by Mary Ellis
Josie squeezed his fingers in return. “You have my word, Caleb. I’m glad you called Albert your friend—sounds like he sure could use one.”
“You’ve got no idea.” Caleb snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “He told me about his father firing pellets at district members. John doesn’t want people to see how bad things are.”
Josie thought for a moment and then spoke frankly. “You can’t help people without their cooperation. And where on earth did John Sidley buy alcohol? He would have to take his buggy to Wooster or to Millersburg. I can’t imagine him traveling so far very often. People would find out.”
Caleb also reflected before replying. “He had a still up in the woods.”
“The wild, wild West, right here in Fredericksburg?”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not poking fun, but you must admit this is an unbelievable situation that apparently went on behind the bishop’s back.”
“True enough. I doubt my daed knows. He thinks Sidley is still depressed about losing his fraa in childbirth. And if John found a new wife, all would be well.”
“Not for the new wife in that kitchen,” Josie muttered, and then held up her palms. “I’m sorry. I promised not to poke fun, but that house scares me. During the frolic I used their outhouse because it was the lesser of two evils.”
“That’s what I aim to fix.” Caleb steadied her arm as they picked their way down to the gristmill. Tall grass and tumbled stones had turned the trail treacherous. “Tell me this place doesn’t inspire awe, even without a roof.” Caleb cleverly changed the subject from the Sidleys.
“It’s my favorite spot in three counties.” Josie ducked her head to enter the low doorway. “This piece of history warms my heart on even the coldest winter day.”
He led her to a low wall where she spread her small quilt. “Mine too. It’s a good spot to clear your head of cobwebs.” Caleb sat and dangled his legs over the edge.
“Are you certain John Sidley is ill?” Josie pulled a thermos of tea from the hamper.
Caleb nodded. “According to Albert, he’s very sick. He sleeps most of the day and can barely sit up to eat his meals.”
Dropping her chin, Josie uttered a prayer for the man she had so recently mocked. Please, Lord, I pray for John’s recovered health or his painless passing to the life yet to come. When she opened her eyes, she saw Caleb was also in prayer. “Will you talk to your father about how the district could help him?”
“No, I will not.” Caleb locked eyes with her. “John Sidley fears being taken from his house. It might not meet our standards, but it is his home.”
“He probably needs to see a doctor and be put on medication. Without proper care, he might die.” Josie handed him a drink.
Caleb kicked a clump of debris on the plank floor. “Jah, he probably will.”
Josie reached for his hand. “When your dog was sick, you took Shep to the vet. Would you do any less for a human being?”
Every ounce of color drained from Caleb’s face, while a vein bulged from the side of his neck.
“Forgive me. I’ve said too much and overstepped the boundaries of friendship.”
“Nein, you have every right to voice your opinion…even if you weren’t my girl.” His lips curled into a smile. “And since you are my girl, feel free to overstep the boundaries left and right.” He drained the contents of his glass as she spread the containers of food across the quilt.
“Did you speak to him?” Josie spread the containers of food across the quilt.
“No, we’ve had plenty to keep us busy outdoors, but soon I will speak to John. Albert thinks if a doctor or someone from the county comes, they will cart his father away in an ambulance. Who knows what laws Englischers have invented regarding old people? John would surely die of sorrow in a hospital. Albert doesn’t want this on his conscience and neither do I.”
She nodded. “I trust you will do the right thing.”
“As long as God shows me what that is. If given the chance, I’ll try to convince John to seek medical help. You can rest assured of that.”
Josie wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him in an improper fashion for two people who hadn’t announced their engagement. “You’re a good man, Cal Beachy.”
“So are you, Josie Yoder. Although I recently noticed you’re not a man at all.” His laughter lifted the somber mood in the ancient mill.
“I’ll not talk about this to anyone and I will keep the Sidleys in my prayers. In the meantime, let’s eat. This is a picnic, no?”
