The Stubborn Father (4 page)

“It’s okay,” she insisted. “If you’re not feeling up to going out on Monday, I can stop by the bank on my way home from work and make a withdrawal. How much do you think you’ll need?”

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. “No, Kristi, I am not touching our joint account. I’ll be going back to work on Monday. I should have some money coming in soon.” Joel’s conscience pricked him. He should have been honest with Kristi in the beginning, but it seemed too late to explain. He had no choice now but to get back to work and try to put a little in the bank whenever he could. Since the monthly bank statements came to his house, hopefully, Kristi would never be aware of what had transpired.

Charm

Arlene clucked to her horse to get him moving faster. At the rate the gelding had been plodding along it would be way past suppertime before she got to Dad’s with the casserole she’d made. She hoped to find him in a good mood. Her sister Elsie had mentioned that when she’d dropped by to see Dad last week he’d been irritated with Joel. She’d said she needed to talk to her about something else, but wanted their sister, Doris, in on the conversation. Of course, their father’s irritation with Joel was nothing new. Every time Joel’s name was mentioned, Dad became uptight. If Joel came around asking for money, Dad’s mood would sometimes be affected for weeks.

It was a shame he and Joel couldn’t put their differences aside and enjoy each other’s company. But Dad’s stubbornness and unwillingness to forgive got in the way. Joel’s disinterest in being part of the family didn’t help, either. While Joel had a right to choose whether he wanted to be Amish or English, he should have made his choice before joining the church. Up until then, everyone thought Joel would marry Anna Detweiler and settle into married life.

Poor Anna. I wonder if she’s ever gotten over Joel
. Arlene couldn’t imagine going through such rejection—especially when it happened only a few days before the wedding. Not only did Anna have to live through the embarrassment of having to call off the wedding at the last minute, but it must have hurt to know Joel didn’t love her enough to remain Amish.

“It hurt us, too,” Arlene mumbled, tapping the reins until her horse picked up speed again.
When Joel left, it grieved Mom and Dad most of all.

Forcing her negative thoughts aside, Arlene snapped the reins once more. “Giddy-up, Buddy. Time’s a-wastin’. We need to get to my
daed’s
sometime today.”

When Arlene finally guided her horse and buggy up Dad’s driveway, smoke was pouring through the slightly open kitchen window.

She leaped from the buggy, secured Buddy to the hitching rail, and ran toward the house. Heart pounding, she raced inside, where more smoke billowed from the kitchen. Since it seemed to be isolated to that room, she figured something might be burning on the stove.

Removing her apron and waving it in front of her face, Arlene held her breath as she made her way across the room. Quickly opening the oven door, she realized whatever was baking had been reduced to nothing more than a blackened lump. Grabbing a potholder, she picked up the glass baking dish and carried it outside to the porch. Then she rushed back inside, turned off the oven, and opened the other two kitchen windows. The situation under control, Arlene cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted for Dad.

No response.

She ran through the house, checking in every room, but saw no sign of him. Since she hadn’t seen him outside when she pulled in, Arlene figured he might be in the barn.

Sure enough, she found him there kneeling in front of an old milk can, holding a paint brush. “What did you have in the oven, Dad?” she panted. “Do you realize it’s burned to a crisp?”

He whirled around, nearly dropping the brush. “Daughter, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“I wasn’t sneaking. I’m surprised you didn’t hear my horse and buggy pull in.”

“Guess I was too deep in concentration to notice.” He stood. “Now, what’s this about my meatloaf burning?”

She squinted. “So it was meatloaf? It looks like a brick of charcoal now, and the kitchen’s all
schmokich.
I could hardly breathe.”

“I got so busy out here, I forgot to check on it.” Grunting, Dad frowned. “So much for supper. Guess I’ll have to fix a sandwich now.”

“No, you won’t. I brought you a chicken-and-rice casserole. It’s in my buggy.”

