by Amanda Tru
Eleanor tipped the hard hat onto her head, wishing she’d tried it on before she left the office. It still didn’t fit. No matter how she adjusted the straps, it still perched on top of her head, making her feel like one of those bobblehead dolls her brother had on a shelf in his library. With a scowl at her reflection in the rear-view mirror, she jammed the hard hat down as far as it would go and opened the car door.
She’d had trouble deciding what to wear, but jeans and plaid flannel seemed a safe choice. Eleanor looked at her feet doubtfully, hoping tennis shoes were adequate. She didn’t own any steel-toe boots. She wasn’t staying long, but as a representative of Evergreen Services, she wanted to make a good impression on Mr. Frans.
“Hey, lady. You can’t park there.”
Why not? There weren’t any signs, and the small lot already held half a dozen trucks. He should have been clued in by the hard hat; she was there on official business. “I’m looking for John Frans.”
The man shook his head. “No one here by that name. This is private property.”
“I’m looking for a job site next to the old schoolhouse.” Eleanor looked at the assortment of construction equipment. Now what?
“Is that the one you’re looking for?”
She followed his pointing finger. Four men, two of them in suits, and one lone backhoe. The ground wasn’t even broken yet. Suits.
Oh, God, please, no. She’d been sending up more of these silent prayers lately, usually in the office, when she was stressed. She hadn’t felt any response, but at least she hadn’t had a full-blown anxiety attack.
And she wasn’t going to have one now. “I’ll only be here about ten minutes. Can I leave my car that long?”
“The boss’ll be back from lunch in half an hour. He’ll want to park there.”
“I’ll be gone by then. Thank you.”
Clutching the portfolio, she walked across the frozen ground with her most confident stride. One of the men raised a hand in greeting, and as she responded, she realized she still wore the yellow hard hat. She sent another panicked prayer heavenward. It was becoming a habit.
She pasted a bright smile on her face as she neared them, but it dimmed when she recognized the man on the end. David’s smile looked a little forced, too. She’d never seen him in a suit before. He looked amazing, and she looked like a slob. A slob in a hard hat and tennis shoes. She smiled harder.
“You must be Eleanor. Gary told us you’d be coming. I’m John Frans, and these are my partners, Jake and Luke Brown.” The tallest man reached out to shake her hand. “David was telling us you’ve worked with Ridgewell before.”
Eleanor nodded. The hard hat slipped over her eyes. She pushed it back, and it tumbled to the ground behind her. She was putting on a comedy act, not impressing them with her professionalism.
David retrieved the hard hat and turned it over, examining the interior. Maybe he’d fix it for her. She handed the portfolio to John and gestured toward the larger construction site. “Gary said the job site was next to the old schoolhouse. I thought it was that one. Are you just getting started here?”
“Just checking out Ridgewell’s proposal so far. We got sidetracked by the POW camp.” He gestured toward the row of cabins at the wood line. “I never knew this was out here.”
“I never knew we had POW camps in Minnesota,” one of the other men said.
“Fifteen of them,” Eleanor said. She’d taught her middle-school students about it, for three years in a row. She found it fascinating; they just wanted to know if the prisoners were tortured. “They came as agricultural workers, because the men were gone to war.”
“Slave labor camps!” The comment came from the third man. “Were they tortured?”
“Didn’t the locals object to having the enemy there?”
“No, not tortured. They were treated in strict accordance with the Geneva Convention, which meant that they had better housing and food than many of the local people did, during the war. People did object to that.” She needed to leave before the sight of her car being towed away put a cap on her less-than-stellar performance. “You can look it up online. It’s very interesting. It was nice meeting you.”
She shook hands with each of the men, ending with David, who returned her hard hat. She wasn’t prepared for the warm smile that accompanied it, or the sympathy in his hazel eyes. If he was going to be a pastor, though, he’d have to forgive people, right? And feel sorry for them when they made fools of themselves.
