Anthony rose from his spot at the head of the table. “We’ll get started again at seven tomorrow morning, before it gets so hot. Breakfast at six thirty. Set your alarms. There’s a long time between breakfast and lunch. You can’t give a full day’s work on an empty stomach, so make sure you don’t sleep through breakfast.” He turned a pointed look toward Lucas.
The young man’s face flooded pink, making his pimples glow.
Anthony bounced a tired smile around the circle of faces. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”
Lucas bounded off with the exuberance of a puppy, and the others sauntered toward their trailers, talking quietly with one another. Brooke was a little surprised to see Charlotte leave with her husband. She’d spent most of the day helping Marty. Wouldn’t she help with supper cleanup, too?
Anthony headed for his trailer with a chair tucked under each arm, and Marty inched around the table, stacking the plates and silverware. Brooke automatically followed Marty and collected the glasses. “Doesn’t Charlotte help you with dishes and so forth?”
Marty glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, sure. She’s helped cook all the meals and helped with the breakfast and lunch dishes. She’s been a great help. But I don’t mind doing the supper dishes by myself. The automatic dishwasher does most of the work.”
Anthony strode across the grass and snagged two more chairs, excusing himself when his elbow bumped Brooke. He headed for the trailer again.
Marty watched him from the corners of her eyes and then grinned at Brooke. “Anthony didn’t want me using the dishwasher at first. Our sect hasn’t approved worldly conveniences like automatic dishwashers, and I think he was afraid I’d get used to it and have a hard time adjusting to doing things by hand again. But then he said I had a lot more people than usual to clean up after so I should do whatever would help me the most.”
With her hands full, Marty scuffed toward the trailer. Brooke pinched four glasses between the fingers of each hand, the way she’d learned to do when she worked as a waitress during college, and followed her friend. Anthony opened the door when they reached the steps, and he shifted out of their way, holding it open for them. As Brooke passed him, he said, “As soon as I have the table and chairs inside, we can sit in the living room and talk. Marty said you had things to discuss with me.”
“I do.” Brooke placed the glasses on the counter. “If you’re too tired from working, though, I can drive out at noon tomorrow and we could have a lunch meeting.”
He shook his head. “No, tonight is better. You probably shouldn’t be driving back and forth so much with your—” His neck and face blotched red. “Well, with you not feeling good.”
Unexpectedly, Brooke warmed toward the man. For the most part, the men in her world treated her as an equal, one of the gang, but Anthony had demonstrated a touch of chivalry. Misplaced chivalry, because the cancer didn’t interfere with her ability to operate a vehicle, but it was kind anyway. She touched the rolled sleeve of his shirt. “Thank you for your concern, but it really isn’t an inconvenience. I won’t want to put it off too long, though, since it involves hiring the extra man for your crew.”
He fiddled with his cap’s bill and finally nodded. “All right.” He marched out the door.
Marty started after him, but Brooke put out her arm and stopped her. “Go ahead and load the dishwasher. I’ll get the platters.” Marty opened her mouth, but before she could voice an argument, Brooke moved to the door and spread her arms to block it. “No arguing. You worked while I slept. I need to earn my keep around here.”
Marty shook her head, but she smiled and returned to the sink.
Brooke opened the door and found Anthony with his foot on the lowest riser and two more chairs under his arms. She smiled and held the door wide. “Good timing, huh?”
He lobbed a quick grin at her, and she scuttled outside, swallowing a chortle. Solicitous one minute and bashful the next. As her mother always said, men were impossible to understand. Locusts began their night songs from the thick row of maples north of the trailers. Brooke paused for a moment to enjoy their chorus, but all at once the rhythmic buzz ended. She looked around. What had startled the locusts into silence? She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but wariness sent tingles across her scalp.
As abruptly as they’d stopped, the locusts wheezed into song again. Shaking her head, she reached for the platters. “Dumb insects, anyway. And dumb me for letting them scare me.” Then she jolted to a stop and choked out a laugh. The platter with the last two hamburger patties was now as empty as the potato salad bowl.
