9. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
" A ll the animals live in the lower level of the barn," said Samuel, opening a creaky side door of the big, old bank barn. "Except for the fowl. The chicken yard's on the other side of the garages."
"And the dog."
"Oh, yeah. Ringo lives in the house with us. He's real attached to Eddie."
The inside was done up nice with fresh white paint between the large, old, wood support beams. It was even bigger than it looked from the house. It had a concrete floor and three rows of pens with close-set, horizontal metal bars. There were ditches in the concrete floor that indicated this had once been a dairy barn. But now the pens were filled with soft straw and pigs. There looked to be about five or six pigs in each large pen, along with sturdy food and water troughs.
The pigs in the pens closest to them noticed their presence and nosed at the bars of the pens with grunts and oinks, looking for food or attention or both. Their level of demand indicated they were used to getting it, too.
"They go outside most days, to the pasture," said Samuel. "Unless the weather's bad like today. It's too cold to let 'em out."
"Sure."
"The horses and donkeys and cows are in the other part. But if you don' mind helpin' out with the pigs…."
"I can do anythin'," Elijah said.
"This way." Samuel led the way down an aisle to several large plastic bins. "I can show you the feedin' routine if—" he paused, frowning.
Elijah followed his gaze and saw several pigs in a nearby pen nosing after a few bits of oats left in the trough.
"Jon?" Samuel called out. "Wait here a minute." Samuel hurried down the aisle and left out a far door.
Elijah looked at a black potbelly pig, which was watching him closely. Suspiciously.
What a strange animal. Elijah had seen pot-belly pigs before, but he didn't really get the purpose of such a creature. A pig oughta be nice and big, to get more meat off it. As for keepin' them as pets, a dog was better suited. Or even a cat. But he supposed some people got strange ideas, especially English people.
The far door opened again, and Samuel came back in with another man. Elijah only glanced that way before looking back at the black pig, which was sounding off angrily at him near the bars of his pen.
Someone brushed by Elijah. The man went up to the bars and squatted down by the black pig. He clucked his tongue. "Benny, hush." He rubbed the black snout through the bars and continued to issue a low shushing sound from pursed lips.
Elijah stared. The man's skin was a perfectly smooth light brown, his black hair was wavy, slicked down, and cut short in the back, his lips were full and firm, his jaw sharp, and he was so, so handsome. There was something regal about him. Like a prince—or what Elijah imagined a prince would be. Like a young Moses in the bible. His hands, as he scratched at the pig's jowls, were beautiful and refined.
The voice in Elijah's head said, clear as day, This one's for you.
He smiled a little and shook his head. What? That was crazy!
"Elijah, this is Jon," Samuel said. "He's our farmhand. He's from down south, from Louisiana."
"It’s farm sanctuary animal specialist, actually." Jon's tone was hard, and when he stood up and looked at Elijah, he didn't smile. Still, his brown eyes were light, almost golden, and they were beautiful too.
"Hallo," Elijah said, feeling awkward.
A small jerk of the chin was Jon's only greeting. His gaze went back to the pigs.
"I thought we'd let Elijah get startin' with feedin'," Samuel said.
"Too late for that," Jon said bluntly. "Already did it. Not gonna let them starve."
Elijah's face burned. He had gotten up too late. He'd grown up on a farm; he knew better. And he didn't like feeling shamed in front of this stranger especially.
Samuel took a deep breath. "Fine. We can have him muck—"
"Already done." Jon said coolly. He looked at Samuel, as if Elijah wasn't there. "Pretty much done in here. He can muck for the cows and horses. Haven't gotten to that yet. And move the manure in the paddock to the meadow."
Jon didn't want him here. He might as well have shouted it. This one's for you , indeed! But, per his stubborn and contrary nature—Dawdi would say—that only made Elijah more determined to stay. As if he needed to prove something to this stranger.
"I can do that," Elijah said. "I mucked plenty in my life."
Samuel forced a smile. "Sounds like a plan for today. But tomorrow, Jon, I'd like Elijah to help with the pigs."
"It happens at 6 a.m. every mornin'," Jon said, with a challenge in his voice. He bent down to scratch the black pig on its head.