Worry replaced depressing thoughts of David as she drove into the office parking lot. Some of the crew, even more dirty than usual, lounged outside the office, smoking or talking on their phones. The crew supervisor, Tim, stood with his back to her. She closed her eyes and sent up another prayer. Soon, she’d have to make time to say more than “help me” when she talked to God.
She gathered her tote bag and Gary’s books, plonked the hard hat on her head, and pushed the car door open with her foot. The hat fit.
“Ellie.” Tim came toward her, followed by several of his men.
She gasped. “What happened?” The odor made her eyes water. Resisting the temptation to close the door and roll up the window, she stepped out of the car and surveyed them. They looked like they’d climbed through a fireplace, with ashes and soot, and then rolled in… a bean bag chair. “Is that insulation? Blown-in insulation?”
“That’s the least of it.” Tim brushed at the tiny white balls on his jacket. “We were just setting up to take out the old ductwork over on Harris Street, and half the ceiling came down on us.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Nah, it just crumbled away. Apparently, there’s been bats living in there for a long time.”
“Oh.” She couldn’t help it. She took a step backward. “You’re all covered with bat… er, guano.”
“Yeah, bat guano.” One of the men snorted and then coughed.
“Histoplasmosis.”
Eleanor turned to the speaker. He held up his phone. “I googled it. It’s a lung disease you get from inhaling bat… guano.”
She groaned. “Okay, you’d better all go over to Occupational Health and get checked out. Let me grab the paperwork. Umm… how about if you guys wait out here. I’ll be right back.”
Tim gave a bark of laughter. “Hurry. By the way, you have company.”
Eleanor stopped at the sight of her visitor, a fatalistic sort of acceptance rendering her speechless.
“She’s says she’s your sister-in-law.”
“I can get you a job.” Laurie stood in the middle of the entryway while Eleanor printed out copies of accident reports and claims forms. “A real job.”
“I have a job, Laurie, and I need to do it right now. All those men are waiting for me. Then I need to call Uncle Gary and see if I need to call our lawyer.”
“But, Eleanor, this isn’t what you went to school for. I know you wanted a break, but this…” Laurie swept out her arms, encompassing the noisome men as well as the utilitarian office. “Wouldn’t you rather have a job in my office, or as a substitute somewhere?”
“No, Laurie.” She didn’t have time for this. Of all the rotten timing… Eleanor straightened and stared at her sister-in-law. “I am not going to your workshop tomorrow, Laurie.”
The other woman stiffened. “It’s such a good opportunity for you, Eleanor. Tomorrow’s Saturday, so you won’t miss any work here.”
“I’m busy all day tomorrow.” Eleanor couldn’t help smiling at the words. She set the stapler on the desk. “Can you take a paper from each stack, in that order, and staple them together, please?”
Laurie complied, continuing her appeal. “You know, you could probably get a job up here, if you just want to get out of the cities.”
“I have a job up here.” It was an improvement over the usual insistence that she live near the rest of them. Eleanor tried to soften her voice. “I like my job, Laurie. I really do. I know you don’t understand that, but it’s true. It’s not always like
this. Most of the time, it’s just interesting work, building things. When it’s not so busy, maybe I can show you what we do.”
“No! I don’t want to see what you do!” Laurie stomped her foot like a child. “I want you to come to your senses and come home where you belong! And can you please take off that stupid hat?”
“Make sure you get some of my mom’s chicken hotdish,” Sarah said. “Everyone loves it. She always makes three pans full, and there’s never any leftovers.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Eleanor smiled at her young cousin. “Anything else I should know?”
The little girl beckoned her downward and whispered. “Mrs. Jessin makes cookies with whole wheat flour and doesn’t add sugar to them.”
“Good to know. Thank you.”
“They’re pretty bad,” Sarah said seriously. “They’re nutritious, though.”
“Well, I’m not eating them.” Eleanor shuddered dramatically. “What kind of cookies are made with whole wheat flour and no sugar?”
