A Plain Man

by Mary Ellis

  Caleb didn’t need much time to consider. “No, Albert never cared for Englischers. He always thought they were staring at him, even when they weren’t.”

  “Will you be okay by yourself?” His daed took a muffin from the plate.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Albert and I used to be friends. Even if he doesn’t want my help, he’s not going to shoot me with his squirrel rifle.”

  Eli buttered the cornbread without breaking eye contact. “No, John Sidley would use his shotgun filled with pellets.”

  “I will be fine,” Caleb said, his bravado slipping a notch.

  “In that case your mamm packed plenty of sandwiches to take.” Eli pointed at a hamper near the door. “She’s sending jars of vegetables, pickled meat, and fruit preserves too. Who knows how well those five men eat with no fraa in the haus?”

  When a car horn drew their attention, Caleb followed Eli onto the porch. “Hi, Jack, Bob,” he called as the van pulled to a stop.

  Bob rolled down his window while Jack popped open the back for Eli’s briefcase and blueprints. “Where’s your tool belt, Cal?”

  With as few words as possible, Caleb explained why he’d quit his job, along with his plans for the immediate future. Then he wished for a speedy resolution to the strike. No one man seemed surprised by his decision. Before the van could reach the county road, Caleb had hitched his horse and loaded the hamper, his thermos, and tools into the buggy. For a brief instant, he considered borrowing a battery powered Sawzall and cordless drill from the neighbor, but he reconsidered. Ordnung was Ordnung—whether the bishop was there as witness or not. Besides, Roy Pratt probably wouldn’t have charged them anyway.

  During the hour-long drive to the Sidleys’, Caleb viewed the countryside. Each year the number of farms shrank while the number of houses increased. At this rate there would be no land left in the county to grow food. Even among the Amish, farms were frequently split up between sons into smaller and smaller plots.

  Caleb sighed as he turned onto Albert’s road. Sarah hadn’t exaggerated the condition of the roadbed. Some ruts were deep enough to break an axle. After half a mile, Caleb passed a sign announcing: WARNING—TOWNSHIP ROAD CLOSED. TRAVEL AT YOUR OWN RISK. The Sidley mailbox leaned crookedly against the sign. Even the postman refused to endanger his vehicle by delivering an occasional tax bill or supermarket flyer.

  “A little late for the warning, no?” Caleb asked his gelding.

  Although the horse had no reply, when he reached the next cavernous pothole he shook his silky mane and refused to step around it. Caleb climbed down to walk the remaining distance, keeping a tight grip on the bridle. Not a good omen, he thought. And nothing changed his mind the closer they came to the one-hundred-fifty-year-old homestead.

  Poison ivy vines entwined every upright post. Strands of barbed wire, which substituted for missing fence slats, had rusted to the point of uselessness. Caleb soon understood why the Sidleys had little motivation for fence repair. Five Holsteins with saggy udders and sad faces chewed their cud with no interest in escaping. They barely turned their heads as Caleb’s buggy passed just yards away. An ancient windmill stood sentinel on the far hill, its blade long corroded into immovability.

  However, the landscape appeared practically Eden-like compared to the ramshackle house. Paint had chipped and peeled down to bare wood on the side exposed to prevailing winds. The front porch canted at an angle due to a collapsed corner of the stone foundation. A smoke stack now poked through a hole where a chimney had toppled long ago. Blue plastic patched the opening while strategically placed wires held the metal pipe upright. Only half the home’s windows contained panes of glass. The rest either had cardboard tacked in place or were open to the wind, rain, and flying insects.

  Caleb muttered a vulgar word—residue of his years on an Englisch construction crew—and shook his head in frustration. After tying the reins to a scrawny sapling he ambled toward the back door. He didn’t know if he should chance the rotted porch boards or simply yell to the inhabitants to come outside. Opting for polite behavior, Caleb sprang up the steps and knocked. He waited for a full minute and then knocked again, harder.

  “You can pound on that door all day long. Daed ain’t gittin’ outta that chair to answer.”

