A Plain Man

by Mary Ellis

  “I heard him ask if you needed help with milking last evening and you told him no.” She carried the double meat loaf to the table’s center trivet.

  “Well, I didn’t, not last night.” Eli frowned as she returned to the stove.

  “And he asked if you needed help ordering seeds. Sometimes the fine print in those catalogs is hard to decipher, even with reading glasses.” She slipped her soiled apron over her head.

  “The boy could see I had my magnifier out. How many people does it take to order a few packets of radish, carrot, and turnip seeds?” Eli carried his mug of coffee to the head of the table and eased into his chair. “Besides, I don’t like anybody to hover over my shoulder.”

  Holding a pot of beans aloft, Elizabeth stared at him over her half-moon glasses. “If you want or need Caleb’s assistance, tell him what you wish done and when. Give him a list of chores, ehemann. Stop waiting for him to read your mind.” She placed the pot on another trivet and walked to the bottom of the steps. “Sarah, Rebekah, Katie, come downstairs. It’s time to eat.”

  Eli clamped down on his molars and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I haven’t needed help since he came home. January and February aren’t exactly the busy season around a farm. If the Weavers could use him with sugaring, I don’t mind sending him over. They gave me a hand last October with the corn harvest.”

  Elizabeth removed a huge bowl of salad from the refrigerator. “Now you’ve got me confused, Eli. What exactly is the matter?” She also spoke softly as she slipped into her chair.

  “He barely pays me any mind at all since coming back. He seems to go out of his way to avoid me. And I’m his pa.”

  “Jah, but he’s twenty-four years old, not fourteen. He’s a grown man, accustomed to living on his own. You can’t expect him to ask for help with his homework or for you to take him fishing down by the river. You said yourself not much is happening this time of year, so maybe there’s not much to talk about.” She pinched the bridge of her nose as though to stem a headache.

  “I watched him from the corner of my eye at preaching last Sunday. He was practically dozing off.”

  Much to Eli’s dismay, Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Goodness, he wouldn’t be the first man—or woman—to fall asleep during the younger minister’s sermon. The man does tend to get long-winded.”

  “It’s not funny. The boy should show me some respect.”

  Elizabeth stretched out a hand to pat his arm. “Like I said—he’s not a boy; he’s a man. Please be patient with him,” she pleaded. “He was gone a long time and his shift back to Amish life will not occur overnight.”

  He nodded, knowing she was right, but something still niggled in the back of his mind. “We don’t know what his life had been like. Who were his people up in the city? What kind of nasty business did he get involved in?” Eli felt a frisson of anxiety run up his spine, not for his son’s physical safety, but for his eternal soul.

  “You’re right. We don’t know and we never will. It’s not our concern. He hadn’t joined the church yet, so all can be forgiven and forgotten once he does. Let the past go, Eli. It’s causing you much grief.” Again she patted his arm as though he were a child.

  “Then the sooner he gets baptized the better.” When he lifted the lid from the meat loaf pan, the pungent aroma of garlic and onions filled the room, whetting his appetite.

  “Give him a chance. And while you’re at it, why not give him a job?”

  “Work for me again?” His anxiety didn’t diminish.

  “You said yourself it’s almost spring. Soon the roofing contracts will pick up, along with barn building. Couldn’t you use an extra pair of hands?”

  “Jah, but—”

  “With so small a herd of cows, the girls and I can manage most farm chores. We won’t need Caleb home all day.”

  “But I thought—”

  His fraa interrupted a second time—a rare occurrence. “Caleb is an accomplished carpenter. Sarah told us he’d been an apprentice for three years and had made journeyman. He was a member of the carpenters’ union in Cleveland, so it’s not like you’re hiring a man without skills. The two of you working together makes perfect sense to me.”

  “Mind if I put in my two cents’ worth? Or do you prefer to handle both sides of the conversation?” Eli glowered at his beloved wife.

  She laughed at his distress. “Sorry, mei liewi. I got carried away. I grant you the floor.” Elizabeth flourished her hand over the table just as his three daughters sauntered into the kitchen, carefree as a picnic on a warm summer day. Their youngest walked straight to the chocolate cake on the counter and stuck her finger in the frosting.