“We call that whole wheat bread,” Jeffrey said, “but it’s worse because it’s masquerading as a cookie.”
Eleanor turned to smile up at him and nearly dropped her plate. “What happened to you?”
“Sarah beat me up.”
His sister heaved an exasperated sigh. “Will you stop telling people that? It’s embarrassing.”
Jeffrey shook his head. “Not for me. It’s a lot less embarrassing to be beat up by your eight-year-old sister than to tell people what really happened.” He touched the strip of tape over his nose. “With that gash in my forehead, I might have a scar like Harry Potter. At least only one of my eyes is swollen. I can still see out of the other one.
“It’s very colorful,” Eleanor said. “What did really happen? Will you tell me, if I promise to keep it a secret?”
“Yeah, it’s not really a secret. I just like to tease Sarah.” He looked over the fellowship hall and pointed. “There’s Penny over there. Come on, Sarah. You know mom won’t let you eat all three of those brownies. You’d better give me one.”
She loved this place. The whole church treated her as if she belonged there. She’d never lived there, but they treated her as if she’d come home. Maybe she had.
“Hi, Eleanor!” Penny stood to give her a hug. “We live in the same house, and I never see you. We’ll have to make an appointment to get together soon.”
“Yes, let’s do that, this week,” Eleanor said. She sat next to Sarah and looked at Jeffrey. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“It’s really Penny’s fault. She wanted Mom to go to some Bridal thing in the cities, so I had to milk the goat and take care of the chickens. And you know how that goes. That little Rhode Island Red took off.” Jeffrey shook his head in disgust. “How can something with six-inch-long legs outrun a human being? I almost had her, in the yard, because the snow slowed her down, but she made it to the driveway and went crazy, running back and forth. I started thinking of ‘why did the chicken cross the road’ jokes, and was laughing so hard I didn’t see Rocky coming.”
“That’s the red rooster,” Sarah informed Eleanor. “He’s mean.”
“I grabbed that big coaster sled and was using it like a shield, to keep him back,” Jeffrey continued.
“What were you using for a sword?” Penny asked.
Jeffrey grinned. “A snowshoe. I didn’t want to hurt him—much. Anyhow, he kept coming on, and I was backing up—”
“Getting closer to the hill?” Penny asked innocently. She was already giggling. “You slid down the hill, didn’t you?”
“Don’t ruin my story. It’s marginally less humiliating if I made a dramatic telling of it.” Jeffrey made a face at his sister. “So, I was busy fighting the rooster, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the hen coming at me from the other side, right under my feet. I kind of twisted around, trying to avoid her and Rocky, and I fell on the sled, sort of sideways.” He wiggled in his chair to demonstrate. “I swear… Rocky pushed me down the hill. I didn’t get far before I rolled over and whapped myself in the face with the edge of the snowshoe.” He held the side of his hand to his face. “A straight line down the middle of my face.”
“You hit yourself in the face with a snowshoe?” Sarah sounded disgusted. Then she laughed. Eleanor couldn’t help laughing with her.
Jeffrey looked resigned. “Well, it’s all true.
Eleanor reached across the table and patted his hand. “Corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.”
They all stared at her.
“Say that again?” Jeffrey asked.
She repeated it. “It’s from ‘The Mikado.’ Gilbert and Sullivan.”
“Corroborative detail, to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald…” Jeffrey broke off.
Eleanor said it again, and he practiced it until he could quote it smoothly. She laughed at his pleasure in the quotation. “You homeschoolers do know how to have a good time.”
“It’s a great quote,” Jeffrey said. “I’m going to use it. You’re a good teacher, Eleanor.”
“I found you a coach,” Larry said. “A police officer who played basketball in high school and college. He’s committed to every Sunday afternoon through the end of the school year. So, you’ll be able to be more of an assistant and work with the boys.”
David slid into the booth. “That’s great! When can he start?”
