There was milk at the grocery store in town. He passed by it every day on his way to and from school. He knew he could easily walk there and back, probably even before Alex woke up, but…he didn’t have any money.
Alex had money, but it was in his wallet, which was just sitting there on the TV. Did Calvin dare help himself to a few dollars? He only intended to get a half-gallon. He wasn’t sure he could carry a whole gallon that far.
He looked at the box of cereal. He looked at the wallet. His stomach growled. Alex wouldn’t even notice or care if he took some money to buy breakfast, probably. This was not the first time there had been no milk for Calvin’s cereal.
One thing Calvin did not want was to get into any more trouble. He really wasn’t a thief, even though he did manage to consume a pie that was not his. Would helping himself to a few dollars out of Alex’s wallet really be stealing?
There were just so many things he didn’t understand. So many pitfalls. He wasn’t even sure if Alex would get angry if he woke him up. He wished he knew what all the rules were.
His stomach growled.
He looked at the wallet. He looked at Alex’s bedroom door. He looked at the box of cereal. In the background, cartoon characters made silly noises.
Calvin finally decided that he would rather irritate Alex by waking him than risk getting any more of a reputation as a thief. He softly knocked on Alex’s door. There was a muffled “come in.”
He opened the door carefully and tiptoed over to the bed.
“We are out of milk,” he said in a soft voice, as though to keep from waking Alex completely.
“I’ll get some in a little bit,” Alex said.
“I’m hungry now.” Calvin’s voice grew impatient. “We have cereal but no milk. I want to go to the store and get some.”
“Okay.” Alex turned over in bed.
“I don’t have any money.”
“My wallet is in the living room,” Alex said. “Get what you need.”
“Thank you.”
There was a five-dollar bill in Alex’s wallet, and Calvin took it. He was fairly sure it was more than enough, but not so much that Alex would think he was taking more than he should. He wasn’t sure how much a half-gallon of milk cost, but he thought it wouldn’t be any more than that.
It was blustery outside, and so he tried to dress warmly, but he still couldn’t find his gloves, and there were no extras in the house. In fact, there wasn’t much in the house at all.
Grandma’s house had felt soft and comfortable. He had liked it even though there was an awful lot of purple and lavender and pink. There were lots of doilies, too. He overheard one of Grandma’s friends say his grandma’s house looked like the inside of a fancy candy box. Grandma took it as a compliment. He wasn’t sure it was meant as a compliment, but he didn’t mind living inside a house that felt like a candy box. He liked candy, especially the kind that came in frilly paper cups.
When he got to the store, he got the milk, but when he got in line to pay, there were some awfully tempting things crowding around him. The cashier gave him enough in change after paying for the milk that he knew he could purchase several candy bars if he wanted. Alex probably wouldn’t even care, but he had asked for enough money for milk, and that was all he intended to get. He wanted Alex to know that he was a man of his word.
It was the walking uphill back home that was rough. The plastic sack with milk in it was heavy. It started spitting snow only a few minutes after he left the IGA.
As he passed by the Sugar Haus Inn, he tried not to even look at the place where he’d eaten that pie. If anyone in there was watching him, he didn’t want them to think for a minute he was contemplating breaking in and eating another one!
The less he had to do with those women, the better. It had been embarrassing having them catch him in the act. He never wanted to have that sick feeling in his stomach again.
He was just about even with the house when he heard a loud rapping sound on the window. He glanced over and saw one of the old Amish women at the window waving and motioning for him to come to the door.
He didn’t know what to do. It would be hard to run with a half-gallon of milk in his arms.
As he hesitated, she rapped on the window again and motioned again. He noticed she was smiling. If she was smiling, there was a slight chance she wasn’t still mad at him. There was also the fact that Grandma had taught him to be extra polite to old people.
Reluctantly, he trudged through the snow to the doorstep. The old woman opened it. He staggered backward a step because of the wonderful smells rushing out at him through that open door.
“I have need of a small boy to help me with something,” she said. “Do you think you could be that boy?”
“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I could try.”
His nose was practically twitching from the smell of bacon wafting out.
“My niece tells me that your name is Calvin,” she said. “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Could that be pancakes he smelled, too?
“Well, my name is Lydia,” she said. “And I have a rather large favor to ask.”
He wondered if there was real maple syrup to put on those pancakes. His grandma had always insisted on real maple syrup.
“This is my problem.” Lydia wiped her hands on her apron. “I fixed a large breakfast this morning for guests who were staying with us, but they had to leave early and didn’t have time to eat. It’s just me here by myself this morning. I was just thinking how nice it would be to have a boy with a big appetite who might like to help me eat it. Do you suppose you know anyone like that? I hate to see all this food go to waste.”
Calvin could not believe his luck. How amazing was it that he was walking past their house just as she needed someone with a big appetite. It was mind-boggling.
“I do know someone like that!” he said. “Me!”
She stood back away from the door and asked him to come on it. He handed her the carton of milk while he politely took off his coat and shoes and hat.
“I will put this in our refrigerator until later,” she said. “Then you can take it home with you. In the meantime, go on in and choose a seat at the table.”
