A Plain Man (26 page)

“Much obliged to him too. I suppose then you'll look for a better paying job?” Albert grinned.

“
Nein
, I'm having too much fun here. When the loft is clean, it's time for me to see inside your
haus
.”

Albert's smile vanished. “Don't know if my father would like that much.”

“Surely he's noticed me around the farm.”

“Of course he has. He asks every time I come in what you've been up to.”

“After lunch I want to get reacquainted, face-to-face.” Caleb took hold of his friend's shoulder. “I won't talk about anything I see inside with anyone. You can trust me.”

Albert didn't shrug him away. “I know that, but I would hate for you to pick buckshot from your backside all night.” As usual, he started walking toward the barn without a word of preamble.

Caleb caught up within three strides. “It's a chance I'm willing to take for the Sidley home to be restored to its former glory.”

“To look how it did when my great-great grandfather built it?”

Caleb didn't think that would be possible without a federal grant from Washington, but there was no point in admitting that to Albert. “Too bad we don't have an old photo of the place.”

After Elijah finished caring for Caleb's horse, he joined them in the loft. With three men, the barn was ready for the hay delivery by noon. They moved to the porch steps to eat sandwiches and drink honey-sweetened iced tea. Caleb kept watching the kitchen door anxiously. “Ready to head inside?” he asked, wrapping up his trash.

A frayed scrap of cloth in the window fell back into place as the Sidley brothers scrambled to their feet. Even a person with a vivid imagination couldn't call it a curtain. “As much as we ever will be,” said Albert. “Let's pray
Daed'
s in a friendly mood.”

It was Albert's first reference to anything spiritual or religious in three weeks, but it did little to raise Caleb's optimism. When he pushed open the warped door, he breathed a sigh of relief. There were no stacks of boxes up to the ceiling or trash bags filled with roadside discards—typical of most hoarders. No gaping holes in the floor waited to devour the unobservant or provide easy access for snakes and mice from the cellar. And Caleb spotted no dangerous black mold on the walls or ceiling, common in neglected houses with moisture problems. Caleb walked to the center of the room to assess the structure with a carpenter's trained eye.

“I told you I patched the roof holes,” said Albert, sounding defensive.

“That was a
gut
idea. The load-bearing walls and floors appear sound, at least in this room.”

What he didn't mention was the appearance of dire poverty and prolonged neglect. Nothing looked clean, although from the pattern of dust, someone had recently swept the floor. Cupboard doors were either absent or crooked due to broken hinges. Dishes and cups comprised a hodgepodge that any charitable collection center would reject, while a greenish scale clung to water spouts and faucets.

Albert peered around the room as though suddenly unfamiliar. “ 'Spose I could have done more in here, but at least I make everyone wash their dishes. I can't abide by picking a plate from the sink and loading it with food.”

To that Caleb had no comment. Blessedly he saw no crawly critters in the sink or on the countertop. “I want to speak to your
daed
now,” he said.

“He's in here.” Waving his hand, Elijah led the way as their self-appointed tour guide. While Albert hung back, Caleb followed Elijah into the living room, which reflected the same sad state as the kitchen. “I found that sofa in somebody's yard down by the road.” Elijah pointed to the piece proudly. “
Englischers
throw out all kinds of decent stuff.”

Caleb murmured agreement to the boy before turning his attention to the patriarch of the family. John Sidley sat in a red vinyl chair. He wore work boots indoors as though ready for the fields. His suspenders were down, food particles spotted his shirt, and his trousers were several sizes too large for him. Although the other rooms simply smelled old, a foul odor emanated from Mr. Sidley. Decay seemed to seep from his pores like perspiration. At first, Caleb thought the man was dozing until he opened one red-rimmed eye.

“Caleb Beachy, come to see the old man at last?”

“How do, John? I thought you and I should have a chat.”

“I've known every time you've been here.” Oddly, Sidley spoke in English, not
Deutsch
, even though his sons talked solely in the Amish dialect.

“I had no intention of working behind your back.”

“You some kind of a do-gooder because your pa's the bishop?” His voice sounded raspy, making his words difficult to understand.

“No, I'm here to help Albert fix up this place.”

“You ain't touching nothing in my house. It's fine how it is.” John Sidley spat into a coffee can on the floor. “Don't care much what y'all do in that old barn or in those rocky, worn-out fields. Never got a good corn or hay crop, not even thirty years ago.”

“No,” said Caleb. “It's not fine. You might choose to live like this, but you don't have the right to force it on your sons. If you remain in your chair or on that couch I won't bother you, but we will repair this house.” Caleb strolled to the corner of the room where a pump action shotgun leaned against the wall. A box of shells sat on a nearby three-legged table. Grabbing the gun and the shells, he turned back to the
broken man. “I'll keep these in a safe place until my work here is done. Then I will return them to you.”

“You ain't got no right!” John half-stood from the chair and shouted to the best of his ability.

Caleb planted his feet wide, although the smell was becoming too much to bear. “Probably not, but you don't have the right to treat Emma's sons this way. So I figure we're even.” It had been the first time Caleb had used the name of Albert's
mamm
, but his tactic worked.