“He’s going to come and just hang out today, but if everybody’s happy, he can start officially next weekend.” He lifted his coffee cup in salute. “I’m paying him.”
“Paying him? It’s supposed to be a ministry!”
Larry propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand. “David, this is your ministry, but it got too big, and now you don’t have a ministry. You have a nice secular program. You just organize and supervise.”
“But you can’t go on paying him indefinitely, and I don’t know how much I can contribute, if I -” David broke off. If he became a pastor. Not when. A check in the spirit or spiritual warfare? The more he thought and prayed and read, the more conflicted he became.
Larry waited patiently, drinking his coffee and looking out the window.
“Do you think I’m wrong? About being a pastor?” David hadn’t meant to ask him, but what was the point of having a Christian psychologist for a best friend if you couldn’t get free advice? He tried to think of something funny to say about that, but he couldn’t. “I just don’t know anymore.”
“Have you tried making a list with pros and cons?”
David paused. “That’s your best psychiatric advice and spiritual counsel? Make a list?”
“I’ll try to come up with something profound if the list fails.” Larry set down his cup. “I see you wanting to serve God in an active kind of capacity. You like the one-on-one of working with the boys at basketball. You get pretty pumped up about the Jesus People kind of ministry.” He held up a hand. “I am not telling you to run away and become a hippie. Please don’t. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t become a pastor. I’m just saying—because I know you’re already praying about it—make a list or two, with pros and cons, about what you would do as a pastor, or in some other kind of ministry, or even doing what you do now with worship music and activities for the kids. Look at it analytically. You’re an engineer.” He grinned. “That’ll be five cents, please.”
Cal leaned over David’s chair and peered at the computer screen. “How’s that going? Did you find a way to make it lighter?”
“Maybe. I tried this.” David clicked to a different window. “And it works, but I don’t like the aesthetics. It’s not quite right. But we can use it if I don’t come up with something else.”
“Take your time. We’re not out for the quick buck.” Cal put a hand on his shoulder. “You do good work, and even though you don’t like them, you’re my best guy for presentations. I think you got Frans Brown hooked.”
“Exc
ellent!” David grinned. “It’s not so much doing the presentation as wearing the suit and tie. Why do we have to do that?”
“No idea, but it is what it is. I like it better when you wear the suit. You’re better with people, anyhow. So, I fully expect to be signing a contract next week, and I’d like you to come along.” He scowled. “Angela quit.”
“Quit! I didn’t know that.” David leaned back in his chair, watching his boss. Cal looked like a sulking baby. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. She says she’ll come back this summer for a while, to train someone new, but I don’t know how to find someone to replace her. I don’t even know what she does.”
“Maybe you could get her to write up a job description and help with the hiring,” David suggested. “Or ask Andrea.” Andrea was the office manager, wasn’t she? Or maybe she was the administrative assistant.
Cal pulled over a chair and sat down. “Andrea does different stuff. You know what Angela was?”
David shook his head. “No,” he said truthfully. He hadn’t even realized she was an employee until Larry told him.
“Angela was the CEO.”
Wow. That was a shocker. “I thought you were the CEO.”
Cal lifted up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I am. I mean, that’s my title, but you know I’m not CEO material. I just want to be an engineer. I nearly ran us into the ground. When Angela graduated from college, Mom insisted I give her a job. I didn’t think I’d have anything for her to do. I didn’t even know if I could keep the business afloat.” He gave a reminiscent grin. “A month after she got here, she had all the books in order. Six months after that, she was running the place and we were making a profit. She’s a genius.’
“But she quit.” David hoped that didn’t mean his job was in jeopardy. “What’s she doing now?”
“Larry took her away, and he won’t tell me or Meg where she is.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I think she’s in some kind of a sanitarium or something. Like I said, she’ll come back here in the summer, but then she’s going back to college. She wants to be a doctor. Not an ordinary doctor, like you go to when you’re sick. She wants to do something with ‘bacterial research’.” He said the last two words in a sneer. “She already had a useful degree.”