He took one look at that table, and his jaw dropped. He was hungry, all right. But he wasn’t that hungry. There were biscuits and gravy, pancakes, a platter of bacon, a pitcher of syrup, sliced fruit, and a large bowl of scrambled eggs.
Culinary heaven.
“It looks awfully good,” he said. “But I don’t think I can eat all this by myself.”
“I don’t think so either,” Lydia said. “Do you know anyone else who might be willing to help me out?”
“Alex might,” he said. “But he’s not up yet.”
“Alex is your guardian?” Lydia asked.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Calvin said. “And my cousin.”
“Do you suppose you could run up there and invite him?” Lydia asked.
“I sure can!”
“Then hurry,” Lydia said. “Tell him that he would be doing me a great favor.”
Chapter 47
Alex got out of bed after Calvin left, and stood at the window, watching Calvin’s small figure walk down the road to the IGA. It wouldn’t hurt the boy to walk to the grocery store, but he regretted the fact that it was because of him that the child had to.
What time was it, anyway? He glanced at his watch.
8:30.
Good grief. Back when Alex was normal, it was rare for him to sleep past five a.m. The sleeping pills the doctor gave him did help, but the effect didn’t go away soon. Perhaps it was time to stop using them altogether, no matter what the outcome. He couldn’t allow himself to stay in a fog forever. He just couldn’t. Not with a child depending on him.
As soon as Calvin got back, Alex resolved to be showered and dressed and at least able to pretend some semblance of normality.
He undressed and dropped the jogging pants and t-shirt he
had worn to bed on top of the pile in the corner. How long had he been wearing the same clothes? A week maybe? That had to stop. He found one remaining pair of fresh jeans in a bureau, and a clean shirt. Underwear, socks. Then he started the shower.
While he waited for the water to heat up, he glanced around the bathroom. It had been clean when he rented the place. Now it was grungy. This also was not acceptable.
As he stepped into the shower and lathered up, he wondered why he had allowed himself to go so many days without bathing. What was that all about? Punishing himself? Perhaps. He certainly didn’t feel like he was worth the effort of getting cleaned up.
He had been frugal and banked enough of his salary back when he was working that he and Calvin had enough to live on here for a while, even without a job. Eventually, he would have to go back to work, but never again as a hostage negotiator. Never that. He had no intention of ever allowing himself to hold the fate of so many people in his hands.
As he was buttoning up his shirt after his shower, he glanced out the window again, and to his surprise, he saw Calvin running up the road toward their house. This scared him. Was Calvin running from something? He rushed to the door just as Calvin threw it open and stood on the front step, panting.
Alarmed, he pulled Calvin inside and closed and locked the door behind him.
“What’s wrong?”
“You gotta come, Alex.” Calvin bent over from the waist, still panting, trying to get his breath. “Lydia needs our help. You gotta come. It’s an emergency!”
By the time Calvin had gasped all that out, Alex had his boots and coat on and was holstering his gun.
Calvin looked up at him. “No, it’s not like that. Lydia cooked too much food. Her guests didn’t stay for breakfast. She needs help eating it.”
Alex slowly began to put the gun away and took his coat off.
“No, no, no,” Calvin said. “You have to come with me. I promised her I would bring you to help.” He tugged on Alex’s hand, impatiently. “Come on. There’s biscuits and pancakes and sausage, and…she says she wants to meet her new neighbor. And that’s you. And Alex?
“Yes.”
“I’m hungry!”
And that is how Alex was reluctantly pulled into the Sugar Haus Inn a few minutes later where he found warmth, laughter, companionship, and renewed hope in the form of a hot cooked breakfast and a kind, elderly neighbor awaiting him.
Chapter 48
“Does this happen to you very often?” Alex asked, after consuming the last tasty morsel on his plate. “I mean, your guests not staying for breakfast?”
It had been one of the most satisfying meals of his life. In addition to the excellent food, there was something about the warmth of the wood cookstove and the kindness of their elderly Amish neighbor that filled his heart even as he and Calvin filled their stomachs.
“It is rare,” Lydia said. “The Sugar Haus Inn has a bit of a reputation for its breakfasts. Would you like more coffee?”
“Yes, I would, but it's my turn.” Alex rose from his chair. “I’ll get it.”
Lydia did not protest as he filled her coffee cup and then his own from the brown spackle-ware pot on the woodstove.
“How are you doing there, buddy?” Amused at the satiated look on Calvin’s face, Alex returned the coffee pot. “Do you think you finally got filled up?”
“I can make more pancakes,” Lydia teased the stuffed boy. “I would not want you to go hungry.”
“I tried,” Calvin said earnestly, one hand on his belly. “But I don’t think I can eat another bite. I’m sorry, Lydia.”
“That is fine,” Lydia said. “You and your cousin have done a wonderful good job of helping me with this breakfast my guests did not want. Now, my chickens also want their breakfast. Perhaps you would not mind feeding them?”
“Your chickens?” Calvin sat up straight. “I’d be happy to!”
