Almost Amish Part 5

"Handyman?"

"Yes. Obviously the Amish women have their husbands' skill sets to help them out. Since you're single"-Susan flinched at the words-"and Julie's husband will only be here for the occasional long weekend, we knew we'd need someone to lend a hand. There are some things it just isn't practical for you to do. We want you to stretch your comfort zone a bit during this experience; we don't want you cutting off limbs. He'll make certain everything else is done properly."

"Okay, sounds good." And it did. What a relief it would be to have someone share a little of the burden. Someone else who could help make certain things were done correctly.

"Oh, and by the way, the first challenge is scheduled for day after tomorrow."

"Challenge?" The words squeaked as they came out. "Already?"

"The show must go on, right? Will there be a problem?"

Calm down and act professional. "No. No problem at all. Can you tell me what the challenge is?"

Kendra nodded. "We're going to start you out slow. The challenge is simply to make an Amish staple-shoo-fly pie."

"Shoo-fly pie?" She'd heard of it but had never made one. Still, cooking was her thing. "Sounds good."

"It is . . . if it's made correctly. If it's not . . . " Kendra grinned. "Well, I'm sure Julie won't have any trouble."

"Julie? She'll be fine. She can just be my helper."

"Uh . . . no." Kendra's smile looked all too pleased. "Julie will be working alone on this challenge. We already know that you are a good cook, and so does our audience. So we decided to let someone who isn't as . . . domestically inclined . . . try out some of the old ways of doing things. You have the ingredients you need, including the mola.s.ses we bought on our Amish country tour. She'll have a few Amish recipe books to browse for tips. We'll give Julie the actual recipe we want her to use just before filming. Should be a snap."

As much as Julie disliked cooking, Susan doubted very seriously that she would even approach comfort. Judging from the grin on Kendra's face, she knew the same thing. And then Susan realized the truth-that was the whole idea. They wanted Julie to be awkward. They wanted her to fail. They thought that would make for interesting television.

Well, it might make for interesting television, but they would have to look elsewhere. It wasn't going to be easy, but by show time, Susan was going to have turned Julie into an adequate pie chef. One who could work even under primitive circ.u.mstances, and with the added pressure of cameras and all that went with them.

A door slammed and soon a voice called out "Hey, what happened to our kitchen?" Whitney leaned into the living room.

"Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten. While we were out today they did a little work in there."

Whitney jumped over the steps. "Yeah, I see the stone they put on the floor and the wall, but they forgot one thing. They forgot to put the stove and oven back in place."

"The oven's not here, and we've got a baking challenge in two days?" Heat p.r.i.c.kled across Susan's scalp. She'd been so focused on the living room, she hadn't even entered the kitchen.

"Not to worry. That old gas range was a fire hazard, so we took it out. Your brand-new oven will be installed in plenty of time for the baking challenge."

Julie picked up the amorphous piece of dough and tried to fit it into the pie tin. During the course of rolling it out, it had become less of a circle and more of a rectangle. This proved to be a problem now, because it wasn't wide enough on two sides. She cut the extra dough from the longer sides and tried to squish them onto the shorter sides.

"Julie, that looks piecemeal. Besides, it will break apart at the seam when you try to serve it. If you get it nice and round, then you won't have this problem." Susan shook her head as she said the words.

"I think it just wants to be a rectangle. And you told me not to mess with the dough too much or it would get tough. Now, which way do you want me to play it?"

Susan thought for a second before replying, "I want you to make it round."

"It's not like I'm not trying, you know. Until this very moment, I don't think I've ever tried to make my own pie crust before."

"That can't possibly be true. You make homemade pecan pie at Christmas."

"I make the pie, not the crust. That's why they have the refrigerated section in the grocery store, for things like pre-made pie crusts."

"Okay, how about when you were in Home Economics?"

"I took World Geography instead."

"When you were a kid during the holidays?"

"Dad and I bought a box of dressing mix, a can of creamed corn, and a frozen pie and called it good."

