A Plain Man (8 page)

Caleb turned away, grabbing frantically for his shirt. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Let me see it,” Eli demanded, holding Caleb's arm steady to get a better look. Twin snakes writhed and coiled around a fancy red heart. Inside the name
Kristen
had been inscribed in an old-fashioned script. Red outlined the bottom of the letters as though blood dripped from her name. “Vipers! That is an abomination.” He didn't attempt to hide his disgust. “What kind of unholy alliances did you form in the city? Were you in some kind of cult?” He whispered the last word as though afraid of invoking evil.

Caleb pulled away from him and turned back to the stationary tub. He thrust his arms beneath the taps and scrubbed with the bar of Lifebuoy soap. “I was in no cult. It only means I thought I was in love with a woman named Kristen.”

“The body is a temple of the Lord. Yet you defiled yours with snakes and garish designs.”

“Believe me, if there was any way I could rid myself of it I would. It was a mistake. I did a foolish thing when I wasn't myself.”

“Were you drunk?” asked Eli.

“Yes, drunk and a fool. Two conditions I hope never to be again.”

Eli rubbed his tired eyes with his fingertips. “You're certain a doctor can't remove this...this tattoo? Maybe scrape it off under anesthetic?”

“I'm sure. It goes too deep, through several layers of skin. But I will never roll up my sleeves on the job, no matter how hot I get.” Caleb reached for the towel to dry his arms and pulled on the soiled shirt. No clean clothes were stored in the mudroom unless Elizabeth happened to leave her basket of laundry behind.

Eli clenched his eyes shut. “There must be something we can do. No Amish woman in her right mind will marry a man who is marked in such a fashion.”

“Then I'll have to find one
not
in her right mind.” Caleb pressed the towel to his face.

Grabbing the damp towel, Eli hurled it across the room. “Do you think this is a joke? I've never known an Amish man to disgrace himself like this.”

“I don't think it's funny, but I can't change my past. If I could I would.” Caleb's voice rose with anger as he glared with more venom than his inscribed snakes.

Shaking his head, Eli walked to where the towel lay and picked it up. “What about this woman—this Kristen? Were you betrothed to her? Is she waiting for your return to marry?”

“I thought she was my fiancée, but when I lost my job, she lost interest and started dating someone else.” His voice cracked, betraying his emotion at last.

Eli stared at his arm where the tattoo lay hidden by the work shirt. “For now, tell no one about this abomination. But I will have to discuss this with the other elders during your membership classes. There's no way around it.” His anger changed to pity for a man who'd fallen so far.

“I understand.” Nodding, Caleb opened the mudroom door.

Inside the kitchen, they were greeted by an effusive Elizabeth. “
Ach
, my two hardworking men! How did it go on your first day on the job, son?”

Her face was so filled with hope and love that for a second Eli thought their son might cry. But instead he cleared his throat and
spoke softly. “
Gut, Mamm
. Glad to be back to work. Excuse me while I change into a clean shirt.”

Eli slumped into a chair, feeling close to ninety years old. And he wasn't even fifty.

4

Praise the mount! I'm fixed upon it,

Mount of Thy redeeming love.

C
aleb walked onto the porch with a cold cup of coffee. He'd finished his share of morning chores while managing to stay out of his father's way the best he could. His mother had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and gone quilting with his youngest sister, Katie. Sarah and Rebekah were at Country Pleasures, leaving him alone in a large, silent house.

He'd endured his first full week of work without getting fired or pulled into another argument with his
daed.
He should celebrate, yet his day off stretched before him with few options. In the city he could go to the zoo or the lakefront park or ride the train downtown to watch the ships in and out of the harbor. Once he rode the elevator to the top of the Terminal Tower. What was there to do in March in Fredericksburg?

Of course, all he had to do was find his father. There was always something to do on a farm, even one as small as theirs. Tools needed sharpening, gardens could be tilled, and farm animals were always in need of some kind of care. But Caleb wasn't accustomed to only one day to himself—Sunday. He'd grown lazy while in Cleveland and old habits would be hard to break.

