Sandra Hill - [Jinx] (14 page)

Meanwhile, the woman was swaying from side to side against him while Jonas stood stock still.

Even Caleb was smiling now.

Two old codgers—seventysomethings, at least, and twins to boot—came up to her and Abbie.

“Hi, I’m Amos,” one of them introduced himself.

“And I’m Andy,” the other said, “We’re farmers from Pine Grove Mills. Do you gals wanna dance?”

Abbie was poleaxed by the prospect.

Tante Lulu jumped at the chance.

While the two pairs were walking to the dance floor, Tante Lulu checked out their butts. They had none to speak of. At first she was disappointed, but then she had to admit she’d lost her own butt about 1982. The men were short, but that didn’t matter, and even if these gents’ hair was pure white, there was lots of it, sort of like Bill Clinton, who was a hottie, for sure. What was it they said about men with snow on the roof?

Yep, life was looking good. Thunderbolts a-flashing. Family problems to be solved. And boyfriends for her and Abbie.

Whoo-ee!

Paybacks can be hell . . . or heaven . . .

Life was not looking so good for Caleb.

Fifteen minutes ago, he’d been flying high. Well on his way down the fast track to hot, sweaty, screaming sex.

But then he’d noticed his sister on the stage of a barroom belting out some raunchy song about redneck women. His plan was to get Lizzie out of here ASAP before anyone of the Plain persuasion heard about this abomination, and yes, that’s what the Amish would consider Lizzie’s performance. But Lizzie had disappeared into the ladies’ room.

If that wasn’t bad enough, his brother had shown up and been hit on by some barroom tart and was now sitting at a table, waiting for Caleb to clean up the mess. The tart hadn’t given up. She was sitting at the table with him, enthralled. Jonas didn’t have it in him to be impolite to a lady. As a result, Caleb wouldn’t be surprised if the babe showed up at Jonas’s home one of these days. That should give the neighboring elders something to talk about for the next, oh, let’s say decade.

Tante Lulu and Abbie had discovered senior citizen stud muffins and didn’t want to go home yet. In fact, Tante Lulu came up to him now and asked, “Ya got any of those little blue pills on ya?”

“Hell, no!”

“No need ta get snippy. Aintcha ever had a noodle instead of a cannoli?”

He put his face in his hands. When he glanced up, Tante Lulu was gone and Claire was in his face. He liked that better.

“Caleb, be gentle with Lizzie. She’s afraid to come out of the ladies’ room.”

“Why? What does she think I’m going to do?”

“Send her back home.”

“Oh, well, that’s not a bad idea.”

“She didn’t think she was doing anything wrong.”

Claire was talking logically. That meant her alcohol buzz must be wearing off.

Damn!

“It’s my fault anyway,
cher,
” LeDeux said, plopping down into a chair next to him. “She wouldn’t have gone up on that stage if I hadn’t encouraged her.”

“Can I send
you
home?”

LeDeux ignored his jibe. “Holy crawfish! Is that my aunt dirty dancing with that old fogey? Who knew she had a bootie to shake like that?”

“She and Abbie hooked up with those two farmer dudes. I think they’re planning a double date for next Saturday. Isn’t that cool?” Claire remarked.

“Yeah,” LeDeux answered.

“No,” Caleb said.

“Maybe I should ask what his intentions are.” LeDeux flashed a big ol’ grin.

“I heard your aunt tell those guys about The Red Zone. Do you think she would actually go to a strip joint?”

LeDeux leaned back in his chair, still grinning. “Did I ever tell you about the time she and Charmaine entered a belly dancing competition? Guess who won?”

I’ve landed in a zoo.

“Back to Lizzie. She’s talented, Caleb. Really talented,” Claire told him. “Did you hear her?”

“No, I was too busy trying to keep the flames from shooting out my ears.” Actually, he did hear part of that cheatin’ song, and while he didn’t know jack shit about music, he could tell she was pretty good.

“You should give her a chance,” LeDeux said.

“You should mind your own business.”

“You know what they say down on the bayou,
mon cher.
”

Oh, God! Another half-assed Cajun saying!

“Crawfish gotta stick together when the fishing nets come.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Friends stick together. Your business is my business.”

“I’m your friend, too.” Claire put a hand on his arm.