John slouched back into the stained chair. “
Ach
, go off with you then.”

Elijah entered the room carrying a dented can of tomato soup on a tray, along with a spoon. Apparently, Mr. Sidley preferred his soup cold. “Here's your lunch,
Daed.
” When Elijah lowered the tray to his chest, John sent his lunch flying across the room. Tomato soup splashed and pooled across the floorboards.

Pulling on his earlobe, Caleb nodded to his work partners. “I think we'll repair this room last.”

“
Gut
idea,” Elijah agreed, while Albert merely grunted. Then the men walked outdoors into the remarkably fresher air.

“I gotta check on my hog and piglets to see if they have enough water.” Elijah skipped off, unfazed by the soup incident.

“So the house will keep you here another month or so?” Albert's face remained unreadable.

Caleb stared at the distant pastures where the yellow dog chased a squirrel at least half an acre away. “That's something else I wanted to talk to you about. What do you say we form a partnership after the repairs here are caught up, splitting the profits down the middle? We can establish our own handyman and construction business for the Amish, on a small scale, of course. We won't take side jobs for
Englischers
unless we can't find enough work. I need to distance myself from my old ways.”

“
Ach
, you saw how little I know about construction during the last three weeks.”

“
Jah
, but I also saw how fast you learn—much faster than most men.”

Albert scraped his boot heel across the porch floor. “I don't know,
Cal. Sounds like something I might like, but how can I leave the farm from sunup to sundown, especially since Joe's off in Indiana?” He, too, focused on the yellow dog that had given up on the squirrel and was off on another adventure.

“If you want my two cents, it's about time Tobias hangs around the house more. He needs to step up to his responsibilities if you take a job for money.”

Suddenly, a wasp stung Caleb's upper arm through his thin cotton shirt. “Yeoow!” he howled. Jumping off the porch, Caleb rolled up his sleeve to access the sting. Unfortunately, his hasty reaction revealed the snake-infested tattoo. His arm advertised “Kristen” while his heart belonged to Josie Yoder of Fredericksburg. He dabbed a drop of saliva on the bite mark before rolling down the sleeve.

Albert hadn't missed the display. “One of those mistakes you're trying to live down from Cleveland?” His eyes bulged from his face like an owl's, while revulsion radiated in waves.

“It is.” After a few uncomfortable moments, Caleb said, “Give the business proposition some thought. No need to make up your mind now. I'll get the ladder to finish dismantling the chimney from your roof.” For the first time, he walked away from his friend...as fast as his legs could carry him.

“Josie, come downstairs, please.”

Mamm'
s voice carried up to her bedroom as Josie put the final touches on her Sunday evening
toilette.
She read that word in a historical novel at the library and had been shocked. When the librarian explained the archaic definition, Josie had chuckled for the rest of the day. Not that she had much of a
toilette
to perform. She wouldn't wear makeup, and her thick hair would be bound under a
kapp.
Flossing her teeth and applying lemonade ChapStick would have to suffice.

In the kitchen her mother set out a plate of cold ham sandwiches and a pitcher of tea for supper. “Are you going to the singing tonight?” she asked.

Josie joined Laura in setting the table. “I am. Caleb lives on the same road as the hosts, so I'll walk to his house. Afterward he can drive me home.”

“You will walk to the Beachys with your two
schwestern.
Then he'll drive all three of you back.” Margaret never raised her voice, yet still managed to convey nonnegotiable decisions with perfect clarity.

Josie glanced at Laura, who lifted and dropped her shoulders. “All right. May I take some brownies for the dessert table?”

“You may, but that's enough discussion about tonight's singing.” John Yoder spoke from the doorway. “Let's sit and bow our heads in prayer.”

An hour later the three Yoder women met Caleb in the turn-around. If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “Ladies, your carriage awaits.” Caleb flourished his hand toward the horse and buggy.

“Looks like your same old rig to me,” Laura teased. “In storybooks, the carriage is solid gold and the horse pure white.” Laura climbed into the backseat, pulling Jessie in next to her.

Caleb helped Josie climb up beside him. “I'll keep that in mind when I turn this horse out to pasture. For now, we must use our imaginations.”

“Danki
for letting my sisters come with us,” said Josie very softly.

“What man wouldn't appreciate being surrounded by such beauty?”

Sounds emanating from the backseat were less than ladylike as Josie settled back for the drive. Caleb entertained them with stories of progress at the Sidleys'. He discussed none of the brothers, but she got the distinct impression the situation had improved for them as well.

“All I can say, Caleb, is you're a braver man than most.” Laura summed up Josie's opinion as well.

Once they'd reached their host's farm and joined the singing, Josie felt Caleb's gaze. But if the truth be told, Josie couldn't stop thinking about him either. She hoped God would forgive how often her mind drifted from hymns of praise to a tall man with chocolate brown eyes.

When the singing concluded, Josie headed toward the dessert table with her sisters. Laura grabbed Josie's arm before they reached the line. “I have
gut
news for you.” Laura spoke from behind a raised palm. “I found a ride for Jessie and me.”