Sandra Hill - [Jinx]

by Pearl Jinx

  Samuel flinched. “What?” Why, when I was in a bending mood, does he throw those bad words at me? Has he no sense at all? Does he want to widen the breach, not close it?

  Caleb looked as if he’d like to strike him.

  Jonas tried to pull Caleb back, to no avail. He came up to him, practically nose to nose, his hands fisting.

  “Is this what they teach you in the English world . . . in your war-making military? To hit your own father?”

  It was Caleb who flinched then.

  Rebekah gasped beside him. So much for his not being so stern!

  “I have no intention of hitting you. This is nothing to do with the English world or the Navy. It’s about the wanton destruction at Spruce Creek Cavern. How could you do such a thing, Dat? It’s one thing to hurt me, but lots of other people are affected by your rampage. Innocent people.”

  He and Rebekah, Jonas, and Lizzie gazed at each other, stunned at the news.

  “Explain yourself, boy,” he told Caleb, and, jah, his voice sounded stern, even to his own ears. “I deserve to know what I’m bein’ accused of.”

  “Like you gave me a chance before the shunning?”

  Caleb was not going to make this easy. Well, he could be stubborn, too. He raised his chin and squared his jaw.

  “Or like the chance you gave me?” Jonas came up to stand beside his brother.

  Their standing together did not bother him too much. Brothers, especially twin brothers, should stick together. Even if they didn’t look much alike anymore. They were the same height, but their builds were different and their hair, and their clothing, of course. Caleb was a hardened man; there were things in Caleb’s brown eyes that spoke of horrors he’d seen, maybe even horrors he’d done himself. Jonas, with his trimmed Mennonite beard, was just mulish.

  How did they get to be men? How could the years have flown by with my missing the change from boy to man? One minute they were fly fishin’ with me over at Shy Sisters Creek, and the next they were big strappin’ men with minds of their own. How could our lives get so nutzed up?

  Joseph came out of the barn, where he’d been shoeing one of the plow horses. At sixteen and already betrothed, he was a good and honest Amishman. His brow furrowing with concern . . . at all the shouting, no doubt . . . he put his anvil down and proceeded to walk toward them.

  Joseph, clean-shaven like all unwed Amishmen, took off his straw hat and wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. He nodded at Jonas, who was of course being shunned and couldn’t be spoken to, and he frowned at Lizzie, knowing full well how wild she had become of late. Then he gave his attention to Caleb, frowning at him also.

  “Joseph, this is your brother Caleb. Caleb, this is your youngest brother, Joseph.”

  Neither of them reached out to shake hands, regarding each other with hostility. Well, at least Joseph was hostile. Caleb was just silent.

  “Dat?” Joseph asked with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Everything, apparently,” Samuel replied. “Rebekah, go into the house and get some eatin’s. Lizzie, help yer mother.” For once, Lizzie heeded his orders without question. But before his wife left, she walked up to first Caleb and then Jonas and hugged them with sobs she was unable to hold back. Both sons seemed poleaxed once she walked away. She deliberately avoided making eye contact with Samuel as she passed, knowing he would disapprove. The Bann, the Bann, the Bann, he had to keep reminding himself.

  “We need to talk,” he told Caleb and Jonas. The fact that he did not include Joseph didn’t go unnoticed. Color blossomed on his youngest’s face, and he spun on his heel, storming away. He would talk to Joseph later about his unseemly temper. Joseph always had been insecure about his rights to the farm, fearing, he supposed, that his father would break tradition and give it to either Jonas or Caleb, if they would come back like lost lambs with their tails between their legs. But that would never happen, even if they did come back to the flock. Samuel would be handing the farm over to Joseph and his bride when they married in two years. And he and Rebekah would be moving into the Dawdi Haus, an addition on the house intended for grandparents.

  Samuel motioned for Caleb and Jonas to join him on the porch, where there were several benches and a swing. He sat on the bench, his two sons on the swing.

  “I had nothin’ ta do with any damitch at yer cavern.”

  Caleb appeared about to argue, but Jonas put a hand on his arm and said, “Dat doesn’t lie.”

