A Wedding for Julia (33 page)

“The customers certainly liked it,” Ada said, scooping some into her spoon. Forks had become too difficult for her to handle.

“
Ya
, well, they probably don’t have it every Friday.” Caleb’s voice was quiet and low, and he meant his response as a sort of joke. He’d spent very little time around women, not counting the last three weeks. Men tended to say what was on their mind and laugh about it later. One look at Julia’s face told him there wouldn’t be any laughing.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“Of course you did. That’s why you said it.”

“
Nein
. I was trying to be funny because I’m tired. Your cooking is
gut
, Julia.”

“The best cooking can grow old when you eat it time and again.” She stood, pushing away the plate she’d barely touched.

Sharon glanced from one to the other, not saying a word.

Ada piped up with, “Think before you speak, but don’t speak all you think.”

It was the first time Caleb had heard her spout a proverb, at least he thought that was what it was. Best to keep eating. That would show Julia he hadn’t meant what he said.

But she didn’t return to the table. Instead, she worked in the kitchen, and when he carried his empty plate in and tried to help with the dishes, she only shook her head and turned away.

So he went upstairs. He tried to read the paper, but he couldn’t focus on the printed words. What he needed was a hot bath to help with the aches, and why was he so sore? It wasn’t as if he were an old man. Somehow the roof work had been harder than he’d expected, even without the fall. It still embarrassed him to think of how foolish he’d been. He knew how to properly set a ladder so it was safe.

He soaked in the bath, practically dozing, until the water became cold. When he walked out into the hall, he was surprised to see the light out in the sitting room.

Maybe everyone was as tired as he was.

And they all had a long day ahead of them beginning early the next morning. Caleb was certainly looking forward to Sunday, a day of rest.

He was relieved to see a light on in his bedroom. Perhaps Julia was still awake. He wanted to apologize for his earlier remark. Plainly he’d hurt her feelings, and that had not been his intention.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to clear his conscience. His wife was in bed with her eyes closed and the covers pulled up to her chin. At least she’d left the bedside lamp on for him—a small gas lantern that sent shadows leaping across the ceiling. As quietly as possible, he pulled back the covers and climbed into bed.

“What happened?” Julia’s voice landed somewhere between disbelief and accusation.

For a split-second Caleb thought she was still referring to his ill-timed dinner comment, but then he saw her staring at his left arm, which was already turning purple and blue.

“Oh,
ya
. That.” He ran his right hand over the bruise. “I fell off the roof of the barn.”

“You what?” She popped up in bed, the covers falling forward and her long brown hair spilling around her shoulders.

He realized again how much he’d grown to care for her, how fortunate he was to be married to this amazing, beautiful woman. He reached up to touch her, but she pushed his hand away.

“Caleb, what do you mean you fell off the barn? Your arm. It’s hurt. Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“What’s to tell?” He shrugged and lay back against the pillow. “I was climbing on the ladder and didn’t have it positioned securely. It tossed me on the ground like a horse will toss a rider.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why didn’t you call for me?”

Caleb used the thumb and middle finger of his right hand to rub his temples. “What could you have done? I would still be on the ground and the roof would still need patching.”

“Did you ever think that maybe you should go to the doctor?”

Caleb studied the pattern of light on the ceiling. “
Ya
, when I first landed, but then I stood up and nothing seemed broken. So I went back to work.”

“Your arm is purple.”

Holding it out in front of him, he flexed his forearm back and forth. “True, but it’s not broken.”

“Maybe something else is wrong. Maybe you have a blood clot or…or…I don’t know what. That’s what the doctor is for. I know Doc Hanson would have fit you into his schedule if you—”

“There was no need, Julia. I appreciate your concern, but it’s only a bruise.” Caleb reached for the lantern and turned it off. Darkness blanketed the room, effectively ending their conversation.

He could feel her staring at him, and he was aware she was still sitting up in bed.

One part of him wished he could think of something to say to her, something to settle her emotions, but his batting average wasn’t so great in that area tonight. Probably best if he let her rest.

So he rolled on to his right, away from her, so as not to lie on the bruised side. It was better that she didn’t know the bruises continued down his hip and leg. They would fade soon enough. Like a spat at dinner, most things took care of themselves given a little time.

At least, that was his reasoning as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 27

T
he day had gone very well, or perhaps Sharon had discovered a pace that wasn’t too hurried but still met the needs of their customers.

