13. Chapter 9
Chapter 9
T he guests came to stay the day before Halloween. Eddie said they were special donors named the Talbots and the Gringolds. One family was from Philadelphia and the other from New York City. Eddie hired cleaners to come in, and the house was sparkling. More Halloween decorations had materialized inside the house, which was strange to Elijah's senses. What was the value of all these weird little things? Such a waste of money.
The night before the guests were to arrive, Samuel and Eddie set to baking. Elijah offered to help, but Samuel shooed him off, and he got the sense the two of them wanted to be alone.
The smells wafting up from the kitchen were so wonderful that Elijah sat at the top of the stairs for a good hour, just taking big whiffs of the cinnamon-apple-sugar-buttery scents. Even more enticing than the smells was the gentle laughter and murmured teasing, the long silences Elijah imagined were filled with kisses, the palpable sense of a bubble of joy down there, in the kitchen, a bubble made by, and for, just the two of them.
That sense of love, of family, made his heart throb with the memories of home. His mom was such a good baker. With thirteen kids in the family, you had to hurry to get your share, even though she baked in big batches. So the moment any of them kids smelled her baking, it was a race to the kitchen. And, of course, she'd set aside a covered plate for Papa and, later, for the adult boys too—those plates were sacrosanct. The rest of them would gobble up the cookies—or muffins, or cupcakes—right off the wire cooling racks.
That scent-call urged him now, sitting there on the carpeted stairs, to hurry and get some before they were all gone. But he didn't go, of course. Because that wasn't Mama cooking downstairs, and the ghosts of his brothers and sisters rushing past him weren't real. Those treats were for the guests. And that family-joy down there wasn't his either. It was Eddie and Samuel's to savor and to treasure.
Did they know how lucky they were to have this? To have the luxury of a home belonging to two men in love? Seeing what they had, Elijah knew he'd been right to leave Dawdi. Because maybe, someday, he might have such a thing himself. That would never happen living with the Amish. But it hurt his heart when he contemplated how far away such a prospect seemed, and how impossible it felt that he'd ever meet a love of his own.
He shed a few tears and fell asleep there, leaning against the wall. He was embarrassed when Samuel nudged him awake, a frown of amused confusion on his brow, and urged Elijah to get to bed.
The next day, out in the barn, Jon showed him how to make molasses balls for the animals. He said the kids like to feed them the sticky treats. He mixed molasses with ground corn and oats in a big steel bowl, then rolled the sticky concoction into small balls. Jon put a tray of them in the freezer, saying an hour in there would keep them from sticking together.
Standing next to Jon, watching his sure, beautiful hands stir the mix, Elijah felt weak in the knees, overcome by the nearness of Jon and the memory of Samuel and Eddie in the kitchen. He couldn't help but compare his lot to Samuel's. Samuel belonged here on this good and pleasant farm. It was his. Elijah was an interloper, and this was a temporary haven at best. Given his lack of money and prospects, he probably never would own his own homestead.
Even better, Samuel had Eddie, forever, and for true. Elijah might imagine anything he liked about Jon in the privacy of his own mind. He might admire him from afar, might find him handsome and desirable. He might remember that voice: This one's for you, and feel hopeful . But that was pure fantasy. When he was actually with Jon—when Jon was forced to be close by—his stand-offish way made it clear he had no interest in Elijah whatsoever. Not even to be friendly.
Jon had been a wee bit nicer just recently. Still. He would never be within Elijah's reach, so he wished his stupid heart would quit putting up the idea. And he wished his stupid eyes would quit seeking out the sight of Jon around the barn and outside and everywhere. Why did he torture himself?
Jon left Elijah to the task after the first batch—a good thing for his weak knees. Making the rest took several hours and many instances of needing to clean sticky hands before he could continue. Then Jon had Elijah sweep all the walkways and aisles and wipe down the gates and clean up out by the pig area in the pasture. It was a long, busy day. Everything had to be ready by 3 o'clock when the farm opened to visitors. Elijah was nervous about it but also kinda excited. He was curious to see how it all worked.
Cars began to arrive right on schedule. Jon handed Elijah a bright orange vest and a walkie-talkie and told him to stand out in the driveway and direct cars to turn and park in a gravel parking area. Elijah did as he was told, waving to his right, waving to his right.
Parents and kids piled out of the cars and headed for the barn. All the kids were dressed in costumes and some of the parents too, and everyone was so friendly and happy. The dense white cloud cover that had sat overhead for days parted, as if by special invitation, and a regal blue hung over the farm. It was a cold day but a pretty one.
"Elijah?" The walkie-talkie sounded off, startling him.
He fumbled it out of his vest pocket and tried to see how to turn it on.
"Elijah?"
"Yes?" He held it up to his mouth.
"Elijah? Fuck. Elijah, press the red button on the side when you talk!"
Elijah felt a flush of embarrassment. He pressed the red button and held it down. "Yes, I'm here."
"I need you at the barn, stat."
Short and not-so-sweet, as always. Elijah told himself it didn't bother him that Jon always said the bare minimum necessary. But his plummeting heart said otherwise.
When Elijah arrived at the barn, it was a scene. Kids were running around outside, clustered at the pasture gate where Eddie and Samuel were supervising. The cows and horses had gathered, Fred and Ginger front and center. They were greedily nosing for the molasses treats.