"Wow." Susan pondered this for a minute. "I keep forgetting about your past. I guess it's no wonder you're not a very good-" Her face reddened and she looked away. "I mean, that you didn't learn a lot of the things I take for granted."

Julie turned her attention back to the pie plate, trying to ignore the sting caused by Susan's slip. She pulled the crust out and couldn't help but put some of her frustration into smashing the dough back into a ball, prepared to try again.

"Okay, everyone, your new clothes washer has arrived. Come check it out." Kendra breezed into the kitchen, followed closely by the camera crew. A broad smile lit her face as she gestured toward the back door. "Gary and Chris are about to unload it right now."

Julie wondered why Kendra would be so obviously delighted about something so mundane. And why would she feel the need to have the camera crew follow her into the house when she made this announcement?

Whatever the reason, it temporarily freed her from her doughy task, so she gratefully plopped the dough into the mixing bowl, washed the flour off her hands and forearms, and followed Kendra through the door to the back porch. She stopped short when she saw what was in the back of the rusted white pickup truck parked outside. "What is that?"

"I told you, it's your new washing machine." Kendra walked over to the truck and put her hand on what looked to Julie like a half barrel with legs sticking out of it, and some sort of device sticking up from one end. "Its design is based on the washing machines of the past, but there have been a few modifications that make it work a little better. The triangular shape of the agitator, for instance, supposedly makes the soap move through the clothes better."

Julie heard whispering and turned to see Angie saying something to Whitney, who nodded her head every couple of seconds. Then she looked up and said, "Wait just a second. We've done some research about the Amish, and this is not what they use. They use gas-powered washers. We"-she looked at Angie, who looked down-"I think they might have those wringer things, but they don't have the complete hand-wash unit like that."

Kendra's expression went from delighted to something far less civil. Whitney had been the one to challenge her, and Julie could see that the woman's face bordered on downright agitation. "Well, I'm glad to see you did some research, Whitney. That is always an admirable quality-one that is often lacking in children your age. I'm sure your mother is happy to hear about your research, too. You're focusing too much on the specific details. Our segment is being called Going Almost Amish. I know you know the almost word-you have used it yourself in order to avoid plain dresses, outhouses, and a house without air-conditioning. You've used it to barter for your brother's telescopes. Now I guess I'm using it to introduce you to your new washing machine."

"Whatever," Whitney mumbled, her face splotched red with anger. Or embarra.s.sment. Julie wasn't quite certain.

Chris stood at the tailgate beside a man Julie had not yet seen. He was older, maybe mid-fifties. He had gray hair and wore faded jeans and a denim shirt, but something about the way he held himself made him seem a bit refined. "Where do you want it?" he asked.

"Just outside the back porch, the one off the kitchen."

The men set it in place. It was obvious from the strain of their arms that it was heavy, but neither of them gave any outward expression to show this. Chris's face remained as impa.s.sive as if he were watching paint dry, and the older man had something of a smile on his face. "How's this?"

Kendra nodded. "Just right. Thank you." She turned toward the family then. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet your handyman." She walked over closer to the older man. "You'll be seeing a lot of him. He'll be the one teaching you how to take care of the animals, repair fences, grow your vegetables-whatever it is that you need help with."

Gary nodded a greeting toward the group, and only then did Julie notice his eyes. They were that incredible shade of blue she'd always thought of as Paul Newmanaesque. In fact, Gary was nice looking all around, in a rugged sort of way. "I have a rudimentary understanding of how this contraption works, if you'd like me to show you what I know. Just need some hot water and some laundry soap."

Julie couldn't help casting a glance toward Susan. Susan was looking at him, no doubt about it. Not gawking, by any means, but how long had it been since Susan had looked at any man with curiosity or interest? It was nice to see there was a little spark left in her eyes.

It didn't last long. "Angie and Whitney, go pull down the curtains from the living room. We'll clean them first and go from there."

Maybe it'd just been the machine.

Neither of the girls said anything, but they both turned to go inside and do as they were told. Julie started after them. "I'll get the hot water."

