they’ll get personal attention. Public school classrooms are too large.” While she talked, she plaited Sarah’s hair into two long braids.

  “I haven’t had pigtails since I was a little girl,” said Sarah.

  “And there’s good reason for that—you’re not a child anymore.” The male voice from the other end of the porch nearly knocked both women off the swing.

  Sarah turned to see Adam Troyer striding toward them with his coat buttoned up to his throat. “I didn’t hear your buggy drive up. Where did you park?”

  “I tied my horse in the front yard since a car blocked the driveway. I had no idea who would be visiting the Beachys on a Saturday afternoon.” His stare rotated between Sarah’s uncovered head and Michelle Moore like a pendulum. Judging by his expression, neither sight made him happy. “Where is your kapp, Sarah?”

  “Right here.” She held up the starched piece of white cotton. “Adam, this is Michelle Moore, the fiancée of Caleb’s friend, Pete Taylor.”

  “From Cleveland?” he asked.

  “Lakewood, to be exact. How do you do? I gather you’re Sarah’s beau. You are a lucky man, to be sure.” Michelle extended her well-manicured fingers.

  Adam’s manners returned in the nick of time. He swept his felt hat from his head and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you. And yes, God blessed me generously when I met Sarah.” Embarrassment turned his cheeks a healthy shade of pink. His gaze shifted back to Sarah. “Why is your hair down?” he asked, settling into a rocker.

  Sarah quickly coiled the two long braids around and secured them with pins. Nimbly she covered her head with the kapp. “Michelle was curious about Amish hair. Since we were alone on the porch, I saw no harm in showing her mine. I hope you don’t think me vain.” She folded her hands primly.

  “No, I know you too well to think that, but Amish hair is no different than any other.” Adam focused on the Englisch guest. “Did you drive to Fredericksburg by yourself?”

  Michelle dropped the brush onto the pile next to her handbag. “Oh, no, Pete came to visit his old friend, Cal, just to make sure everything was all right.”

  “Why wouldn’t things be all right? Caleb is back where he belongs with his people.” Adam stared at the spilled contents of her purse. His frown returned for a second appearance. “You brought a camera to an Amish home?” He glared at Sarah. “Did you allow yourself to be photographed?”

  Sarah inhaled through her nostrils as her temper flared. “You know me better than that. That camera hasn’t left her purse. Please don’t give Miss Moore the impression that Caleb’s family is bad-mannered and inhospitable,” she snapped.

  Silence gripped the porch.

  Michelle and Pete didn’t stay long after that.

  Adam tried to finagle an invitation to supper to no avail. If he could behave rudely, then so could Sarah. When she refused to budge, he finally returned to his buggy with his tail between his legs. By the time Elizabeth and Katie returned from their quilting bee, not one of the Beachys was smiling—not Eli, not Caleb, and certainly not Sarah.

  “Goodness, ehemann, are you sure you’re not making a mountain out of a molehill?” Elizabeth peered over the top of her glasses, her sewing momentarily forgotten.

  Eli shook his head. “You weren’t there while Caleb was hav
ing lunch with those Englischers. He seemed to hang onto every word that woman said.”

  “Maybe Pete’s fiancée was telling a fascinating story, and you walked in too late.” His fraa returned to her needlework.

  “She was describing her three-ring circus of a wedding. What Amish man would be interested in that?” Finally alone with his wife, Eli began to pace the kitchen floor. After Caleb left for an evening walk, he’d thought his girls would never go upstairs to their room.

  “Sit down, Eli. I’m growing exhausted just watching you. Katie and I seemed to have stumbled into a hornets’ nest instead of coming home to our family. All four of you glowering and pouting like kinner.”

  “I don’t pout.” Eli paused. “Four? What could Rebekah be riled up about? She wasn’t even home during their visit.”

  Elizabeth winked at him. “That’s just it—Rebekah is miffed because she missed the excitement. She believes Sarah planned for her to stay at the B&B.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Sarah couldn’t have known they would visit.” Slumping into a chair, Eli released a sound similar to a growl. “First, Caleb getting excited about those Englischers’ wedding, then Sarah disgracing herself with Miss Moore.”

