Saving Gideon (12 page)

He sat down, trying not to let his doubts show. It didn’t look like any helping of pot pie he’d ever eaten. But looks don’t mean a thing. For sure and for certain, chicken pot pie wasn’t the purtiest dish ever made, but it was tasty. His favorite.

He scooped up a bite and immediately wished it had been smaller. Much smaller. The dumpling seemed to grow the more he chewed it. And the more he chewed it, the more he felt like he needed to—it was lumpy and tough and tasted like school paste.

But she was so pleased with herself, and it was generous of her to cook for him.

He managed to swallow the bite, the knot of food slowly sliding down till it hit his stomach.

“How is it?” She looked as eager as a child at Christmas.

He swallowed again, hoping to choke out a response. “It’s gut.” He’d been taught his whole life not to lie, but this one was necessary. He couldn’t hurt her feelings for all the properly cooked pot pie in Oklahoma.

She beamed at him.

Somehow he gathered a smile and sent it back to her.

“You’ve been working so hard, and I hated to see you eat nothing but sandwiches. You deserve more than that.”

“
Jah. Danki
.” Maybe if he concentrated on the chicken. He forked up a bite and chewed. And chewed and chewed and
chewed
. It was like eating a piece of harness. The vegetables were overcooked, even by Amish standards, and the soupy part was as thick as gravy.

Miss Hamilton watched him expectantly, her untouched portion cooling on her plate.

He bravely took another bite. She smiled, and again he managed to return it.

She laughed. “Oh, I was so busy watching you eat, I forgot to eat for myself.” Her eyes twinkled as she forked up her own bite, but the more she wallered the food around in her mouth, the less enthusiastic her expression became.

Finally she swallowed. “Does it . . . does it always taste like this?”

Time to tell the truth. “No.”

She looked crushed, her big gumdrop eyes melting. “But Lizzie . . . Mary Elizabeth said it was your favorite. And I wanted to make it for you.”

“
Jah
, that you did.”

“But I wanted it to taste good.”

“Then you should’ve had Katie Rose to come help. Mary Elizabeth is the worst cook in three districts.”

She looked like she was going to cry. Gideon reached across the table and covered her hand with his.

And immediately wished he hadn’t.

Her skin was soft as a late spring breeze, warm and sweet. Just touching her made him think of so many things he never thought he’d think of again. Long walks, sitting on the porch swing and drinking lemonade, hot summer nights and long winter days.

He allowed himself to run his thumb over the thin, blue vein on the back of her hand, feeling it jump beneath his touch, then he retreated. He released her hand and sat back in his chair.

“It’s not so bad.” He scooped up another bite.

“You’re lying.”

“
Jah
.” A chuckle escaped him, then another. He couldn’t help himself, and soon she joined in. “Annie, this is a meal to stick to your ribs.”

She giggled, and he noticed the start of a line of freckles across the curve of her cheeks.

“Annie?” she asked.

The named had slipped naturally from his lips. To him she seemed much more an “Annie” than a sticker label.

“
Jah
.” He nodded to back up his decision. “Annie.”

And her smile grew a little brighter. “I like it.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he filled his mouth and used eating as an excuse not to answer her at all.

“Why are you pulling up the strawberry plants?”

Avery sat back on her heels and twisted around to face Mary Elizabeth. “Because they’re weeds?”

The young girl shook her head in mock sadness, smiling the whole time. “These are the plants.” She pointed to a tear-shaped, jagged-edged leaf. “The rest are weeds.”

Avery pushed herself to her feet. She should stop before she did any more damage to Gideon’s garden. She was just trying to help. She didn’t even know there were strawberries planted in the little plot of ground.

Maybe it was time for a break.

Mary Elizabeth gave her a kind smile. “Strawberries come back year after year. The rest have to be replanted.”

Avery looked back to the larger plot that she had spent the morning “weeding.”

Mary Elizabeth followed her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think
Onkel
had anything planted there.”

Avery smiled in relief. “I just wanted to help.”

“You are kind, Avery Ann.”

They smiled at each other, the bond of friendship growing stronger between them each day. When it was time for Avery to go back to Dallas, she was going to miss the girl.

Mary Elizabeth hooked her arm through Avery’s and turned toward the house. “Come. Let’s make some tea, and you can tell me how supper went last night.”

Soon they were seated in the kitchen, sipping tea and eating the thick slices of angel food cake that Mary Elizabeth had smuggled over.

“Where’s Louie?”

Avery shrugged. “Wherever Gideon is, I suppose. He follows that man everywhere.”

Mary Elizabeth smiled. “Gideon’s that way with animals. They all like him. That’s why there’re always so many dogs out front. They just seem to naturally want to be around him.”

She could understand that. There was something special about Gideon Fisher, something that went beyond his conservative upbringing. There was a goodness about him, a fairness and a noble spirit.

“So how was supper?”

Avery made a face, not wanting to actually say the words that described their meal.

Mary Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t understand. I told you everything Aunt Katie Rose said to tell you.”

“Maybe I’m as bad at cooking as I am at gardening.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted the two of you to have a nice supper together.”

Avery smiled. “We did.”

