A Plain Man (20 page)

“Just to set the record straight, my sister fried the pork yesterday,
Mamm
made the applesauce, and I only fixed the lemonade from a powdered drink mix.”

“I was referring to your roast chicken and four-bean salad.” Caleb winked playfully. “But I would like you to fill me in on exactly what happens at these classes.” He finished his chop in another two bites.

“You're pulling my leg, right?”

“I assure you, I am not.”

“Your father is the bishop, Cal. How could you not know what goes on?”

Staring off at the water, Caleb set his empty plate in the grass. Low clouds were forming above the horizon, promising a shower before dark. “I seem to have trouble talking to him lately. We've been butting heads since I came back to work. So I can't find the right time to discuss his hopes for my salvation.”

Josie reflected a moment. “You're not getting along on the job? But Eli is the boss.”

“Don't worry your pretty head. Things are improving in that regard after a period of readjustment.”

“
Gut
to hear.” She exhaled slowly. “Okay, from now on during preaching Sundays those who wish to join the church will meet in the kitchen of wherever the service takes place. For forty-five minutes, one of the ministers will teach us the eighteen articles of the Anabaptist faith. Plus your father will instruct us on our
Ordnung
to make sure folks understand the district rules. After our class, we go to preaching.”

“I've noticed that during years gone by. What else?” Caleb pulled up a weed, not meeting her gaze.

“Those who remain throughout the classes and wish to join the church will have one final session with their parents. It will be the day before baptism. Your
daed
and the other ministers will ask questions to make sure we're ready. Plus the men will be asked if they would be willing to be ministers if chosen by lots. That's it. You've watched people take their vows and get baptized at fall communion services.”

He nodded. “
Jah
, I understand that part.”

“Anytime during the classes if a person decides they're not ready, they just stop coming. No hard feelings. They can wait until next year.”

“Well, my dear girl, I've got every incentive in the world to be ready.” He rose to his full height, grabbed the handles of their hamper, and pulled her to her feet. “Now I'd better see to evening chores. Even on the Sabbath, horses still need to eat.”

And Josie strolled back with more confidence than she'd known for quite some time.

It was a Monday morning in June when Eli stood on his front porch sipping his second cup of black coffee. He'd already completed his morning prayers and eaten all the breakfast his unsettled stomach could handle. For some reason the usual orange juice and fried eggs churned his gut like the spicy burrito he'd once had at a livestock auction. Thank goodness he'd been born Amish instead of Spanish or he would be a very skinny man.

He had no idea what had tied him in knots. Their last project at the Ashland restaurant had finished on schedule without further incidents. When Caleb ran into some former
Englisch
friends, Eli had feared the worst. But his son hadn't spent lunchtime with the electricians. And more importantly, he hadn't started drinking with them after work. Mostly Caleb had avoided Dave Whitaker on the job except for the requisite greeting or farewell.

What could he have done if it had gone the other way? Absolutely nothing. Caleb had to make his own choices in life; he especially must make up his mind about remaining Amish. Eli's only option would be to ask Caleb to move out. And that would be a last resort since it would break Elizabeth's heart...along with his own. His best course of action was to pray, and hope God was merciful to one Amish farmer who'd stumbled on the Christian path too many times to count.

“Why are you waiting for Jack out here?” Caleb's voice broke Eli's concentration.

He turned to find his son dressed for work with coffee mug in hand. “I love the view from this porch—so much better than the side or back.” Eli stepped back into the house, letting the screen door slam.

“If you say so, but it all looks like corn to me.” Caleb followed him down the hallway into the kitchen.

Elizabeth smiled as she industriously packed their lunches. “I've made you each two sandwiches, because you never know how long your first day will be. And I have chips and a walnut brownie for both my boys.” She planted a kiss on Caleb's cheek, initiating a blush.

“You act like this is our first day of school instead of just another construction project,” said Caleb. “We'd better watch for Jack outside before you send us upstairs to comb our hair once more.” He hugged his
mamm
before picking up the bulging cooler.

Despite occasional rough patches between the two of them, Caleb always treated Elizabeth with love and respect. And for that, Eli was grateful.

“What's our new project?” asked Caleb when Eli joined him on the porch. “All I know is we're heading to Ashland again.”

Eli sipped from his travel mug. “We landed a good contract this time—finished carpentry and cabinetmaking in a new building close to the interstate. A large law firm wants fancy offices for their corporate attorneys. The rough carpentry work has already been done. We should have three weeks of bookcases and shelving for electronics, conference room wainscoting, installing hardwood floors, and building cubicles for administrative assistants. The kind of work you love.”

“In Ashland, Ohio?” Caleb smirked with disbelief.

“
Jah
, the college has brought new development to the area. Wealthy
Englischers
will always need wealthier lawyers.” Eli chuckled as Jack's van pulled up the driveway.

“Will we have quality materials to use, not like that knotty old barn siding in the banquet room?” Caleb set his empty mug by the door for one of his sisters to find.

“Nothing but oak, walnut, and cherry. Every board will be rated grade A.”

