A Plain Man

by Mary Ellis

  So much time wasted in Cleveland.

  So much money wasted in Cleveland.

  And so many mistakes to live down. Between now and baptism, he and Josie must cross some troubled waters—something he’d hoped to avoid for the rest of his life.

  When the preaching service concluded, he found Josie helping her grossmammi to a lawn chair in the shade. He waited patiently until she delivered a glass of lemonade and then approached with hat in hand. “Care to take a walk with me, Josie? Or maybe a Sunday drive in the country?”

  “We live in the country, Cal, and have done so our entire lives. Where else would we go?” Perching one hand on her hip, she looked adorable when piqued...and adorable when things were right-as-rain.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe to the bike trail to watch the riders whizzing past at great speeds, as though the trail actually went somewhere other than sleepy little Millersburg.”

  Josie massaged her grandmother’s shoulders. “They’ll probably be in just as big a hurry on their way back. But what about lunch? I prepared a huge bowl of four-bean salad especially for you. And you want to rush off like those Englischers?”

  “Don’t be a stick in the mud,” said Grossmammi. “Take a few sandwiches for the ride with a thermos of drinks. Maybe there’ll still be beans when you return.” She reached up to pat Josie’s hand.

  “Fat chance any will be left,” Caleb said in English since the expression had no meaning in Deutsch. “Josie’s salad is the best.”

  The elder Yoder nodded in agreement.

  “All right, I’ll make sandwiches while you hitch the horse. We’ll meet at your buggy in fifteen minutes.” Josie brushed a kiss across her grandmother’s forehead and skipped off without a backward glance.

  So like Josie—not a woman to ponder or vacillate or discuss plans endlessly. Just set a course of action, whether for the afternoon or the rest of your life, and go for it.

  In exactly a quarter of an hour, Caleb helped her into his open buggy. “What type of sandwiches do we have?” He flicked the reins lightly on the horse’s back.

  “Ham and Swiss on rye with mustard. They’re my favorite. Will that be okay?” Josie turned her dazzling green eyes in his direction but didn’t wait for an answer. “Your schwester Rebekah followed me around the buffet table, very curious about what we’re doing. I thought she might ask to tag along. What’s going on with her?”

  He shrugged. “Rebekah is having difficulty being sixteen years old. She wants to grow up but can’t quite figure out how. I need to be more patient with her.”

  Josie issued a sound similar to a snort. “Good luck. Rebekah will create a ball of trouble if none’s waiting when she arrives. Where are we headed?”

  “To the booming metropolis of Fredericksburg. We’ll watch the river flowing under the bridge if the cyclists don’t interest you.”

  “Fine with me. Maybe I’ll cool my heels if there’s a place to sit on the bank.”

  “So, Josie, why don’t you fill me in on what I missed during the last five years?”

  “You mean in our district?”

  “Nein, in your life.”

  Josie’s expression turned skeptical. “You’re teasing, right? What do you suppose I did? You’re the one who left for a grand adventure. I stayed in town and planted five gardens, pulled millions of weeds, picked thousands of vegetables, and canned corn, cucumbers, lima beans, beets, green beans, peas, potatoes, okra, and spinach.” She ticked off her impressive list on her fingers. “And those are what come readily to mind. I’ll save the fascinating stories about laundry and cleaning for another day.”

  “Didn’t you get a job at some point?” Caleb prodded the horse into a fast trot.

  Josie pivoted toward him on the seat. “I did take care of an Englischer’s boppli when she went back to work. But after six months, the woman decided it wasn’t worth it, not once she added up the cost of fancy clothes, gas for her car, and paying me. So Mrs. Wilson quit and stayed home. Now she’s expecting another.” Josie smiled. “I still get to babysit a few times a year.”

  “You didn’t work anywhere else? How about a restaurant, or gift shop, or maybe a B&B like my sisters?”

  She shook her head. “What’s this about? Are you worried I’m lazy or useless? Good grief. I’ll ask Mamm to fill out a list of how much work I do at home. Maybe Grossmammi will testify on my behalf regarding the dawdi haus.”