  She dropped her sewing atop the basket. “Sarah said she simply showed the woman her hair and then Michelle decided to brush it. True, that shouldn’t have happened outdoors, but Sarah believed they were alone. Why was Adam Troyer sneaking around the bushes like a prowling tomcat?”

  “You’re as bad as our daughter. Adam didn’t sneak. He was calling on Sarah on his way home from work. Granted, he shouldn’t have taken his reaction out on Caleb’s guests, but he has a right to be concerned about Sarah’s behavior. Aren’t they announcing their engagement soon?” His tone dropped to the barest whisper.

  “You know better than to ask me. We’ll see this summer.” Elizabeth reached for her cup of tea. “I’m glad you realized Pete and Michelle were Caleb’s guests. According to our son, you treated them like house burglars caught red-handed in the strong box. Is that true?”

  Eli pursed his lips. “I made no one turn out their pockets or empty their purse. But jah, I suppose I overreacted to their showing up unannounced.”

  “Were they supposed to call first?” She sipped her tea without taking her eyes off him.

  “I don’t know, fraa, but I’m afraid we’ll lose Caleb back to their world of temptation.”

  “Then let’s not drive him away with our lack of trust and faith in his judgment.”

  Weary beyond description, Eli nodded on his way up the steps. “I will try.” He voiced the words, but in his heart he hadn’t the slightest idea how.

  5

  Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,

  Till released from flesh and sin

  Caleb’s second week on Eli’s roofing crew started out very much like the first. By Wednesday, however, his mamm inadvertently provided the fly destined to embed itself in the family ointment. At their normal breakfast of toast and oatmeal, she entered the kitchen carrying a heavy, black wool coat.

  “Look what I found for you secondhand—a still serviceable winter coat.” She held out the garment for his inspection. “I lengthened the sleeves, mended a few moth holes, and cleaned it the best I could. What do you think?”

  Caleb peered over his coffee cup at the fairly worn-out Amish jacket. “Looks fine. Danki. Where did you come across it?”

  “Beatrice Black’s husband passed away, so he had no further need of it. She was getting rid of most of Abraham’s clothes at a rummage sale.”

  Caleb wished he hadn’t asked. A moth-eaten coat from a dead man at least half a foot shorter than me? Knowing she meant well, he gritted his teeth and smiled at his mother. “It will come in handy for the rest of the season. By next fall I’ll be able to buy a new coat.”

  “It won’t be a perfect fit, but I couldn’t see it going to waste. Abraham would be happy it was put to good use.” Elizabeth bustled between the counter and the refrigerator as she packed their lunches.

  His father listened to their exchange but said nothing. His silence ended when Caleb downed his remaining coffee and lifted his Carhartt from the hall peg. “Why are you taking that? Your mamm repaired a perfectly fine Plain coat.”

  “Which I intend to wear.” Caleb spoke softly while shrugging on his mother’s handiwork. Two inches of wrist dangled beneath the sleeves. “Since I don’t need this one any longer I might as well give it away.” He walked outside just as Jack pulled up the driveway.

  “Sounds gut.” Eli stomped down the porch steps, lugging his briefcase of papers, lunch cooler, and thermos.

  Caleb followed him, carrying the Englisch coat and the last shreds of his dignity. He climbed into the back while his daed sat up front as usual. Caleb waited until they turned onto the state highway to address their driver. “I’m putting this Carhartt atop your toolbox, Jack, because I don’t need it anymore and you’re about the same size as me.”

  Jack repositioned the rearview mirror to meet his gaze. “Thanks, Cal. How much do you want for it?”

  “Nothing. It’s a gift. I bought it on rumschpringe while up in Cleveland.” While he spoke Caleb noticed an overlooked moth hole in his sleeve.

  “Your Carhartt looked brand new. Besides, you already gave me your Sawzall and Bob your cordless circular saw. I wouldn’t mind paying a fair price for the jacket—that brand lasts forever.”

  Caleb didn’t have a chance to argue, or decide upon a price for a used garment, or anything else. His father jumped into the discussion as though Caleb had been struck mute.