He looked at her hand, then he looked at her flushed face, and then he looked at that teaser of a blouse. “Friend, my ass!”

Plain speaking . . .

Jonas finally extricated himself from his newfound woman friend. He would have much to confess at the next meeting of the Mennonite deacons.

Laura Jones, a nurse at Huntingdon Hospital, had latched on to him like a bear on a honey pot. She was tall, blonde, and buxom, and,
jah,
he had noticed her body. Even Amishmen, and Mennonites, appreciated a good bosom.

The woman had invited him to have dinner with her on Saturday night. Jonas had been
ferhoodled
at that; Plain women did not make overtures to their men; though, truth to tell, he had been flattered. When he’d politely declined, she’d asked if he was afraid of her. More like she should be afraid of him. Those red boots of hers had planted some mighty indecent ideas in his head. And he had not been with a woman in seven years.
Tsk-tsk-tsk!
He was a grown man with three children. He should not be thinking about red boots and bosoms. Leastways, that’s what he told himself.

He made his way toward Caleb and sat down with a sigh of disgust.

Claire and the Cajun fella left to give them some privacy. Caleb watched as they began dancing, bending their bodies sinuously to the rhythm of the music. Indecent, really, though he hated making judgments. Hard to believe, with all that had happened, that the tavern was still crowded, the band playing, everything going on as usual.

“So, how’d you lose your girlfriend?” Caleb asked him.

Girlfriend? Oh. He must be teasing. I hope no one saw me gawking at her bosom.
Suddenly, he recalled a time when he and Caleb were nine years old, and they’d been fascinated by Mrs. Fisher’s massive breasts. Especially after they’d come across her in the barn one day after Meeting and saw her husband rubbing his hands over those breasts. Old Mr. Fisher had been grinnin’ like crazy.

“I tol’ her I left my horse outside, untended,” he answered.

“Did you?”

“I don’t have a horse, Caleb.”
If you’d stuck around all these years, you would know that, brother.

Caleb laughed.

“It’s not funny.”
Well,
jah,
it is, but it’s best not to encourage you. Ah, Caleb, how did we get so far apart? How could you have left like that? How could we have let you leave?

“Oh, yes, it is funny, big brother. When was the last time you got some?”

“Some what?” Oh, good Lord! He must mean
that.
“For shame, Caleb!”

“Are you really my brother?”

“
Jah,
I am.”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“Shush! You shouldna talk ’bout things like . . . that.”

“Like sex?” Caleb’s eyes twinkled with merriment. This was the old Caleb, the one he had missed so awful much. Not the grim, overserious fella he’d witnessed since their reunion.

“This will prob’ly amuse ya, but I have only ever been with one woman, my wife, since I got married.”

Caleb’s eyes went wide, eyes that he knew mirrored his own. “The wife who died seven years ago?”

He nodded.

Caleb howled with laughter. “You must give new meaning to blue balls.”

Jonas was unaccustomed to such coarse talk, but not really offended. This was his brother. They should be able to say anything to each other. “I alveese intended ta remarry.”

“And?”

“I never found anyone I liked enough, I guess.”

“Same here.”

“I saw ya makin’ eyes with Claire. ’Pears ta me ya like her well enough.”

“Yeah, I’m liking her a little too much.”

“And that is a bad thing?”

“Marriage and family and all that . . . I gave up thoughts of that a long time ago. And believe me, Claire isn’t into casual sex. We only met two days ago, but already she wants to have my baby, for chrissake!”

Jonas’s jaw dropped. “She told you that?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why aren’t marriage and family for you?”

“Because losing family is too hard. I won’t risk that. Not again.”

Jonas understood. Being cut off from family was a horrible thing. Like cutting off an arm or a leg . . . or cutting out the heart.

“So, what are you doing here?” Caleb asked.

Jonas flinched. He shouldn’t need a reason for seeking out his brother. “I came ta warn you.”

“About what?”

“The church elders held a council tonight led by Bishop Lapp. About you.”

“Me? What did I do? It’s too early for them to know about Lizzie. And son of a gun, that jackass Lapp is still around?”

“Ya shouldn’t speak of a church man thataway, Caleb.”

“Even a jackass churchman?”

“
Jah,
” Jonas said, a smile twitching at his lips. Bishop Lapp was hard to take sometimes. “Anyways, it’s not what ya did but what they think you’re gonna do.”

