“Well, I guess I’d have to ask myself one question.”
“What’s that?”
“Whose barn is it?”
“Well, it’s theirs, but …”
“Then I think I’d listen to ‘em.”
It wasn’t the answer Mark wanted to hear, but he took it in. He knew he was in the presence of a true Washington outsider — someone whose opinions hadn’t been jaded by the media, self-seeking politicians, and disgruntled activists. He also knew he’d appreciate the free advice once he let it settle in his stomach.
A snake slithered across the road, causing the horses to stop in their tracks. Josiah calmed Samson and Delilah, then assured Mark, “It’s not poisonous.”
“How can you tell?”
“Its head. Most poisonous snakes have a triangle head.”
“You’ve seen enough to know the difference?”
“When you live off the land, you deal with what’s on the land. And they were here first.”
Maybe this isn’t such a perfect life after all, Mark thought. He watched the snake slither into a ditch. “I remember my grandpa killing a snake once. It’d been eating his chickens. Your farm got a lot of snakes?” Mark asked, concern furrowing his brow.
“Built the house right on top of a den of ‘em. Didn’t realize it at the time, and I’ve been apologizing for it ever since — to the snakes and Elizabeth. But they leave us alone. Hang out by the driveway mostly.”
Mark’s eyes widened as they neared said driveway, then Josiah let loose with a hearty laugh.
“I’m just joking with you,” Josiah said. “No snake den under the house.”
Mark was relieved. He didn’t like snakes, even avoided the reptile exhibit whenever he and his family visited the zoo.
“They’ll leave you alone if you leave them alone,” Josiah assured him.
“Well, as much as I like the beautiful scenery, I gotta be honest with myself. This kind of life probably isn’t for me.”
“I won’t lie to you; it’s hard work.”
“Don’t mind that,” Mark said, “but I’m not so sure I could give up everything I’d have to give up … A car for one.”
Josiah turned and looked at the disabled vehicle behind them.
“Oh, you might be surprised at what you can do without, my friend,” Josiah said, grinning.
Out in the yard, Elizabeth stood smiling at the humorous sight of the horses pulling an automobile. She held a couple of tall glasses of ice-cold lemonade for the men and had a bucket of water for the horses.
Josiah waved to his kids, who were watching from the porch as the car, horses, and men made their way up the driveway and over to the horse pasture. Josiah hitched Samson and Delilah to the fence near the bucket of water, and Elizabeth handed each of the men their lemonade. Mark guzzled it down in a few thirsty gulps.
Josiah then unhitched the car from the makeshift tow, took the harnesses off the horses, and turned them loose in the pasture. The animals had certainly earned their rest.
Mark and Josiah walked over to the vehicle and reassessed the damage. The axle was indeed bent, and the radiator had a bad crack in it.
“Well, we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Josiah said.
Mark was actually looking forward to getting his hands dirty by working on the car. It would take his mind off recent events, and he might even get some good anecdotes to include in his banquet speeches, which he’d already been considering increasing now that he had more time on his hands. But first things first — he needed to find some way to call Cindy.
“That phone you told me about, the one you use for emergencies … you think we can head over there soon so I can call my wife?”
“Oh, sure, sure. I can take you down there now, if you like.”
“You sure you don’t mind?”
“Can’t have your wife worrying about you now, can we?”
Josiah took Mark down to the Mennonite home. The family was quite friendly and told Mark he was welcome to use their phone whenever he needed to. Mark thanked them, then he called Cindy.
“Hello?” Cindy said cautiously, not recognizing the incoming phone number on her caller ID.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Mark? I’ve been trying to call you. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Mark said. “But I drove into a ditch in Lancaster.”
“What? Are you hurt?”
“No, just the car is.”
“What were you doing in Lancaster?”
“There was traffic so I took a detour. Well … it’s a long story. The GPS was no help.”
“Is the car drivable?” Cindy asked.
“Not yet, but an Amish man came along and helped pull it out. Well, him and his horses.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“There’s no cell reception out here. I’m using their neighbor’s phone. A Mennonite family’s.”
“How long do you think it will be until your car is fixed?”
“Don’t know for sure. It’s pretty messed up, but we’re working on it.”
“You’ve got an Amish man fixing your car? You’re kidding me, right?”
“It’s quite a story. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. Believe me — it’s going in my memoirs.”
“Well, hurry home. I miss you.”
“Miss you, too, hon. Oh! And get a hold of Carl and explain the situation, would you?”
Cindy promised she would, and Mark hung up the phone. He thanked the Mennonite family and offered to pay them, but they graciously refused.
“So what line of work are you in?” the Mennonite man asked Mark.
Mark glanced over at their television set. “Well, I’m unemployed at the moment,” he said. If the family recognized him, they hadn’t let on. And if they hadn’t recognized him, well, that was just one more jab at his already sorely wounded ego.
“Well, if you’re looking for work, I operate a cheese factory in town and could use some help come summer.”
“Mark lives in Wisconsin. He’s just passing through,” Josiah answered.