“It is.” Caleb took a chicken breast and picked off the breading piece by piece. “This tastes gut. Who made this, your mamm?”
“No, not my mamm.”
“One of your sisters then?”
“It was me! Put it back if you think I’ve poisoned you.” Jumping up, Josie attempted an indignant pose.
“Afraid for my life? Nope. I wanted to make sure the correct Yoder received the highest compliment I can pay someone.” Caleb wiggled his eyebrows. “This chicken is even better than my mamm’s.”
Gasping, Josie pressed her palm against her chest. “Even better than Elizabeth Beachy’s?”
“I tell no lies.” He took a huge bite.
“In that case I have decided to kiss you, so put down that chicken.” Josie scooted along the stone wall.
“Can’t this wait until after lunch?” Caleb licked the tips of his fingers.
Josie grabbed the piece of chicken, dropped it back into the container, and planted a kiss firmly on his mouth. It was short, sweet, and rather chicken-y. “How was that?” she asked, but didn’t need a verbal answer. Caleb’s expression said it all.
“Now I know you do two things better than anyone else in Wayne County,” said Caleb with a grin. “Should we forget about the picnic and just kiss until it’s time to walk home?”
Josie returned to her original spot on the wall. “Absolutely not. My parents trust me to behave properly, so we’re going to eat.” Reaching into the tub, she grabbed a wing and handed him the half-eaten breast.
For the rest of the afternoon they strolled under leafy willows along the river. They talked and laughed with no more kissing, but Josie had never enjoyed herself so much. Caleb asked questions and actually listened to her answers instead of thinking about what to say next. He was so unlike other men she’d met. Now that he’d found work he truly enjoyed, the relationship was starting to look better and better.
It might be the one she’d been waiting for all her life.
12
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.
Caleb pulled into the Sidleys’ driveway at nine o’clock as he had for the previous three weeks. The July sun already warmed his neck and soaked his hatband with sweat. But Caleb didn’t mind the heat. With no foreman or boss lurking nearby, the three of them could take coffee or water breaks whenever they chose. Yesterday Albert decided it was time for a swim midway through the afternoon, so into the creek they went. After all, who was he to argue? As he parked his buggy under the barn’s overhang, Elijah appeared out of nowhere.
“I’ll rub him down and turn him into the pasture,” said Elijah in Deutsch. He seldom uttered a word of English.
“Danki, I’ll get a bucket of water.” Caleb smiled at the boy’s improved appearance. Elijah wore coveralls that were frayed at the knees and bleached to the color of a robin’s egg, but he and his clothes were clean. Apparently, Elijah had found a suitable shovel for the hog pen.
“Gonna be another hot one.” Albert walked around the corner with two cups of coffee. Sipping one, he handed the other to Caleb.
“Just thinking the same thing.” Caleb swabbed his forehead and neck with a handkerchief.
“What’s on your task list for us today?” Swallowing a deep gulp of coffee, Albert rubbed his smooth jaw with the back of his hand.
Caleb noticed Albert had started shaving each morning, as req
uired of single men by their Ordnung. “We have repaired the fences, replaced your barn roof, and built an outdoor paddock for Elijah’s brood sow to sun herself. We jacked up the corner of the porch and put in a new flat rock foundation. Bob told me his neighbor owns a SkidSteer. The neighbor agreed to grade your driveway after the next rain in exchange for some sweet corn next month.”
“Much obliged. Now our buggy won’t throw a wheel in one of those potholes.” Albert drained the contents of his chipped mug, his expression souring. “Does that mean you’re almost finished here? Because if you are, I’m grateful for your help.”
Caleb met Albert’s pale grey gaze. “I’m not done by a long shot. It’s time to sweep out the barn and swab the loft with bleach water. The Troyers have cut and dried more hay than they can store. They only need so much covered with plastic out in the fields. Adam doesn’t want leftover hay turning moldy after the next rain. Once he finishes baling, he plans to bring over a wagonload.”