  Caleb spun around on his boot heel to gaze into the hooded, gray eyes of Albert Sidley. Five years had done the man no favors. He had always been tall and rangy, but now his clothes hung from him like a scarecrow’s rags. At twenty-five, Sidley could easily be mistaken for forty. A shameful lump rose up Caleb’s throat as though he were personally responsible for his friend’s deterioration. “Albert, it’s me, Caleb Beachy.” He tipped his hat and smiled.

  “I know who you are. I ain’t addlebrained.” Albert shifted his weight between hips just as a yellow dog wandered up to sniff the intruder’s leg.

  Caleb stood very still, not trusting the dog’s intentions. “I’ve come home, been back since December. I was wondering how you were.”

  Albert’s hooded lids drooped. “Took ya six months to come ’round? Sounds like I wasn’t the top of your list of priorities.”

  Albert so badly mispronounced the final word Caleb needed a moment to decipher it. “I helped James Weaver make maple sugar until the sap stopped running, and then I went to work for my daed.”

  “How’d that work out?” Albert reached down to ruffle the dog’s fur. The mutt’s leg began scratching his hind flank in reflex.

  “Not so well.” Caleb laughed, relaxing somewhat. “This morning he replaced me with a carpenter from a town south of Millersburg.”

  Nodding, Albert glanced over his shoulder as a younger sibling approached.

  “Is that your little bruder, Elijah?” Caleb stared at the boy. Although not as thin or wasted appearing as Albert, Elijah was muddy from head to toe.

  “Who else?” Albert mumbled. “He’s been mucking out the hog pen and apparently he forgot to use a shovel.”

  Elijah stopped ten feet from Caleb. “We got us a pregnant hog this Englischer didn’t want no more. Now we got eleven piglets. We’ll have us some good ham and bacon to smoke come fall.” His smile revealed white teeth in stark contrast to his dirty face.

  “You go on now and shower off,” Albert spoke softly. “And put on some clean duds too. Leave those on the porch. I want to visit my old pal without you for an audience.” Unlike Elijah’s, Albert’s clothes were clean. Plus someone had sewn a cloth patch over the right knee.

  Elijah sauntered off with the dog at his heels. Once he reached the porch, the boy stripped bare as the day he was born. The dog ran off as soon as Elijah entered the house.

  Caleb watched, speechless with shock. No Amish person would ever disrobe in front of strangers, especially not outdoors. Of course, normal Amish homes were neat and tidy beyond reproach. Throughout his entire life, Caleb had never seen a farm in such a miserable state of disrepair. “Where are your other bruders?” asked Caleb, eager for conversation to dispel his growing uneasiness. Although barely nine o’clock, sweat ran down and dripped off his chin.

  “If we’re gonna chat, let’s sit in the shade.” Albert pointed at two lime green chairs under a tree. Along the way, he offered a full explanation for the unusual color. “Somebody threw a can of paint out their car window. I found it in the ditch, and there was enough to paint these chairs. First I sanded them to bare metal so the rust wouldn’t come back so fast.”

  “They look good. And they still rock somewhat too.” As Caleb leaned back to demonstrate his focus landed on a doghouse, perhaps home to the yellow mongrel. Like the two chairs, the doghouse sported a fresh coat of paint along with a red shingled roof. Fresh straw poked from the opening and covered the ground all around the doghouse. Compared to the Sidley residence, the dog’s accommodations were downright luxurious. “Tell me about your family.” Caleb turned his attention back to his friend.

  “My bruder Joe went to Indiana to look for work. The second youngest is hiding out in the woods some
where. Tobias will be back for supper. An empty belly brings him home every night.”

  “How’s your father?” Caleb interlaced his fingers across his belly.

  Albert’s sociable expression faded to one of pure contempt. “How do ya think he is? Barely gets off the couch these days. Sometimes I gotta bring him supper on a tray like this was some kinda hotel. Daed chows it down without even bothering to sit up.” Albert shook his head, sending his lank hair into his eyes. “But at least he quit drinking.”

  At long last, the truth about his suspicion. “There’s a blessing,” Caleb said.

  Albert snorted. “Too late to make any difference. Only reason Daed stopped is because he’s too weak to walk up into the hills. He made corn whiskey for years at a still he built. One night Joe and I followed him when he thought we were doin’ our chores.”

  “Nobody ever found out about the still?”