“But the food—”

Isn’t the only part of a nice meal
. Avery waved away her protests. “Maybe next time.”

“You’ll try again?”

“Of course.”

“It might be better to start with something a bit easier to make.”

“Or perhaps I should ask for the amazing Katie Rose’s help.”

Mary Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a great idea!”

“I was being—”

“Brilliant!”

“Sarcastic.” She finished in a small voice.

“We’ll have to do it next Saturday so that school’s out.”

“School?”

“Katie Rose is our teacher. Oh, and the work frolic. We’ll have to wait until after that.”

“Work frolic?”

Mary Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically, still caught up in the plans to teach her to cook. “Hester Stoltzfus needs a new roof on her house and barn. Dat and the boys are going over there to build it for her. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Really?”

“
Jah
. Aunt Katie Rose is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. I know she’d love to help you learn to cook.”

Avery shook her head. “Your dad and brothers are going over to a neighbor’s house to replace her roof?” She tried to imagine her upper-crust Dallas neighbors crawling around on her roof with shingles and hammers. The image would not come into focus.

“
Jah
.”

“That’s . . .” Kind. Amazing. The way it should be.

“The Amish way,” Mary Elizabeth supplied with a shrug.

“Gideon?” They sat across from each other, between them a cold supper of sausage and sauerkraut that Mary Elizabeth had brought in with the cake.

“
Jah
?” He looked up from his meal.

“Mary Elizabeth mentioned a work frolic next Saturday.”

“
Jah
.”

“Will you eat here before you go?”

His expression shut down. “I’m not goin’.”

“You aren’t going?”

“No.”

“But I thought—”

He shook his head and turned his attention back to his meal.

“Mary Elizabeth said her dad and brothers are going.”

“
Jah
.”

“But you’re not.” It wasn’t quite a question.

“No.”

“Isn’t that sort of un-Amish?”

He looked up at her, slowly, his gaze hard as glass as it bored into her. It didn’t take Avery long to realize she had crossed the line.

“I am not goin’.”

“Well, you should.” She wasn’t sure what had put those words in her mouth, however true, but once they were spoken, she couldn’t take them back. She plowed on. “What are you going to do? Just cut yourself off from everybody . . . your family and friends? And for what reason?”

He got up and dumped the rest of his supper into the bucket of scraps they saved for compost. “I think it’s time you went home.” He stood at the sink, his back to her, his arms braced against the counter.

They had agreed to a couple of days and that time had long passed. It was time for her to go. But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t leave him like this. She didn’t quite understand why, but she couldn’t.

She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her middle. “No.”

He turned around to face her. “No?”

“No. In fact, I think you should to go to the work frolic. And I want to go too.”

His jaw tightened, and a little vein pulsed in his neck.

She stared right back at him, her gaze unwavering.

Long minutes ticked between them. Then Gideon looked away.

A smile crept to her lips. And Avery felt she had won a victory of sorts.

“
Ach
, the
Englisch
.”

“So we can go?”

“We’ll go.” He shook his head, staring at her. “Too bad you didn’t save any of the pot pie. It’d come in handy for repairin’ Hester Stoltzfus’s roof.”

Avery clapped her hands together, unable to stop her smile. They were going to a work frolic!

6

M
ornings were her favorite, definitely. And this Monday morning was no exception. Never before had Avery hopped out of bed at the first sign of the sun, and readied herself for the day. Of course, preparing for a day here was far different than what she had to do in Dallas. Every morning in the country, she put up the quilts she used for her bed and changed into the
frack
so graciously loaned to her by Mary Elizabeth. She splashed water on her face, ran her fingers through her hair, and made coffee for Gideon. No steamy shower followed by morning facial, a layer of makeup, and whatever armor she needed to face her father’s plans for the day.

It was liberating to jump out of bed, and with minimal effort, be ready to go.

No pressing weight of responsibility either. Oh, there were things that needed to be done, and she knew that she did a fraction of what the Amish women accomplished each day. But she found satisfaction in the fulfillment of a job that was worthy and worthwhile. Putting food on the table to feed a family, wash clothes, clean house, till a garden. The fruits of her hard work were right in front of her each day. Not a wisp of a deal, or the knowledge that someday someone might benefit from her efforts.

Today she was going to do something extra special: she was going to make Gideon breakfast. Not a cold breakfast, but a real one. Well, a better one, at least. Eggs, bacon, and toast. Something more than granola to fuel his work in the fields.

This morning she was prepared. She knew what she had to do. Lizzie had already told her that she had to get the eggs out of the hen house. Who would have known?

Avery snuck out the back door and cautiously made her way across the yard. The green flip-flops she had commandeered slapped against her heels, making way too much noise. This was supposed to be a surprise, and though Mary Elizabeth hadn’t said so, Avery felt it was probably a good idea not to make too much noise around the chickens.

She slipped the flip-flops from her feet and tiptoed toward the hen house. More than anything she wanted to surprise Gideon. And she wasn’t going to let one less-than-successful meal deter her from her goal. She wouldn’t allow herself to call her chicken pot pie a failure. Failure was not trying at all. And she’d tried. Her dinner just hadn’t succeeded, that’s all.