“Sounds like a walk in the meadow on a summer day,” said Caleb.

“With a pretty girl by your side,” Eli added to the analogy.

“With fresh apple pie and hand-churned ice cream when you get home,” Caleb concluded on their walk to the van.

“What are you two talking about?” asked Bob as Eli opened the door.

“About the stacks of perfect wood waiting at the next job site.” Caleb stowed his tool belt in the back and climbed in.

“Remember the nest of termite eggs I found in that stack of old siding?” Bob shook like a dog in the rain. “I still have nightmares about those disgusting bugs.”

“Those days are behind us.” Eli rolled down the window and leaned his head back.

However, the Ashland construction project turned out to be anything but a walk in the meadow.

“Uh-oh,” moaned Jack. He pulled the van to the berm while still two hundred yards away, but they could already see and hear loud commotion. “There was something about this on the radio this morning, but I didn't catch the whole story.”

“What's going on?” asked Caleb from the backseat. He leaned forward to see out the windshield.

“A strike,” said Eli. “The building's owner feared this might happen.”

“Which union?” Caleb demanded.

“It looks like the plumbers.” Jack crept forward another fifty yards. “The radio said something about the local union being upset because nonunion contractors were being used on a major commercial project. It doesn't help that contract negotiations have stalled over wages and benefits. They've reached some sort of impasse.” Jack clucked his tongue against the roof on his mouth.

“This matter doesn't concern us,” said Eli. “Drive into the fenced parking area, but be careful. With so many men milling about, we don't want to run anybody over.” His stomach took another nasty turn. It was as though his body had sensed trouble as soon as he woke up this morning.

“What do you mean this doesn't concern us?” Caleb asked his question in a soft voice. “I'm still in the Carpenters' Union, Local
Brotherhood Number 21. I remember sitting in the union hall plenty, waiting for jobs to come in. If too many owners use nonunion contractors, families of the men down at the hall are forced to do without.”

“Work is work. Let's not worry about a disagreement between plumbers and contract negotiators. This strike has nothing to do with carpenters, whether union or not.” Eli ate three Tums from his pocket container.

Caleb leaned over the seat between him and Jack. “But we should show support for the strikers by not crossing their line. Otherwise they'll lose ground at the bargaining table. If the other trades don't respect their picket line, it hurts all trades in the end.”

Eli swallowed a mouthful of stomach acid and pivoted to face his son. “Need I remind you that I'm a nonunion builder? Since I signed a contract for my crew to work this project, I can be sued for nonperformance. Besides, you left the union when you moved from Cleveland. So this is not your business.”

“Aren't I still a man of integrity who respects his fellow workers?”

Turning back to peer out the windshield, Eli thought carefully before answering. The strikers marched back and forth, waving signs and shouting at passing cars. “You're a Plain man now. We report to a higher authority than business owners or labor negotiators.”

For a minute or two, a person could hear a pin drop inside the vehicle. Then Jack cleared his throat. “Looks like the strikers are blocking the entrance to the site, not letting anybody cross. They usually do that on the first day. But the police will come to make them abide by the letter of the law.”

“What do you suggest, Jack?” Eli asked as calmly as he could manage.

“Why don't I drop the men off at a restaurant in town? They could have coffee and listen to the local news. No doubt it will be the top story on TV and radio. Then you and I can come back and park down the street. We'll walk around, look for the owner, and get a feel for the situation. Nobody will bother us if we're on foot. By tomorrow the police will have established rules for those on the picket line.”

“Those are good ideas. Everyone in agreement?” asked Eli, not turning around.

“Sounds fine to me,” said Caleb. He was the only man to speak.

Caleb thought Monday would never end. He couldn't remember a more onerous day—not down at the union hall waiting for assignments, not during a horrible hangover from drinking, not even walking home on Christmas Eve in a blizzard. By the time Jack and Eli picked them up after stale pie and weak coffee, the picket line was exactly as it had been earlier. Trucks and vans were afraid to cross. Strikers taunted and jeered any tradesman who tried to enter the construction site. Caleb thought his stubborn father would insist that Jack inch the van forward into the parking lot. Not that he was afraid for his physical safety. Although the strikers threw out plenty of trash talk, these plumbers were decent men who went home to families each night and might even attend church on Sundays. No, Caleb feared he would be forced into a showdown with his father—one he wasn't ready for. Although he still carried a union card tucked in his wallet, he'd quit the carpenters' union when he left the city, regardless of his paid-up dues. If he was Amish, then he shouldn't be a member of a labor organization.

He would never vote, sit on a jury, or serve in the armed forces, except in humanitarian capacities. He would pay his taxes, obey the law, and never turn his back on a man in need, whether Amish or
Englisch
, because all that was mandated in Scripture. But he could never place the rules of society above the Lord. Caleb understood all this, but he still didn't want to cross the picket line. Why couldn't they simply wait until the strike was settled? Then they could finish the three weeks of cabinetry without interruption. Most likely the completion date would be pushed back considering that circumstances were beyond their control.