A Plain Man

by Mary Ellis

  Josie huffed out a breath. “I’ll walk to your place after supper, because we definitely need to talk.” Then she turned on her heel and marched back to the Wilsons. The threesome left through the revolving doors while Caleb remained where she’d found him—a Plain man without a rudder to guide him in this relationship...or anywhere else in life.

  Josie trudged the back path toward the Beachy home as soon as the supper dishes were put away. This conversation with Caleb was long overdue. She would not sleep until she got a few more things off her chest. Forgiveness and turning the other cheek were all well and good, but she couldn’t marry a man who wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Marriage in the Amish community was forever. Trust and respect were as important as physical attraction and love...more, if you came right down to it.

  Caleb was sitting on his porch, deep in thought, when she arrived. “Mind if I sit a spell?” Josie pointed at a rocking chair.

  His head snapped up. “Of course not. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Josie sat next to him, anticipating another sorrowful apology along with a promise of improved behavior for the future. But what she received was entirely different.

  “I had no reason to follow you to Canton today,” he said. “I gave in to my out-of-control jealousy. Because I’m a deceitful man, I assume everyone else is also untrustworthy.” Caleb rubbed a spot on his forehead where tension often collected. “But my excuses are more hollow words that no one wants to hear or believes sincere.”

  Josie chilled at his ominous tone of voice. “An apology is usually a good starting point.”

  Caleb peered up with red-rimmed eyes. “I’m sorry, Josie. I’ve done nothing but anger you and hurt your feelings. As beaux go, I’m the dregs of the barrel.” He held up his hand when she began to protest. “There’s no need to disagree. You were correct at the hospital. I’m the one keeping secrets, but I refuse to keep them any longer.”

  Her blood froze in her veins. “I told you that I’m not interested in your past.”

  “But my past has me trapped and I won’t let you marry someone you don’t know. So whether you want to hear this or not, you’re going to listen.” Inhaling a breath, Caleb stared straight ahead. “For several years in Cleveland, I drank six days out of seven. I only stopped when I had no money left to buy beer. I squandered my paycheck buying drinks for complete strangers. Sometimes I didn’t leave the bar until my last cent was gone.”

  She clamped her lips together to stem a gasp. “At least you’ve lost your taste for the stuff. Especially after witnessing what it did to John Sidley.”

  “That’s not all. I picked up women in those bars and took them home or back to their places. I had relations with women who meant nothing to me.” His dark eyes deepened to almost black.

  Josie pressed her hands to her churning belly. “Do you mean that girl named Kristen?” She gestured toward his right arm.

  He shook his head. “Many more than her. Kristen was the only one I got to know. I fancied myself in love with Kristen, but she dropped me when I lost my job.” A muscle tightened in his neck as he stared at the floorboards. “You are pure, but I’m tainted with more sins than I can count. I lied on my unemployment forms just to keep the checks rolling in. I often sneaked away from work early if the boss had left the job site. That’s stealing time from my employer. I didn’t keep the Sabbath for five straight years. And honoring God? I never prayed or went to church the entire time I was gone. Wait—make that exactly once after Sarah came to visit.” Caleb finally met her gaze. “A Catholic priest helped me decide to return.”

  “A step in the right direction.” Josie knew how weak that sounded, but she had nothing better.

  “Coming home was only a mirage in the desert. I’ve broken almost every commandment God gave Moses. My future will be no different than those who cast the golden calf the moment Moses turned his back.”

  “You don’t know that for sure. God offers grace to those who repent.”

  “Not to those who’ve fallen as far as I have. And I won’t saddle you with a lifetime with a man doomed to damnation.”

  “You can change, Cal. It’s not too late. That’s what these classes are for. Baptism will wash us clean.” Josie scooted forward on the rocker, growing more anxious by the second.

  He snorted with disgust. “Do you really believe half a cup of water will wash away my sins? Weren’t you listening to me?” Caleb was practically shouting.

  Her own ire ratcheted up a notch. “Sounds like we don’t have a future because you’re not willing to change.” Josie stood ready to bolt down the path.

