A Plain Man (17 page)

Safely to arrive at home.

C
aleb watched the approach of his father from the grassy bank of the pond. The pressure of running a business eight months out of the year while serving as district bishop was starting to take its toll. He'd grown frailer in the last five years, with a definite curve to his spine. It was a good thing he did little more than study blueprints these days on the construction site.

“Your
mamm
thought I might find you here.” Eli stopped close to the water's edge. A sheen of sweat covered his face from the May sunshine.

“Nice day to throw in a fishing line.” Caleb pulled up a dandelion by the roots.

“It's still the Sabbath—no labor should be performed.”

“Believe me, no work has been. Nary a fish biting.” He shielded his eyes to peer up at his father.

“Your
grossmammi
wanted to know why you didn't come by today.” Eli slowly lowered himself to the sloped hillside. “She baked a peach pie especially for you. Isn't that your favorite?”

Caleb felt a pang of guilt. His grandmother was the sweetest woman on earth. But he couldn't tag after his parents every non-preaching Sunday on their endless rounds of social calls. There were only so many cups of coffee, glasses of lemonade, and homemade cookies that a person could consume. Now if they had been visiting the Yoder family, it would have been a different story. “I'll stop by to see her during the
week,” he said. “With any luck,
Grossmammi
might still have a slice of pie left.”

“You'll have to go after hours because I've lined up work for the crew.” Eli skipped a flat stone across the water.

Caleb straightened from his inclined position. “That's great to hear. Lately, I've been carrying around my wallet for no reason whatsoever. That Standardbred and new buggy wiped out everything I had saved so far. I haven't been able to give
Mamm
money toward groceries these past two weeks.”

“No son or daughter of mine has to worry about paying room and board—that's an
Englisch
custom.” Eli's second stone sunk to the bottom on the first skip.

“
Danki,
but I would feel funny not contributing. I'm a grown man, not a teenager. What kind of job will this be?”

“An expansion of a restaurant and tavern in Ashland with a large banquet room for weddings and reunions. They want the rustic, historical look of the original building to carry over into the new addition. The owners hired
Englisch
plumbers, electricians, and tile setters, but we got the contract for the rough and finished carpentry. He's already found oak siding from a dismantled barn that he wants to use on the interior walls.”

“Old barn siding?” asked Caleb. “That ought to supply the rustic ambience he's looking for.”

Eli screwed up his face. He hated it when people used words like
ambience
, despite knowing clearly what it meant. “Yes, well, let's hope none of the wood is wormy or decayed. Hopefully, there'll be enough without piecing together short lengths. Are you ready to start tomorrow?” He threw one final stone into the pond with a resounding
plunk.

“Nothing else on my Monday social calendar.”

His father rose slowly to his feet. “
Gut.
Jack will pick us up at six thirty. Don't oversleep.” Eli started for the house on the same weedy, overgrown trail.

Oversleep? Hardly. Caleb hadn't much to do after chores other than doze in the porch rocking chair. When he wasn't pining over Josie, of course. Their date to the theater and pizza shop had been his
most enjoyable day in too many to count. And when she'd kissed him good night on the porch steps, he practically started shouting. But that wouldn't have been wise at two o'clock in the morning.

He'd seen little of her lately. Without five dollars to his name, he couldn't very well take her out for a cup of coffee or an ice cream cone in town. And when he walked the back path to the Yoder house during the late afternoon, her sisters stalked them to the tree swing, the front porch, or the apple orchard—wherever they went. Her family didn't allow Josie out of their sight, as though he would spirit her off to the city if they turned their backs. The two of them had chatted last week after preaching and then shared a drink in the cool shade. She had laughed at his jokes and listened to his stories of Sarah and Rebekah's ongoing rivalry at work. But all too soon, her
daed
rounded up the family to visit some relation several miles away.

Caleb could think of little else beyond her. Yet nothing had overtly signaled she was his girl. One little kiss did not a future make. At least if work started tomorrow, he would have something other than watching hay grow occupying his time. And some money in his pocket to properly court Josie. Amish people didn't go out often or buy costly gifts like courting
Englischers.
But he couldn't tolerate empty pockets for long. It smacked of no future—the last impression he wanted to give the woman of his dreams.

The next morning he awoke at four o'clock to shower and shave before his sisters got up. By the time Jack picked them up, he'd fed the horses, milked their two cows, gathered eggs for his
mamm,
and eaten more breakfast than he had in a long while. He would enjoy the camaraderie of the other men again, even if two languages were spoken during the drive to Ashland.

At the site they unloaded their tools into a chaotic construction site. Deliveries of restaurant food and supplies competed with the cleanup of the adjacent building's demolition. Eli's employees set to work building new interior walls to the architect's specifications. By the third day, they finished roughing-in two bathrooms in preparation for plumbing and electrical works to be installed. When those tradesmen arrived, their crew focused on meticulously matching oak boards in the main
banquet hall to ensure the best possible appearance. The final step would be to remove the temporary wall separating the old establishment from the new. The partition allowed business to continue in the bar and restaurant during renovation.

“Say, aren't you Cal Beachy?”

A voice broke Caleb's concentration with his hand sander. He glanced up at a vaguely familiar face. The contents of his tool belt indicated the man was an electrician. “I am.” Caleb offered a faint smile.

“It's me—Dave Whitaker. We worked together at that big hotel complex in Wilmot a few years ago. Have I changed that much? We went out for beers after our shift a few times, remember?” The bearded, crew-cut man grinned and stuck out his hand. “Good seeing you again!”