Anthony crossed the yard to the table, and Brooke couldn’t resist teasing him. “You must have scarfed those things to have them gone in such a short amount of time.”
He pulled back slightly and lowered his brows. “What?”
She picked up the charcoal-smeared platter and showed it to him. “The burgers. Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”
He stared at the platter as if he feared it would rise up and bite him. “I didn’t eat them.”
She stared at him. “You didn’t? Then who…” The uneasy prickle tiptoed from her forehead to the nape of her neck again, and she shivered despite the balmy evening. “Do you suppose one of the men came out and took them?”
Anthony shrugged, the motion so slow it appeared his joints had grown rusty. “I doubt it. They know to ask before they take something that doesn’t belong to them.”
Brooke searched for another explanation. “Then maybe an animal.” But even she could see no evidence of tracks or left-behind bits of grass that would indicate a four-footed intruder had climbed onto the table. Besides, would an animal be able to snatch both burgers at the same time?
He whisked a glance left and right, then curled his hand around her elbow. “You go on in, Brooke. I’ll get Nate to help me with this table. And when we’re done talking, I’ll walk you to your car.”
Brooke wasn’t in the habit of taking orders, but she followed his instructions without a moment of hesitation.
20
Anthony
Anthony tapped the hammer against the chisel’s anvil. Hard enough to penetrate the layer of plaster covering the interior wall of the old bank building but gentle enough to keep from piercing the lath underneath. He’d hoped to salvage the plaster. It would save money now—no need to purchase drywall. It’d save money later, too, in heating and cooling costs since plaster was better insulation than drywall. But the walls were too cracked. Some had already begun to crumble on their own. He wouldn’t risk having the walls collapse on guests.
Fine white dust coated his clothes and hung in the air like fog over a pond. The dust could get sucked inside a man’s nose and end up in his lungs if he wasn’t careful. Nearly every building on the street had plaster walls, so they’d be breathing a lot of dust. The next time he went to town, he’d buy a big box of painters’ masks. But for now, his bandanna served as a shield.
He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Lucas had a handkerchief tied over his mouth and nose, the way Anthony had instructed. The boy had laughed and said they’d look like bandits. Anthony had no idea where he’d learned such a thing, but he’d been quick to let him know the bandanna was necessary for his health, so he’d be wise to keep it in place. Lucas must have believed him, because the triangle of cloth was stretched across his cheeks with the point bobbing above the V-necked opening of his shirt.
Satisfied Lucas was fine, Anthony turned his attention to his part of the room. He’d planned to take a minute during breakfast to question his men about last night’s missing hamburger patties. Not to accuse, just to ask. But he’d changed his mind. Why bother? He knew his workers. They’d have asked, the way they always asked if they could take the leftovers. If he questioned them, they might think he didn’t trust them, and that wasn’t a good way to build a strong team. But where had the patties gone?
As Marty said when he told her they disappeared, they hadn’t sprouted legs and run away.
He wondered where they’d gone, but he had more pressing things to think about, so he pushed the curiosity to the corner of his mind and continued working. He needed to watch the clock, because at ten thirty a trio of men who’d answered Brooke’s ad for long-term, on-site workers were due to arrive. He’d need to swat the dust off his clothes before he met with them.
He had expected Brooke to hire somebody and send him out, but she said she wanted him to do the final interviews and choose the man he thought would best fit in with his team. A wise decision, in his opinion. He planned to let Todd sit in on the interviews since whoever they hired would share Todd’s trailer. It should probably make him uneasy, bringing a worldly man into their midst—working beside them, eating with them, living with them—but it didn’t.
Of the three unmarried men on his team, Todd was the oldest and the most solid in his faith. Anthony didn’t worry about Todd adopting worldly habits, and he liked being given the chance to witness to this non-Mennonite worker, the way the deacons had said. Not the same as being a missionary. Not even close to being a missionary. But every soul had great value, equal to the life of God’s Son, and if he could impact one soul for eternity, he’d feel successful.