"I'll be here before 6," Elijah vowed. Then he recalled that he and Samuel had discussed just one trial day. But Samuel had already said tomorrow , and if Samuel was gonna ignore the whole trial-day thing, Elijah was too.
"Want me to show him—?" Samuel began.
"Show him whatever," Jon interrupted. "I've gotta see to the poultry." He gave the black pig one more scratch—the pig looking up at him adoringly—and left through the side door.
"Don't mind Jon," Samuel said with a wave of his hand. "He rarely talks. Keeps to himself. It's nothin' on you."
"He was fine," Elijah lied. It did bother him. But then he thought about how his brother Ham had been foul-tempered and liked to keep to himself. Elijah preferred that to someone who was always in your business, like his brother Nathan. Or Dawdi.
He had a flash of Jon's fine hands scratching lazily at the pig's jowls. The pigs seemed to like him, so he couldn't be all bad. Truly mean people, those with hearts frozen or dead, were mean with animals too.
And then there was that voice. This one's for you. What did that mean?
"Come on," Samuel said.
There was a large communal stall for the cows on the other side of the barn along with stalls for the horses, sheep, and donkeys. Samuel introduced him to the farm's first rescues, Fred and Ginger, a mama Jersey cow and her full-grown daughter, and to the other animals, though Elijah didn't remember all the names. They were all friendly and seemed content to spend the day inside, eating hay. The mucking was pretty much as it had been at home, done with pitchforks, a wheelbarrow, and big scoop shovels. There was lots of extra straw due to the cold and thick pads where the cows could lay down. Their large stall opened onto the pasture, though the oversized doors were closed now. It was a pretty nice set-up for the cows, especially with such a large pasture to themselves.
The other chore was one that was only done rarely, Elijah figured. And maybe Jon's way of giving him the back garden to weed . That is to say, the worst job nobody wanted. The soiled straw from the daily mucking was tossed into a cement paddock that sat lower than the barn, so wheelbarrows and such could be tilted over the side. The manure and straw piled up out there and was eventually moved to a pile farther out in the meadow for decomposition and to slowly turn into fertilizer. The task involved a little tractor with a big scoop on the front. Samuel showed Elijah how to run the tractor, which was fun. He'd driven a car before when Ham was in Rumspringa and had let him try driving in a big parking lot. He liked it. Samuel showed him how and where to refuel the tractor with gasoline cans in the garage bay. Then he left Elijah to it.
It was cold for this sort of work, but Elijah bundled up with work gloves and a hat and scarf kept in a box in the barn. For three hours, he ran the tractor back and forth between the paddock and the meadow pile, moving all the manure. Towards the end, he had to get down and rake the dregs up together and fork it into the scoop manually, but even that didn't feel too bad. It was good to move after sitting lazy on the cold seat of the tractor for so long.
When he was done, the sun was overhead, and it was lunchtime. His stomach growled. He didn't find anyone in the barn, so he went up to the house. Through the sliding glass door to the kitchen, he saw Samuel and Eddie at the little table in the kitchen nook. Samuel saw him and popped up to open the sliding glass door.
"Go around to the back door. There's a bathroom with a utility sink where you can clean up and take off your boots and things." Samuel pointed the way. "Then come get some lunch."
"Okay. Thank you."
Elijah cleaned up as suggested—the hot water from the tap felt almost too good. There was a big pump bottle of soap and a stack of old towels. He washed his face and neck while he was at it and hung up his outerwear on the row of hooks provided. The other coats hanging there were like a visual slap, a reminder that he wasn't at home anymore. There were puffy coats in bright colors, shiny yellow boots, and plaid wool scarves instead of the row of solemn black coats he was used to.
As Elijah stood for a moment regarding the bright clothing, the sense of being lost surged warm and painful in his heart. He felt, as he often had for the past month, like he was standing on a wobbly board in the middle of a vast lake with no boat in sight. Was he meant to be here, at this farm? Would he be here long? Would he ever reach a place he could call his own, one where he didn't feel adrift?
His heart had no answers, only longing. He squared his shoulders and went into the kitchen.
The old black lab was sound asleep on the rug by the wood stove. Samuel and Eddie sat opposite each other at the table. Samuel smiled and pushed out a chair. "Have a seat."