  They locked gazes for a moment and then burst into laughter.

  “I’ll accept your word that you didn’t spend those years in a hammock, reading romance novels.” Caleb wiggled his eyebrows.

  “You forget the part about eating bonbons.”

  “Not in my mental picture, I didn’t.” They laughed again, sending birds flying from overhead branches. “Sorry,” he said, sobering. “I don’t think you’re lazy, but I’m curious how you spent your running-around years. Were there places you wanted to visit or things you wanted to do before baptism? Where have you gone?”

  “Let me think.” Josie looked toward the clouds. “I went to the Akron Zoo and out to dinner at a Mexican restaurant. They had the best tortilla chips. And I went canoeing in Loudonville.”

  “Did you camp in a tent?” he asked.

  “No, a bus brought us home. But it was after midnight when they dropped me off in my driveway. Is that worth extra points on your tally board?”

  “At least an additional ten. What about an overnight trip to see the ocean or the mountains? Didn’t you want to go to Disney World?”

  Josie shrugged. “The travel bug never bit me like you and Sarah. Don’t worry about me, Caleb. Even if I never see a larger body of water than Charles Mill Reservoir, I can still die a happy woman.”

  “So at least you’ve been there.”

  She punched him in the arm. “Yes, and I brought home a nasty case of poison ivy as a souvenir.”

  Caleb snaked his arm around the back of the seat as the buggy rolled downhill into Fredericksburg—a town so quiet people didn’t bother locking their doors at night. Josie waved at locals who were strolling the main thoroughfare, eating ice-cream cones.

  “Let’s park near those picnic tables.” She pointed at a gravel parking area close to the bike path.

  Caleb dutifully applied the brake and tugged on the reins. His gelding tossed his head but slowed down to a walk. “What about courting?” Caleb waited to ask until he’d tied the reins to a post. “Didn’t you date while I lived in Cleveland?”

  Josie pulled the picnic basket from the back, her mouth scrunching into a frown. “I’ve courted a few men before you. You’re not my first beau, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She sat, but didn’t swing her legs under the table.

  “Who were they?” he asked. “Or are their identities a deep, dark secret?”

  Handing him a sandwich, Josie looked rather bewildered. “I’m not sure why this is important, but I courted Benjamin Fisher and Joel Bent.” She filled their cups with lemonade until they nearly overflowed.

  Caleb repeated the names, trying to put faces to the names. But he couldn’t remember meeting either man at preaching and didn’t recall them from school either. “Were they from a different district—or Mennonite perhaps?”

  Josie’s complexion darkened a shade. “They are Old Order, same as us. Joel moved out west with his parents, and I seldom saw Ben after our last redistricting. I believe he’s courting a Miller girl, if you’re worried he still pines for me.”

  Caleb knew he should change the subject. It was none of his business. Yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The thought of Ben or Joel holding her hand or kissing her soft lips sent him into a jealous rage. “I was curious why I didn’t know them.”

  “And I don’t know why you’re so inquisitive. You don’t hear me demanding to know who you dated while you were gone. That’s in your past—over and done with.” She took a small bite of ham and cheese.

  “Kristen,” he said.

  Josie was about to take a second
bite before she realized he had spoken. “What?”

  “The name of the woman I’d been involved with was Kristen. There were several others, but I honestly can’t remember their names.” His collar grew tight and suffocating under the shady canopy of the town park.

  “Fine, your former girlfriend’s name was Kristen. For some reason, it was important you told me, and now you have. Can we get on with lunch? You haven’t touched your sandwich and I plan to go wading before we head back.” Her face returned to its carefree composure.

  “There’s plenty more to the story.” His voice turned raspy, his mouth dry, as he rolled up his right sleeve.

  Josie blinked several times. “That is awful, positively dreadful.” She pressed both hands to her throat.

  “I agree. It’s something I’m ashamed of and deeply regret. If I could remove it I would, but I can’t. So I’m asking you to forgive me.”