  “Leave the cake alone and sit down,” Eli thundered. “Why must your mamm fix supper alone while her three dochders laze around their bedroom like Englischers?”

  Sarah’s jaw dropped while the younger two slinked to their seats like chastised hound dogs. “I baked the cake as soon as I got home from work,” Sarah said. “Then I ironed every shirt and dress in Mamm’s laundry basket. I was sewing in my room until Cal got home.”

  Rebekah looked annoyed. “And I fixed the salad along with the mashed potatoes.”

  “I set the table.” Katie sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

  “I can vouch for truthful statements all around.” Elizabeth appeared to be biting her tongue.

  “In that case, danki.” Eli couldn’t quite bring himself to apologize to his kinner. “Sit down, Sarah. As soon as your bruder finishes—”

  “I’m here.” Caleb stood in the bathroom doorway. It seemed to be the night for interruptions. His wet hair was plastered to his forehead and his feet were bare, but at least he wore clean trousers and a fresh shirt. “I hurried as fast as I could.” On his way to the table, Caleb pulled both suspenders up to his broad shoulders.

  “Let’s bow our heads.” Eli didn’t close his eyes until every family member shut theirs. Then he waited long after his prayer before announcing, “All right. Let’s eat.” Faster than a person could draw a breath, bowls started flying around the table, silverware clattered, and female tongues began to wag.

  “How’s James?” Rebekah asked her brother. “What’s he been up to?”

  “Does anybody want to see Mrs. Pratt’s new puppy after supper?” asked Katie.

  “Mamm, did you remember to buy shampoo on your last trip to town? I’m practically out.” Sarah’s question was the calmest and most reserved. However, since all three had been asked simultaneously, none were answered.

  Instead Elizabeth pivoted toward her son. “Sounds like sugaring is in full swing, jah? As soon as the Weavers no longer need you, your daed would like you to work for him.”

  Eli choked on a mouthful of salad. Sarah jumped up to pound on his back, while Caleb turned his dark brown gaze toward Eli. “Is that true?” he asked.

  Eli wiped his mouth once his coughing stopped. “It is, but I don’t seem to talk fast enough for the Beachy household.”

  His son neither laughed nor smiled. “Work for you for money?”

  “Of course, for money. I pay all the men on my crew.” Eli tossed down his napkin.

  “How much?”

  Rolling his eyes, Eli quoted the hourly rate for his most experienced employee.

  Caleb considered for a long moment. “All right, I’ll take the job once James no longer needs me.” Then he devoured his three slices of meat loaf as though they would disappear if he didn’t wolf them down.

  No “I’m glad to be able to put my carpentry skills to good use.”

  No “I would love a dependable paycheck so I can save for the future.”

  Not even so much as a “Danki, Daed.”

  The next words out of Caleb’s mouth had something to do with mashed potatoes. But Eli was concentrating on his own meal so he wouldn’t say something he would regret. He had already questioned the wisdom of Elizabeth’s suggestion, doubting their son would ever come back to the fold.

  Sarah stood next t
o her boss on the front porch of Country Pleasures Bed-and-Breakfast. The requisite morning meal was finished. Every fresh strawberry swimming in whipped cream was gone, while the four groups of guests had put a healthy dent in the cheese soufflé with crisp Canadian bacon. She’d even seen one elderly woman fill a bag with the remaining blueberry muffins and iced cinnamon buns. Not that she needed to be clandestine. Lee Ann Pratt happily sent leftovers home with departing guests, along with the recipes.

  All you had to do was ask.

  Lee Ann would give the shirt off her back as long as it was warm outside. That had been Sarah’s favorite quip since she started working here four years ago. People kinder or more generous than the Pratts would be hard to find in Amish Country, Ohio...or anyplace else.

