by Leslie Gould
After getting acquainted at Fort Hood, she and Nikki had started a friendship once Shani and Zane moved to Philly from California. That was before the woman broke up with Charlie by email, on the same day Shani was arranging for her dad to come stay with Zane so she could fly to Germany to be with Joel.
But Shani had never had a neighbor she could pop over to see or share child care. Or recipes. She smiled. It could happen.
Shani opened the side door and told the girls to wait for her at the bottom of the steps. The baby had fallen asleep and stayed that way as her aunt lugged the heavy seat toward the house.
Shani directed the children to ascend the steps on the opposite side of the broken railing and then warned them not to go near it. Zane rolled his eyes at her, which she ignored. “In fact,” she added, “after this use the back door until the railing is fixed.”
She reached out to help Eve with the car seat, and together they carried it into the house. Then Eve put it down in the corner of the living room, closest to the window.
Charlie and Zane had already arranged the living room furniture. Her and Joel’s bedroom set and Zane’s bed were pushed up against the far wall. Both would need to go upstairs. She and Joel would use her grandfather’s bed on the main floor for the time being.
She glanced at the boys, sizing them up. “Daniel, have you ever put a bed together?”
“Of course.”
Zane had helped Charlie take the beds apart, but he’d never put one together. “You boys take Zane’s bed up and put it together,” Shani said. “Then put the queen bed together in the guest room.”
“I thought that was the baby’s room,” Zane said.
She hesitated, surprised to hear him mention the baby. Out of all the changes in their lives during the past months, the baby was the one Zane seemed the most unsettled about. Frankly, the most embarrassed by. None of his friends’ moms were having babies anymore. “Pardon?” she said.
“The little guy’s room. He can’t sleep in a big bed.”
She smiled at the thought. “His crib will fit up there too.”
Zane nodded, grabbed a hammer and his headboard, and led the way to the staircase, with Daniel right behind him, carrying the footboard.
“How about if we unpack the kitchen?” Shani said to Eve. “And you girls can put the towels in the bathroom cupboard.” She pointed to a box along the wall. “Move it together.”
As soon as the girls started pushing the box, Shani headed into the kitchen. Eve followed.
Shani opened a box on the counter. Glasses. She pointed to the cupboard closest to the sink. “You can put those in there,” she said to Eve.
“So you know the baby’s a boy?” Eve said as she pulled the wrapping paper from a glass. “Zane called him ‘the little guy.’”
“That’s what the ultrasound showed.” Shani opened a box of plates. “Sometimes they can be wrong, but not often.”
“Jah,” Eve said. “We thought Simon was going to be a girl. Tim was so happy the test was wrong.”
Shani asked, “Do Amish women usually get ultrasounds?”
“Some do. It depends on her doctor. But Abra had some complications with the twins. Tim was worried . . .”
Shani waited a moment, expecting the woman to say more. When she didn’t, Shani said, “Tim said Abra died five months ago. From cancer.”
Eve inhaled sharply, the glass shaking in her hand.
“I’m sorry,” Shani said.
The woman nodded. “Her death broke our hearts. She’s the one who held us all together.”
“It’s good of you to help your brother out—to care for his family like you do.”
“Oh,” Eve said, “I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for Abra. She—”
“Shani.” Lila stood in the doorway of the kitchen, the empty box in her hands. “Oh, sorry to interrupt.”
“No problem,” Shani answered. “Are you done with the towels?”
Lila shook her head. “We ran out of room in the cupboard.”
“Stack them on the counter in the bathroom for now,” Shani said. Rose wiggled her way into the kitchen too. If she sent them to put the books on the shelves in the living room next, they might wake the baby. And she didn’t want them in the way of the boys. “When you’re done you two can help unwrap the dishes,” she said. “Then we’ll put them in the cupboard.”
Shani didn’t want to ask any more questions about Abra when the girls would be right back. She opened the cupboard on the other side of the sink. “Wow, someone put down new shelf paper.” When Eve blushed, Shani knew it had to have been her. “Did Dad ask you to clean up this place?”
