blamed expensive,” said Rusty. “No sense in fixing something isn’t broke. Another set of shingles will outlast me no matter what’s under ’em.”
They walked all the way around the house, looking at the siding and paint.
“Rotten boards here,” said Eli and poked a finger into a hole beneath a window frame. “But the boards could be replaced, I suppose, without replacing it all.”
“It’s a matter of time,” explained Rusty. “This has to be done—all of it—in a month. Wife’s mother and sister are coming. Has to be done.”
Eli nodded. He understood the need as well as the deadline.
They went inside to inspect the floor in the downstairs bedroom, where Rusty explained that some minor flattening was in order. Eli began tugging his beard at the sight of the hump along the outside wall. “Don’t like this,” he said.
His fears were confirmed in the basement. “Your joists rotted off as the house settled,” he announced. “Water running down the side of the house rotted away the plate, and over here you can see all the way through to outside.”
“What we talking here in the way of time?” asked Rusty.
“Can’t tell until we get in there—new plate, break out all this old cement, hard to tell.”
Rusty felt a coiled cinch tighten around his neck. “Can you still be finished by the end of the month?”
“I should think so,” replied Eli.
“Does that mean yes or no?”
“God willing.” And he smiled a smile from which his beard seemed to be expressing more than his actual face—the kind of smile, Rusty feared, that could also be employed when everything was not finished on time.
“When can you start?”
“End of the week or beginning of next, I suspect.”
“Sooner the better. Do you have tools?”
“We have hand tools. The work would go faster with electric, but it makes no difference to us. My sons and I are familiar with either.”
“I have power tools,” said Rusty. “You can use them. How much do you and your boys charge?”
“Fifteen for myself, seven for my youngest and eight for the oldest.”
They were both distracted by the sound of footsteps on the basement stairs. “Russell? Russell, are you down here? Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. Go back upstairs.”
“What are you doing down here?”
“We’re almost through. Go back upstairs, Maxine.”
“Is there some problem down here?”
“No. Go back upstairs.”
“Hello, I’m Maxine, Russell’s wife,” she announced after discovering Eli standing beside her husband.
Eli looked at the cement floor in greeting. He was unaccustomed to talking with women, at least English women.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Yoder.”
“Are you here about the repair work?”
“Jha.”
“Where do you live?”
Eli turned partly around so as not to be facing her directly, but not so far as to actually turn his back to her. “Over Bundy Hollow.”
“Close to the Williams’ farm?”
“Three places south.”
“Oh, I know where you live. You have all those ducks and chickens that come out to the road. It’s a nice spot. How long have you lived there?”
“Three years in November.”
“Where did you come from before that?”
“Pennsylvania.”
“Do you have a family? That’s a small house.”
“It’s large enough for us.”
“How many do you have in your family?”
“My wife and I have seven children, and my mother-in-law lives with us.”
“Didn’t a barn burn down near you?”
“The Millers’—lost half their cows last year.”
“I heard you put the roof on the new building.”
“Along with my boys.”
“I thought that was you. Eva Miller comes into the library regular. She said you did excellent work. How old are your children?”
“Isaac is seventeen and Abraham is sixteen. The younger ones are younger.”
“Do you have any daughters?”
“Three.”
“Russell and I have two married daughters. Only two grandchildren, though—a newborn girl and a toddler. His name is Brian. Do you have any grandchildren?”
“No.”
“Is it true that your children don’t go to school past the eighth grade?”
“It’s our way.”
“Russell doesn’t even have a seventh grade education, but that was more usual in his day. It kind of limits a person’s opportunities—I mean in the modern world. You don’t have any problem with your knees, do you?”
“No.”
“That’s good. Russell can hardly walk, I’m afraid. Can I get you something to eat or drink?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll leave you two men alone to do your work. It’s been nice meeting you, Mr. Yoder. I suppose Russell explained that the old wood shingles will have to be taken off the roof and new plywood put down. My sister says that’s absolutely essential, and she’s in real estate. And we need roof vents.”
Maxine labored with thick steps up the creaking staircase.
Rusty and Eli did not look at each other and continued discussing the rotted joists.
On the way back to Eli’s house, Rusty was surprised when his passenger asked—without the slightest embarrassment—if there was time to stop at the feed mill for a bag of ground corn, a roll of fencing, and a pair of sheep shears. The sheep shears had apparently been left by another Amish living on the other side of the county and waited to be picked up. Yes, there was time, Rusty said, my time.
When they arrived at Eli’s little house, the frowning older woman appeared again in the doorway—still barefoot and still clutching her broom—and three little children bolted past her, rushing into the yard in wild anticipation. Ignoring Rusty as if he did not exist, they seemed delighted with the arrival of the items from the feed mill. Only the little boy shot him a quick, fearful glance. Eli lifted the chicken feed and wire out of the back and placed them in the children’s eager arms, and they staggered off happily toward the rickety outbuildings. Rusty did not get out of the cab.
On the way home, he stopped at the lumberyard to order the needed materials.
“I hear you’re hiring Amish,” said the lumberyard owner.
“Who told you that?”
“July Montgomery was in here a while ago and said you were going to hire Eli Yoder.”
“Something wrong with that?”
“Not a thing.”
“Make sure these materials are delivered before Thursday,” said