“Spit it out, Jonas.”

“They think you’ve got the devil in ya and that you’ve returned here to spread evil among the People. They think the work you’re doing with the cavern is Satan’s work, that you’re engaged in some kinda rituals in there. The teenagers are talkin’ ’bout you, in an admiring way, and they fear more of the young ones will leave for the English world.”

“Why would they admire me?”

Jonas’s heart ached to hear his brother doubt his own worth. “Because ya left and didn’t come back with your tail between your legs. Most folks do, ya know. They admire your bravery.”

“Bullshit!”

Jonas winced at his language. “I admire you.”

Caleb made a pff-ing sound of disbelief.

“I wanted to leave, same as you, when the shunnin’ started, but I didn’t have the courage like you did. It’s hard being raised in such a close-knit community, where family is everything, ta suddenly find yourself alone in a strange world.”

“Tell me about it. I lived in a homeless shelter for three weeks.” His brow creased. “Where did you go when you first left?”

“I hid in the barn of some English folks over near Belleville for a week, eatin’ berries and nuts. I wanted to find ya, but I had no idea where to start, and ya had already been gone two months by then.” Even today, Jonas remembered vividly how lost he’d felt. Alone in the world.

“Ah, Jonas!” His brother squeezed his hand.

“It’s hard for the English to understand how good and strong family is in the Amish community, and how bereft one can be without it. All they see is inbreeding, which we never had.”

Caleb agreed. “Some people think the Amish are like a cult. That their people have been brainwashed from a young age to accept the beliefs. Mind control.”

“Maybe some are, but family ties are one of the goot things about the Amish. I give them that. And stern as he was at times, Dat was a goot father . . . before the shunnings.”

They both nodded.

“Remember when Dat usta take us fly fishing?” Jonas asked.

“I do. Those were good days, weren’t they?”

“Anyways, you should know, Dat defended you tonight.”

“What?”

Jonas could see Caleb reel with shock. He was still reeling himself.

“Dat defied the elders, said the only thing you was guilty of was leavin’ the community and even then, you was falsely accused. He said that instead of condemning you, Bishop Lapp should be makin’ every effort to bring ya back inta the fold.”

“No way!”

“
Jah.
He defended me, too. Said they was too harsh with both of us.” Jonas was thirty-four years old, but he’d had tears in his eyes tonight, just like one of his children when they was over-sad.

“Are you going back?”

“No!” For sure, Dat’s defying the elders had touched Jonas. Being touched was one thing. Being touched in the head was quite another. There had been too much water under the dam.

“Who told you all this?”

“Mam.” And what a shock and wonder it was to see her walking into his house after all these years.

“She defied the
Ordnung
and talked to you?”

“
Jah.
Amazin’, ain’t it?” His mother had been bawling as much as talking. He’d felt like bawling himself.

Caleb shook his head with disbelief. “Why did you need to tell me all this tonight?”

“Because Mam fears the rigid ones might do somethin’ to harm ya.”
Warn Caleb,
Mam had said.
They’s mighty angry.

“Huh? These are nonviolent people.”

“In the name of God, people does crazy things. Jist be careful, that’s what Mam wanted me ta tell ya.”

“What a mess we’ve made of things! Well, not you. You found a way to stay Plain, and you married and had kids. Me? I’m still screwed up.”

“I don’t think so. I’m thinkin’ ya landed where ya were supposed to.”

“That’s debatable.”

“I been thinkin’ on what ya said yesterday, Caleb, about me bein’ a pacifist and you servin’ in the military. I’m thinkin’ maybe it’s easier ta be goot and noble when ya never been tested, like us Amish and Mennonites. I’m thinkin’ it’s wrong ta judge.”

“There was a philosopher, John Milton, who talked about something called cloistered virtue. He said it’s easy to be good when you’re cut off from the world, but the real virtue comes when you live in the world, are tested, and still remain good. Not that I’m claiming to be good.”

Jonas grinned. His brother might not realize it, but he was good of heart, and that was the most important thing.

“Enough of that. What’re we gonna to do about Lizzie?”

“I think she should come home with me tonight. Just till things settle down. That way, if word gets back to the community that Lizzie was here, I can try to explain.”