Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (17 page)

“Back to the cavern . . . and the police. I’m not going to drop this, Dat. Too much damage was done.”

“Will ya let me talk to a few folks first? Will ya wait on callin’ in the police?”

“The police are probably already there. I told Claire to call them before I left.”

He sighed. “Maybe we can still settle this ourselves.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll give you till tonight.”

Samuel bristled. It didn’t sit well for him to be given orders by his son . . . any of his sons. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Does this mean you’ve stopped shunnin’ me and Caleb?” Jonas asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know.” He stroked his long beard between the fingers of one hand. A nervous habit. “I just don’t know.”

The disappointment on Jonas’s face was a stab to his heart. The lack of disappointment on Caleb’s face hurt even more.

In truth, he was disappointed in himself.

It was plain crazy . . .

Claire, Tante Lulu, and John were traveling down a narrow two-lane back road in Sinking Valley, searching for Caleb’s Jeep.

She was very worried about the man and what he might do, considering the rage he was in when he’d spun gravel leaving the B & B.

After the state police left a half hour ago, promising to come back later in the day, Tante Lulu was the one who’d alerted the rest of them to the fact that Caleb’s father and the elders of the Amish church might be responsible for the vandalism. She’d overheard Jonas warning Caleb last night at the tavern.

Adam was back at the B & B with Abbie and Mark. Adam was dealing with Jinx’s insurance company, and Abbie, who had rallied herself after the initial shock, was checking out the personal insurance on her property. The adjusters promised to be there this afternoon. Adam and Mark were tabulating all the damage and making lists of items to be replaced before they could restart the project.

Tante Lulu was sitting between her and her nephew on the front bench seat of John’s red Chevy Impala convertible. She and Tante Lulu were having a fascinating discussion about her
traiteur
work on the bayou. As ditzy as the old lady was in general, she was clearly an expert when it came to her profession, and that was probably the reason for John’s knowing smile—people underestimated his aunt. Many of the herbs she gathered for her healings were the same as those the Lenni Lenape used in their own medicine.

“What I find most interesting is the signature plants the Native Americans used. Plants that resemble the ailments they treat, like those with twisted roots for snake bites or arthritic pain, or milkweed for breast problems.”

“
Oui!
I allus tell people that with all the fancy medicines we gots today, most of ’em came from plants what been around fer centuries. I have a big handwritten journal of all my remedies that Tee-John sez he’s gonna put in a book someday.”

John squeezed his aunt’s knee. “For sure, I will, auntie.”

“Oh, I would love to see it,” Claire said.

“There it is. There it is.” Tante Lulu interrupted their conversation and pointed to a white farmhouse in the distance, where Caleb’s Jeep was parked in the barnyard on the side. How she could see from this distance, or from her height, was amazing. Her eyes, behind rhinestone-studded cat sunglasses, were about level with the dashboard. The muffler was so loud that cows were doing double takes as they passed. The old lady had had the foresight to put a scarf on her head. Claire’s hair was blowing every which way.

As John put on his turn signal and began to make his way down a long dirt road, she couldn’t help but notice the neatness of the fields, knee-high corn on one side and oats on the other. Getting closer to the house, she saw an immaculately trimmed lawn and a vegetable garden that would feed an army, including an impressive amount of celery. The Amish planted huge beds of celery, which was a staple of their wedding feasts.

“I gotta pee,” Tante Lulu said as they pulled in behind Caleb’s Jeep. A truck was there, too, with the logo “Peachey’s Landscaping.” It must belong to Jonas.

“Auntie! Just ten minutes ago, you had us stop at that general store so you could pee.”

“So? I’m old. I gotta pee a lot. ’Sides, I allus wanted ta see the inside of an Amish house.”

“Uh, I’ve got news for you,” Claire said, pulling a brush out of her purse to try to untangle her windblown hair. “The Amish don’t have indoor plumbing.”

When understanding seeped into the tight blonde curls the old lady was fluffing as she stepped out of the vehicle, she brightened. “An outhouse? Well, good golly, I ain’t peed in an outhouse since I was a girl. Didja know we had outhouses when I was growin’ up?” she asked her nephew.

He patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah, you told us a time or two about the
olden days.
Wasn’t that when you and Rhett Butler had a thing goin’ on?”