  “I’ve already given up my bad behavior but nothing feels different in here.” Caleb thumped his chest with a fist. “Not anything my daed said in class or anything I’ve read has made a bit of difference. I’m still as far apart from God as I was on that barstool in Cleveland.”

  “Then we have no future.” The breeze picked up her kapp strings and sent them fluttering, but Josie ignored them. Her entire world perched on a narrow precipice.

  “No, Josie, we don’t.” Caleb sounded miserable as he buried his face in his hands. “And you have no idea how sorry that makes me.”

  For a short while, Josie remained frozen in time and space until she heard the unmistakable sound of a man crying. It was so foreign a sound she didn’t know what to do. On shaky legs she started for home...and did some crying of her own along the way.

  Sarah tucked the ribbons behind her ears and began to rock. Yet even the porch offered no reprieve from the heat. Summer was her favorite season of the year, but if this oppressive humidity didn’t break soon, she would go stark raving mad.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet today.” Elizabeth Beachy stepped onto the porch with two tall glasses of iced tea. She handed Sarah one before dropping down into an adjacent chair.

  “Danki, Mamm. It’s too hot to talk or even think, for that matter.” Sarah gripped both arms of the chair.

  Leaning back, her mother stretched out her legs. “Don’t you feel that breeze from the north? I’ll bet it’s raining in Wooster. We could sure use some down here. Wooster always gets more rain than us. Maybe those tall buildings at the college catch hold of the clouds.” Sipping her drink, Elizabeth clinked the ice cubes against her teeth.

  Sarah released her breath in exasperation. “That makes no sense. There isn’t a building on campus or downtown taller than eight stories. I would hardly say that’s up in the clouds.” She rocked harder, fanning herself with a pamphlet about fruit trees.

  Elizabeth paused for a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “I was joking, dochder, apparently not very effectively. What’s the matter with you?”

  “Mir leid, Mamm,” Sarah apologized. “My sense of humor is gone until the fall, but I have no right to snap at you.” She patted her mother’s hand, feeling the dry, paper-thin skin.

  “Autumn? I’m not sure your family or your fiancé can stand you that long.” Mamm picked up another pamphlet to help circulate the air.

  “I’ll try my best.”

  “Is everything all right—other than the weather? I saw you fall asleep during preaching this morning. I thought you enjoyed your father’s sermons.”

  “Did I hurt Daed’s feelings? His message about grace and not good works was gut, but I didn’t sleep well last night. Rebekah was snoring, plus not a bit of breeze entered our window.” Sarah dabbed her upper lip with a tissue.

  “It would take more than droopy eyelids to offend your father.” Elizabeth took a sip of tea. “I noticed you barely touched your lunch. Chicken salad with walnuts and grapes has always been one of your favorites.”

  “In my opinion, Ruth Ann added too much mayo. There’s no need to drown the chicken. The poor bird is already dead.” Sarah wiped her damp forehead.

  “Perhaps you could open a cooking school in your new house for other brides. However, I would recommend a more subtle approach than accusing Ruth Ann of attempted chicken-murder.”

  Sarah
scowled at her mamm’s second attempt at humor. “Ruth Ann is too stubborn to take culinary advice from me.”

  Elizabeth stopped rocking and pushed herself to her feet. “I see Adam coming up our driveway. It’s nice of him to stop by after taking his grossmammi to visit her friends.”

  Sarah grunted in agreement.

  “I wish him the best of luck with you today.” Elizabeth picked up her glass and headed inside the house. Sarah chuckled at her parting comment—her third attempt had finally been successful.

  With only five minutes to shake off her bad mood while Adam turned his horse into the paddock, she concentrated on pleasant thoughts of winter. Since they were mere weeks away from announcing their engagement, it wouldn’t do if she offended her third loved one in an afternoon.

  She popped a breath mint in her mouth and plastered a warm smile on her face. “Adam Troyer, the handsomest man in Wayne County, is paying me a social call,” she said.

  Her flattery always produced the same reaction. Adam flushed a deep shade of red. “Hullo, Sarah. Perhaps you need to have your vision checked the next time we’re in Wooster. You might need glasses.” He settled into the chair recently vacated by Mamm.