Which was one thing they had plenty of—customers in every size, age, and color. The weekday morning customers were regulars now. Folks who worked outside an office, started early, and were able to take a break around ten. They chose to stop at the Plain Café for a bite to eat and to work on their computers. Sharon grew used to seeing lone customers sitting at tables with food and coffee to the side and laptop computers at the ready.

She didn’t actually understand how the computers could work on the Internet in their home, but then a customer explained to her that he had 3G, which allowed him to go online. Computers still made no sense to her, but she assumed they worked off the same principle as a cell phone. Because she didn’t need either one, it didn’t really matter as long as the food orders came out quickly and the coffee stayed hot.

It did surprise a few of their computer customers the first time they asked where the electrical outlets were so they could charge one of their devices. When Sharon explained they had no electricity, they would glance around and then blink once or twice as if seeing the room, the furnishings, and her for the first time. Then they would nod and mumble, “Of course. Thank you anyway.”

Weekends they tended to have guests she’d never met before.

Not all of their customers were pleasant, but those few who were rude had always been in the lunch crowd.

One middle-aged woman Sharon had served a few hours earlier had earned the ribbon for least reasonable. She wanted the Cinnamon Flop cake for dessert, which they had sold out of. Thin, pale, and dressed in a business suit even though it was Saturday, she pursed her red lips, tapped a brightly painted red nail on the menu, and said, “Cinnamon Flop cake. It’s listed right here.”

“Yes, but we’ve sold our last piece.”

“Unacceptable.”

“We have oatmeal cake or caramel pudding.”

“I didn’t ask for oatmeal cake or caramel pudding.” The woman lowered her chin and stared at Sharon as if she were daft. “There’s no use talking to you is there? Where is the owner?”

At that point all of the other customers in the front dining room were staring and listening. Sharon didn’t want to bother Julia, but she also wanted everyone else to go back to enjoying their meal. She was willing to bet her only pair of knitting needles that the woman didn’t even want the cinnamon cake. She’d probably heard Sharon tell the family at table three that they were out and then decided to make a scene.

Keeping her tone polite but firm, Sharon explained, “The owner makes all of our desserts fresh, including the Cinnamon Flop cake. She couldn’t have more available before Tuesday at the very—”

“Did I hear my name?” Julia appeared at her side, smelling of chicken and dumplings and fresh bread.

Sharon didn’t know how she managed, but somehow the work in the kitchen only made her look more beautiful. It must be because she was so happy doing what she’d always dreamed of. At least, that’s what Julia had said earlier in the week as they had all sat upstairs and read.

“I want Cinnamon Flop cake.” The woman stabbed the menu with her nail. “And this girl won’t bring it to me.”

Julia turned to Sharon, rewarding her with a smile and a touch on the shoulder. “Could you check on the trays of cornbread I have baking? I believe they might be ready.”

Sharon nodded and turned to go, but as she walked away she heard Julia explain that they weren’t a fast-food chain; that cakes weren’t lined up in the freezer; and that, in fact, they didn’t own a freezer, though they did have an icehouse.

“We value every customer’s business, but if you’d rather dine at one of those other fast-food establishments, your meal with us today will be free and I can provide directions to town.”

Sharon couldn’t help peeking out through the kitchen doorway. The thin woman’s face had taken on a pink tinge, and she’d pulled her hands into her lap. Finally she said, “I don’t think I want dessert today. I’ll just have more coffee.”

“Excellent. Sharon will be happy to bring you some. She’s a very
gut
waitress,
ya
?”

The woman nodded once, a curt move of her head.

Julia turned to speak to the couple at the next table, and Sharon ducked back into the kitchen.

She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. Julia had stood up for her. She had praised her work and the other customers in the room had all nodded in agreement.

Some of the shame she had been carrying fell away in that moment as she stood near the big black oven, opened the door, and pulled out the cornbread. She placed the trays on the cooling rack, breathing in the scent of cornmeal and the rich goodness of the butter Julia had brushed on top. When she turned to go back into the front dining room, she nearly bumped into Ada, who stopped in front of her, put both hands on her cheeks, and patted them once, twice, and then three times. After that she toddled off to her chair in the corner of their dining room.

Wess tried to catch her attention from the hall, holding up his hands in a “What?” gesture. Sharon shook her head and turned back to care for the customers at her tables. She and Julia and Wess and Ada were an odd group, a family almost, but they had learned how to cover for one another in a very short time.