by Mary Ellis
“You deprived people a taste of your special salad?”
“I did.” Not an ounce of guilt shaded her words.
Caleb scraped a hearty amount onto his plate. “Ah, garbanzos are the fourth bean.” He ate a forkful, chewing slowly to savor. “As promised, lots of celery and sweet onion, plus the eggs are a nice touch. I suspect the seasonings are Old Bay, celery seed, and cayenne pepper.” It was purely a guess.
She broke into an ear to ear grin. “Jah, those three along with Hungarian paprika. Does it meet your approval, Mr. Beachy?”
He ate another forkful. “It does. I’ve never had better. My only question is why would you grace me with your side dish while you deny other men equally worthy?” He knew he walked on thin ice, yet Caleb wanted to know where he stood. He was no teenager and refused to get his hopes up.
“I’m not sure.” His directness caught her off guard. “I like you, Cal. At least, I did before you moved away.”
“You’re not afraid to associate with me?”
“No, I’m not, but I would like to know your plans.”
“I don’t intend to move back to Cleveland if that’s what you’re asking.”
“In part, yes, but are you planning to return to an Amish social life?” Josie imbued the last words with an amusing inflection.
“That’s a contradiction in terms, no?” Caleb picked up his chicken wing and ate. “I go to preaching every other Sunday, and I’m here today.”
“What about singings? Are you willing to come back?”
He dropped the wing bones and cut his ham into small pieces. “Sixteen-year-olds go to those. I’m twenty-four, Josie.”
“And I’m twenty-one, but I still attend. They’re for single people of any age.”
Caleb knew that wasn’t the case, but he shouldn’t argue with the woman who’d occupied his every waking thought. “If you tell me the time and place.” He concentrated on the meal so as not to betray his nervousness.
“This coming Friday night at the Robert Miller farm.” She lifted one dark eyebrow.
“In that case, I will be there with my usual singing voice.”
Josie smirked and recovered the four-bean salad with plastic wrap. “Do you intend to join the Amish church?”
“Wow, you don’t beat around the bush, do you?” He set down his fork.
“As you aptly pointed out, we’re not sixteen anymore.”
“I do plan to join with the next membership class.”
She pushed the bowl across the table, her left dimple returning. “In that case, the rest is yours. Sarah can return the container. Enjoy your dinner. Eat hearty, but I must help Mamm in the house.” She pinned him with an uncompromising stare. “And I trust you’ll keep my ingredients secret.” Then she vanished into the shadows.
6
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I’ll begin
The fourth week of work on the Millersburg warehouse began with a downpour. For two hours Caleb and the other men sat in Jack’s van waiting for the rain to stop. But it never did. That was the difficulty of roofing projects—heavy rain rendered work impossible. His father had left long ago after calling another contractor on his cell phone. The builder, also stymied by the weather, agreed to drive to Millersburg to discuss potential future work. Huddled under his umbrella, Eli hadn’t thought twice about abandoning his employees in the van in favor of a warm and dry coffee shop.
For a while the men listened to the radio. Then they took turns reading aloud from the sports section of the newspaper. Several alternated between rolling down windows for fresh air, and then rolling them back up when shirts and upholstery started to get soggy. After Josiah fell asleep and began to snore, Caleb had had enough. “This rain isn’t letting up,” he announced loud enough to awaken his partner.
Jack cleared a patch of windshield condensation with his sleeve and peered at the low, grey clouds. “Gotta agree with you, Cal.” He switched on the ignition to run the defroster. “Judging by the clouds, this slop might last all day.”
A few men grunted in agreement. Josiah merely closed his eyes and shifted to get comfortable.
“This is supposed to be our last week on this project,” said Caleb. “I can’t see how we could possibly finish on time.” He waited for a response, but heard only wiper blades flapping against the glass. “It’s taken us three weeks just to remove the old roof and replace rotted joists and underlayment. Three weeks.” He repeated in case someone hadn’t been keeping track. “That only gives us this week to nail down new insulation boards, cut the rubber roofing to fit, and then glue it down on the three different buildings. There’s no way we’ll be done by Friday night.”
