Joe enjoyed working for Wayne Good. He was a good boss, and direct. No one had to wonder what the man wanted or needed. Both he and Chester were given a job on the spot over a week ago and put to work immediately. Joe was on the framing crew, and Chet worked on the concrete foundations.
The physical exhaustion and heat satisfied Joe’s need to wear himself out. Maybe with hard enough work, he wouldn’t wake up with nightmares. He couldn’t have Daisy stay with him, he couldn’t be a real father to her, until he was free from his night wanderings and destruction. He had put breakables away and secured the dinner plates and cups behind the kitchen cupboards with a broomstick through the handles. He’d still found the bathroom mirror cracked and cuts and bruises on his knuckles.
“You ever take breaks, Garrison?” Wayne Good asked as he checked in with Joe one afternoon.
“Don’t need any,” Joe replied, out of breath from just having put up another wall. If it weren’t that the crew took a lunch, Joe would work while eating. Exhausted muscles surely could not do as much damage, right?
“You’ve been working hard. I haven’t heard you complain, and you ate your lunch fast. And you must know something I don’t because I’m not even sure I saw you hit the head all day.”
Wayne spoke like a military man, with evenly cut syllables and his arms crossed over a wide chest. He was completely bald, as if he’d shaved his head. He rarely smiled. “If you keep it up, you’ll be a crew leader in no time.”
“Thank you, sir,” Joe nodded.
“But your buddy over there—man, I don’t mean to bust your chops about him, but he took enough breaks for the both of you.” Wayne eyed Chet.
“He’s not my buddy.” It wasn’t that Joe didn’t like Chet; he simply didn’t understand him. He didn’t seem to have any pride in a job well done or care what his coworkers thought of his lack of work ethic.
“There aren’t any pennies from heaven around here. He has to work for his wage. If he doesn’t step it up, I’ll send him packing. There are plenty of men willing to work.”
“I hear you loud and clear.” Joe gave a half wave, half salute to his new boss. He decided that he’d have to say something to the older man on their drive home.
“Garrison, one more thing,” Wayne said, and waved him over to the trailer on the job site that he used as an office.
“I’ll be at the truck in a minute,” Joe called to Chet, who shrugged and walked wearily to Joe’s truck. Joe turned back to Wayne. “Yeah?”
“You got a wife or daughters?” the boss asked.
What was he getting at? Joe felt a rush of heaviness move over his heart. Could he say that he legitimately had a daughter when she didn’t live with him?
“I have a daughter.” That was safe enough to admit.
Wayne glanced up at him, his brow closing into the center of his forehead.
“Widower?” he asked gruffly.
Joe nodded.
“Me too.” Wayne opened the door to the trailer and pulled out a can of paint. “Remarried?”
“No,” he said too quickly.
Joe was sure he’d heard Wayne talk about his wife as if she was still alive.
“I remarried when I came back from over there.”
Joe felt his face adjust to the news. He didn’t want to be that transparent, but he couldn’t help it. Yes, he’d wanted to kiss Esther and would have had she not stopped him. But he hadn’t breathed the word remarriage. The gentleman inside him reminded him that there was no point in kissing any woman if there wasn’t a chance of marriage in the future. Or had he desired her only to fulfill his physical desires? Perhaps it had been nothing but a weak moment. Esther’s mortified expression when she pulled away from him had been all he needed to know that it should never happen again.
“Don’t look so shocked, Garrison. It’s not so bad.”
“No, I didn’t mean . . .” He couldn’t finish his thoughts.
Wayne mumbled under his breath as he waved off Joe’s words.
“I ordered some paint for my Watercrest site. The paint store insisted that it was a tan rose—a dusty rose—but not pink.” Joe waited as Wayne opened the can and flipped over the lid. “What would you call this?”
“Pink,” Joe said with a chuckle behind his smile.
“Doggone it.” He pushed the lid back onto the can and grabbed a rubber mallet sitting inside the trailer door to close it. “Here. Maybe your daughter will like it.”
Wayne pushed the can of paint into Joe’s arms. A smile stretched over Joe’s face. Yes, Daisy would love a pink room, and it would be perfect for her bedroom if she ever moved back home with him again.
Joe was alone with his thoughts as they drove back to Sunrise. Chet had fallen asleep before Joe had even climbed into the truck. As he neared Esther’s house, his stomach flopped back and forth as he looked forward to seeing Daisy—or was it because of Esther?
Joe pulled into the drive of the small farmhouse, turned off the engine, and looked around through the truck windows.
The engine cutting off roused Chet. He looked around.
“Must’ve fallen asleep.” He stretched and yawned. “Thanks for bringing me home,” Chet said as he rubbed his face. “Oh, wait, I’m not home. I guess I can walk over to the boardinghouse. Esther won’t even talk to me since Sunday. She’s hell-bent on hating me. She’s a tough one, that girl. I’m in a heap o’ trouble with the church, and I really do want to make sure I can keep my hands clean. Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about the mailbox. I’ll get it fixed as soon as I got some money in my back pocket.”
Joe battled with sensing sincerity in the man and an ulterior motive. What was he after?
“Well, don’t worry about the mailbox. I’m sure I’ve got everything I need in the barn.”
“Well, that’s good because I don’t know when that workhorse Wayne is going to pay us. He’s a bit of a Nazi, don’t you think?” His words clipped as he got out of the truck.
Joe didn’t like the reference but let it go. Wayne Good was nothing like that. Calling him a Nazi was insulting.
