Chapter 6
Leftovers were the scourge of human existence or a bountiful blessing—depending on whom a person asked.
Jocelyn pulled open the refrigerator door, hauled out a plastic-wrapped bowl of pulled pork, and set it on the counter.
When would she learn to stop making such large quantities? Two women didn’t eat nearly as much as two women and a hardworking man with a big appetite.
She and Bonnie would be eating leftovers until they had sandwiches running out of their ears.
Jocelyn didn’t even like pulled pork that much. It had been Marlin’s favorite. With pickles, onions, and spicy barbecue sauce on homemade sourdough buns.
Served with corn on the cob, roasted potatoes, and peach cobbler.
“Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves . . .”
Jocelyn warbled the first hymn lyrics that came to mind.
“We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.”
The louder she sang, the quieter the house seemed.
The taste of Marlin’s kisses warmed her.
His smell of earth and hard work enveloped her.
She closed her eyes to lean into a fierce hug borne of sinewy muscles honed in the fields.
You’re not here.
You’re gone.
Gone in the time it took her to drift off to sleep, dream of babies she never had, and wake up to his cooling body at her side.
For two years.
Shivering, Jocelyn opened her eyes.
“‘Get thee behind me, Satan.’”
She grabbed a wooden spoon and smacked it on the counter so hard it splintered.
“Es dutt mer, Gott, es dutt mer.”
It had to be Satan who needled her forty times a day, trying to make her question God’s plan for herself.
And for Bonnie.
Especially for Bonnie.
“Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves . . .”
Songs had become Jocelyn’s weapon of choice in this battle against loneliness.
Against self-pity and the sin of worry.
The louder Satan flung his barbed questions at her, the louder she sang.
“We shall come rejoicing—”
“Hey, hey, hallo!”
Whoever spoke interspersed pounding on the back door with the words. “Hallo!”
Heat suffusing her face, Jocelyn dropped the spoon in the trash can.
She rushed to open the back door.
A man she’d never seen before stood on the porch.
It was evident he’d heard her singing . . . and her conversation with Satan. “Hallo.”
“You sing pretty.”
He cocked his head and smiled a big toothy grin.
“I hated to interrupt.”
“I don’t sing hymns for prettiness.”
“I reckon not.”
This strange Plain man had eyes the lightest shade of brown Jocelyn had ever seen.
If she had to put a name to it, she’d say teak.
His silver beard matched the silver hair not covered by a straw hat that had seen better days.
He was tall and rangy, and had the leathery brown skin of a man who’d worked outdoors for many years.
“No offense meant.”
“None taken.”
“I’m Theo Beiler.
I’m your bruder Uri’s new hired hand.”
That explained who he was but not why he stood on her porch at the end of the day.
Surely her brother Uriah, known as Uri to his friends and family, would’ve seen the propriety of coming along to make an introduction to a stranger.
“Uri sent you, then?”
“I reckon you’re Joci.”
Only her family and friends called her that.
“I reckon I am.”
Theo glanced over Jocelyn’s shoulder, then back at her, his expression tentative.
“I heard you talking, but it looks like you’re alone.”
He had heard her.
Jocelyn’s cheeks burned.
She raised her chin and straightened her shoulders.
“I’m sure Uri told you I’m a wittfraa.
My dochder is still in town working.”
“Jah, he did.”
Theo seemed to contemplate something on the porch ceiling.
“Maybe you could come outside, and we could talk.”
At least he was sensitive to her being a woman alone on the farm.
He didn’t want to enter the house unchaperoned.
Funny that Uriah hadn’t thought of that.
Jocelyn nodded.
Theo stepped aside and she slipped past him. Motioning to the canvas lawn chairs lined up under the kitchen windows, she moved in that direction. “Have a seat and tell me why Uri sent a strange man to my door.”
Theo eased into a chair and stretched his long legs out in front of him.
“I may seem strange, but really I’m not.
I’m pretty average.”
Jocelyn shooed away a momma cat and her two kittens so she could sit in the chair next to him.
She’d have a backside covered with cat hair, but no matter.
“I meant strange as in unknown.”
“I know you did.”
He chuckled, a rich baritone sound.
“Do you always sing like that?”
“Nee.
Not always.”
“You’re not much for making conversation, are you?”
Marlin would’ve said she couldn’t be hushed.
“Under the right circumstances, I talk.”
“I can take a hint.
I’ll get to the point.”
“Apparently not.”
What was it about his breezy attitude and eyes that said he was searching for a reason to laugh that sent her prickles into overdrive? “Or not so I’ve noticed.”
This time he laughed outright.
“You, on the other hand, do get right to the point.
Uri wants me to see what needs to be painted, repaired, and slash or replaced.
He’s made me crew leader for the frolic next week.
I’m to make a list of supplies we’ll need.”
“What frolic? My mann left everything in tip-top condition,”
Jocelyn sputtered.
She sucked in a breath.
Uriah had no right to suggest otherwise.
“Marlin was the handiest man I know.
He kept this place in gut order.”
“No need to get your dander up.”
Theo raised both hands as if under arrest.
“I meant no offense, and I know Uri didn’t either.”
Of course not.