“Then I will get you their bucket of feed,” she said. “You don’t mind, do you, Alex?”
“Not at all.”
Lydia returned from a pantry with a small tin bucket of chicken feed. “The chicken yard is behind the pie house. You do know where the pie house is, don’t you?”
Calvin blushed and looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I thought you might.” Lydia chuckled at her little joke. “Do not go inside the chicken yard. There is a new rooster out there, and he is very protective. Just toss the feed in through the chicken wire a handful at a time.”
After Calvin shrugged into his coat and grasped the bucket, Alex watched him strut out to the chicken pen with purpose written all over his small body.
Lydia was already running water to start washing dishes.
“Let me do that,” he said. “I’m no cook, but I’m a whiz at washing dishes. Why don’t you sit down and rest?”
“I do not need to rest yet,” she said. “But, I will welcome your help. While you wash the dishes, I’ll pack up the leftovers for you to take home.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he protested.
“Of course I do,” she said. “You have a growing boy living with you. I do not, and I do not believe in waste.”
He could faintly hear Calvin talking in a high pitched sing-song voice to the chickens while he fed them. The boy was definitely enjoying the chore Lydia had given him.
“Thank you for this morning,” Alex said. “I appreciate it more than you can know.”
“What did you do for a living before moving to Sugarcreek?” She slid their drinking glasses into the soapy water.
“Me?” he said. “I was a hostage negotiator.”
“Oh? And what does a hostage negotiator do?”
“We try to defuse dangerous situations.” He carefully rinsed the soapy drinking glasses with hot water, then sat them upside down on the wire drainer.
“That sounds interesting.” Lydia brought the stacked dirty plates to him. “How do you go about doing that?”
“Well,” Alex washed a plate until it was squeaky clean, then rinsed it and placed it in a slot on the drainer. “First, we try to establish contact with the person. Once we can begin to talk with them, we gauge their state of mind and try to make them feel like they are being heard and understood.”
“How?” Lydia began using aluminum foil to create neat packages of leftover food.
“By listening,” he said. “And by treating them with respect. When I was training for the job, one of the instructors said that it is amazing how powerful, unconditional respect can be. Especially to those who rarely receive it.”
“I can see the wisdom of that,” Lydia said. “Were you good at your job?”
Alex’s hands paused in the soapy water. “I thought I was.”
“But?”
“I found out that I wasn’t.”
Lydia glanced at him. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
She did not pry or ask for details, which he much appreciated.
“Why did you choose to come to Sugarcreek?” she asked. “With no connections to this place, it seems like an odd choice.”
“I used to live here once.”
“Really?” She glanced at him in surprise. “When?”
“I came here when I was seven. I left when I was nine.”
“Who were your parents?”
“My real parents didn’t live here. My family kind of fell apart—what there was of it. Long story short, I ended up with an Amish couple near here who were willing to foster children. They had qualified to be in the system, and they were extraordinarily kind to me. Some of my best childhood memories are from those two years. I loved living here. I hoped, perhaps, Calvin would too.”
She thought this over. “Do you remember your foster parents’ names? I might know them.”
“I was a child. I called them maam and daett like their natural children. I don’t think I ever knew what their real names were.”
“Why did you leave when you were nine?” Lydia grabbed a clean dishclot
h and began to dry.
“A relative, my Aunt Beatrice, found out what had happened and came to get me. She was my grandmother’s younger sister and a good person. I stayed with her until I entered the police academy. When she asked me if I would take guardianship of Calvin after she was gone, I could not refuse.”
“Of course, you couldn’t.”
Alex noticed that Lydia had become quite preoccupied during their conversation. She was probably worn out. It was time for them to go, but there was one chore left.
“I’ll fill the wood box before I leave,” he said. “Is your firewood out back?”
“Yes, it is,” Lydia said. “And I would very much appreciate you doing that.”
“No problem.”
After Alex filled the wood box in the kitchen, a job he had as a child when he lived with his Amish foster parents, Calvin came in and proudly handed Lydia the empty chicken feed bucket.
“You were right. That rooster didn’t like me, and he flew at me a couple of times, but I wasn’t scared. I fed the chickens just like you said.”
“That rooster scares even me a little,” Lydia said. “You were brave to stand your ground. Thank you.”
“I’ll help you any time you want!” Calvin said.
Lydia smiled and touched his rosy cheek lightly with her fingers. “You are a good boy.”
“Time to go, buddy.” Alex opened the door. “Thank you so much, Lydia. For everything.”
She laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Before you go, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do hostage negotiators have to be police officers first?”
“I was,” he said. “Ten years in Chicago.”
“How very interesting.” Lydia smiled. “Do you believe in prayer, Alex?”
“Why do you ask?” he said.
“I plan to be praying very hard for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “Calvin and I could use some prayers.”
“I often have chores that would be perfect for a boy your age,” Lydia told Calvin. “You must stop by often.”
“I will! I think your chickens like me,” Calvin said. “Except for the rooster.”
Bertha's Resolve: Love's Journey in Sugarcreek, Book 4 Page 18