  “My eyesight is twenty-twenty.” She squeezed his hand affectionately. “Mrs. Pratt always asks me to read the fine print on medicine bottles or in catalogs. I don’t know what she does on my days off.”

  “She’ll purchase a pair of magnifiers at the Dollar Store because your days off are about to increase dramatically.” Adam set his straw hat on the porch rail and slouched down in the rocker.

  “What do you mean?” Sarah’s hackles rose like goosebumps on chilled skin.

  “I mean you’ll soon be hanging up your chief cook and bottle-washer apron forever. Mrs. Pratt should start advertising for your replacement. Surely she can’t manage with just Rebekah.” Adam dropped his voice to a whisper. “That girl is no Sarah Beachy.” He gave one of her kapp ribbons a tug.

  “Down the road, jah, but not yet.” She stared at a row of crows on a dead tree branch. With dozens of branches to pick from, why did they huddle close on the same limb?

  “It will be September next week. At this point in your membership classes you’re to give up rumschpringe and start following the Ordnung to the letter. I had expected you to give your notice at Country Pleasures weeks ago.”

  He didn’t raise his voice or whine, but Sarah knew Adam wasn’t happy. “I intend to, but this will be Labor Day weekend. Lee Ann not only has a full house for a family reunion, but she’s allowing the children to sleep in tents in her back garden. The reunion people will stay for three days.”

  “You’re not working on the Sabbath.” Adam stated a fact, not asked a question.

  Perspiration ran down Sarah’s face in rivulets. “No, I’m not. Lee Ann arranged temporary help from an agency to replace Rebekah and me that day. But I’ll bet we’ll serve thirty breakfasts over those two days.”

  “All right. First thing Tuesday morning you should give your two-week notice. The inn will be back to normal by then.” Adam sat up straighter. “Say, do you think there’s any tea left in the fridge? My mouth could use something wet.”

  “Of course, I’ll be right back.” Sarah sprang from her chair into the house. The errand provided an opportunity to compose her thoughts. She’d planned to quit her job, just not yet. A few minutes later she handed him a glass brimming with ice. “For my thirsty traveler.”

  “Much obliged.” Adam swallowed several gulps.

  “Now that you’re refreshed, I hope you can see my predicament clearly.” She blotted her face with her hanky.

  His expression of relief vanished. “Haven’t you been listening to your father or the other ministerial brethren in class?”

  “I’ve listened, but I believe each person’s situation is different. Labor Day starts the busiest season for Country Pleasures. Tourists flock in from Cleveland and Columbus to view autumn foliage and buy pumpkins from the produce stands.”

  Adam grimaced. “Leaves change colors throughout October. You had planned to stay until November?”

  Sarah closed her eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over her. “Well, jah. This isn’t a good time for Lee Ann to hire and train somebody new.”

  “That will be only a couple weeks before our wedding. When would you prepare our first home? The house should be finished by then, at least the starter version.”

  She swallowed hard, her throat dry and scratchy. “I promise to make time.”

  “Maybe she’s waiting for her Englisch boyfriend to come back for his riding lesson.” Rebekah appeared in the doorway, unseen until she’d spoken.

  Sarah’s head snapped around, the sudden motion triggering a second dizzy spell. “Jason is a child who stayed at the inn once, not my boyfriend. How dare you eavesdrop on our conversation?” She struggled to stand but found her legs too weak.

  “I was bringing Adam some cookies that I baked and couldn’t help but overhear.” Rebekah set a plate of sugar cookies on the railing. “I’d wondered whether you’d told Adam about Jason.”

  Adam looked from one sister to the other, bewildered.

  “No, because there was no reason.” Sarah finally struggled to her feet. “If you’ll both excuse me, I need to lie down.” She clung to every piece of furniture between her chair and the door.

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Adam jumped up to support her elbow.

  “The heat has gotten to me today. I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.” Her words sounded oddly muffled in her ears. Ignoring Rebekah, Sarah forced a smile for Adam. Then she staggered inside and practically crawled up the steps to her room.