Eve nodded.
“Thank you.” She couldn’t figure Eve out. She seemed so capable yet reserved. Humble but complex too. “You must have seen the quilt in the downstairs bedroom, then.”
Eve nodded.
“I don’t remember it from the last time I was here. I’m guessing my grandmother must have bought it before she died. I can’t imagine Grandpa buying it.”
Eve blushed.
“What?” Shani asked.
“I’ll tell you about the quilt later,” Eve said, unwrapping another glass and placing it in the cupboard.
Shani raised her eyebrows but decided she’d just have to wait until Eve was ready. Obviously the quilt had come from her.
“So where are you and Joel from, originally?” Eve asked.
“I grew up near Seattle, and Joel’s from Wisconsin. We met my first year of college through a mutual friend. Joel was stationed at Fort Lewis.” Shani picked up several plates. “We married when I was nineteen and he was twenty-two. My dad about blew a gasket.” She smiled at the memory as she put the plates in the cupboard. Joel had been so certain of his love for her from the beginning. Not in a scary sort of way, but in a steady, strong way.
“What did Joel’s parents think?”
“They didn’t come to the wedding. We don’t see them much . . .” It was hard to explain. Joel’s little brother, Johnny, had died at the age of twelve, when Joel was seventeen. It seemed his parents blamed him. He’d left home the next year, right after he graduated. Try as she might she couldn’t get him to talk about it through the years. And now after he almost died in Iraq, it was the last thing she’d bring up.
Eve stared at her. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Shani picked up a stack of dessert plates.
“Well,” Eve said, “family relationships can be tricky.” She glanced toward Rose and Lila coming through the door and lowered her voice. “I think everyone has something difficult they’re dealing with.”
10
After a few terse directions from Tim, Charlie turned on the road to the lumberyard. He flipped the truck visor down against the early afternoon sun. Fields of silage gave way to a wooded area. Maple trees, their orange leaves fiery against the cloudless blue sky, stood interspersed with evergreens.
“Turn right,” Tim said.
Charlie pressed on both the clutch and the brake, downshifted, and swung the truck wide. He bounced down a driveway.
“What kind of horsepower does this have? Three hundred forty-five?” Tim held onto his hat.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Charlie answered.
“I usually only have one,” Tim said. “Although out in the field, I sometimes have six.”
It took Charlie a moment to realize the guy had cracked a joke. Horsepower. Literally. He smiled.
When he was growing up in Ohio, his friends used to call the Amish “Dutchy.” He wasn’t sure if it was derogatory or not. Though he’d seen them in and around town, he’d never known any Amish back then or since. Hanging out with Tim was a new experience.
They soon rounded the corner into a parking lot. Beyond was a big warehouse-type building with prefabricated sheds, all barn red, lined up on the right. On the other side was a house with a patch of yard around it.
Horses, attached to two buggies and a wagon, had been tied to hitching po
sts. There were also a couple of pickups and one car, which Charlie parked beside.
As Charlie climbed down from his truck he breathed in the scent of pine and sawdust, and the hint of cows in the field behind the house. He’d been so determined to leave the rural area where he’d grown up, but now he couldn’t imagine why.
A tall Amish boy—nearly grown—helped a man dressed in jeans, a Steelers jacket, and a baseball cap carry a sheet of plywood. Just inside the warehouse, in front of a garage-like doorway, an Amish man loaded a cart with cedar planks. Tim took the lead, and Charlie followed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and whistling a few bars of a song that had been stuck in his head.
As he stepped onto the concrete pad, Tim nodded to an Amish man wearing a work apron and speaking with an older gentleman dressed in coveralls. Tim grabbed a cart and began pushing it toward the back of the warehouse.
He stopped at the two-by-fours first, and spent some time examining the boards. Before he began selecting what he wanted, the Amish boy approached. His face was broken out in acne, and when he spoke his voice was soft. “How is Simon doing?”
Tim stopped and slowly turned. “Didn’t your Dat tell you? He was just over at our place, asking me a whole bunch of questions.”