“I see,” the man replied, walking Josiah and Mark to the door. “Well, feel free to use the phone anytime.”
“Thanks,” Mark said.
Mark and Josiah walked to the buggy and climbed in. Since it was five miles back to the Stoltzfus house, Mark took advantage of Josiah’s wisdom one more time.
“Josiah, you’re one of the few people who has ever gotten my undivided attention for this long. I don’t have a cell phone that works, my car’s broken down, and I can’t even use my laptop. Maybe for the first time in my life, I’m in a place where I’ll listen.”
“Listening comes easy out here,” Josiah said. “It’s quiet and peaceful.”
“Well, as an outsider looking in, do you think I did the right thing by getting out of the race? I realize you don’t know much about me, but from what you do know, I’d be interested in hearing what you think.”
“Is it what you wanted to do?”
“Drop out of the race? No. I still feel as though I’ve got unfinished business. Like I haven’t done everything I was supposed to do in Washington. But the votes weren’t there for me.”
“Well, one thing about me, Mark. I speak my mind. You may not agree, and you don’t have to, but since you asked, I’m going to tell you what I think. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. I need someone to shoot straight with me. Tell me how I can help my country when it seems like my country doesn’t want my help anymore.”
“Well, what was it that lady in your GPS said? Recalculate? That’s what you need to do, Mark. Get back on the path that was intended for you, whatever path you believe that to be. Only do it smarter next time.”
“You’re saying I should regroup and run again in four years?”
“I’m not telling you to do anything, my friend. But if you truly believe you were meant to be president, then you’ll know when it’s the right time, and you’ll
do what you need to do.”
Mark knew he should listen to the Amish man’s advice. He had paid good money to political advisers and life counselors who hadn’t helped him as much as Josiah was currently helping him with his good old-fashioned common sense.
“How’d you get so wise?” Mark asked when they finally reached the house and climbed out of the buggy.
Josiah smiled. “Not all wisdom comes from television, jah?”
Mark smiled and walked to his car. “So what do you think? Think we can fix it?”
“We’ll do what we can, and if we run into any major problems, we’ll bring in the higher authority.”
“You’re going to pray for my car?”
Josiah chuckled. “I was referring to the radiator shop in Bird-in-Hand. But I think I can fix your axle.”
Josiah walked into his shed. A few minutes later, he came back out with a handful of farm tools and began to work on the car. Mark laughed to himself at the obvious difference between this simple Amish farmer’s way of fixing things and the overpriced auto body shop he usually went to back home. He hoped he was doing the right thing by letting this farmer help him.
“Don’t know how much we’ll get done before dark. You’re welcome to stay here tonight.”
“That’s very hospitable of you,” Mark said, both eager to get on the road and fascinated by this Amish man. “I’d be happy to pay you.”
“Won’t charge you to stay in my home,” Josiah insisted. “But how ‘bout if I fix your car, you help me bale hay when we’re done? Sound fair?”
Mark knew the Amish man had already helped him out above and beyond the call of neighborly duty, even by Amish standards. Josiah was going to pound the axle back into shape by hand. Helping the man bale his hay was the least Mark could do.
“More than fair,” he said.
“Then it’s settled,” Josiah said, and the two men shook hands in agreement.
“Now this is the way to do business,” Mark said.
Josiah smiled. “If you can’t trust a man’s handshake, you can’t trust the man.”
ELIZABETH WAS IN THE KITCHEN PREPARING DINNER WHEN Josiah and Mark began working on the car. The sound of pounding metal pierced the calm of the countryside, but it was a good sound. Labor made its own symphony, and it enticed Elizabeth to watch from the coolness of her open kitchen window. She loved her ruggedly handsome husband with an unconditional love.
“The secret to a good marriage is understanding that both parties have faults,” Bishop Miller, the bishop for their community, had told them on their wedding day. “If you see the flaws of others through the lens of your own, love comes easily.”
Elizabeth had always tried to follow that advice whenever Josiah left the gate open, allowing their goats to wander away. Or when he stayed too late working out in the field so that her meat loaf, the one he had specifically requested, got cold. Or when her wringer washer had gone without a new roller for far too long. Whenever those little irritants of life that wives in both the Amish and English communities had to contend with popped up.
Elizabeth called to the children, who were outside playing by the side of the house. “Come on in,” she said. “You’ve got chores to finish up before supper.”
The children hustled into the house without so much as a single whine, and Elizabeth closed the kitchen window to keep the mosquitoes out. The insects tended to step up their invasion once the sun began going down.
OUT BY THE BARN, IT WASN’T LONG BEFORE JOSIAH TURNED THE conversation back to Mark’s presidential run.
“So what do you think went wrong?” Josiah asked.
“I took my eyes off the road and ran off into a ditch.”
“I mean with your political campaign.”
“Guess I ran that into the ditch too. Or maybe I should say I was pushed off the road.”
“What do you mean?”
“Politics can get dirty. You’ve got to watch your step … and your back. But I would’ve had a chance if they had included me in the debate.”
“You got left out of a debate and you called it quits?”