Even before entering the barn, Elijah heard the squeals of excited pigs. They'd decided not to let the pigs out in the pasture today because there was no way all the pigs and the cows and horses could fit at the pasture gate, and with molasses treats, it would be a stampede. But Elijah saw at once that it wasn't going so smoothly in here either. The pigs were in their stalls, but they were overly excited about the treats and clambering over each other to push their snouts through the bars. A few pigs were fighting—Elijah could hear their angry squeals.
Kids were in the aisles with small buckets of treats looking a little overwhelmed and scared by the noise and aggression of the porcine darlings.
"Elijah!" Jon came jogging up. "I'm about to clear this whole mess out. They're too jacked up. I don't want them gettin' hurt. Unless you've got a better idea."
He looked and sounded so frustrated. Elijah had the urge to touch his arm or his face, to soothe him somehow. But the thought was fleeting, and any such thing would be unwelcome. He turned his attention to the pigs, looking over the stalls.
Hold 'im, Elijah. Get a grip on 'im now! A memory surfaced of Dawdi, barking at him impatiently, bending to put a remedy on a bull's inflamed side. The bull was tied up but still thrashing, and Elijah would never be strong enough to hold the animal. But he focused on calm, sent it out through his mind, his hands growing warm where they pressed to the animal's neck…. He remembered that big, black eye staring into his, the anger and anxiety in it fading.
"Give me a bucket," he said.
Jon handed him a bucket full of molasses treats.
Elijah lifted the bucket onto his head to get it well out of pig territory and slipped through the gate of the first stall, pushing past insistent pigs. Once inside, he clucked his tongue and slowed his breathing. He gathered a feeling of calm inside himself and sent it out as he moved to the back of the stall, murmuring soothing words in German. He gently tossed down a handful of the molasses treats there. Moving slow and easy, he tossed a few at the left and the right side of the stall too.
The pigs that had been pushing at the bars on the aisle reformed like a flock of birds making maneuvers in the air, parting into smaller groups to go after the treats. He moved among them, gently stroking backs and making a clicking sound, sending out waves of peace and contentment. The enthusiasm of the pigs mellowed and soon they calmly munched the sticky frozen snacks.
He hiked himself up onto the top bar to the next stall and swung himself over. He kept on that way, sowing extra treats in the stalls, one by one, and sending out that soothing calm. The noise level in the barn fell as he went, and peace descended like an invisible blanket.
When he was done in the last stall, he let himself back out onto the aisle and looked around. The kids were now feeding pigs at the various enclosures. Only a few of the more curious or friendly pigs were nosing at the front while most rummaged around for the treats he'd put elsewhere. Happy chatter and giggles resumed.
Jon stood in the middle of the aisle staring at him. He walked closer. "So what are you, an Amish pig whisperer?"
He sounded both skeptical and sort of impressed. Elijah felt his face heat. "Nah. Just had the idea so…"
"Just had the idea." Jon gave him another once-over before turning away. "Well, thanks for that. Bring some more treats in from the freezer and keep an eye out for further mayhem."
"Sure."
Elijah went to get the treats. But, oh, the gush of pleasure that simple acknowledgment gave him! He'd done well, and he knew it. More importantly, Jon knew it. He tried not to be too excited or hopeful that this would change anything. But at least he'd shown today that he was not simply a charity case. He could pull his weight here. Elijah Schultz had something to offer.
* * *
That night, after the crowds had left, Samuel set out a buffet in the dining room. The Talbots—a young couple with two kids, and the Gringolds—a senior couple, loaded up their plates and sat at the dining table with Eddie and Samuel. There wasn't room for more, so Elijah took his plate to the small table in the kitchen. Jon came in the sliding glass door, went into the dining room, and came back with a loaded plate. For a moment, Elijah felt a spark of hope and anticipation, thinking Jon would come over and sit. But, no, he took his plate out the sliding glass door without a single glance at, or word to, Elijah. So much for the pig incident making any difference in how Jon viewed him.
Jon had a room in a converted outbuilding on the property, Elijah knew. It was that little white building at the end of the garages. The door, with its dubious WELCOME mat, held mysteries. It was the domain of the dark prince.
But no, that wasn't fair. Jon was not dark , not for true. He was wounded; anyone could see that. What had wounded him was none of Elijah's business, but he knew it must have been real bad. But Jon didn't want or need Elijah's council.
He felt very sorry for himself as he sat at that table eating alone. His only company was Ringo, who occupied his usual place on the rug by the wood stove, too lazy to even come over for pets or a nibble off Elijah's plate. The happy chatter drifting to him from the next room made him feel more like an outsider than ever. He'd never belong here the way he had at his family's big family meals. Which was an odd thing to think because he'd never felt he belonged there either.
Would he ever belong anywhere?
Shhh. It takes time. It will come , said the voice in his head, soothing him in much the way he'd done the pigs.
He trusted the voice. It had been in his head since he was a boy. He didn't talk about it because Ma and Da said it was nonsense and a lie, and Dawdi got mad and said it could be the devil, and he should never presume to be talked to by God or any heavenly being. He wasn't that special.
Still. He'd never believed it was evil, because it only ever helped him, and he took comfort in it now.
It will come .
It couldn't come soon enough, as far as Elijah was concerned.