  “No, just take it off our hands,” said Eli. “It’s a daily reminder of a place my son needs to forget. How about if Caleb foregoes his share of the gas money during the project in exchange for the tools?”

  Jack glanced into the rearview mirror at him. “Sounds fair to me, if it’s okay with Cal. But I’m still getting the better end of the deal.”

  Caleb stared out the window, not meeting Jack’s eye. With two other Amish men in the van, he didn’t wish to disagree with his father. “Deal sounds fair.” Three words, barely audible, but it was the best he could do at the moment.

  At the Millersburg job site Eli remained on the ground poring over blueprints and specifications, or on his cell phone ordering materials, or lining up their next project. Caleb and the rest of the crew worked unsupervised. All seven men were diligent and relatively proficient—the Englischers more so than the Amish, due to their experience. During their lunch break, Jack and Bob headed across the street to McDonald’s while Eli met another contractor in a local diner. Caleb saw a chance to broach a subject that had been needling him with his fellow Amishmen. “I’ve noticed you continue to speak Deutsch even when Jack and Bob are with us. Don’t you think we should speak English out of common courtesy?” He glanced around the group where everyone munched on sandwiches or pieces of cold fried chicken. All food consumption halted, sandwiches held aloft in midair.

  Four sets of eyes focused on Josiah, Caleb’s roofing partner. “I had a feeling that has been bothering you,” he said. The Killbuck carpenter, a father of six with a seventh on the way, spoke in a calm manner. “We thought the same when we started working for your daed. So we spoke English in the van, at lunch, or anyplace else Englischers were present.” Pausing, Josiah glanced around the group.

  “Go on,” prodded Caleb. He set his egg salad sandwich down on the waxed paper. “What changed? Did you get mad at Jack or Bob?”

  “Of course not.” Josiah looked bewildered. “Truth be told, Eli told us that on breaks and before or after work we should speak Deutsch and let Bob and Jack carry on their own conversations. Only when we’re actually working with them should we converse in English.”

  Caleb waited for someone to burst into laughter to indicate Josiah was pulling his leg, but no one did. He received only nods of acknowledgement when he scanned the faces. “He instructed you to speak a language that Bob and Jack don’t understand?”

/>   Josiah took a bite of sandwich and chewed. “Eli has nothing but respect for them, but I have the feeling he doesn’t want his Amish employees”—he paused as though searching for a word—“fraternizing with the Englisch.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” Caleb’s comment wasn’t a question.

  “No, I’m not, but Jack and Bob don’t mind. Everybody is happy on this crew, Cal. Don’t try to fix something that’s not broken.” Josiah locked eyes with him. “I’m offering brotherly advice from one Plain man to another.”

  Caleb found the notion ridiculous, but he had no choice but to agree. “All right. If you’re sure we’re not offending Bob and Jack, I won’t rock the boat.”

  Josiah rose to his feet and shoved his trash into his lunch bag. “I’m positive. Things are different here than what you’re familiar with, but you’ll learn Eli’s ways eventually.” He patted Caleb’s shoulder before heading toward the ladder to the roof.

  You’re not kidding they’re different, Caleb thought. But what choice did he have? Eli was his boss as well as his father, and Caleb was in no mood to look for another job.

  During the afternoon, roof removal moved at a speed slower than a three-legged turtle. Jack and Bob, crew partners, worked on a section half a story higher than the other crews. Each time an Amish team needed something cut with the Sawzall, Bob or Jack had to climb down the ladder. No one but Caleb found this arrangement of teams ridiculous. But considering his last clash with Eli in front of the men, Caleb worked without comment. At quitting time, however, his patience ran out. “Can you clean up the site without me?” he asked Josiah. “I’d like to speak to my father a moment.”

  Josiah shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll see you in the van.”

  Caleb found his father stacking papers and rolling up warehouse blueprints. His glasses sat cockeye and a smudge of blue ink marred his nose. “Got a minute, Daed?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Eli pushed his glasses higher up his nose. “This job is coming along nicely. We’ll be done within two weeks.”