Mama cat—who really needed a name—meowed from the spot she’d taken in the third chair—Marlin’s chair.
She recognized a dustup when she heard one.
“My dander’s not up.
I just don’t think we need a frolic.”
“How long has your mann been gone?”
“Two years.”
His merry air had evaporated into evening air turning cool and crisp as the sun faded on the horizon.
“Two years.
Long enough for the paint to fade, but not necessarily the pain.”
It sounded like the voice of experience.
He was probably in his early fifties.
He had a beard, which meant he was married.
Or had been married.
Jocelyn studied his face. Lines that hadn’t been there a few minutes earlier took up residence around his full lips and expressive eyes. It was none of her business. “Jah.”
“I looked around before I knocked.
The house could use a coat of paint.
The second step to the front porch needs fixin’, and you got some corral fence that needs replacing.
The gutters need cleaning.
Several trees need trimming. You haven’t started your spring garden, so I reckon a rototiller might come in handy. The solar panel has come loose up yonder.”
He pointed to the roof above them.
“I suspect your porch light hasn’t been coming on.
And that’s just a quick survey.”
“Marlin planned to repaint the house.
He’d just bought the paint.”
Two days before he died.
Jocelyn cleared her throat.
She forced her hands to relax in her lap.
Two years were plenty long enough to grieve.
Her sisters and brothers said so. The bishop said so. Even her mother, who’d lived through losing Jocelyn’s father in a freak boating accident, thought so. “It’s in the barn.”
“I don’t mean no disrespect for your late mann.”
Jocelyn breathed in the scent of mud from the previous evening’s rain.
A robin called to its mate on a nearby dogwood, already plush with white blooms.
Blue jays and chickadees chattered.
A titmouse hopped from branch to branch in the red maple tree.
What had Bonnie just been saying about pride coming before a fall? Jocelyn should be thankful to be blessed with family and friends who wanted to help her. God provided.
Also, God giveth and God taketh away.
Satan knew Scripture as well as the next fallen angel.
Better even.
“I know that.
Es dutt mer.
I’m a cranky old woman.
Danki for being willing to lead this frolic crew.”
“No apology necessary, nor thanks.”
“Did you want to look around some more?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
She did, but that was just Satan again, whispering in her ear that having this stranger poke around the farm was somehow a betrayal of Marlin.
Her husband had been nothing if not a practical man.
He’d scoff at the idea.
“Do you want a cup of kaffi first? Or some cold tea?”
“Maybe when I’m done.”
He stood and stretched his arms overhead.
His fingers nearly touched the roof.
“You know what you need?”
Theo’s tone indicated he was about to tell her.
“You need a hund.
Cats are well and good, but hunde are better protectors.”
“We don’t need protecting.”
“Just like the farm don’t need fixin’.”
How full of pride she must sound.
“I have Plink.”
Theo let his arms drop.
He cranked his head from side to side.
“Plink? So you already have a dog?”
“Nee.
Plink is Marlin’s shotgun.”
“Interesting choice of names.”
His expression was dubious.
“A BB gun plinks.”
For the first time, Jocelyn had the urge to smile.
“Plink was Marlin’s little joke—not that he thought guns were funny.
The shotgun can do plenty of damage.”
Not that he or she would shoot anyone bent on stealing what wasn’t theirs.
No Plain person would.
Material goods weren’t worth taking the life of another human being.
The rifle, used for hunting, was intended to scare off unwanted guests without the need to resort to actually using it.
Theo smiled back.
He had a good, honest smile.
“Gut to know.
Then I’ll stick my nose back in my own business where it belongs.”
It was a long nose, but not so long that it kept him from being easy on the eyes.
He clomped down the steps and headed toward the barn.
After only a few steps, he paused and turned back.
“I happen to know hunde are gut company and the right hund will run off a bad guy without you having to worry about the guy taking Plink away from you and using it to shoot you.”
“Your nose just won’t stay where it belongs, will it?”
Theo threw back his head and laughed.
“I reckon it won’t.
I’d apologize—”
Jocelyn couldn’t help but join him.
He had that kind of laugh.
“But you’re not sorry.”
“Not even a little bit.”
With that admission, he resumed his trek to the barn.
“Mamm?”
Jocelyn glanced back.
Bonnie stood with the screen door pushed half open, her rollator keeping it from shutting.
“Who’s that man?”
Jocelyn returned her gaze to Theo’s retreating back.
“Someone Onkel Uri sent our way.”
She explained about the frolic.
Bonnie edged onto the porch.
She parked her rollator in front of the chair Theo had vacated and eased herself into it.
“So that’s the new hired hand.
Aenti Frannie was in the store last week.
She mentioned they’d hired a wittmann who just moved to town from Berlin, Ohio.”
A widower.
Bonnie chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“I thought it would be Aenti Frannie who did the matchmaking.”
Bonnie’s smile held an extra heaping helping of bittersweet.
“Onkel Uri beat her to it.”
Surely he knew Jocelyn wasn’t ready.
That, whatever the expectations of her community, she might never be ready.
“Ach, he wouldn’t.”
Her smile widening, Bonnie shrugged.
“We’ll see, won’t we?”
“We will indeed.”