  She peered at the tattoo and then glanced down at her lap. “There’s nothing to forgive. You did a stupid thing that has nothing to do with me, but the past is the past. I’m more interested in our future.”

  Josie had said the right thing—the perfect words that should have eased his mind. Yet for some reason, tension still surrounded their picnic table like a fog. Caleb believed that for the first time, the woman he loved had just lied to him.

  “Mamm, do you think I’m lazy?”

  With her concentration focused on sorting clothes, Margaret Yoder took a moment to glance up. “What?”

  “Am I lazy? Or do I give people the impression I don’t do my fair share of work?” Josie stuffed dark trousers and shirts into the washing machine.

  “You’ve never heard me complain once about you. What’s this about, dochder?”

  “Yesterday when I went for a ride with Caleb, he asked me plenty of peculiar questions.” Josie reached for another shirt in an effort to evade her mother’s eye.

  “What do you mean, peculiar? If you want my opinion, you’ll have to be more specific.”

  “He asked me if I ever worked at a real job. Maybe he’s afraid of getting saddled with a lazy wife. The only job I ever held was for Mrs. Wilson, watching her boppli when she went back to work. Caleb sounded surprised I never clerked in a store or waited on people at the buffet restaurant.”

  “Most Old Order gals stay home if their families don’t need extra income. There’s plenty for women to do around a farm. Your job is to learn to cook and clean and can garden produce, not refill glasses of iced tea in some tourist trap.” Margaret punctuated her opinion of girls working the tourist industry with a click of her tongue. “However, you don’t seem to have mastered laundry. That basket of wet clothes sits while you stare into space.”

  Picking up the basket, Josie followed her mamm out to the clothesline. “In the city, he probably knew women who managed their households and held down full-time careers.”

  “Englisch women don’t usually cook and bake from scratch. Plus their canned food comes from the grocery store. Is that what Caleb asked—how busy you stay during the day?” Frowning, Margaret crossed her arms over her ample chest.

  “Jah, and he asked what I’ve done during rumschpringe thus far. I had little to tell him.” Josie picked up one of her father’s shirts and pinned it to the line.

  Mamm hung a row of dark socks in quick succession. “He probably wanted to make sure you saw and did what you needed to before becoming a wife and mother. You’re reading too much into his questions, dochder.” Margaret pinned the rest of the shirts to the line and started across the lawn with the empty basket balanced on one hip.

  Josie hurried after her. “He also asked who I courted while he was living in Cleveland.”

  That stopped her mamm in her tracks. “He’s got no cause to be questioning you. You’re not the one who ran off with a wild group of Englischers.”

  “I don’t think his carpenter friends were exactly wild.”

  “Nevertheless.” She dragged out the word for emphasis. “Caleb had better not cast any accusations on a Yoder girl. Or I’ll march over to the Beachys with my porch broom.”

  Josie dropped their topic of conversation, but couldn’t stop thoughts of Caleb quite so easily. As soon as they finished with laundry, she slipped on her sneakers and headed down the path for a heart-to-heart with her best friend.

  Sarah usually arrived home from Country Pleasures around lunchtime, except for spring or fall cleaning days. With perfect timing, Josie spotted Sarah and Rebekah on the lane from the inn to their house. They were smiling while they chatted—a good sign Rebekah wasn’t in her normal crusty mood.

  Josie hid behind a tree until the sisters walked by and then she jumped out to startle them. “Hi, girls!” she said.

  Once her feet landed on gravel, Sarah turned on her. “Will you still pull that old childhood prank when we’re gray-haired old grannies?”

  “Most likely if I can still get behind a tree with my cane.”

  “Josie, you have a wicked sense of humor.” Rebekah shook her index finger and ran the rest of the way home. The two friends were left in her dust.

  “Worked like a charm, once again.” Sarah flashed a toothy smile.

  “I had something to discuss that required privacy and your undivided attention.”

  “Ah, sounds like you seek knowledge from someone older and wiser than you.” Sarah swung her tote bag like a schoolgirl.

