Saving Gideon (10 page)

“We’re goin’ over to Bishop Riehl’s service on Sunday.
Mamm
was hopin’ you would come along with us.” He had promised their mother he’d ask Gideon, and either one of them would do anything for Ruth Fisher.

But Gabriel couldn’t imagine his younger brother showing up for the church service barefaced. It was just too shameful. Or maybe that’s what he needed. To be shamed into knowing that God was in charge and only He was all powerful. If only Gideon could understand that Miriam and Jamie’s deaths were part of God’s will, that God had different plans for Gideon. It was a hard lesson. And painfully humbling for a man, but necessary all the same. He had done it when Rebecca had died giving birth to Samuel. Why couldn’t Gideon?

Gideon shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Gabriel stared at his brother a good long time before changing the subject. “Your roof needs some repairs.”

“It’s held up this long.”

“
Jah
, but when the spring winds come, it won’t.” As if to reinforce his words, the air stirred strands of his hair close to his collar. “Matthew, Simon, David, and me, we’re all goin’ over to Hester Stoltzfus’s place next Saturday. She needs a new roof. We’ll come do yours the week after.”

Gideon nodded.

“She doesn’t belong here.” Gabriel couldn’t stop the words. “Look what she’s doin’ to your strawberry patch.”

She had returned to pulling up the strawberry plants, discarding them like weeds. Thankfully she hadn’t come over to join their conversation.
Smart woman on that aspect, even if she couldn’t garden
. Gabriel didn’t think he could handle that kind of familiarity with her.

His brother didn’t even turn to look at her. “I don’t like strawberries much anyways.”

“You’re vulnerable right now. You need to
geb acht
.” Be careful.

“It’s not your concern.”

Gabriel glanced back toward the
Englischer
. “You’re my
bruder
. Of course, I’m concerned.”

“Help me plant my corn or leave.”

Gabriel shrank back, unable to believe what he heard.

“It’s my farm, and I’ve invited her to stay.”

“I think you’re makin’ a big mistake.”

“So you’ve said.” He nodded toward Simon. “Grab the
bu
and a bag of seeds, brother, and I’ll return the favor come harvest time.”

Avery seized another weed, and felt her fingernail scrape against a rock. “Ow!” She jerked her hand back and studied the damage. Broken straight across, but not salvageable. And it had only been a week since she’d had them filled. Normally, she would have dropped everything and hurried to the spa to have it fixed. She couldn’t stand the thought of ragged nails, but she was miles from the nearest salon.

She sighed as she splayed dirty hands in front of her. They looked terrible, but she was pretty certain no one in Amish country cared about the state of her fingernails. Probably for the best. With all the crazy chores she had been doing around Gideon’s farm, it wouldn’t take long before they were all in this shape anyway.

Still, she’d spent too many years parading around with all eyes on her not to care how her hands looked. Surely Gideon had clippers. She could trim them down and at least make them presentable. When she returned to Dallas, she’d buy a whole new set.

She only wore them because she bit her real nails down to the quick. Her father considered it a sign of weakness, so she hid it from him and everyone else with a thin layer of pink and white acrylic.

Funny thing, but out here she no longer had the urge to chew her nails.

Nor did she have the responsibilities she had at home. There were no children with cancer who needed a new hospital wing, no benefit dinner for high-risk teenagers, and no walk for a cure. No eyes watched to make sure she looked and acted her best, and raised enough money to wow the press.

Gideon hadn’t asked her to help with the garden, or clean his house, or any of the other things she had done to repay him for his kindness. Nor would he. Even though her being at his farm did not sit well with his brother—it was obvious Gideon had a problem with her as well. She wasn’t about to worry about it now. In a couple of weeks, she would be on her way back to Dallas.

Nails or no, she would do what she could to help. And when the time came for her to go home, she could hold her head high and say that she had given as good as she got.

Gabriel’s words were still ringing in Gideon’s ears at suppertime.
Ach
, but he didn’t want to hear his brother say again that she didn’t belong here. He knew that. She knew that. What was the harm in being neighborly and allowing her the time she had asked for?

She was only staying for a few more days. Monday, maybe Tuesday, he’d take her into town and get on with his life.

Still, his brother’s echoing voice made him surly. Or maybe it was sitting across the table from her that had him on edge.

He’d thought by giving her some clothes to wear that she wouldn’t stand out so much, but all it did was make her stand out more. His clothes were much more modest than her sparkly little
frack
, but he hated seeing her in them. She looked ridiculous, small and fragile. Like a bird pushed out of its nest too soon.

Now he was the one being ridiculous. She was an adult. She had a father who was worried about her. Maybe a suitor. Pretty thing like her had to have beaus vying for her hand.

His stomach pitched, and he took a quick sip of milk to steady it.