“Is this the Adam that will wed your schwester?”
“It is. He’s a gut man. The hay might be enough to see your livestock through winter. Let’s go get your loft ready.”
“Much obliged to him too. I suppose then you’ll look for a better paying job?” Albert grinned.
“Nein, I’m having too much fun here. When the loft is clean, it’s time for me to see inside your haus.”
Albert’s smile vanished. “Don’t know if my father would like that much.”
“Surely he’s noticed me around the farm.”
“Of course he has. He asks every time I come in what you’ve been up to.”
“After lunch I want to get reacquainted, face-to-face.” Caleb took hold of his friend’s shoulder. “I won’t talk about anything I see inside with anyone. You can trust me.”
Albert didn’t shrug him away. “I know that, but I would hate for you to pick buckshot from your backside all night.” As usual, he started walking toward the barn without a word of preamble.
Caleb caught up within three strides. “It’s a chance I’m willing to take for the Sidley home to be restored to its former glory.”
“To look how it did when my great-great grandfather built it?”
Caleb didn’t think that would be possible without a federal grant from Washington, but there was no point in admitting that to Albert. “Too bad we don’t have an old photo of the place.”
After Elijah finished caring for Caleb’s horse, he joined them in the loft. With three men, the barn was ready for the hay delivery by noon. They moved to the porch steps to eat sandwiches and drink honey-sweetened iced tea. Caleb kept watching the kitchen door anxiously. “Ready to head inside?” he asked, wrapping up his trash.
A frayed scrap of cloth in the window fell back into place as the Sidley brothers scrambled to their feet. Even a person with a vivid imagination couldn’t call it a curtain. “As much as we ever will be,” said Albert. “Let’s pray Daed’s in a friendly mood.”
It was Albert’s first reference to anything spiritual or religious in three weeks, but it did little to raise Caleb’s optimism. When he pushed open the warped door, he breathed a sigh of relief. There were no stacks of boxes up to the ceiling or trash bags filled with roadside discards—typical of most hoarders. No gaping holes in the floor waited to devour the unobservant or provide easy access for snakes and mice from the cellar. And Caleb spotted no dangerous black mold on the walls or ceiling, common in neglected houses with moisture problems. Caleb walked to the center of the room to assess the structure with a carpenter’s trained eye.
“I told you I patched the roof holes,” said Albert, sounding defensive.
“That was a gut idea. The load-bearing walls and floors appear sound, at least in this room.”
What he didn’t mention was the appearance of dire poverty and prolonged neglect. Nothing looked clean, although from the pattern of dust, someone had recently swept the floor. Cupboard doors were either absent or crooked due to broken hinges. Dishes and cups comprised a hodgepodge that any charitable collection center would reject, while a greenish scale clung to water spouts and faucets.
Albert peered around the room as though suddenly unfamiliar. “ ’Spose I could have done more in here, but at least I make everyone wash their dishes. I can’t abide by picking a plate from the sink and loading it with food.”
To that Caleb had no comment. Blessedly he saw no crawly critters in the sink or on the countertop. “I want to speak to your daed now,” he said.
“He’s in here.” Waving his hand, Elijah led the way as their self-appointed tour guide. While Albert hung back, Caleb followed Elijah into the living room, which reflected the same sad state as the kitchen. “I found that sofa in somebody’s yard down by the road.” Elijah pointed to the piece proudly. “Englischers throw out all kinds of decent stuff.”
Caleb murmured agreement to the boy before turning his attention to the patriarch of the family. John Sidley sat in a red vinyl chair. He wore work boots indoors as though ready for the fields. His suspenders were down, food particles spotted his shirt, and his trousers were several sizes too large for him. Although the other rooms simply smelled old, a foul odor emanated from Mr. Sidley. Decay seemed to seep from his pores like perspiration. At first, Caleb thought the man was dozing until he opened one red-rimmed eye.
“Caleb Beachy, come to see the old man at last?”