  16

  Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,

  Seal it for Thy courts above.

  Despite a ferocious thunderstorm surrounding the Yoder house, supper conversation carried on like usual. Kerosene lamps might have been lit earlier than usual, but no one else seemed concerned that the skies had opened with a deluge. But Josie had noticed. She jolted in her chair with each bolt of lightning and subsequent rumble of thunder.

  “Something wrong with you, dochder?” asked Margaret, ever observant of her kinner.

  Josie shoved her lima beans to the opposite side of the plate. “No, I’m fine.”

  “You’ve been moping around for days, jumping at every strange noise.” Her mother set down her fork to devote her undivided attention.

  “I don’t like thunderstorms.” Josie spoke just as another brilliant blaze illuminated the room.

  “Since when?” Laura peered at her. “When we were little, you would press your face to the bedroom window so as not to miss a single flash, while Jessie and I cowered under the bed.”

  Josie aimed a meaningful glare at her sister—something she’d been doing often lately. “I used to stomp through mud puddles as a kid too. You don’t see me doing that anymore, do you?”

  “Who knows what you do when our backs are turned?” Laura winked with mischief.

  Josie smiled at the memory of playing in the rain. Why did every pleasant reminiscence underscore how miserable she was now? She stabbed a row of beans in succession, forcing herself to eat to deflect further scrutiny. However, she wasn’t to remain under Mamm’s radar for long. While washing dishes, a serving bowl slipped from her sudsy fingers and shattered on the floor. It was a common occurrence in most households, yet coupled with the tempest raging outside, the crash pushed Josie’s frayed nerves to the breaking point. She burst into tears like a six-year-old.

  Margaret responded like a mother hen with one of her chicks in peril. Shutting off the water taps, she snaked her arm around Josie’s waist. “Jessie, go tell Laura to come help with kitchen cleanup. We’re switching Laura’s night off. I need some private time with your schwester.”

  Jessie bolted down the hallway as Josie bent to pick up the pieces. “I’m sorry about the bowl. I’ll be more careful. Laura doesn’t need to do my work.” Josie quickly dabbed her eyes with he
r apron.

  “Jah, she does. Because it’s not a discount store bowl I’m worried about. Why don’t we stroll to the barn where we can talk, woman to woman?” Margaret pulled her apron over her head.

  Despite her sour mood, Josie snickered. “Am I the only one to notice it’s raining outside?”

  “Your daed and I are thrilled about the rain. It’s perfect timing for the final crop of hay. And you won’t melt from a little water. I have this clever contraption we can use.” Margaret lifted the plain black umbrella from its hook by the door.

  “Why do you want to go to the barn? Our chores are done.” Josie cleared a patch of condensation from the windowpane.

  “That’s not why we’re taking a walk.” Mamm dragged her along as though she were a naughty child.

  Josie grabbed her outer bonnet and stopped resisting her mother’s unflappable will.

  When Margaret stepped onto the porch she breathed deeply. “Do you smell that? Lightning must have struck nearby. I don’t know what it’s called, but I love that smell.”

  “It’s called ozone. And you’re the only one who appreciates it.” Josie huddled close for their march across the lawn. The soles of her house slippers were instantly soaked through. “If I’d known we’re going on an adventure, I would have put on leather boots.” They ducked inside the barn where the interior smelled sweetly of stored hay in the loft, along with a sour tang from horse stalls in need of fresh bedding.

  “Worry not about your feet for one moment.” Margaret lowered her umbrella to her side. “I want you to unburden your heart. Why have you been brooding for a week as though your favorite pet just died?”

  Josie glanced around for an escape route, but Mamm was blocking the doorway. She released a sigh with feelings of impending doom. “I have no reason not to tell you, other than I’d hoped it wasn’t true. There will be no engagement to announce this fall.” Her tears returned with fresh intensity.

  Margaret’s demeanor instantly sobered. “Dear me, I feared that was the case. What happened? Did Cal change his mind about taking the kneeling vow? Is he not ready to commit to our ways?” She broke eye contact. “Of course, if you don’t wish to discuss the matter, I understand.”