Previously: Ed the “Salesman” stops by, Noah stashes tools at the cemetery prairie and aches over looming loss of livelihood. Noah, wrestling with a bad idea, is forestalled by the lingering passage read on Good Friday.
“RISE AND SHINE, up an’ at em’!” Noah yelled up the stairs. The boys’ clock read 5:00 a.m. Jonah glared at the door, rolled over, and wrapped his pillow over his head.
Reinhardt sat up screwing a knuckle into his eye. “Dad, it’s five in the morning!”
“No, it’s six!”
“Dad, look again! The clock says five!”
“Daylight savings, Son. ‘Spring ahead.’”
Jonah exhaled a guttural sigh, “Oh, no.”
“Daylight savings?” the younger said, looking at the clock. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He threw himself down on his pillow.
The darkness outside the windows slowly turned to grey, and the morning birds began their songs. Again, Noah hollered up the stairs, “You boys about dressed? We’re leaving soon.”
Reinhardt whispered to Jonah, “Is Dad losing it?”
Jonah nodded with a confused sleepy look and yelled towards their open bedroom door, “Dad, it’s only five—I mean six-thirty… Whatever time it is, it’s early! Where’ we going so early on a Sunday?”
“Sonrise Service starts at seven!”
Reinhardt rolled out of bed and fell with a clunk on the floor, and Jonah threw off his blankets. Like tornados, both boys tore across the room to the neglected calendar on their wall. Ripping off the March page, their eyes fell to the first Sunday in the month: April 3rd 1988, and sure enough written in the box were both “Easter” and “Daylight Savings.” Blinking in disbelief, they took in the shock.
“Does it happen every year like this?” Reinhardt asked.
“Never in all my life.”
The church had a clock tower with faces on all four sides; the time read 7:05 as the family hurried in.
The church was built in the early 19th century and had been renovated more than once. The result was that of both beauty and oddities: beauty captured in the stained-glass windows, wood paneling and arched doorways, and the oddities observed in crooked corners in the basement corridors, lopsided stairwells, and a shortage of plumbing to sustain the Christmas and Easter demand.
After the service, Noah was speaking with the pastor.
“We could assist,” Pastor John offered.
“No, I’ve decided. We’re selling it,” Noah said firmly. “This is the most practical way. You told me your brother still works for Wood-Mizer?”
Pastor John nodded, “Yes, and he’s still hiring. Are you considering?”
Noah scratched his chin hairs as he looked down at the floor. “Yeah, I need to pursue options.”
“Are you headed to Indianapolis tomorrow?”
“First thing in the morning.”
“I’ll phone him up and let you know,” said the pastor as he jotted on a sheet of paper from a pocket-notebook. “His phone and office address.” Noah accepted the paper with thanks. The pastor turned his attention to Jonah who had just snuck up quietly beside his dad. “Jonah, how are those Berkshires this year?”
“Good, Pastor John. We’ve had several strong litters, right Dad?”
“Yes, a good number this year,” Noah said.
Jonah continued, “Before you know it, we’ll be weaning the little Berks’ in the field.”
“Planting oats, cutting clover, full tilt ahead,” Noah said.
“Full tilt ahead,” Jonah confirmed.
Pastor John smiled. “I’m glad to hear. I can attest first hand to the delicious fruits of your labors.”
Jonah nodded in thanks.
“You and your wife will have to come by for dinner sometime,” Noah said.
“Most definitely; will we see you at the festival today?”
“Yes, we’ll be by this afternoon. My mother is providing pies for the pie-wheel raffle.”
“Excellent, let’s be sure to chat more then. I’ll call my brother after second service. But excuse me, I want to catch some others before they leave.”
“Sounds good, and thanks again,” Noah waved the note.
“Grateful to help, Noah, see you this afternoon.” Pastor John said and soon was engaged with other congregants.
“What’s that?” asked Jonah, pointing to the scrap of paper in Noah's hand.
“An address,” Noah said, staring in thought. “Pastor John has a brother in Indiana.” Pocketing the note, he looked to his son. “Where’s your mom?”
“She asked me to get you; they’re waiting in the truck.”
Arriving back home, Noah asked, “Will you boys please take care of the Berks’?”
“Sure, Dad.”
Their mom yelled from the kitchen, “Change out of your church clothes first, boys!”
The boys hurried upstairs to change. Eleanor came out to the porch where Noah was fidgeting with the swing. “You had something on your mind on the drive home; what did you talk to Pastor John about?”
“I told him our situation. Of course he wants to help, but I insisted it’s time I make a move. Told him I was headed to Indiana to sell the Wood-Mizer. Do you remember his brother? He’s still hiring; maybe able to set me up with a job.”
“Would that mean moving to Indiana?”
“It would be nearly three hours commute one way.” Noah frowned.
“When will you break it to the boys?”
“Only if it becomes a reality.”
“They aren’t… Jonah isn’t going to handle that well.”
“I know.”
Eleanor came to his side. Together they looked out over the lawn.
“We’ll figure it out, dear, one day at a time.” She gave her husband a kiss; that same moment, the boys came out.
“Hey you two, get a room.” Jonah said as he and Reinhardt headed to the barn.
“I have to help your mother pack up the pies.” Eleanor said, with a final affectionate squeeze.
Noah stood alone on the porch for a minute. “Cap’n, you under there?” He stomped on the porch boards. There was no sound.
From his wallet, he fetched the slip of paper Ed had given him the day before. At the hallway phone he dialed the number. It went to the “Heinrich’s Ratskeller” answering machine. Noah hung up. “Heinrich’s?” he questioned out loud. He opened the telephone book and thumbed through the Yellow Pages, saw that the number from Ed matched the restaurant’s, and called a second time. Again, after ringing, it went to “Heinrich’s” answering machine. He left a message on the recording: “Hey, this is Mr. Brandtmeyer calling for Al. Uh, I got his message yesterday and regret to inform him I was not able to um… I do not have anything for selling. I thought I did, but I don’t. I will not be able to move forward with any job offers at this time. Really appreciate your time. If this is the wrong number, my apologies. Good-day.” He hung up.
“Who was that?”
Noah jumped. Reinhardt was standing in the doorway. “Heinrich’s,” Noah said and stuffed the paper slip into his pocket. “You’re already finished with the feeding?”
“I wanted my pocket knife. I forgot it.” He fetched it from the mudroom adjacent to the front door. “Dad, will there be brats and sauerkraut at the festival?”
“Huh?”
“You ordered from Heinrich’s?”
“Oh, no. No, we’ll eat at the festival. Run along now. I’ll be out in just a minute.” Noah watched his son head back outside, then exhaled realizing he had been holding his breath. “Lord, help me.”
Great chapter C. M. and a good spot to break until Part 2. The pie raffle reminded me of cake walks which used to be so popular for charities and raffles. I remember as a boy walking around in a circle waiting for the music to stop unexpectedly. - Jim