  Amish Country—she and her Christian sect were the reason tourists poured into Wayne, Holmes, and Tuscarawas counties nine months out of the year. A few brave souls even traveled during the dead of winter to snap photos of shaggy draft horses creating clouds of white vapor with each exhalation, or of farm fields blanketed in snow. Or they came to relax by the fire in a cozy inn, sipping tea or cocoa while reading a good book. The countryside was nothing if not peaceful during cold months. Some guests came to buy handmade quilts, oak or walnut furniture, local cheese, or free-range beef without the crowds and heavy traffic like in fair weather. Sarah enjoyed this time of year, especially since the B&B was seldom at full capacity. But their quiet weekends were rapidly drawing to a close.

  “Thanks so much, Lee Ann!” A well-dressed woman in her forties hugged the innkeeper for the third time. “As always, everything was perfect. We can’t wait to come back, maybe in June. I’ll check my calendar.” Waving, she carried a small makeup case to their sleek sedan while her husband lugged three large suitcases—one for each day of their short stay.

  Within a few minutes, the seven-member, multigenerational group from Medina trudged out the door. They too were effusive with their praise and grateful for Mrs. Pratt’s hospitality. Pausing in front of Sarah, the matriarch studied her one last time. “It was a treat to meet someone Amish while we were sightseeing. We really got our money’s worth.” The woman pinched Sarah’s cheek as though she were a toddler and followed her family to the parking lot. The last to depart were two young couples—one on their honeymoon. Both pledged to return to Country Pleasures each year for their anniversary. One husband added that it was much cheaper than Florida, considering the price of gasoline. Sarah and Lee Ann released matching sighs of relief when the final car tooted and drove off in search of their next bargain...or headed home and back to work.

  “Goodness, that was a lively bunch.” Lee Ann slipped an arm around Sarah’s waist. “Let’s go inside. It’s not as warm as the sun would lead one to believe.”

  Sarah pranced ahead to open the door. “Is there anything left for our breakfast and Mr. Pratt’s? That was a hungry group of people.”

  “I saved some in the kitchen just to make sure. With the work we have ahead of us, I’m in no mood for cold cereal or white toast with jam.”

  As usual, the innkeeper and employee ignored four messy guest rooms, plenty of towels and linens to wash, a dining room of dirty dishes, and a cyclone-hit kitchen until they ate their own meal. Sarah loved chatting with Lee Ann. The woman had enough stories about her missionary days in Africa to keep breakfast interesting for years. But today she had another topic in mind. “How’s Caleb doing? You never talk about your brother much. And I seldom see him on the lane.”

  Dividing the remaining food onto three plates, Sarah gave Lee Ann’s husband the largest portion. She delivered his breakfast to the private family room where Roy watched morning talk shows and then settled down to eat by the front window. Their little table had a perfect view of the flower garden, birdfeeders, and busy street down the sloping lawn. “There’s not much to tell, I guess.” Sarah picked up the coffee cup Lee Ann had filled.

  “Oh no you don’t. You always say that. Then I pry out all kinds of tasty tidbits. Has he joined the Amish church yet? Did he find a job? What about a girlfriend? Has he found someone new or rekindled an old flame?” Mrs. Pratt’s brown eyes almost danced out of her head.

  “I truly think you should write books in your spare time with your vivid imagination.” Sarah chewed a piece of bacon. “Let’s see...no, no, and no. Any more questions?”

  “Only one—how come?” Lee Ann crossed her arms over her full apron.

  “It’s hard to find carpentry work in the winter, especially since he doesn’t want to work for Englischers. And he can’t join the Amish church without taking the classes to prepare for baptism. And baptism is only once a year, usually in the fall. I’m sure he’ll join the next class that will start in summer.” Sarah swallowed some delicious egg and cheese soufflé.

  “And?” Lee Ann drained her cup and refilled from the carafe. “He needs a nice woman to settle down with.”

  Sarah felt odd discussing Caleb with Mrs. Pratt, but her boss had only his best interest at heart. And she wasn’t a gossip. “I couldn’t agree more, but he keeps to himself when he’s not helping one of our neighbors. In the three months he’s been home, he’s gone nowhere other than preaching services. And if the rest of us remain to socialize, he walks home—no matter how far or how nasty the weather. When we go visiting on Sunday afternoon, he stays in his room. He tells my parents that he’s not ready. I don’t know how a person readies himself for eating pie and drinking coffee with folks you’ve known your whole life.” Sarah’s exasperation with her older brother slipped out.