  “Nope. Daed never told anyone and never sold any whiskey. When Joe and I caught him red-handed, he said it was for medicinal purposes.” Albert spat on the ground. “How stupid did he think we were? Medicine? Liquor is the reason his liver and lungs are shot.” Releasing the weariest of sighs, Albert leaned back and closed his eyes as though taking a nap.

  Caleb was uncertain what to do. Should he keep up the banter of conversation? Creep away silently and come back tomorrow? Or close his eyes and try to catch forty winks? “Sorry to hear about your father’s health,” he said after a pause.

  “You were curious ’bout my family...well, now you’ve got your answers.” Albert spoke without opening his eyelids. “As for me? I’m fine and dandy, but this place might blow away in the next strong wind.”

  “How come the district hasn’t helped with a frolic?” Caleb asked hesitantly, unsure about his friend’s pride.

  Albert took no offense. “They tried plenty of frolics over the years you were gone. At first Daed let them come and just stayed out of their way. Afterward he complained about those nosy do-gooders, and why can’t folks just mind their own business. But he sure dug into the food they left behind.” Albert shook his head. “And he never refused new quilts or blankets with the cold winters we’ve been havin’. For the last couple years, he stopped letting folks inside the house.” Albert pinned Caleb with haunted eyes. “I think he’s afraid people will notice how sick he is and take him to a hospital. Or maybe a nursing home. Every day he says he wants to die right here where he was born.”

  “I don’t think outsiders can force him to leave.”

  Albert spat again next to his chair. “We’ll see ’bout that if Englischers get involved. When the district came for the last frolic, Daed ran them off with scatter shot. If you shoot at people, they usually don’t come back.” Albert moistened his lips with his tongue.

  “You got a point there.” Caleb turned his focus toward the back door.

  “Don’t worry. Daed’s probably passed out. Or maybe he recognized you when you walked up the drive. I think he used to like you, so he probably won’t shoot.” Albert’s voice contained a hint of his former self.

  “Hopefully he still likes me, because I aim to be a one-man work frolic.” Caleb pushed up from the lime green chair.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nein. I have no job, but I’ve got tools and I’m strong like a bull.” Caleb flexed a bicep as some of his old personality returned. “With your help we can fix up this place. Not to tour-of-homes caliber, but maybe how it was when your mamm was alive.”

  Albert reflected for a moment. “I’ve kept the roof patched. If you let rain get in, you’ll end up with crumbling walls and buckling floors.”

  “In that case, our job won’t even be very hard.” Caleb grinned wryly.

  “Ach, materials cost money. I ain’t got any and you just lost a job with a paycheck.”

  “Let me worry about materials. My daed works commercial construction. You’ve got no idea how much stuff is thrown in the dumpster at the end of each project. Daed has plenty stored in our old barn as long as you’re not that particular.”

  Albert scratched the thick beard on his chin—something a single Amish man wasn’t permitted to grow. “Look around—do we look picky? But why are you doin’ this? What’s in it for you?”

  Caleb knew better than to reply carelessly. “I ran into trouble in Cleveland. Now I have things to live down that I don’t want to talk about. I’m not an Englischer, but I don’t feel very Amish either. If we work together this summer, maybe I can forget the past and start over.”

  Albert gazed over a weedy pasture where his yellow dog chased an unseen critter. Overhead, buzzards circled ominously while the oppressive sun slipped behind a cloud. “Stuck in between worlds, eh? That’s pretty much how I feel. We might as well give it a try. I ain’t got nothing better to do.” Without another word, Albert rose and started walking toward the barn.

  Caleb jumped to his feet to follow. After all, they would have time for more small talk in the weeks to come.

  On Saturday evening, Josie waited for Caleb with far too much anticipation regarding their second date. She hadn’t been able to keep her mind on chores all week. Josie and her sisters picked strawberries until their spines were as bent as ninety-year-olds and juice permanently stained their fingers. Then she and Mamm canned twenty-five pints of strawberry preserves, enough to last through winter. Since Caleb had a long buggy ride home after work, he no longer had time to sit on her porch in the evening. But she would see him tonight, and unless she stopped grinning, her family would know how head over heels in love she’d fallen with Sarah’s prodigal brother.