Caleb wiped his hand on his pant leg and shook heartily. “Good seeing you too. Small world, no?” He gestured around the banquet hall with his tool.

“Unbelievable, considering the number of construction projects happening all at once. Say, are you still in contact with Pete Taylor? He was one heck of a finish craftsman.”

He nodded affirmatively. “I saw him a few weeks ago. He's getting married one of these days.”

Dave Whitaker gazed over Caleb's clothes as though noticing their crew for the first time. “I had heard that the carpenters would be Amish, but I thought you had moved north after the hotel project and left the Amish faith.” There was nothing critical or snide in his comment, merely an honest observation.

“I did move to Cleveland for a few years. Turned out I wasn't cut out for the big-city life.” He forced a laugh. “I'm back now with my family.” Caleb stopped short of adding, “And with my faith.” Despite going through the motions in church, he usually felt like a poser—one big hypocrite.

“Well, that would explain the hand sander. Actually, you'll get a smoother surface with one of those. I'm glad you're back with your family. Hey, we're gonna eat lunch out back in about twenty minutes. Why don't you join us so we can get caught up?”

Before Caleb could respond, his partner on the Millersburg roof stepped in between him and Dave and started talking in
Deutsch.
Josiah had been on the other side of the room hanging freshly sanded boards just a minute ago. Caleb focused on Josiah, his mind quickly adjusting to the German dialect. “All right,” he said to Josiah. Then to Dave he said, “My friend needs advice on something and he had hoped to talk on break.” Caleb felt like an inadequate version of a United Nations interpreter.

“Sure, no problem. Good running into you, Caleb.” Dave tipped his hard hat and resumed stringing wire through bored holes in the framing studs.

Caleb turned back to Josiah, but his roofing partner was already halfway across the room, leaving him scratching his head. When the Amish crew members opened their lunch coolers an hour later, Josiah seemed to have forgotten his urgent conundrum. “What did you want to talk to me about?” Caleb asked after swallowing a mouthful of bologna and sliced tomatoes.

Josiah blinked several times. “My oldest son will soon need his own buggy and horse. I'd heard that you landed a great pair. Mind pointing me in the right direction? I don't want to overpay.”

Caleb glanced over at his father, who seemed engrossed in a set of blueprints. Then he described the buggy maker and the Mount Hope horse auction that occurred the first Wednesday of the month. Anybody Amish in the three-county area would know exactly where the few buggy makers lived and the best places to buy a Standardbred or draft horse. Josiah hadn't wanted him getting friendly with his former
Englisch
friends. And as much as he liked and respected the man, his interference grated on Caleb for the rest of the afternoon.

At the end of the workday, he wandered over to where the electricians were locking up their expensive tools. “Maybe we'll get a chance to have lunch some other time,” he said quietly to Dave.

“Sounds good. I'll bet you've got great stories from when you were living up in Cleveland.” Dave slung his coiled extension cord over one shoulder and his tool belt over the other.

“Yeah, I had some interesting experiences in the city, most of which just about curled this country-boy's straight hair.” Caleb pulled on his suspenders.

“A few of us are going across the street for a couple beers before heading home. Why don't you join us...just like old times?”

Caleb gazed into Dave's honest, forthright face while several emotions fought for control. Part of him would like a small taste of the “old days,” but a bigger part remembered the shameful things he'd done while under the influence of “a few beers.” One moment, then two spun out while he waged war with his inner demons. “Nah, I'm not going back to my old habits. I need to walk the straight-and-narrow, but thanks for the offer.”

“Sure thing, Cal. See ya tomorrow.” Dave slapped him on the back and offered a genuine smile.

When Caleb turned around to head toward the van, he met his father's eye. The man wasn't smiling at all—genuinely or otherwise.

Eli tried to recall any of the numerous passages in the Bible that referred to anger. Bits and pieces came to mind, yet his irritation continued to build on the drive home from Ashland. Finally his mind fastened on Ecclesiastes 7:9—
Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry: for anger resteth in the bosom of fools.
But how could he put aside his need to exert authority over his son? Besides the fact he was Caleb's father, he was also the district's bishop. He had drawn the lot, bestowing on him the lifelong responsibility for the spiritual well-being of his flock. He had failed before to keep Caleb in the Amish fold. Would he fail again? Couldn't the boy turn his back on worldly temptations?

Why don't you join us for a few beers across the street before heading home?
If Caleb had his own transportation, would he have gone with his old
Englisch
friends? Eli shifted on the van's front seat as his back spasmed with muscle tension. The defroster blew warm air into his face, along with the pollen from budding trees and blooming flowers.
“Can't you shut off that fan, Jack?” he snapped. “There's no more condensation on the windshield.”

“Sure thing, Eli. Guess my mind had wandered.” Jack switched off the blower without taking his focus off the road ahead.

Silence filled the vehicle without even the radio blasting its nonsense. His Amish crew members had been unusually quiet since leaving Ashland. Jack and Bob had been chatting about the Cleveland Indians ball team until he interrupted them. Now they too fell mute. “Sorry, Jack,” he murmured. “I didn't mean to bark at you.”

“Don't worry about it. My daughter plays around with the vents every time she's in the car. I'll readjust how they're pointed when I get home tonight.” Blessedly, Jack turned on the radio to a country station to relieve the uncomfortable silence. Eli lapsed back into his quandary over Caleb. He couldn't let his son venture down the same road as before. He had an obligation as a parent and as a bishop.