The Calling (12 page)

And that was the truth. His mother had a way of having one-sided conversations and Jimmy was used to being on the quiet end.

“Now, Mom, we’ve been over all this. The chickens don’t need full-time management.”

“Maybe not right now, but that cornfield is going to need cultivating in another month or so. Harvesting a month after that. And if it doesn’t get harvested, then it doesn’t get ground for meal and then my chickens don’t get fed. And Fisher Hatchery goes—” her arms shot up to the ceiling—“belly up.”

“Now, now, that’s a little dramatic. Don’t you think I’ve been working on a plan? But you see, there’s only so many hours in a day. I’m working at Galen’s, I’m helping Naomi—” He said that to try to derail his mother’s line of thinking and it usually worked. Since she had returned to Stoney Ridge, her favorite topic was the courting of Naomi King.

She cleared her throat, puffing out her cheeks. “Mostly, I hear you’re spending time fluttering around Bethany Schrock.”

Where did she hear that? It was true, but where had she heard it?

“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Jimmy, you’ve always been too softhearted for your own good.”

He sidled around her to get to the bench by the door. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re taking pity on those Schrocks.”

He sat down and reached for a boot. First one, then the other. “Now why would I be taking pity on them?”

“Because of all the trouble that family has caused folks. Poor innocent people.”

“The women didn’t have anything to do with Schrock Investments,” he said emphatically. “That had everything to do with Dean Schrock and his son Tobe and that no-good employee of theirs, Jake Hertzler.”

“How do you know that? How do you know Rose and Bethany weren’t in on it?”

He couldn’t explain it to his mother, but some things you just knew.

“Apples don’t fall far from the tree.”

“Meaning . . .”

“I’ve never said anything about your flittering around other girls—”

It was too early in the morning for this kind of a conversation. “Well, then, let’s just leave well enough alone, all right?”

“—but this time I am stepping in. I’ll say it plainly. I don’t want you cozying up with Bethany Schrock.”

Jimmy bristled like a cat in a lightning storm. “What have you got against Bethany? And don’t try to tell me it’s about
Schrock Investments. You’ve got something in your craw about her.”

“I want someone better for you, that’s all. What’s so terrible about that?” Her voice was controlled and quiet, but there was an edge of steel in it, the way it got when people tried to talk her down on the price of her eggs.

“I think I’m old enough to make those decisions for myself,” he said. “Decisions like becoming a horse trainer.”

“Your father—God rest his soul—started this chicken and egg business to pass on to you boys. Paul left. Now it’s all up to you. You’re all I’ve got. I’m doing it all alone.”

Jimmy sighed. “I know,” he said, feeling guilty for snapping at her. His mother really did mean well, but she was so . . . insistent. He softened his tone. “I do agree with you, Mom. About the chickens needing someone part-time.”

He stilled, an idea taking shape.
In fact . . . I have just the person in
mind!
He jumped off the bench and grabbed his straw hat off the wall peg. Windmill Farm wasn’t far from the Fishers’ farm, but it would take at least an hour to get Hank Lapp woken up, talked into showering, shaved, changed into fresh, clean clothes, and over to the Fisher farm. “I’ll be back soon with our new part-time employee.”

He flew out of the house and into the barn to hitch the horse to the buggy before his mother could object. Fifteen minutes later, he was rapping on Hank’s garage apartment above the buggy shop at Windmill Farm. “Open up, Hank! It’s Jimmy. Come on, wake up!” He kept knocking until the door finally opened.

Hank squinted at Jimmy with his good eye. “WHERE’S THE DADGUM FIRE?!”

Jimmy winced—both at the loud sound of Hank’s voice
and his appearance. The sight of Hank Lapp, first thing in the morning, was not for the squeamish. “Hank, my mother asked for your help.”

Hank straightened hopefully, then eyed Jimmy suspiciously. “I find that a little hard to swallow. She was awful mad at me when she last spurned me. Then she up and married that other fellow. Then she returned, widowfied, and looked at me like it was all my fault.”