“How do, John? I thought you and I should have a chat.”
“I’ve known every time you’ve been here.” Oddly, Sidley spoke in English, not Deutsch, even though his sons talked solely in the Amish dialect.
“I had no intention of working behind your back.”
“You some kind of a do-gooder because your pa’s the bishop?” His voice sounded raspy, making his words difficult to understand.
“No, I’m here to help Albert fix up this place.”
“You ain’t touching nothing in my house. It’s fine how it is.” John Sidley spat into a coffee can on the floor. “Don’t care much what y’all do in that old barn or in those rocky, worn-out fields. Never got a good corn or hay crop, not even thirty years ago.”
“No,” said Caleb. “It’s not fine. You might choose to live like this, but you don’t have the right to force it on your sons. If you remain in your chair or on that couch I won’t bother you, but we will repair this house.” Caleb strolled to the corner of the room where a pump action shotgun leaned against the wall. A box of shells sat on a nearby three-legged table. Grabbing the gun and the shells, he turned back to the broken man. “I’ll keep these in a safe place until my work here is done. Then I will return them to you.”
“You ain’t got no right!” John half-stood from the chair and shouted to the best of his ability.
Caleb planted his feet wide, although the smell was becoming too much to bear. “Probably not, but you don’t have the right to treat Emma’s sons this way. So I figure we’re even.” It had been the first time Caleb had used the name of Albert’s mamm, but his tactic worked.
John slouched back into the stained chair. “Ach, go off with you then.”
Elijah entered the room carrying a dented can of tomato soup on a tray, along with a spoon. Apparently, Mr. Sidley preferred his soup cold. “Here’s your lunch, Daed.” When Elijah lowered the tray to his chest, John sent his lunch flying across the room. Tomato soup splashed and pooled across the floorboards.
Pulling on his earlobe, Caleb nodded to his work partners. “I think we’ll repair this room last.”
“Gut idea,” Elijah agreed, while Albert merely grunted. Then the men walked outdoors into the remarkably fresher air.
“I gotta check on my hog and piglets to see if they have enough water.” Elijah skipped off, unfazed by the soup incident.
“So the house will keep you here another month or so?” Albert’s face remained unreadable.
Caleb stared at the distant pastures where the yellow dog chased a squirrel at least half an acre away. “That’s something else
I wanted to talk to you about. What do you say we form a partnership after the repairs here are caught up, splitting the profits down the middle? We can establish our own handyman and construction business for the Amish, on a small scale, of course. We won’t take side jobs for Englischers unless we can’t find enough work. I need to distance myself from my old ways.”
“Ach, you saw how little I know about construction during the last three weeks.”
“Jah, but I also saw how fast you learn—much faster than most men.”
Albert scraped his boot heel across the porch floor. “I don’t know, Cal. Sounds like something I might like, but how can I leave the farm from sunup to sundown, especially since Joe’s off in Indiana?” He, too, focused on the yellow dog that had given up on the squirrel and was off on another adventure.
“If you want my two cents, it’s about time Tobias hangs around the house more. He needs to step up to his responsibilities if you take a job for money.”
Suddenly, a wasp stung Caleb’s upper arm through his thin cotton shirt. “Yeoow!” he howled. Jumping off the porch, Caleb rolled up his sleeve to access the sting. Unfortunately, his hasty reaction revealed the snake-infested tattoo. His arm advertised “Kristen” while his heart belonged to Josie Yoder of Fredericksburg. He dabbed a drop of saliva on the bite mark before rolling down the sleeve.
Albert hadn’t missed the display. “One of those mistakes you’re trying to live down from Cleveland?” His eyes bulged from his face like an owl’s, while revulsion radiated in waves.
“It is.” After a few uncomfortable moments, Caleb said, “Give the business proposition some thought. No need to make up your mind now. I’ll get the ladder to finish dismantling the chimney from your roof.” For the first time, he walked away from his friend...as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Josie, come downstairs, please.”