The boy’s face reddened, all the way up to his hat, and he pushed the sleeves of his burgundy shirt up along his forearm. “I haven’t had a chance to ask him.”
Charlie surmised the man in the apron was the bishop who’d come to visit. Tim had seemed unsettled about his presence then and now too.
“Simon’s doing all right.” Tim turned his attention back to the lumber.
Charlie stepped forward and stuck out his hand to the young man.
As the boy took it, Charlie introduced himself.
“Reuben Byler,” the boy responded.
“Nice place you have here,” Charlie said.
The boy blushed again. “It’s my Dat’s. I just work here.” He glanced at Tim. “What are you two aiming to build?”
“A ramp,” Charlie answered. “For my buddy. He and his family just moved into the house close to”—he nodded toward Tim—“the Lehman family.”
“I know the farm,” Reuben said. “Mr. Williams’ place, right? Isn’t it his granddaughter and her family?”
Charlie nodded. “Yep. Shani Beck. Her husband, Joel, is going to be in a wheelchair for a while.”
Reuben seemed empathetic. “My Dat just helped the Millers design a ramp for their place. One of their kids is in a chair. Dat gave them all sorts of good ideas. I’ll go get him.”
Tim said, “There’s no reas—”
But Reuben was already on his way.
“Seems like a nice kid,” Charlie said.
Tim shrugged and began choosing the two-by-fours, passing over anything with a knot or split.
Charlie stepped forward, taking the first two boards Tim approved of and loading them onto the cart. Tim picked up his pace, and as the Amish man wearing the apron approached, they were ready to move on to the slats.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” the man said. “I thought you had work to attend to at home.”
“Jah, I do,” Tim said. “But my neighbors need some help.”
The bishop was a half head shorter than Tim but he stood straight, with his arms crossed over his chest and with an air of authority about him. “Reuben says you’re building a ramp.”
Tim nodded as he tugged on his beard. “This is Charlie. He’s a friend of the new people up the lane. The husband’s in a wheelchair.”
The man took Charlie’s hand and said, “I’m Gideon Byler.” Then he turned back toward Tim. “Do you need any help with the ramp design?”
Tim shook his head as Charlie nodded. “I was wondering about the building codes around here,” he said. “Do we need a permit?”
“Not necessarily,” Gideon said. “Do you expect it to be permanent?”
“No,” Charlie replied. At least he hoped not.
Tim turned to Gideon. “We’ll need these cut. The two-by-fours too. That’ll save me the time of hauling the saw over.”
The man took a notepad. “How long?”
“Forty-two inches.”
“What’s the rise of the ramp going to be?” Gideon asked.
“One to twelve,” Tim answered.
“Better make the railing thirty-six inches,” he said.
“Jah, I was planning on it,” Tim replied.
“U-shaped or L-shaped?”
“L,” Tim answered, handing Charlie a stack of planks. “I know what I’m doing, Gideon.”
“Reuben,” Gideon called out, ignoring Tim, “we need some cutting done.” He went on to ask more of the measurements, and Tim spouted off all the information. Charlie dug the piece of paper he’d written everything down on from his pocket, checking the measurements. Tim had remembered them all, exactly.
“I have plenty of nails,” Tim told Charlie as Reuben approached. “I’m not sure about the railing. Do you think we need it?”
Charlie nodded. “Too many kids around, and if Joel uses the ramp by himself, we’ll have to have it.” Chances were Joel would be using the ramp by himself before he should, and besides, if the ramp needed to meet code it would need a railing.
Reuben took the measurements from his father and then pushed the cart away. Charlie guessed the shop was in the back of the warehouse. The smell of sawdust grew stronger as they headed that way.
Charlie purposefully trailed behind, giving the two Amish men some space. Even so he heard Gideon ask, “What did Eve say when you gave her my apologies for being in too much of a rush to come in and greet her?”
Tim stopped, turned toward the man, and squinted. “I just passed on your greeting. I didn’t have a chance to tell her the rest.”