  “You’re only four months older and even the wiser part is debatable. But I do need your advice in the romance department. You have been courting Adam for ages now. That should make you an expert.” As they rounded a curve the Beachy house loomed into view.

  “You’re starting to sound like him,” Sarah cautioned, “but I’ll do my best. Go wait by the tire swing in the orchard. I want to wash off the dust and grab us a couple Cokes.”

  Josie’s optimism rose a notch. If anybody knew Caleb it would be his sister. Hadn’t Sarah tracked him down in Cleveland with nothing more than an old mailing address? She sought reasons for his leaving the Amish church and their family when he was nineteen. Sarah must have found answers, because she not only returned promptly, but Caleb came home soon after.

  With her feet dangling in the air, Josie waited in the sunshine and cool breeze. “I thought you’d forgotten me,” she called the moment she spotted Sarah.

  “Relax.” Sarah handed her a cool drink. “What’s got you stymied on a Monday? Some horrible laundry stain refuses to budge from your favorite dress?” With a push of the tire, Sarah sent her soaring.

  Josie dragged her feet through the dirt. “It’s your bruder. He’s been asking odd questions and doesn’t seem excited about planning our future.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “Oh, dear, man-type questions. Purple juice stains on white linen would be much easier to tackle. But I’ll try my best.”

  “Cal has been asking about my past beaus. That has me worried.”

  “You have so few past beaus, why should it concern you?” Sarah shoved the tire a second time.

  Josie jumped off the swing and faced Sarah eye to eye...or as close as possible when one person stood five-ten and the other was barely five feet. “I suspect he has plenty of history he wants to share, but doesn’t know how to broach the subject.”

  “I believe your suspicion is correct.” Sarah held the frosty soda bottle to her cheek.

  Josie waited for additional comments to no avail. “Caleb showed me the ugly tattoo he can’t get rid of.”

  Sarah’s brown eyes turned round as saucers. “He rolled up his sleeve?”

  “Jah, it seemed important I discover his stupid mistake now, in case it made a difference regarding our future.”

  “And does it?” Her eyes narrowed into slits.

  “It does not. I love your brother. People make mistakes—nobody is perfect.”

  Whistling through her teeth, Sarah plopped into the empty swing. “I’m glad to hear that. I had my heart set on you for a sister-in-law.”

  “Me too
, but Caleb thinks I should know about every Englischer he dated. Whatever happened in the city made him so suspicious about my running-around years.”

  Sarah shook her head from side to side. “That’s something you should ask him. I don’t want to get in the middle of problems or cause any new ones.”

  “You don’t understand. I’m not interested in who he dated or what he did on rumschpringe. We’re taking classes to prepare for baptism. Soon our sins will be washed away; our lives will begin anew. We start with a clean slate after we’re baptized.”

  Sarah abandoned the swing and wrapped an arm around Josie’s waist. “That’s what you should tell him—you want to leave the past exactly where it’s buried.”

  “If I say that will Caleb relax and stop fretting so much?”

  “Jah, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Josie saw the truth instantly in Sarah’s eyes, even though her words said something altogether different.

  Sarah loved to let herself in the back door of the inn while the guests slept and Mrs. Pratt was still in the shower. The house was peaceful yet somehow filled with the anticipation. People on vacation or getaway weekends were universally in good moods. That was why she enjoyed cooking and serving breakfast here. Not only was the work easy in a beautiful house, but everyone was so nice. Besides, Mrs. Pratt gave her plenty of delicious recipes she never would have learned from Mamm. Not that her future husband would expect fancy casseroles or layered fruit and cream parfaits each morning. Adam was a simple man in their Plain culture. A bowl of oatmeal and a glass of milk, a sandwich with a shiny apple, and meat loaf with green beans and boiled potatoes could satisfy his daily requirements for the rest of his life.

  Sarah washed, slipped on a white apron, and started the huge coffee-maker. Early risers would soon venture from their rooms seeking a cup of coffee before their showers. Mrs. Pratt had left a brief to-do list on the counter before going to bed, but she entered the kitchen before Sarah had a chance to read it.