"Thank you kindly." As Elijah was sitting down, he heard a noise from the kitchen and looked over his shoulder in time to see Jon disappearing out the sliding glass doors with a plate of food. He felt a pang of shame. Jon really did not like him. Why?
"Jon always takes his meals to go," Eddie said.
Elijah peered at him, wondering if he was for sure telling the truth.
"He keeps to himself," Samuel agreed. "But I talked to him about the chores. Startin' tomorrow, you can do the muckin' and feedin' in the pig barn. If you don't mind gettin' up early."
Starting tomorrow. Maybe Elijah shouldn't push his luck, but he had to know. "How long do yous think you'll need the help?"
"As long as you want to stay," Samuel said.
Eddie coughed and spoke up. "At least a few weeks. Through this cold spell for sure."
Samuel and Eddie exchanged a look. It was clear Eddie was more cautious, but Elijah couldn't blame him. They honestly didn't know him from Adam.
"I'll be up early tomorrow. Sorry about this mornin'. Normally Dawdi wakes me. Guess I got used to that."
"I can get you up when I get up," said Samuel.
"Or, we can get him an alarm clock," Eddie suggested. "My old one is in the basement. I'll find it this afternoon."
"I'd appreciate it." Elijah looked around. "Is anyone else eatin'?"
Eddie laughed. "You're looking at the entire human population of Pig Bottom Farm. The two of us and Jon."
"And now you," added Samuel.
Elijah blinked. This big a house for just three people? He'd passed a good four empty bedrooms that morning, and he hadn't seen all the house yet. But Samuel mentioned they had donors come and stay sometimes. So maybe they used the rooms for that. Kinda like rentin' out a room. Some farms did that to make a little extra. To stifle his own questions, he stood up and went to the kitchen island.
The offerings were as Samuel had said—no meat. Elijah filled his plate with what looked like barbecue beans, macaroni and cheese, and a carrot salad with raisins. It was real, stick-to-your- ribs food, and it wasn't from a garbage bin. His head swam at the change in his circumstances, and he paused to catch his breath, plate in hand.
This is my life now , he thought. He was lucky to have landed someplace safe, even if it was only for a short while. Samuel and Eddie's life was foreign to him, but they seemed like decent folk. They'd taken him in, after all. Even Jon—he could deal with Jon. Keeping to yourself was fine as far as Elijah was concerned. And there was no one else to meet, so no one would send him away. He had to work hard and make it last as long as he could.
He sent up a prayer that it would be so.
When he sat back down, he noticed Samuel and Eddie were exchanging looks again. Something else was on their minds, but he was hungry, so he dug in anyway.
"There's somethin' you should know before you make a decision to stay," Samuel began haltingly.
Elijah met his gaze, chewing a mouthful of mac and cheese.
Samuel hesitated.
"We're married," Eddie said firmly. He reached across and took Samuel's hand. "Sam and me. We were married last year."
Elijah swallowed his bite of food. "I know."
"You know?" Samuel gasped.
"Your wedding rings match. And there's pictures of the two of yous in the upstairs hall."
Samuel laughed nervously. Eddie said, "I told you it was obvious."
"So you're okay with it?" Samuel asked. Eddie glowered at that, and Samuel hastily added, "Not okay . I mean. We're not ashamed of it or anythin'. I just wanted to be sure you knew so, in case it changed your mind."
"Is that why you left the Amish?" Elijah asked.
A cloud of pain passed over Samuel's eyes. He nodded. "Pretty much."
"Me too," Elijah said.
Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, picked up his coffee mug, and took a sip, his gaze locked on Samuel. But Samuel gave Elijah a look of pity that was almost too much. It said he knew what it was like, what he'd been through. And he probably thought he did. Only he didn't. Because that wasn't the darkest secret in Elijah's life. Not by a long shot.
He knew he should tell them right now, since they were being so upfront and everything. They had a right to know who they'd brought into their home, taken under their wings. They had a right to make an honest choice; the choice they'd given him.
But he couldn't. And he wouldn't. Because if he was cast out again, he couldn't stand it. He was too raw. He was too relieved to be under a warm roof. His heart was too broken to take another blow.
Besides, Samuel and Eddie didn't ever have to know about that, because it was all behind him now.
It was.