Gideon’s hands fell to his side. “Well,” he said. “I guess I can tell her myself. Tomorrow evening.”
“It won’t work for you to come by then,” Tim said. “Wait a week.”
Charlie focused on the trellis again, guessing Gideon was interested in Eve. He had to be in his late forties or so. Charlie guessed she was in her midtwenties. Gideon seemed like an upstanding guy, though. Probably a real catch in the Amish community.
When Reuben finished with the cutting, Tim inspected each piece and had him redo two of them. Charlie would have accepted them but he deferred to Tim’s expertise. Obviously the man knew what he was doing.
While Charlie paid, Tim loaded the truck and then went and found Reuben and collected the last two planks.
Charlie thanked Gideon as he took the receipt and then said, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Oh?” Gideon looped his thumbs in his apron straps again. “I thought you were headed back home soon.”
“I’ll go back to Philadelphia on Monday, but then I’ll be back next Friday.”
“What kind of work do you do?” Gideon asked.
“I’m an EMT,” he said. “With a fire department on the west side of Philly.” He worked twelve-hour shifts, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.
“I see.” Gideon rocked back on his heels. “You must be a good friend to these people—Tim’s new neighbors.”
“You could say that,” Charlie answered. “Thanks again.”
His chief had worried about him when he came home from Iraq and quizzed him about PTSD, making sure Charlie was fit to come back on the job. He was fine, but his boss gave him the easiest possible schedule anyway. Charlie figured he’d take advantage of it until Joel was back on his feet—literally.
By the time he got back to the truck, Tim had the back secured and sat in the cab with the passenger window rolled down.
“See you soon,” Gideon called out.
Tim waved but didn’t answer.
As he left the parking lot, Charlie pulled the truck wide, close to the house. A young woman stood on the porch, washing an outside window. She waved when she saw Tim, and he tipped his hat.
“So Gideon’s the
bishop,” Charlie said as he pulled out onto the highway.
“Jah, that’s right.” Tim rolled up the window.
“What exactly does a bishop do?”
“Keeps track of things. Preaches. Helps out.”
By the way Gideon had said Eve’s name, Charlie was sure he was asking a question he already knew the answer to. But he asked it anyway. “Was that Gideon’s wife on the porch?”
“Nee. His youngest daughter, Sarah. She and Reuben are the only two left at home.”
Charlie waited for a moment, hoping Tim would say more. When he didn’t he asked, “Does Gideon have a wife?”
Tim shook his head. “She passed away last winter.”
And the guy was already looking for a new wife. That was pretty fast.
Charlie cleared his throat. “Is he interested in Eve?”
Tim stared straight ahead. “That’s none of your concern.”
“You’re right.” Charlie tried to swallow but his throat tightened. It wasn’t like he cared or anything. Right? Except that he couldn’t stop thinking about Eve at the window, spying on the bishop. Or perhaps she was hiding. The expression on her face hadn’t been one of happiness. Not even hope.
By suppertime, Charlie and Tim had the holes dug, the posts set, and had just started framing the ramp. Daniel and Zane had gone over to the barn to start on the chores, but Tim said he’d better go check to make sure they were staying on task.
“Daniel can get sidetracked,” Tim said, slipping his hammer into his tool belt. “Always has his head in the clouds. Just like his mother.”
“He did a good job this morning,” Charlie said.
Tim tugged on his beard. “Is that so?”
“As far as I could tell.” Charlie ducked his head. What was it about the man that made him feel as if he were eleven too?
“You can use my tools now, but not tomorrow. We honor the Sabbath.”
Charlie nodded. He’d expected as much.
Tim looked toward the house. “I don’t suppose those womenfolk have thought about dinner.”
Charlie was pretty sure Shani hadn’t. And he didn’t think she had any food in the house besides the cereal and sandwich stuff he’d bought the night before. It certainly wasn’t Eve’s responsibility to feed them, not when she and Tim were both helping out. Shani had left for a short time but didn’t come back with any grocery bags. “I’ll go ask,” Charlie said, standing up straight and twisting his back.