Another large section of plaster peeled from the wall and broke into chunks against the wood floor. Dust rose, and even with the bandanna in place, a few particles reached his nose. He sneezed, the force bending him forward. His eyes watered and his nose tickled, and he took in several short huffs that drew the cloth against his mouth while another sneeze built. The second one was even stronger than the first. He put his hands on his knees and waited for a third. But that seemed to be it.
He straightened and found Lucas grinning at him. Well, he couldn’t see the boy’s mouth to know for sure, but his eyes looked like he was grinning behind his bandanna. “You okay?”
Anthony nodded.
“Gesundheit.”
At the familiar German blessing, Anthony nodded again. “Thank you.” He stepped over the pile of broken plaster and set the chisel blade against another patch on the wall. Before he could apply the hammer, though, Marty called his name. Lucas dropped his hammer and darted out of the building. Anthony stepped over and around chunks of plaster, checking his watch as he went. Yep, ten. Snack time. And time for him and Todd to get cleaned up.
Marty stood in the shade of a tin awning, holding a tray of brownies and halved bananas. The men gathered around, helping themselves. She caught his eye as he reached for a brownie. “You’ve got visitors.”
Anthony yanked the bandanna from his face. “Already?”
She nodded. “All three of them came in a couple minutes ago, one right after the other. I told them to wait on the porch.”
So he had no time to clean up. He glanced down his length. They’d see what kind of mess they’d be getting themselves into. He crossed to his team, who’d clustered in the shade to eat their snacks.
“Todd, let’s go do the interviews.”
Todd had been scooping up broken shingles from around the foundations of the three wood-sided businesses. His face was sweaty and his clothes were dirt smeared, but he looked a lot more presentable than Anthony. Todd jammed the last of his brownie into his mouth, wiped his hands on his thighs, and jogged over. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Anthony untied the bandanna from his neck, shook it, and then used it to mop his face while he, Marty, and Todd headed for the trailers. Todd pointed to two newer-looking cars and a rusty pickup truck lined up on the road across from the trailers. They reached the yard, and Marty went inside through the back door. Anthony and Todd rounded the front of the trailer. Two men wearing sunglasses, jeans, and T-shirts with the tails hanging out sat on the second step. A third man stood next to the porch with his elbow on the railing. He also wore jeans and a T-shirt, but he had a Royals cap instead of sunglasses and he’d tucked in his shirt. All three looked to be in their early twenties.
The two on the steps stood, and the third dropped his elbow from the rail when Anthony and Todd approached. Todd stayed off to the side, and Anthony stuck out his hand to the dark-haired, stocky man on the left.
“Hello. I’m Anthony Hirschler.”
The man gave him a firm handshake. “Mitch Price.”
The next one slipped his glasses into the patch pocket of his shirt as he returned Anthony’s handshake. “Austin Brady. Glad to meet you.”
Anthony offered his hand to the one on the right, the one who’d been standing. This young man was an inch taller than either of the other two but thinner. His shoulders were broad, though, and the sleeves on his plain green T-shirt fit tight around the thick muscles of his upper arms. He yanked the cap from his head and gripped Anthony’s hand without shaking it, his gaze darting everywhere except to Anthony’s face. “Elliott Kane.” He plopped the cap back on and seemed to examine the toes of his worn boots.
Anthony invited Todd to join them. “This is Todd Bender. Whoever hires on will share a trailer with him, so I wanted him with us so he could meet you and you could meet him.” Todd shook the men’s hands and they exchanged hellos.
Anthony gestured to his dust-covered clothes. “I’d take you inside the trailer to talk, but my wife wouldn’t want me in her clean house.” Todd, Mitch, and Austin chuckled. Elliott’s expression didn’t change. Anthony held out his hand in the direction of the town. “How about we walk to the street front so you can see what we’re doing here. We can talk about your work experience and get to know each other a little bit.”