“Well, that’s water under the bridge. That temporary husband of hers is pushing up daisies on his own accord. A lot has happened since he up and died—no one’s blaming you. Paul moved and left me with Mom . . . I mean, left the chicken business to Mom to run. She needs your help, I tell you. Wants to hire you part-time.” He clapped his hands twice. “Now. Pronto. Lickety-split.”

Hank’s good eye lit up. But there were two things in Stoney Ridge that couldn’t be rushed: the weather and Hank Lapp. He took his sweet time showering, singing at the top of his lungs—so loud it could break glass. While he showered, Jimmy hunted around the garage apartment for a fresh set of clothes. By the time Hank was done with the shower, Jimmy had a clean shirt and pants waiting for him. “Come on, Hank. You’re wasting precious time. Galen’s waiting on me.”

Hank scowled as he wrapped a towel around his privates. “You’ve got me as nervous as a turkey before Thanksgiving. You go on ahead. I’ll get there.”

“Not a chance. I’m hand delivering you.”

Another hour and a half later, Jimmy pulled the buggy into the driveway of the Fisher farm. He jumped out and called to his mother to come outside. “I brought your part-time
help, Mom. Someone who has a way with chickens and is eager to please.”

Edith came out of the house, wiping her hands on her apron, and stopped short when she saw someone come around the other side of the buggy. Hank took off his hat, held it against his chest, and walked over to Edith.

Their eyes met.

6

O
n Wednesday, Bethany planned to head to the Sisters’ House early in the morning even though they didn’t expect her. She packed up the cookies and the buttermilk and most of what else they had left in the refrigerator, telling Mim things were going bad so fast in this heat that giving them to the soup kitchen would save her from having to throw them out later.

She didn’t want anyone to think she’d gone soft.

After thinking it over, Bethany had decided to help the sisters serve lunch to the down-and-outers of Stoney Ridge on a weekly basis. She liked most of the down-and-outers and looked forward to seeing them—all except those ungrateful girls from the Group Home. And she worried about the sisters, lugging those little red wagons filled with food under the hot sun and working so hard to make a good meal.

When Mim found out what her plans were for the day, she asked to go along and Bethany agreed. After all, if Bethany could help Mim with the secret of Mrs. Miracle’s true identity, then Mim could help with the soup kitchen. When Bethany picked up the breakfast tray in the guest flat, Geena offered
to come too. So the three of them, morning sun blazing hot on their backs, headed over to the Sisters’ House.

The five elderly sisters were delighted to see them walk up the front steps. They happily passed off the wagon handles to Bethany and Mim, and the eight of them started up the road to the Grange Hall.

Within the hour, Bethany and Mim sliced and diced big yellow onions on the countertop of the kitchen at the Grange Hall to make a chili soup for lunch. Despite the heat wave, ingredients to make chili soup had been donated by the local Bent N’ Dent, so chili soup it was.

Bethany was blinking away onion tears when Jimmy Fisher walked in with his dazzling grin. “Why don’t you just admit, Bethany, that I have a powerful effect on you?”

Slicing an onion in half with a big knife, Bethany gave him a look. “Same effect as a pungent onion.” But she couldn’t help but return his grin. Jimmy’s smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds. “Just what brings you to the Grange Hall on this steamy summer morning?”

“I waved him in,” Sylvia said, opening a bag of paper napkins. She handed the napkins to Mim to start setting places at the table.

“I was heading to the hardware store in town to pick up some nails for Galen,” Jimmy said. “We’re fixing a fence that borders Eagle Hill and Galen’s back pasture, on account of a certain goat that seems to have a lack of respect for boundaries.”

“That goat!” Bethany said. “I wouldn’t mind if he wandered off and never returned.”

Sylvia walked into the kitchen with something on her mind. “We have a wonderful plan to create a community garden.”

Jimmy jumped up to sit on the countertop. “What are you talking about?”

“It was all Bethany’s idea,” Fannie said, coming over to get a box of plastic forks for the table settings.