He smiled. “Danki. It was thoughtful of you. And it’ll be a heap better than burned meatloaf.”

Arlene pressed her hand to her mouth and puffed out her cheeks. “You’d never be able to eat it, Dad. What started out as a meatloaf is burned beyond recognition. And you know what else?”

He tipped his head. “What?”

“You could have burned down the whole house.” She sighed deeply. “If you’re determined to live here alone, then you need to stay in the house while your supper is cooking. Better yet, Doris, Elsie, and I can take turns either bringing your evening meal or having you to one of our homes to eat.”

Dad shook his head. “There’s no need for all the fuss, Arlene. You and your sisters do enough for me already. From now on, I’ll stay inside whenever I’m cooking.”

She pursed her lips. “You promise?”

“
Jah
, and to put your mind at ease, you’ll be happy to know your aunt Verna is comin’ next week for a visit. While she’s here, she’ll probably want to do all the cooking. Besides, if I had a tree house, like your mamm wanted us to build, I could always move into it. At least there’d be no oven to burn down the place.” He chuckled, as if to lighten the mood.

“Ha! Not funny, Dad.”

He winked at her, then pointed to a bird-feeder on a shelf overhead. “I picked that up at the farmers’ market the other day. Looks like a log cabin, don’t you think?”

“You’re right; it does. And speaking of feeders, it looks like some of those you have out in the yard need to be filled. Would you like me to do it?”

“No, I’ll take care of it after we eat.” He pushed his dilapidated straw hat a little farther back on his head. “I have lots to get done before my sister gets here.”

Avoiding eye contact, Arlene managed a brief nod. Not only was Aunt Verna hard of hearing, but she easily became preoccupied, as well. Arlene hoped between Dad and his sister, they wouldn’t burn down the house.

E
ustace whistled as he listened to the birds in the trees overhead. Since he’d spent most of the morning pounding nails as he began work on his tree house, he was surprised the birds were singing at all. The blue jays must have been curious as to who was making all the noise, for they squawked in the branches higher up in the tree. After a while, they flew off, seemingly satisfied with their observations. Eustace had been keeping all the feeders full of food, so most of the birds seemed more interested in eating than being bothered by his noise.

He stopped hammering and sipped on the coffee he’d brought out with him.
What a nice morning. Sure wish I had some help with this.

Eustace had started this project a week ago, two days after Arlene had brought him a casserole for supper. So far he’d managed to nail a ladder to the tree and get started on the base of the tree house. He hoped to finish the floor before his sister got here, sometime this afternoon. He looked forward to seeing Verna again. It had been some time since her last visit. Since she and her husband, Lester, lived in Geauga County, which was nearly a two-hour drive by car, he didn’t see her very often. With the exception of going to some of the local auctions, Eustace didn’t travel much, either. He preferred to stick close to home, where he could putter around and create new things. He felt close to Effie here.

In the spring he’d made several bird feeders out of plastic soda pop bottles. During the summer he had constructed a few wind chimes using old pipe, fishing line, and some CDs he’d received in the mail from an Internet provider trying to drum up business. Like he really needed that! Even Eustace’s New Order Amish friend didn’t have a computer; although Henry was allowed to have a phone in his house. But after painting the CDs in various shades, the wind chimes had turned out quite colorful.

Eustace was content having a phone in a shack he shared with his closest neighbor. With the exception of a few special things, he’d never had a desire for modern conveniences. But the desires he’d once had were set aside when he joined the church and married Effie forty-seven years ago. He’d had a good life here on this farm, and Eustace appreciated every bit of it—from the large two-story house to the rambling barn where he kept many of his treasures—including his fine-looking horses.