He stole a glance at her as she ate. Back in her world, she probably had all kinds of clothes to wear. Yet she seemed to like it on his farm.

She looked up at him, their gazes connecting. “I don’t know how you live like this.”

Her words cut like a knife—even though they shouldn’t have. It didn’t matter what she thought about his way of life, because all too soon she would head back to her reality. Maybe she’d be going home sooner than he’d thought. But he still couldn’t account for his anger.

“I’m Amish, Miss Hamilton.” He tossed his napkin on top of his half-eaten
natchess
. “This is how we live. We don’t have electricity and fancy clothes and cars. We’re simple people.”

She eyed him as if he’d sprouted another head. “Like
this
.” She waved a hand over the table. From where he was sitting all he could see was a platter of cold chicken and his mother’s homemade loaf of sourdough. “You’ve been out planting all day in the hot sun, working so hard. Then you come in after all that and eat a sandwich?”

Gideon shrugged, trying not to feel the relief flowing through him. “It’s enough.”

“And will you stop calling me Miss Hamilton? That’s what the headmistress called me at school when I was trouble. Quite frankly, I don’t like it.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“Avery.”

“No.” He hated her name. It didn’t suit her at all. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’ll go home in a few days anyway.”

She paused, staring at him. “Yes.” Then she looked away.

Gideon tried not to be touched that she cared enough about him to worry over what kind of food he ate, but he didn’t understand why she cared. Especially since he didn’t. Food was just the means to get through another day. What he ate was of no concern. Or when. In fact, he’d eaten more since she had been on his farm than he had all of the week before.

“Come.” He stood and grabbed up his plate. “I’ll help you with the dishes.”

“I can do them. You were out in the sun all day.”

“And so were you.”

“I weeded the garden.” She took his plate from him. “You plowed a field.”

“An acre,” he corrected.

She smiled, the curve of her lips lighting up her face. She had a tinge of pink on her cheeks from her “weeding.” He tried not to notice how becoming it was.

“My point exactly. Now, shoo.” She waved him toward the door. “Go smoke your pipe. I’ve got this.”

“But I don’t—”

“Smoke? Uh-huh. Then go out to the barn and do barn things. I’ll do the dishes.”

Gideon started to protest again, but changed his mind. With a smile on his face, he headed out the door.

Avery ran the warm, wet sponge across her neck and down one arm. It felt so good to wash the dirt of the day from her body. Like starting over. She dipped the sponge again, treating her other arm and the nape of her neck. Droplets raced down her back and fell onto the towel under her feet.

How she would love to soak in the big claw-foot tub, but this was good enough. Cleansing.

Tomorrow she would figure out a way to wash her hair again. It didn’t need such constant attention since she hadn’t put so many hair-care products in it. But it still needed to be washed in the worst way.

She toweled herself dry then padded into the bedroom, Louie right behind her. An oil lamp burned with a golden glow, soft and comforting.

She had decided to take Gideon up on his offer of the bed. Since he was sleeping in the barn, there was no sense in both of them being uncomfortable.

She shrugged on the clean shirt she had found in the closet earlier. This one, too, a beautiful blue. It was forward, she knew, to go digging around in someone else’s things, but no way could she wash herself clean and then put back on the shirt she’d worn all day.

She pulled back the covers and crawled beneath the sheets, cool, crisp, and smelling like sunshine. And Gideon. That alone brought a smile to her face as she extinguished the lamp the way he had shown her and settled down for the night. Louie V. snuggled up next to her and gave her hand a loving lick.

All in all, it had been a good day. She had weeded most of one garden and tomorrow she would start on the other. If it didn’t take her too long, maybe she’d have time left over to give Louie a bath. She was fairly certain there wasn’t a doggie spa within fifty miles, and her pampered pooch was starting to smell like a dog.

5

E
very muscle in her body protested as Avery dragged herself upright the following morning. Weeding and cleaning were a better workout than she had ever gotten from her personal trainer. It was a good sore, the kind that came from accomplishment.

She pulled up the quilts and folded them across the foot of the couch. Sometime around 2:00 a.m. she had given up trying to sleep in the bed and wandered back to the couch. There was just something too familiar about lying where Gideon slept. It made her uncomfortable and unable to sleep. Now the clock read half past nine.

Usually up and about very early, Gideon was nowhere to be found. As tired as she had been when she finally drifted off to sleep, he could have easily come into the house, gotten his breakfast, and left again without disturbing her one bit.

That must be what happened
. Avery pulled on her borrowed pants and headed for the kitchen to make coffee. She took a mug from the cupboard and turned to find Gideon stepping into the house, his eyes bright, as if he’d been awake for hours. He carried a plastic sack in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.

“’Mornin’.” He hung his hat on its peg. “I take it you didn’t get my note.” He handed her a piece of paper that had been taped up somewhere. “I had to go to town for a few things. I didn’t want to disturb you.”