“Wipe that grin off yer face, boy. Jist ’cause I’m old doan mean I’m stoopid. Actually, I’m thinkin’ I need a drink a water. Fergit about the outhouse.”

The old lady was so transparent, she and Tee-John burst out laughing. But then they rounded the side of the house and saw Caleb and Jonas sitting at a long picnic table in the back yard with their father and mother, Lizzie and a scowling young Amishman.

They stared at them as if they were aliens dropping by. Tante Lulu especially got their attention in her yellow miniskirt and red “Cajun Goddess” T-shirt.

Caleb stood, as shocked as the rest to see them show up uninvited at his family’s homestead. And not pleased. Claire also knew he’d been stunned by her telling him last night that she loved him, then telling him this morning she’d bought a farm. It was a whole lot for the poor man to take in all at once. She wanted to help him, to assure him that she, at least, was not going to be a problem.

“What are you doing here?” he asked when he came up to the three of them.

“We was afraid ya was gonna shoot someone,” Tante Lulu said before she or John could respond.

“Do I look like I have a weapon on me?” he scoffed.

Nope, nothing could fit inside those tight jeans and T-shirt besides that magnificent body. Ooops! Not a subject she should be thinking about right now.

“I doan know. You Navy SEALs have ways of concealing weapons, I been told.” She stared pointedly at his groin. “But hey, I got a pistol in my purse, iffen ya need one.”

“I tol’ ya ta get rid of that thing, auntie!
Mon dieu!
Ya could shoot yer eye out or somethin’.”

“Guns . . . ya brought guns here?” Rebekah sputtered.

“Hey, Rebekah!” Tante Lulu gave a little wave to the Amish woman, who gave her a weak wave in return.

They’d all met Rebekah before, but not all of them knew Mr. Peachey, so Caleb introduced everyone, including the scowling young man, Joseph, his brother, who was barely civil to any of them. In an aside, Caleb whispered to her, “If my father wags his finger at you or mentions fornicating, just tell him to buzz off.”

“Forn-forn-icating?” She was the one sputtering now.

“By the way, thanks for last night, babe.” He patted her butt. “It seems like a million years ago, doesn’t it?”

“I know this isn’t the right time, but I don’t want you spooked by what I said last night or about the farm I bought or even when I said that stuff about sperm banks. You’ve got enough problems with the project without me adding to your troubles.”

“Do I look like I’m spooked?”

“Yes.”

He laughed and pinched her butt this time.

When Caleb glanced away, his father gave her a piercing glower, and she could swear he knew where Caleb’s hand had been. Well, at least he didn’t wag his forefinger at her.

She turned her attention to Caleb, who was talking to Lizzie. Good thing, because she was alternately flattered and offended at his remark, and who knew what she might have blurted out?
He’s thanking me for sex? Like a favor? I wonder how he would react if I thanked him? Hah! Who am I kidding? He’d grin and say, “My pleasure, babe.”

Within minutes the men had brought benches, sawhorses, and long planks from the barn to make tables, which Tante Lulu and Rebekah were covering with plastic tablecloths. Soon both tables were covered with a surprising amount of food, considering none of them had been expected.

“You were really lucky to grow up on a farm like this,” she remarked to Caleb.

“Yeah, it was lots of fun getting up before dawn, milking cows, plowing fields, raking hay, building barns, shoveling cow shit—”

“Enough! I concede that it’s hard work, but look at all the instant gratification in seeing the fruit of your labor. And frankly, I don’t think there’s a better way to raise a family.”

He visibly stiffened at her mention of family. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve given up on the baby stuff with you.”

“Why? I mean, I’m glad you don’t view me as your personal sperm donor, but why?”

“Just because I like to make love with you doesn’t mean I’m going to push any baby talk on you.”

“You like making love with me?” He used a finger to twirl a strand of her hair into a tight curl.

“Oh, yeah!”

“Do you know your hair looks like polished mahogany in the sunlight?”

“Is that good?”

He repeated her words then and said, “Oh, yeah!”

They were smiling at each other, which didn’t go unnoticed by his frowning father when his mother announced, “Come, dish up.”

As they sat down along with all the others, John came up behind Caleb and whispered, loud enough for her to hear, “Just so you know, my aunt and your mother are discussing your hope chest. I didn’t know the Amish had hope chests, too. Guess yours will be a Cajun/Amish hope chest, huh?”