He looked toward the fields. The edges were ablaze with goldenrod, orange jewel weed, and ragweed—the onset of early autumn colors. Even from where Eustace stood, he could see many butterflies flitting from flower to flower on the unappreciated weeds. Most people he knew didn’t care for these intrusive plants, but all three had healing benefits. Even Effie didn’t mind seeing them when they bloomed in August and September. She loved everything about nature. Many times she’d picked the goldenrod and would mix them in with late-blooming wildflowers for a centerpiece on the kitchen table.

Eustace shook his head. Everything he saw these days, even the colorful weeds, made him think about Effie.

Halting his thoughts and stepping back to view the mature maple tree he’d chosen to build his tree house in, Eustace mentally checked off the things he’d done so far, in addition to what still needed to be done.

The first phase had been to draw a design of the tree house. Then he’d laid out the wood and all the tools he would need to accomplish his task. Next, Eustace had nailed a ladder to the tree trunk, making it easy to trim the extra branches that could get in the way during construction. He was now in the process of nailing some well-polished wooden boards together across two strong branches, close to each other. This would become the floor of his tree house. Following that, he would add wooden boards on three sides of the tree house until a railing was formed. The door and windows would then be installed for cross-ventilation. A wooden roof would follow, and then it would be time for the finishing touches.

A terrace would be nice, so I can sit out there and feel one with the birds,
Eustace mused.
Effie would like it.
He gave a decisive nod. “Jah, that’s what I’m gonna do all right.”

“Are you talkin’ to yourself, Grandpa?”

Eustace turned so abruptly, he nearly fell over backward. “Whoa there, Doug. You shouldn’t sneak up on me!”

Eustace’s twelve-year-old grandson motioned to his bike. “I wasn’t sneakin’. I rode right in. Figured you’d hear me comin’.”

Eustace shook his head. “Nope. Never heard a thing. Guess it’s because I was concentrating on this.” He gestured to the pieces of wood lying on the ground beneath the tree.

Doug’s mouth formed an O. “Are ya finally gonna make the tree house you’ve been talkin’ about?”

“Jah. I’d say it’s about time, too, wouldn’t you?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. “Can I help ya with it?”

“It’s more than all right with me, if your mamm doesn’t mind. You’re an assiduous kid, aren’t ya, boy?”

Doug’s head titled slightly to the left. “Assiduous?”

“Sorry, never mind.” Eustace’s brows furrowed. “Say, shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

“School’s out for the day, Grandpa. I told Mama this morning I was comin’ by here afterward. I wanted to spend some time alone with you, without my sisters and little brother taggin’ along.”

Eustace gave his earlobe a tug. “Guess I’ve been out here longer than I thought. I didn’t even take time to eat anything at noon.”

“Want my banana, Grandpa? I’ve got one in my lunch pail I didn’t eat for lunch.”

Eustace ruffled the boy’s thick brown hair. “No, that’s okay. Your mamm gave it to you, so you’d better eat it.”

“She won’t mind. Long as I don’t come home with it.” Doug wrinkled his nose. “Mama gets upset if any of her kinner waste food.”

“We wouldn’t want your mamm gettin’ upset, now would we?” Eustace reached into Doug’s lunch pail and withdrew the banana. He was about to peel it when a gray minivan pulled into the yard and parked. Verna stepped out and grabbed her suitcase.

Eustace cupped his hands around his mouth and gave a yell. “We’re back here!”

Grinning like a child who’d been given a balloon, Verna set her suitcase down and began walking toward Eustace, sneezing as she came.

He smiled back at her.
So, let the fun begin.

They waved as her driver turned the van around and pulled out of the driveway. “I’ll give a call to my driver a few days before I decide to return home,” Verna said. “She’ll be staying in Sugarcreek with some friends while she’s here, so I don’t think she’s in a hurry to get home.”

When she approached, Verna gave Eustace a sisterly hug. “It’s sure good to see you again. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Eustace bobbed his head.

Glancing at Doug, Verna asked, “Now who is this handsome young man with you today?”

“This is Doug—Arlene’s son.”

She looked at him strangely. “Did you say ‘Bug’?”