The four of them fell into step with Anthony, Todd on his right and the three new men on his left, with Elliott Kane at the far end. Mitch talked the whole distance from the trailers to the town, and by the time they reached the first of the rock buildings, Anthony was ready to put his hand over the younger man’s mouth. Apparently Mitch hadn’t been instructed to memorize Proverbs 14:23—“In all labour there is profit: but the talk of the lips tendeth only to penury”—when he was a boy, the way the Old Order youth of Anthony’s sect had.
Brooke had already told them they’d be expected to help rebuild or remodel the existing structures, so Anthony showed them every building and discussed the repairs they would make. Each of the men shared—well, Mitch bragged more than shared—where he’d worked before, what kind of construction he’d done, and which tools he knew how to use. If they were all telling the truth, their skills and experience were almost identical. Which meant the choice came down to which one Anthony and the team would want to live with for the next year and a half. Anthony had already chosen Austin in his mind. The man seemed to listen more than talk, unlike Mitch, and he was friendly instead of standoffish, unlike Elliott.
Anthony stopped on the boardwalk at the west edge of town, put his hands in his pockets, and turned to face the three applicants. “Now you’ve seen it all and know what kind of work we’re doing. So let me tell the rest. Because there’s so much to get done, most weeks we’ll work Monday through Saturday. We start at seven, take short breaks midmorning and midafternoon and of course a longer lunch break, and we work right up to suppertime, which is about six thirty. The days’ll be long. It’s a pretty big commitment. So lemme ask, are you sure you want to join the crew?”
Mitch grinned. “Sure, I’m in. It’ll be kind of like living in the Old West. Guess I’ll need to pack a six-shooter.” He made a pistol with his hand and fired off several shots, using his lips to make the sound effects. He pretended to holster the gun and nudged Austin, still grinning.
Anthony stifled a sigh and looked at Austin. “What about you?”
The young man slid a frown across the row of buildings. “I don’t know. It sounded really interesting in the ad—different, you know? And I like construction work. But…” He faced Anthony and shrugged. “I think I’m gonna pass. I like having my whole w
eekends free, and I think I’d miss the city too much. Thanks for the tour, though, and good luck with the project.” He ambled off.
Anthony turned to the remaining man, who stared across the street with his eyes squinted. “Elliott, how about you?” The young man hadn’t cracked something even close to a smile the entire hour they’d been together. He didn’t put one on now, either. Anthony didn’t know why he’d bothered to ask. Clearly Elliott Kane would rather be anywhere except in the abandoned town.
“Yes,” Elliott said.
Anthony gave a start. “Yes, you’re still interested?”
Elliott still didn’t look at Anthony, but he nodded.
“All right. Then let me talk with Todd for a bit, and we’ll give you an answer.” Anthony put his arm around Todd’s shoulders and led him several feet from the pair of contenders. He kept his voice low, just between him and Todd. “I’ll be honest. Either one would probably be able to do the work. So you decide. Which one do you think it’d be easier for you to live with?”
Anthony wasn’t sure he’d offered Todd a fair choice. Mitch’s constant talk had already grated on his nerves. Mitch was talking now even though it didn’t seem like Elliott was paying much attention. But as much as Mitch’s endless chatter chafed, Elliott’s quietness and unwillingness to look anybody in the eyes made Anthony uneasy. He sent up a silent prayer for Todd to choose wisely. They’d all have to live with the consequences of his choice.
Todd sent a long, thoughtful look over his shoulder. He hung his head for a moment, rubbing his jaw with his thumb. “Actually, I think I’d like you to hire the one who’d probably be harder to live with.”
Anthony raised his eyebrows. “You would? Why?”
“Dunno exactly. Just feels like it’s what I’m supposed to do.”
If the Holy Spirit had nudged Todd, Anthony would honor the choice. “Which one, then?”
Ours for a Season Page 16