“We can’t do much about the weather,” said Josiah. “Only pray for sunshine and blue skies tomorrow.” The man had replied with his eyes shut. He’d only been pretending to nap.
“Maybe Walmart sells block-sized umbrellas,” said Daniel. The suggestion came from a young, easygoing Amish newlywed, also from Killbuck.
“Just in case they’re sold out,” said Caleb, “we’ll need to speed things up this week. I proposed changing to two teams of three men, so Jack and Bob can be nearby if power saws are needed.”
Jack swiveled around on the front seat. “What did Eli say?”
“I think he’ll go along with the idea if it originates with someone other than me. I have the least amount of seniority among his employees.” Caleb tried not to reveal his father’s total lack of respect for his opinion.
“It would be fine with me if Eli agrees,” said Bob. “I thought that a while ago, but I never said anything.” Bob fiddled with the radio knobs for the tenth time. He didn’t seem to like any of the music being played.
“No point changing teams now.” Josiah straightened his spine, abandoning his attempt to nap. “We don’t need power tools to roll out rubber and slice it off with utility knives. As long as you’ve got a sharp blade, you’re in business. Glue is spread with a long-handled paint roller—no power cord necessary.” He scratched his jawline.
“I know how to install a flat roof. But I’m talking mainly about future work, so we don’t get this far behind.”
Josiah smiled at him with the patience of Job. “Let’s take life one day at a time. We’ll probably pray for this kind of downpour in June to make the corn grow, jah?” He focused his attention on a mother and child crossing the street without paying much attention. A pickup truck splashed the pair with a wall of water.
Caleb leaned his head back and shut his eyes. He needed to find a way to change the inefficiency without alienating the other men or angering his father. Then maybe his daed’s opinion of him would improve. On Saturday at the barn raising, Eli had organized two hundred men to assemble a complete barn in less than twelve hours. No one had gotten injured; no one had gone home mad because they’d been slighted for some task. So why couldn’t Eli run his commercial crew with the same effectiveness? True, no power tools had been used on the Yoder barn, not even by the Englischers. But that was because the vast majority of lumber had been cut to correct lengths at the mill. You can’t expect that on a small warehouse project. For several minutes, he debated how to proceed while listening to rain beat steadily on the vehicle’s hood. Finally irritation and claustrophobia got the better of Caleb Beachy. “This is ridiculous,” he announced.
“What do you suggest?” asked Josiah.
“We’re wasting the day parked here doing nothing. Let’s head to that café across the street to buy a slice of pie and cup of coffee. Then we’ll go home. Every man here has better things to do in his house or barn or garage than sit listening to the rain.”
Two or three seconds passed before Bob spoke. “Sounds like a good idea to me. I need to change a leaky faucet valve before we run the well dry.”
“I could be sharpening the plow and checking my seed corn,” Dan added in a soft voice.
“Do you think they will have cherry pie?” asked Josiah.
C
aleb laughed. “If they don’t, I’ll treat you to a slice of your second choice.”
Simultaneously, four van doors swung open and seven men lumbered out, stiff from sitting too long. They sprinted across the street to where neon soft drink signs drew them like beacons in a fog. Caleb headed to a large table in the center of the diner. During the short walk from the van, rain had soaked him to the skin. He slapped his hat against his leg and shook like a dog, sending water droplets flying. Being inside and dry in a sweet-smelling restaurant lifted everyone’s mood.
“Look at this dessert rack,” exclaimed Daniel. “They have every type of pie known to man.” He stared at the display like a kid in a candy store. “Plus giant cream puffs, raspberry crumb cakes, and little pecan pies.”
The crew settled on red vinyl chairs just as a pretty redheaded waitress ambled over. “What’ll it be, boys? Coffee?” She offered a toothy smile.
“Seven coffees, six slices of pie, and one of everything for our friend over there.” Jack hooked a thumb at Daniel, who was still gaping at the assortment of pastries.
“And we are not boys, young lady,” Bob added an inflection of indignation.