He sat down on the porch steps to pet his gray-muzzled sheepdog. It took little to make a dog happy. As long as someone regularly filled his bowl with kibble and occasionally scratched behind his ears, Shep wagged his tail, licked your hand, and would follow you anywhere.
And what would make Caleb happy? For the past week, all he could think about was Josie. They had gotten along well at the pancake breakfast. Unlike most women, Josie didn't chatter incessantly or pout for no reason. She knew the right thing to say in every situation.

Or maybe it just seemed that way because Caleb was smitten with her.

But each time he considered driving his buggy to her house after work or hiking the back path with a flashlight on some thinly disguised errand, he remembered his father's warning:
No Amish woman in her right mind would ever marry you.
What would Mr. Yoder think about his tattoo? More to the point, how would Josie feel about the name Kristen emblazoned on his arm until his dying day?

Caleb stared off in the distance. The sight of his father plowing the cornfield filled him with guilt. “Come on, old boy. Let's see if we can't make ourselves useful.”

However, he didn't get a dozen yards from the house when the crunch of car wheels on gravel caught his attention. Shep started to bark. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes, Caleb watched a shiny gold convertible crawl up the lane. The top was up on the cool spring day.

“Cal Beachy, as I live and breathe.” A familiar voice floated from the driver's window.

He waited at their turn-around for the fancy car to stop, unable to believe his eyes or his ears. Shep started to bark. “Quiet, boy,” he ordered.

Pete Taylor opened the driver's door and jumped out. “You can run, but you sure can't hide. At least, not for long.”

Caleb stepped forward to embrace his
Englisch
best friend in a clumsy man-hug. “How did you find me?”

Pete slapped him on the back. “It wasn't easy. Do you have any idea how many Beachys live in Wayne County?”

“Quite a few?” Laughing, he leaned on the car's fender.

“There are hundreds of them. And you left no forwarding address at that
luxury
apartment on Davenport Drive. Your former landlord couldn't believe you abandoned so much quality furniture.” Pete rolled his eyes. He'd been appalled by Caleb's furnishing each time he visited.

“I am a firm believer in recycling,” said Caleb, eager to forget his former residence. “Sorry I didn't send a letter or call. When I arrived home, I wasn't sure how long I would be staying.” Regret over treating his only Cleveland friend shabbily brought a blush to his face.

“Don't worry about it. I know how touchy your homecoming might have been.” Pete pivoted in the middle of the driveway. “Wow, your family has a really nice farm. This looks like one of those pictures on a calendar.”

“Not one of your calendars.” Caleb remembered seeing Pete's wall-hanging of women in very skimpy swimsuits. Leafing through the photos, he'd never felt so embarrassed in his life.

“Now that I'm about to become a married man, I threw that calendar in the trash. My new replacement has pictures of dogs, cats, and horses.” He grinned and then hooked his thumb toward the car. “Do you remember my fiancée, Michelle?”

As though on cue, a long-legged, dark-haired girl got out of the passenger side. She wore a low-cut sweater, very tight jeans, and high-heeled leather boots. “Hi, Cal,” she said, flashing a bright white smile.

He startled, not because of her appearance, but because he hadn't noticed anyone else in the car. Caleb had met her once and been thoroughly intimidated. He still wasn't accustomed to the
Englischers'
revealing clothes and heavy makeup. “Michelle, excuse me. I didn't realize you'd come along with Pete.” Caleb strode to her side and accepted a loose hug.

“I decided to stay low-profile until you two had a chance to get reacquainted.” Michelle stepped back, but her perfume continued to overwhelm his senses.

“Let's go up to the house. We could sit on the porch or maybe go inside.” Caleb led the pair to the porch swing and a row of rocking chairs.

“Maybe inside would be better.” Pete grinned. “We didn't dress for the weather. We've been relying on the car's heater to keep us from freezing to death.”

“No problem.” Caleb opened the door on his family's kitchen. Was this their first time in an Amish home? Of course it was. He wondered
what they would think of the simple appointments. Most
Englischers
adored gadgets, rooms filled with furniture, and endless decorative objects. But he didn't have long to wait for his answer.