"I can carry the water out if you'll just fill a couple of large pots for me," Gary said.

"I've got this, Julie. You need to get back on pie-crust practice. I'll be back in to help you as soon as we get things going out here."

"Oh, okay." Julie reluctantly went back into the kitchen. She rolled out the dough as Susan and Gary filled pots with hot water. This time it began to form something closer to an oval than a rectangle. Well, at least it didn't have sides. She picked it up and rolled it back into a ball and tried again. And again.

Three attempts in, Julie realized something. She was actually sort of enjoying it, and that stunned her.

She'd always hated to cook, at least for all of her adult life. And this certainly wasn't coming naturally, but it felt almost relaxing. Why? It took a moment before she landed on the obvious truth. The phone wasn't ringing, there wasn't a carpool to drive, or a practice to get one of her kids to, and no office parties she needed to be planning. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that the last couple of days had been altogether pretty wonderful. She'd been distracted enough by Susan's uptightness that she hadn't noticed it right away, but there was something about the quietness of this life she thought she just might like. A lot.

She walked away from her task and out to the back porch, determined to savor this place a bit more. "How's the laundry coming?"

"This thing's pretty cool. Look at this." Whitney pulled a long handle back and forth, which caused the clothes in the tub to roll back and forth with a pleasant swishing sound.

Julie stepped forward and looked down through the clear lid and into the swirling, sudsy water. "You're right. That is pretty cool." When was the last time they'd ever used those words in conjunction with doing laundry?

"Hang around for a minute and you can watch us try out the wringer." Angie leaned over the washer and grinned.

"Sounds great." And it did.

"No, you better get back to work on your pie crust so Aunt Susan won't be all cranky tonight," Whitney mumbled just loud enough to be heard.

"Where is Aunt Susan?" Julie looked all around and saw no sign of her.

"She and Brian walked down to the shed with that guy Gary. He was going to help Brian get his telescope all set up."

Hmm, Susan and Gary had walked off together. There were lots of possibilities there.

Chapter 10.

As they walked toward the shed, Gary gestured around at the rolling hills. "Ms. Reynolds, I hope you and your family will enjoy being surrounded by all this beauty. It's just amazing, isn't it?" Gary's smile seemed so serene, so content. "Just listen to the creek gurgling in the distance. This place is paradise. Don't you think?"

Susan could have told him she might have enjoyed this all a bit more if there weren't so much pressure on her. But she didn't. He was a part-time handyman; he didn't want to hear her problems. Somehow, she managed to say, "It is beautiful." She paused for just a moment before continuing with what she really wanted to say. "Listen, I was wondering, the windowsills inside really need to be repainted. Do you think you could get us the supplies to sc.r.a.pe, sand, and repaint?"

"I'm sure I could." He nodded thoughtfully. "That sounds like a good idea." He pulled open the door of the old shed, whose rusty hinges emitted an earsplitting screech. Gary looked toward the offending rusted metal and shook his head. "First, though, I'm charged with configuring young Mr. Brian's telescope in a satisfactory setup."

"Thanks." Brian walked inside and flipped the switch, which illuminated a single bulb dangling from a long cord in the ceiling. "The little building the show provided is nice and all, but here's the deal. My telescope is precision scientific equipment. Dust is not a good thing, neither are spiders and mice and such. We need to do something to make my observatory a bit more"-Brian wrung his hands together-"workable."

Gary nodded and smiled. "I see what you're saying. Mice and dust are never good ideas in observatories." He walked around and inspected the walls and ceiling. "I must say I'm pleasantly surprised. I a.s.sumed there would be more in the way of cobwebs in here."

"Oh, there were. I've been cleaning it all up. I don't want to even open up the box until I get this place under control."

"Got ya. Makes sense to me," Gary said. "It shouldn't be that hard to to make a more satisfactory set up. We can replace some of these boards"-he went over and knelt beside a section of wall with a couple of knotholes-"put some caulk around the window frames. A little elbow grease and it wil be almost airtight. How soon you need this thing set up?"