“Then what are you—ducks? You’re sure wet enough.” The waitress giggled behind her order tablet, but never took her eyes off Bob.
As the only other single member of the crew, Bob had a penchant for attracting females wherever he went. But Caleb didn’t mind. After the attention Josie Yoder paid him last Saturday, he would be walking on air for quite some time.
“Not ducks,” said Bob. “We are big strong men, roofers to be exact.” He rolled up his sleeve and flexed a bicep in an exaggerated fashion, mimicking a cartoon muscleman.
The waitress’s giggles escalated into laughter, drawing the attention of nearby diners. “You don’t say. Well, you sure picked a lousy day to put on a new roof.” She shifted her weight from one hip to the other, all thoughts of coffee forgotten.
“You said a mouthful, darlin’.” Bob leaned back in his chair.
“Caitlyn,” she said. “My name is Caitlyn. With a C, not a K.”
“Your parents chose a special spelling for a special girl.”
“Could we order and have that coffee now, Miss Caitlyn?” Jack took a fatherly command of the situation.
“Sure, what kind of pie?”
As requests for apple, blueberry, and peach rang out and Caitlyn scribbled furiously on her pad, Caleb glanced around the diner. A bent, dark-haired man struggled to his feet at a booth—a very familiar man.
Eli Beachy and his Englisch business associate approached the front cash register. Eli’s eyes rounded as he recognized his crew as those creating a fuss in the restaurant. “What are you all doing in here?” He halted at their table while a middle-aged woman leaned between men to fill coffee cups.
“Getting out of the rain and enjoying a cup of java.” Caleb lifted his brimming mug.
“Plus dessert,” added Daniel. “I ordered chocolate mousse pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”
“It’s barely ten o’clock.” Eli’s tone expressed disapproval with morning sweets.
Daniel clamped his lips together as though duly reprimanded.
Caleb blew out his breath. “You left us in that van, twiddling our thumbs for hours, while you came inside where it’s comfortable.”
Eli glared at him. “I came to talk to Mr. Emerson about future construction work.” He half-turned to the Englischer. “Ralph, this is my son. Caleb, this is Ralph Emerson.”
Darkening with embarrassment, Caleb extended his hand. “How do you do, sir.”
“Fine, Caleb. The fact Marge has the best pie in Millersburg probably influenced your decision, eh?” He smiled at the woman filling their mugs.
“Ralph Emerson—like the poet?” asked Bob. He also extended a hand.
“That’s right, but I have no ‘Waldo.’ ” Ralph shook hands vigorously.
“Who’s Waldo?” Daniel inquired of no one in particular.
Eli fumed like a hen shut out of the coop during cleaning. “These are my carpenters, good workers—every one of them, whom I intend to pay half a day for their down-time.” His glare landed squarely on Caleb.
At that point, the lovely Caitlyn-with-a-C delivered a tray of delicious-looking pies. “I see you have your coffee. Now here’s the best part.”
Before she had a chance to distribute the plates, Josiah stood abruptly. “We’ll take to-go boxes along with our checks. Sorry to trouble you today.” He tipped his hat as the rest of the crew clambered to their feet.
“But it’s still raining. What’s the rush?” she asked.
“One check and I’ll take it,” murmured Eli. “I will meet you at the register, miss.”
One by one the men finished their coffees and filed out the door with Styrofoam boxes in hand. And once again, Caleb felt he’d been reduced to teenager status.
Eli paid the bill for his coffee with Ralph, along with the pointless expense of seven slices of pie. Who eats dessert before they eat lunch? After parting with the contractor, he walked to Jack’s van without bothering to raise his umbrella. Maybe the cool spring shower would wash away his irritation with his son.
All the way to Killbuck and then to Fredericksburg, he had to listen to men eat pie while planning how to approach the inevitable showdown. Caleb wasn’t the boss; he wasn’t even his foremen. Yet today he took charge and made decisions for the crew.
In the van Caleb said nothing. Each time Eli stole a backward glance his son was staring out the window as though he’d never seen farm fields buffeted by heavy rain. Better to let the sleeping dog lie until they were home. When he finally walked into his warm kitchen his wife greeted him with surprise.