“Hard to recover from that. Especially when your numbers are slipping anyway.”
“I’m no expert, Mark,” Josiah said, “but I think I know what part of your problem might’ve been.”
“Well, tell me, because I don’t have a clue what went wrong.”
“I think you ran on things you didn’t really believe.”
“What do you mean?” Mark said, unsure where Josiah was going with this. “I believed my message.”
“If you did, you wouldn’t have quit.”
“I quit because I couldn’t get enough people to believe it with me.”
“When you know what you believe, it doesn’t matter how many listen or believe it with you. You just go on saying it because you believe it. And you say it again. And again. And sooner or later, this one realizes that what you’re saying makes sense. And then that one. And before you know it, you might just find yourself winning an election. But you’ve got to convince the people that you believe it first.”
I do believe my message … don’t I?
Josiah and Mark continued working on the car, pounding and bending the axle, trying to bring it back to its former operational self. It wasn’t easy.
“You did a good bit of damage, Mark,” Josiah said.
“Still think you can fix it?”
“I think so. This part anyway. We’ll take a break for supper, then come back out and work on it some more. I figure we’ll have another hour of daylight then before turning in.”
“Supper? I’m still full from dinner.”
“In our world, Mark, we work hard and we eat well.”
Josiah and Mark washed their hands and then joined the family around the table for the evening meal. It was another big spread, nearly as large as the last one.
“You eat like this all the time?” Mark asked, indiscreetly loosening his belt in a preemptive move.
“The Lord is good,” Josiah said, holding out his hand again.
Mark took Josiah’s outstretched hand and young Joseph’s as they bowed their heads to pray. After grace had been said, the plates started making their rounds.
“You know, I’ve got a daughter about your age,” Mark said to Mary Ann, Josiah’s teenage daughter.
Mary Ann perked up with interest. “Does she like to cook?” she asked.
“She used to. She used to make little cupcakes for her mom and me with a toy oven we’d bought her for Christmas.”
“They grow up fast, Mr. Stedman,” Elizabeth said. “Don’t miss any of it.”
Mark nodded and tried not to look in the direction of the empty place setting again.
“I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH MORE I CAN TAKE,” BART SAID TO Marcia after Harley barked his latest order at Bart before retreating to his office. “The closer we get to the election, the worse he gets. I’m about ready to quit!”
“You can’t quit, Bart. You’re family. Turn your back on family when they need you — even the bullies of the bunch — and there’s always a price to pay.”
“It can’t be any more than what I’m paying now.”
“You’d better think about this, Bart. What else would you do? Jobs aren’t that easy to come by these days.”
“Anything would beat this!”
“ ‘You want fries with that?’ “ Marcia said, changing her voice and acting out Bart’s possible future.
“Hey, if it means getting Harley off my back, where do I sign up? No self-respecting person would allow himself to continue being treated like this.”
“Have you talked it over with Stella?”
“I don’t run everything by my wife.”
Marcia didn’t respond. She just looked at Bart.
“Okay, I do,” Bart said. “But this time I’ve got to do what’s best for me. And believe me, this isn’t it.”
“Then go on. Call her up and tell her that,” Marcia said, holding the phone ou
t to Bart, knowing full well he would balk.
“Oh, I’m going to tell her … but not on the phone. At home. As soon as I walk through the door.”
“Okay,” Marcia said, unconvinced.
“You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?”
“Sure I do.”
“You don’t think I have the courage.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You think I can’t tell Stella exactly what I think of her father.”
“I know you can. I just don’t think you will.”
“And you probably don’t think I’ll tell Harley right to his face what a jerk he’s been?”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
“Well, then, you’ll just have to wait and hear all the details of how I put Harley Phillips in his place when you come in to work tomorrow, won’t you?” Bart said with a confident smirk.
Smirks had never come easily for Bart, but as he said, he had reached his limit with his father-in-law. He wasn’t going to put up with being used and abused any longer. Family or not, enough was enough was enough!
CHAPTER 8
“HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH?” ELIZABETH SAID AS SHE PASSED THE platter of roast beef to Mark. “Or would you like a bit more?”
“More, please,” Mark said, taking a large helping. “I don’t know where I’m putting it, but this is too good to pass up. Another delicious meal, ma’am.”
Elizabeth thanked him, and then, one by one, the children asked to be excused. Without being told, they took their plates to the kitchen.
“I don’t know what your secret is for child rearing,” Mark said, “but if you could bottle it up and sell it, you’d make a fortune!”
“It’s no secret,” Elizabeth said. “We live simply and teach our children to work hard and to love and respect God, others, and the land. In that order. And then we hope and pray it was enough.”
“Well, they sure are good kids. You’ve done something right.”
Josiah smiled. “We’ve just done the best we know how.”
“That’s all any of us can do,” Mark said. “Even when you do all the right things, there still aren’t any guarantees.”
“Life doesn’t give us guarantees on much of anything, Mark. But like I said, you just do the best you know how. So what do you think? You ready to get back at it?” Josiah asked.
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