"The sooner the better. I'm following a couple of comets-Elenin, in particular, is moving away from the earth, and I don't want to miss it."

"Comets, huh? Sounds interesting." Gary nodded his head in true appreciation. "After we get this thing up and going, mind if I come and check it out sometime?"

Brian's face lit up. "I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, it would be great to have a man out here who actually appreciates these things. I'm living with a house full of girls who just don't get it."

Gary laughed and looked toward Susan. His eyes were so pale blue they almost glowed in this light. He tipped his baseball cap at her. "I'm sure there was no offense intended."

"None taken." Something about him was so . . . likable. But it didn't matter. He was a man, a handsome one at that, and she'd learned her lesson about trusting anyone-especially someone whose good looks could get him past where his integrity left off. "Will this project take long?"

"Two days, I'd bet. Is that all right?"

Not as soon as Susan hoped, but for right now, there were more pressing issues. "I suppose. Well, I really need to get back up to the house and help Julie practice dough rolling."

Brian waved his hand dismissively. "That might be a losing cause, Aunt Susan. Mom has a lot of good qualities, but cooking is not really one of them."

"You shouldn't talk like that about your mother." Gary sounded truly offended.

Brian shook his head. "Oh, she's the first to admit it. She tries hard, really she does, but I cannot envision something that has been true for the last forty-something years changing in forty-eight hours. It's just not logical."

"Well, I might not make her the best cook in the world, but a.s.suming our new oven gets delivered soon, I can make her the best shoo-fly pie cook in the world-or at least a decent enough one to get us past the first week of filming without a major disaster on our hands."

"Yeah, well, good luck with that." Brian looked at Gary then. "Do you think we could get started working out here tonight?"

"Don't see why not."

"I'll see the two of you later." Sufficiently satisfied that things here were under control, Susan turned and started back toward the house.

"Looking forward to it."

Something about Gary's words, maybe the low rumble of his voice, sent a little trill of excitement shooting through Susan.

Ridiculous.

By the time she hiked back up to the house, she'd banned all silly notions from her mind and was ready to get back to the task at hand. She walked through the screened porch and into the kitchen. "I'm ba-ack." The screen door slapped shut behind her, but there was no other reply. "Julie?"

She looked around the kitchen. The dish drainer held the pie tin, washed and empty, the flour and b.u.t.ter had been put away, although there were still sprinkles of flour dotting the countertops and even a bit on the floor. "Julie?" She walked into the living room and found it empty, as well. Where was everyone?

Whitney's high-pitched laughter broke the silence. It sounded like she might be out in the side yard, so Susan went that way. She opened the door and saw Julie, Whitney, and Angie out by the clothesline. White lace curtains were stretched to cover two of the three rows of line, wooden clothespins holding them in place every few feet. "Hi, Aunt Susan." Whitney was the first to see her, and she came bounding over. "What do you think of our new dryer? It's the latest technological advance, guaranteed to dry clothes-and curtains-in the longest possible amount of time, while guaranteeing wrinkles on each and every item or your money back."

"Whitney, if you don't get a job in infomercials someday, you have definitely missed your calling. Don't you think so, Susan?" Julie's face was flushed with laughter. "I can't remember ever having this much fun doing laundry."

"How's it going down at the shed?" Angie asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "Did you get that guy all dialed in about what Brian needs?"

"I'll bet Brian tried to convince him to set up some vacuum-sealed, airtight, temperature-controlled command center." Julie hadn't stopped smiling since this conversation started. "What do you think of Gary?"

"I don't think of Gary."

The entire yard suddenly went quiet. Julie finished pinning up the length of curtain, then walked toward Susan. "I didn't mean it like that. I meant, you know, is he going to be helpful?"

Susan shrugged. "How should I know? I hardly talked to him, but he seems sufficient for the job. Speaking of which, why aren't you working on the pie?"

"Mom, we asked her to help us, okay? Can't you relax for just one minute?" Angie's former smile had melted into the tight-lipped frown that had become all too common as her teenaged years progressed.