“Home so soon? It’s barely eleven. Ach, the weather. Not fit for man or beast.” Elizabeth turned the burner on under the cold coffeepot. “I imagine you’ll want a hot lunch.”
“No, don’t fuss, fraa. We’ll eat the sandwiches you packed this morning and look forward to a hot supper.” Eli buzzed her cheek with a kiss.
By the time he hung up his coat, he realized Caleb hadn’t followed him into the house. Through the window he spotted his son entering the barn carrying their lunch cooler. For the rest of the day, Caleb avoided him as though he carried an infectious disease. When Eli arrived in the main barn, Caleb decided to restack hay bales in the loft. When hunger sent Eli searching for his portion of the sandwiches, he found the tote at the foot of the ladder with half the contents gone. Caleb was nowhere around. How had he gotten down from the loft? When Eli finished chores and headed indoors to wash, his exasperation had reached a boiling point.
Caleb sat nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen table as Elizabeth fried pork chops at the stove. Rebekah, peeling potatoes, and Sarah, fixing a salad, argued over some mishap at the bed-and-breakfast. Rebekah felt she should make up rooms instead of being on constant kitchen duty for a change, while Sarah felt Mrs. Pratt assigned tasks based on proficiency and overall pleasantness of the employee. Hence, Rebekah should always toil alone in the kitchen.
Sighing wearily, Eli sat down at the head of the table. “And how was school today, dochder?”
His youngest, Katie, grinned warmly. “Gut. The teacher called on me three times and each time I knew the answer. She was shocked!”
“Shocked, but pleased, I’m sure.” Eli patted Katie’s hand. Unfortunately, Rebekah and Sarah’s discussion lifted a notch in volume. “Enough!” he thundered. “Kindly confine your work problems to the walk to and from the inn. You don’t need to spoil supper with your quarreling.”
“Mir leid,” they muttered in unison.
Silence reigned in the room for several minutes, since apparently neither girl had anything agreeable to say. After Elizabeth carried over the chops and they said silent prayers, Eli chose the opportunity to speak to Caleb. “I’d wanted to talk to you in the barn but I couldn’t find you. How did you get down from the hayloft?”
His son fixed him with a star
e over a pork chop. “I swung down on the rope.”
“You’re too old for that. I’m trying to break Katie of the dangerous habit.” Eli shook his head.
“Apparently, I’m not old enough to decide when it’s time to come in out of the rain.” Caleb spooned parsley potatoes onto his plate next to the chop.
“Nobody was getting wet inside the van.”
“No, but it wasn’t exactly homey either. Not as comfortable as inside the restaurant.”
Eli felt his gut tighten. “I had a meeting to discuss specifics for our next job. As the head of the company, business meetings are part of my job.”
His son took a long swallow of milk. “I understand, but there was no harm in waiting indoors to see if the rain would let up.”
“I don’t pay men to sit around and eat pie. Like I told you, I planned to pay my crew for half a day today.”
Caleb shrugged. “So what difference does it make where we waste the morning?”
Eli realized four sets of female eyes rotated between him and Caleb like a volleyball over the net. “Let’s finish our work discussion after supper. I’ll take the same advice I doled out to Sarah and Rebekah.” Thus, peace returned to the Beachy dinner table for the remainder of the meal.
When everyone finished eating and his daughters began stacking plates, Eli cleared his throat. “Dochdern, please bring the pot of coffee to the table and leave the dishes to soak. You can wash them before bed.”
Dutifully the girls did as he asked and left the room, while Elizabeth waited in the doorway. “Do you need me to stay and referee?”
“No, danki.” Eli didn’t laugh at her jest. Once his wife went upstairs, he picked up where they’d left off. “The difference is that none of you knew where I had gone with Ralph Emerson. I might have completed the meeting earlier than your snack and not been able to find anyone.”
Caleb reflected on this for a moment. “I suppose you have a point, but it had become downright suffocating with seven men in that van.”