  With obvious reluctance, Caleb nodded. “How come you’re talking to us? Aren’t you worried about the Bann?” The sneer on his face was unacceptable for a son to his father, and Samuel would have chastised the boy under normal circumstances. But he feared that Caleb would leave abruptly before they’d had a chance to clear the air.

  Samuel looked sheepishly at them both and admitted, “I suspect I’m ’bout to be shunned myself. Bishop Lapp ain’t too happy with me right now.”

  “Don’t go out on any limbs for me,” Caleb lashed out. “It’s a little too late for that.”

  “Shut up!” Jonas told his brother. “Give Dat a chance.”

  “Shut up, yourself,” Caleb retorted.

  “Make me.”

  “Get real!”

  Then the two of them grinned at each other. You’d think they were still twelve years old, arguing over Mrs. Fisher’s breasts. And jah, he had known back then how all the boys had been fascinated by Grace Fisher’s bosom. In truth, lots of men’s eyeballs had been glued on them udders of hers, too.

  “Tell me what happened at the cavern,” he urged Caleb.

  “Sometime between last night and early this morning, someone put an ax to the entrance door of the cavern. Then they used wire cutters to sever all the lighting cables leading into the cavern. We had caving and diving equipment stored inside the cave entrance. Wet suits, oxygen tank hoses, helmets, flashlights, digging tools . . . all smashed beyond repair. The cave formations were left untouched, thank God. And Sparky.”

  He and Jonas tilted their heads in question. “Sparky?”

  “A resident snake.”

  “Ya gives snakes names in the English world?” Dat shook his head with wonder.

  “No, we don’t name snakes, except big ones. And this one is a really big mother.”

  “Mother snake?” he inquired. “How do you know it’s a mother?”

  Caleb smiled, despite his nasty mood.

  Samuel had no idea what was funny about his question.

  “Ya alveese was afraid of snakes,” Jonas remarked.

  “I was not afraid,” Caleb snapped back. “I just don’t like them. Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

  “Maybe ’cause I remember the time ya almos’ wet yer pants when a black snake crawled up the plow handle and stuck its tongue out at ya.” Jonas mouthed, “Fraidy cat.”

  “You are such a kid,” Caleb responded.

  “I’m thinkin’ ya both act like kids,” Dat observed. “Now, why would ya think I was responsible fer that damitch, Caleb?”

  “Because Jonas told me about the meeting yesterday and what the elders said about me and the cavern.”

  Dat raised his eyebrows at Jonas. “And who would’ve told ya ’bout private business of the church?”

  Jonas refused to answer, but Samuel suspected it was Rebekah who’d tattled. He’d have a talk with her later. The woman did not know her place sometimes.

  “You might not have done the damage yourself,” Caleb conceded. “But you know who did, don’t you?”

  “I ’spect I do,” he said with a long sigh.

  “Who?”

  He remained silent. He needed to pray on this and decide how much he could reveal. “Did ya hear nothin’ during the night? Cars comin’ inta the yard?” He paused. “Buggies?”

  Caleb’s face grew pink, even his ears.

  Ahhhh! He knew then, without a doubt, that Caleb hadn’t been there at the time. “Is it the woman with the wanton red hair who came out practic’ly swingin’ her fists at me in
yer defense?”

  “It’s not red. It’s auburn.”

  “When was this?” Jonas wanted to know.

  Samuel ignored Jonas’s question and wagged a forefinger at Caleb. He might not have been talkin’ to him all these years, but Caleb was still his son. “I think ya need ta think ’bout fornicatin’ with a woman outside of marriage, son.”

  Caleb’s eyes went wide at his wagging finger. Then he composed himself. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think.”

  “Tsk-tsk,” was all he said, though he didn’t like his language one bit. Or his lack of respect.

  “The police will have to be involved,” Caleb said.

  He put a hand to his heart with alarm. “Can’t we handle this private-like?”

  “Dat?” Jonas shot to his feet and came over to kneel next to his chair. “Are ya all right? Is it yer heart?”

  Jonas’s question surprised him, but he was not above using an opportunity when it was thrown in his lap. “Jist a little twinge.”

  Caleb narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious. “Have you been to a doctor?”

  He shook his head. “And don’t be tellin’ your mother about this. No need to worry her none.”

  “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 youn
g 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.”