Jimmy glanced at Bethany in disbelief. “It was, was it?”

Of
course it was.
Bethany tried to ignore his look of shock but a blush warmed her chest and rose to her cheeks.

“We’re planning on putting the garden over there, in the vacant lot.” Fannie pointed out the window.

Bethany did a double take—if she wasn’t mistaken, it seemed that Fannie was batting her eyelashes at Jimmy.
That
boy had a strange and particular effect on women of all ages.

Jimmy craned his neck to peer out the window. “The lot between the Grange Hall and the Group Home?”

Sylvia’s dark eyes glittered. “That’s the one.”

Jimmy jumped off the countertop and crossed the room to look out the window. “It’ll take a ton of work to clean it up. It’s littered with everything from broken glass to old tires.”

Sylvia smiled. “That’s where you come in, Jimmy.”

Swift as anything, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Me?”

“Yes. You. You can gather some of your friends and organize a work frolic to get that lot cleaned up.”

Jimmy turned back to look out the window, crossing his arms, thinking. “We’re going to need a dumpster for all that trash.”

“I thought it would be best to have individual raised beds,” Bethany said, still slicing and dicing the onion.

Jimmy gave Bethany a sideways glance. “You did, did you?” but he sounded as if he still couldn’t believe she had thought this up on her own.

She gave him her sweetest smile. “You could make those too.”

“We could probably use the old fence wood that Galen had me tear down last week. A lot of the boards could be reused to make the beds.” He yanked off his hat and worried it in a circle. “Topsoil will have to be brought in. Amos Lapp and Chris Yoder might donate it. I’m sure I can talk Hank Lapp into pitching in.”

As he spoke and spun his hat, Bethany took Jimmy’s measure. He was a fine-looking young man by anyone’s standard. His forearms showed roped muscle, born of a hundred farm tasks he undertook. Then there was his thick blond hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. Those blue, blue eyes, nearly aquamarine. She shook that thought off and tried to replace it with her diced onion. She scooped the onions up with her big knife and dumped them in the big pot to sauté.

“So, you’ll help?” Bethany said. “We sure do need it. And you love to be helpful.” Sylvia was pretty crafty, she thought. Having Jimmy be a part of this project would ensure any number of young women from the church would be happy to volunteer in the garden.

“It’s just dirt, water, and sun,” Fannie said.

“And paying attention,” Ella pointed out. “Don’t forget that part. That’s the most important part of all.”

“So, then, you’ll help?” Bethany repeated. Jimmy flashed one of his charming, easy smiles, and she caught her breath. That grin gave him a dangerous boyish look that she didn’t buy for a moment.

He wiggled his dark eyebrows. “What else you got cooking today?”

The onions! Bethany hurried to stir the pot before they burned. The onions were completely translucent. “Chili soup.”
She scooped up a pile of papery onion skins and dumped them in the trash.

“Save me a bowl, will you? And I’ll stop by later to sketch out a plan.” He flipped his hat up in the air to land squarely on his head.

“Jimmy . . .” Bethany swallowed and looked at him doubtfully. “You sure?”

“Of what?” he asked with a slow grin. “That you need the help or that you’ll have enough chili to spare me a bowl? Answer B is up to you—I love chili, even on a broiling summer day. Answer A is ‘absolutely.’ You’ve bitten off a big job, but . . . I’m willing to give it a try.” Once again, Jimmy wiggled his eyebrows at her, then headed to the door.

Bethany added ground beef to the big pot and stirred it until it browned. Then she poured in four quarts of beef broth from big cans. She hoped it was beef broth, anyway, because the cans were missing their labels. She added six dented cans of diced tomatoes, stirred, then waited for the liquid to come to a boil. When the soup reached a full, rolling boil, she added four cans of red kidney beans, turned down the heat, added a bay leaf, cumin, chili powder, oregano, salt and pepper, and celery tops.

“Do you think we might be taking on something too big with that community garden?” Bethany asked Sylvia when she came to check on the chili soup.