  Lee Ann reflected quietly while finishing her eggs. “He must be ashamed to face people—afraid they’ll ask too many questions.”

  Sarah shrugged, setting down her fork. “He can’t hide in his room or the barn forever.”

  Mrs. Pratt pinched her arm. “You need to do something, young lady. Before he decides coming back to Fredericksburg was a mistake.”

  “What can I do? Cal never asks me for advice.”

  “Think of something. What about those singings on Sunday nights? I’ll bet plenty of single girls attend them.” She leaned across the table as though in anticipation.

  “True, but he says he’s too old. He’s not, but that’s his excuse. Lots of men his age are there.”

  “What else is going on, social-wise?”

  “He won’t go ice skating with Rebekah, Katie, and me because he hates being cold and it reminds him of his last apartment. So that rules out sleigh rides, tobogganing, and ice fishing.” Sarah finished her last bite of breakfast. “I’ll have more success when the weather warms up. Cal always enjoyed volleyball and softball. And who doesn’t love picnics, hayrides, and bonfires under the stars?”

  Her boss clucked her tongue. “Nope, you can’t wait that long. Come up with something soon, before your brother disappears as mysteriously as he arrived on Christmas Eve. I know you love Cal, so put your imagination to work. Seek him out and get him talking. Don’t let him hide from the world. He needs a confidant he can trust.” She rose to her feet and stacked their dirty dishes. “Now, speaking of Rebekah, I think it’s time your sister came back to work for me. If the recent reservations are any indication, spring seems to have arrived early in Wayne County. We can use your sister’s help making up rooms and in the kitchen.”

  Sarah scrambled up to start her chores, but her former good mood had soured. Not due to Mrs. Pratt’s suggestion about Caleb. She had been worried that his return wouldn’t be permanent and agreed that he needed someone to confide in. No, her bout of depression had everything to do her sister coming back to Country Pleasures Bed-and-Breakfast. A morning spent working with Rebekah all but guaranteed a splitting headache by noon.

  2

  Streams of mercy, never ceasing,

  Call for songs of loudest praise.

  END OF MARCH

  Caleb wasted more time than he would have thought possible in the Country Pleasures barn and backyard. Roy Pratt had shown him their new Haflinger draft horse
along with two new ponies that would be used with children in the summertime. Roy pointed out every nuance and characteristic of the animals as though Caleb were a tourist down for the weekend instead of an Amish man who had been around horses his entire life.

  But Caleb didn’t mind since it helped pass the time. And he had plenty of time lately since the maple sugar season was finished. He’d enjoyed spending his days at the Weaver farm, but he couldn’t follow James around as he went about his chores. It would look like he had no life...even though at the moment he didn’t. The Beachy farm was miniscule compared to the Weavers’. And his father had become so accustomed to plowing and planting alone while he’d been gone that Caleb only felt in his way.

  Roy Pratt took him to their small apple orchard where he explained in detail how he pruned each tree limb to assure maximum fruit production. Caleb stifled a yawn during the innkeeper’s account of natural bug deterrents along with limited spraying. With customers so worried about pesticide residue the Pratts were committed to growing safe apples for their pies, cobblers, and breakfast compotes.

  Caleb thought he would fall asleep upright if he didn’t separate himself from his overly detail-oriented neighbor. Fortunately his sister exited the inn’s back door just as his eyelids began to droop. “Thanks, Roy, for making time for me during your busy day.” Caleb pumped the older man’s hand. “There’s Sarah, and I need to speak with her before she sneaks away.” The moment Roy released his hand Caleb sprinted across the lawn to head Sarah off at the gate.

  “Goodness, Cal. You scared the daylights out of me.” Sarah carried a huge picnic hamper along with her tote bag. “You are the last person I expected to see lurking in the Pratt’s garden.”

  Caleb joined her on the path from the inn’s back entrance to the private lane connecting their properties. Other than their families, no one used this road except for the UPS man and an occasional lost tourist.

  “Who would be the first person?” Caleb pulled the basket from her hand.