“I think he’s all right. Just wants the job to get done. Might want to watch how many breaks you take, though.” Joe climbed out of the driver’s seat. “Usually Esther comes over with Daisy, but I noticed the other day that there are a few projects that need tending to. I thought maybe I could help after all she’s done for me.”
“Good luck, buddy. Esther’s just about the strongest-minded woman I’ve ever met. Can’t say I blame her.” The older man paused briefly and leaned on the truck. “Hoping she’ll give me a chance to make things up to her, though. Or at least try. I guess I can muck out the stall before I go over to the dairy for some grub.”
He didn’t know where Chet had been all these years, but either way, he didn’t like the idea of the hurt it must have brought to Esther. Chet went over to the one-horse stall to start working. Joe walked toward the front porch, he bent over to inspect the tread and broken riser. Maybe he would run home to grab his tools and fix it before someone got hurt. He moved to the porch to survey the structure further. The wood slats on the porch creaked under his weight. He knelt to inspect them and found that several were unattached from the joists.
“What are you doing here?” Esther’s sharp voice cut in like an unwanted dance partner.
He turned to find that Esther was not wearing her usual white covering, but instead had tied a scarf around the back of her neck. Her dress wasn’t the usual brown one, but a faded blue-gray with the sleeves cut off at the elbow. Her face was shiny, likely from hard work, and she looked uncomfortable. She pulled a basket of yarn closer to her and wrapped the other arm around Daisy. The little girl was dressed in her usual Amish attire that Joe had begun getting used to. After having thought about it, he realized it had made sense.
Joe stood and cleared his throat. He looked from Esther’s confused brow to Daisy, who looked up at him. He smiled at Daisy, and for the first time it actually bloomed from his face naturally.
“Hi, Daisy.” His hand waved and he began making the sign, like pulling flower petals, but then stopped, feeling uncomfortable. Esther’s face twitched at his effort to sign. It wasn’t negative, more like surprised.
Daisy buried her face in Esther’s side, leaving only one eye visible. But her hand waved slightly at her side. Joe winked at her. Esther’s eyes looked down at Daisy’s hand that waved and then back at Joe. Her deep breath couldn’t go unnoticed, and in her eyes he saw something—fear, relief, sadness.
“I was planning to bring Daisy over later, like I—” Esther said it simply but there was a breathiness in her voice. Was she nervous?
“I thought maybe I could fix a few things,” he interrupted.
“Fix a few things?”
“Just some little things. Like the step there, and these floorboards are loose here.” He bent down to show her.
Daisy pulled at Esther’s arm and signed—as if she was bringing something to her mouth. Was she hungry?
“Yes, we will eat supper soon.” Esther spoke the words aloud and gestured several signs.
Daisy whined and signed again, then pointed to Joe. Esther signed something back, this time without speaking. This went back and forth for a minute before she looked at Joe.
“Daisy would like to invite you to dinner—here with us.”
A tremor ran through him. An invitation. Daisy wanted him to stay. His mouth spread into a smile that pulled his skin tightly. Since his job had begun, he saw Daisy only after supper for a few hours in the evening at his house. She usually didn’t communicate with him much, and Esther stayed busy cleaning and making him nervous.
“How do I say yes to her?” he asked, flipping his hands this way and that. “Can I just nod my head, or what should I do?”
Esther tilted her head when she looked at him. Her lips opened slightly.
“Like this,” she said with the softest voice he’d heard from her. She took her right fist and bobbed it up and down. Their eyes were focused only on each other, and for several long moments Joe wondered if even Esther forgot that Daisy was standing next to her.
He mimicked the gesture and looked at Esther. “Like this?”
Esther nodded. Her face remained soft.
Joe looked at Daisy and did the sign for yes. “Yes.”
Daisy smiled at him, then looked at Esther and repeated the yes sign. She vocalized something that he couldn’t understand, and Esther waved her into the house. When she passed Joe, she looked at him with a slight smile on her face but still kept her distance. He smiled back at her.
“I don’t mean any offense by offering to help repair the porch or barge in on your meal.” He turned back to Esther, who was at the bottom of the porch now.
Her eyes roamed over to the horse stall where Chet was busy working. He was whistling and didn’t notice he had an audience until she spoke. She turned back to Joe.
“Just don’t hurt her.” Her voice was soft, but threaded with sadness and maybe regret. He knew she could’ve told Daisy no and he would be walking to his truck right now and eating at his house without his daughter or the woman who was a better parent than he was. But she hadn’t said no. She saw the value of having him join them. Did this mean she was ready to let go of Daisy? Her eyes were dark against her fair face, and when he met them with his own, the same stirring spread through his body that he’d experienced the night of their moonlit walk.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” He meant it.
Esther stood near enough for him to detect the lingering scent of vinegar and soap before she moved past him.
“I’ll start supper.”
“I’ll work on the porch.” He didn’t say it as a question, but he did raise his eyebrows. “I have scrap wood and nails back in my barn.”
“Can you tell—” Her gaze landed on Chet again, and then she looked back to Joe. “He can join us tonight also.”
“Okay,” Joe said simply.
She nodded with her lips pursed. He could see that this turn of events was one measure closer to Daisy’s return to him. He didn’t like the hurt in her eyes.
“Esther,” he said, keeping his voice quiet, desiring the intimacy with her. “I know that this isn’t—”
Esther shook her head and just before she looked away he was sure he saw her eyes glisten. “She’s your daughter. I’ll be fine.”
She walked into the house.