“What a kitchen! It's so huge,” said Michelle. “I love how uncluttered it is.” She pranced around the room like a spring filly. “And I'll bet you can fit twenty people around your oak table.” She trailed her hand down the waxed surface with appreciation.

“Yeah, at times we've had more than that for dinner.” Caleb pulled out two chairs at the table and then went for a hot drink.

“I understand why you decided to stay once you were home.” Pete glanced around the room and then locked gazes with him. “So, how's life going?”

Caleb knew his friend didn't want some phony answer. They knew and respected each other better than that. “It's been fine with my mom and sisters, but tense with my dad. He keeps waiting for me to bolt for the door and not look back.” He forced a wry smile.

“It takes time, I suppose. You were gone a long time. Once you stick around, he'll get used to seeing you.” Pete chuckled, finally drawing a matching response from Caleb. “Did you find a job yet?”

“Just started work this past Monday. Roofing and general construction for my father.”

“Well, that might bring the pimple to a head sooner.” Pete guffawed good-naturedly.

Caleb didn't quite understand the analogy but he nodded anyway, looking anywhere in the room but at the bubbly Michelle. The woman made him nervous. She was always watching him from the corner of her eye, like a bug under a microscope. “Tell me about your upcoming wedding—everything set for the big day?” he asked.

“Two months and counting. We've lined up eight bridesmaids and groomsmen, but I can make room for one more if you'd like to stand up as my best man.” Pete lifted one eyebrow.

“Thanks, but I had better pass. I hope you understand.”

“No problem. We've booked the Old Stone Church on Public Square with an evening reception in the ballroom of the Renaissance Hotel. Michelle's an only child so her parents have decided to pull out
all the stops: open bar, heavy appetizers, and then a sit-down dinner of surf-and-turf.”

“What's that—seawater and dirt?”

Pete smirked. “Even better—lobster tail and filet mignon. Nothing but the best for daddy's little girl.”

“Good grief, for a wedding?” Caleb thought about Amish marriages. Although lavish in variety and quantity of food, they were just a step above a church potluck.

“Everybody is having extravagant weddings these days, so I said why not?” Michelle leaned forward to resume the narrative. “My parents have plenty of time to pay it off before retirement. We're flying in fresh flowers the night before from Hawaii, plus there'll be a molten chocolate volcano for the centerpiece of the dessert buffet.” Her pretty face glowed with excitement.

Caleb was struck speechless. He didn't know whether to say “Congratulations on one-upping the competition,” or “Sorry to hear your parents will be shackled to their jobs for years.” However, his shock over their wedding arrangements paled in comparison to his father's.

Eli had entered through the mudroom and stood in the doorway, his mouth agape. “Caleb,” he said, “who are these
Englischers
?” There wasn't a hint of hospitality in his tone.

Caleb sprang to his feet. “
Daed,
this is my best friend, Pete Taylor. Don't you remember him from the Wilmot project?”

Pete also scrambled up and stretched out his hand. “How do you do, sir? I'm very pleased to see you again.”

Perhaps it was due to Taylor's formal and respectful tone and choice of words, but Eli's frown softened. “Thank you, young man. I trust you've been well.” He shook Pete's hand briefly.

“Very well, thank you. May I present my fiancée, Michelle Moore. We're to be married in May, unless she comes to her senses.” Pete laughed wholeheartedly, while Eli blinked like an owl.

Michelle jumped up and practically sprinted around the table.

Please, God, don't let her throw her arms around my father's neck.
The prayer flitted through Caleb's mind in an instant. Even after five years, he still didn't understand
Englisch
forwardness or public
demonstrations of affection. But thankfully, Michelle stopped short in front of Eli and kept her arms at her side. “I have wanted to visit Pete's Amish friends for months. You have such a super home. I want to live in a big house like this someday, but maybe one a little closer to civilization, and not set so far back from the road. Passersby can barely see it. And was that a pig I spotted next to your barn? Do you own a real pig? It's so huge compared to those potbellied mini ones.” She grinned as though pleased with herself.