  Caleb’s horse trotted up their drive at exactly the appointed hour. Josie flew down the steps to greet him before his buggy rolled to a stop. “Guder nachmittag! How are you, Cal?”

  “Fine and dandy, Miss Yoder.” He jumped down and leaned against the wheel. “You look particularly fetching in that purple dress.”

  “Danki, but this shade is called mauve, not purple.” Josie clasped her hands behind her back.

  “Going to be one of those afternoons, jah?” Caleb winked.

  “Yep. After spending five days with Yoder females, I’m in rare form.”

  “In that case, where would you like to go? We could get pizza in Shreve, or try that tourist buffet, or maybe go for ice cream? We probably shouldn’t attempt the movies unless we want to end up on your daed’s bad side.” Laughing, he ducked his head with embarrassment.

  “No, we don’t need to spend money to have fun.”

  Caleb’s head snapped up. “I’m not broke, Josie. I’ve got last week’s paycheck, plus extra put aside from the previous week.”

  “Don’t get your dander up. I only meant I prefer a picnic down by the gristmill. It’s cool by the river, and without horses around we won’t be bothered by flies.” She scratched the gelding’s muzzle.

  “In that case, I’ll turn this old swayback into the paddock and wash up at the pump. Your plan sounds better than mine.”

  “I’ll get our lunch and meet you behind the barn.” Josie ran to the house and quickly loaded the food into a hamper. When she spotted her father cutting the strawberry pie she’d baked for Caleb, she refrained from pulling the plate from his hand. Going dessert-less would be better than not going at all...or with one of her sisters along to chaperone.

  Caleb stood waiting on the path, hat in hand. “I was afraid you’d changed your mind.”

  “It’s only been ten minutes. You need to slow your expectations to Amish time.” As soon as she spoke, she regretted her thoughtlessness. Caleb didn’t need to be reminded of his former estrangement.

  But Caleb didn’t seem to mind. “You’re not kidding. I’m learning how long repairs take without an Englischer with power tools nearby and with only unskilled helpers.”

  Josie fell into an easy stride at his side. “Are you referring to work at the Sidleys’? How’s that going?”

  “It’s going better than I figured. According to Albert, the foundation and
walls of the house are sound, but I’ve yet to step inside.”

  “He doesn’t want you to see how they live.” Josie shuddered involuntarily. Having been to a frolic there a long time ago, she preferred never to return.

  “Maybe, but eventually he’ll have to let me in. We’ve already repaired the fence around the entire farm with posts I found out back and an extra roll of barbed wire from Daed. The pasture will need to be disked and reseeded in the fall, but grass will have to wait. First we’ll install a new roof on the barn with rubber leftover from the Millersburg warehouse. Like my father, Bob has saved all kinds of stuff in his pole barn. He dropped off roofing materials yesterday, and said he will bring more as needed.”

  “Very generous of him. Does Albert help, or are you doing all the labor yourself?”

  Caleb shrugged. “Albert works very hard and he has some good ideas. Lately, his brother Elijah has also started pitching in.”

  “That surprises me. None of the Sidleys worked at the frolic I attended. They stood on the porch steps, scowling.” Josie shivered a second time, remembering the scruffy condition of the youngest boy.

  “It’s different with only me there.” Caleb reached for her hand once they were beyond view of the house. “I’ve noticed a change in all of them within five days.”

  “How so?” She loved the strong feel of his callused hand around hers.

  “Elijah took a bath and put on clean clothes.”

  Josie burst out laughing.

  “It’s not funny. That family needs our prayers, not our ridicule.” Caleb’s admonishment was soft as a baby’s breath.

  “Mir leid, forgive my reaction. I will pray for the Sidleys tonight. And request a dose of sensitivity for me.”

  “You’re already a sensitive woman.” Caleb kissed the back of her fingers. “But it’s hard dealing with folks so long away from the Amish flock.”

  “Why do you suppose they live like hermits? Does John still grieve for his late wife?”

  As the historic gristmill loomed into view, Caleb paused on the path to admire. “I think there’s more to his separation than grief. John has had a drinking problem for years. Now alcohol has damaged his health.” Caleb’s hand tightened around hers. “That information isn’t to be repeated. I don’t want my friend’s family subject to cruel gossip.”