Caleb reached behind to swat at John, but he ducked away, laughing. Silence followed as they began to eat.

There was ham sliced off the bone, smoked sausage, potato and macaroni salads, homemade bread, apple butter, chow-chow, pickled beets, eggs, pigs’ feet, souse, spaetzle noodles with butter, and various desserts, including cold watermelon slices, huckleberry strudel, shoofly pie, and sinfully sweet whoopie pies, which were like glorified Oreos, except these were the size of small saucers and made of cake, not cookie. For beverages they were served lemonade and ice water “fresh from the spring.” A veritable Amish feast.

Which of course called for more people.

“Oh, my God!” Caleb swore, glancing over to the barn parking area. Pulling up were more than a dozen buggies containing men, women, and children. “This is so surreal. I feel as if I’ve landed in a slow-motion version of hell.”

This must be why there had been so much food already prepared. They’d been expecting company.

Caleb’s father went over to talk to the newcomers, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke, raising his voice, at one point wagging a forefinger. Claire wondered with hysterical irrelevance if one of them was a fornicator.

“Hardly,” Caleb responded.

She hadn’t realized that she’d spoken aloud.

Turning to stare at Caleb beside her on a bench, she asked, “Who are they?”

“My brothers and sisters.” He shook his head sadly. “Don’t expect a warm welcome.”

“Why not?”

“Everyone’s jockeying for position here, same as any other big family. They’re probably afraid Jonas or I will upset the balance somehow. Get something from Dat that they consider their entitlements. Plus, they take the shunning seriously.”

“Even if your father tells them it’s okay to talk to you?”

“Do you see Joseph giving me any warm hugs, or even a ‘How are you, Caleb?’”

He was right. Joseph was being downright rude. To all of them, but especially to Caleb.

The group was heading toward them now, the six men, including Caleb’s father in front, like a posse. All of them had long, straggly beards denoting their married state, unlike Jonas’s trimmed beard. They were dressed in traditional Amish clothes, wide-brimmed straw hats, homemade dark blue or black shirts with no pockets, and black broadcloth pants with flaps in front. Zippers were considered too modern. Behind came six women in dark blue cape dresses, which were supposed to be eight inches from the ground and covered with black aprons. On their feet were lace-up leather shoes, despite the hot weather. Their hair was parted down the middle and skinned back under prayer caps, which they wore even when sleeping. With the women and following them were several dozen babies and children and teenagers.

“When I left here, I had four brothers and three sisters. Now I have a menagerie,” Caleb said with a mixture of wonder and disgust.

So many people from these two people, Samuel and Rebekah. What a family tree!

It was odd, really, the way she and Caleb could look at things and see them in different ways because, while she thought his family made a lovely picture as they approached, Caleb murmured to her, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! My brothers and sisters must propagate like jackrabbits. They resemble a bunch of jabbering black crows.”

The men glared at Caleb, while the women shrank back with shyness, waiting for their men to give them permission to step forward.

“Caleb, ya remember Levi, dontcha? He was twenty-three when ya left. That’s his wife, Sharon. They farm the old Beiler place north of here.”

With a sigh of resignation, Caleb stepped forward to stand beside his father. He reached out a hand. At first the stern-faced, forty-year-old Levi just stared at the hand, but then he shook it, though he didn’t speak. Nor did the other brothers, Aaron and Ezekiel, or “Zeke,” when they were introduced. Caleb’s sisters Katherine, Judith, and Miriam, or “Mimi,” just nodded quietly. The same for the brothers’ wives and children, two of whom were already married and had children of their own. Most of them were farmers or did work related to farming, like blacksmithing or buggy making.

They were an attractive family, all of them, but sort of homogeneous because of their clothing. Which was the point of one style and color of clothing, Claire supposed.

Tante Lulu and John were introduced then. Jonas already knew them all, of course, even though he’d been shunned, like Caleb.

Everyone sat down to eat again, more sawhorses and planks having been brought from the barn and more food spread out from the kitchen and baskets that had been brought by the visitors. The other family members did not sit with Caleb or Jonas, because apparently the shunning forbade eating at the same table. And none of them had spoken to them yet, either. An uncomfortable silence followed as the meal continued.