Saving Gideon (18 page)

“Did you know that Spanish settlers nearly killed off all the alpacas?” Gideon had come in from the barn and was now using a sharpening stone to “put the blade back on” the kitchen knives.

“The rest—the ones they didn’t kill—hid out in the mountains. It says here that they are tough and strong.”

He grunted his typical response and Avery smiled. That meant he didn’t want to talk about it, but he was too polite to tell her so.

Thank you, Ruth, for raising such a well-mannered son.

“That’s why they make such a good investment. They’re hardy, gentle, and don’t require a lot of land. How many acres in your pasture, Gideon?”

“Twenty-five.”

“On that much land you could have . . . one hundred and fifty alpacas. That would be amazing.”

“I do not want one alpaca, much less one hundred and fifty.”

“I’m just saying.” She looked back at the book, but she wasn’t really reading. The idea had come to her as softly as the rain falling outside. Gideon could raise alpacas. His farm needed more purpose than just feed corn, and alpacas seemed to be the logical solution.

Except Gideon didn’t think he needed a solution.

She cut her gaze back to him, and he was watching her.

“What?” she asked, her eyes wide in what she hoped was an innocent-looking expression.

“Why do you think I need livestock?”

“Isn’t that what all gentlemen farmers need?”

“And what do you know, Annie Hamilton, of farmers?”

“Well . . . I know you are a gentleman. And—”

“How do you know that?”

“You saved my life.” She shrugged as if to say,
We’ve already covered this
.

“I did not save your life.”

“I could have frozen to death out there, but you rescued me.”

“Someone would have found you.”

“It could have been days.”

“You had a cellular phone. Once you woke up you could have called for help.”

She shrugged. “And I’ve seen how you treat Molly and Kate and the cow.”

“Honey.”

A ripple went through her. “What?”

“The cow’s name is Honey.”

“Well, that just proves it. Any man who names his cow Honey—”

“I didn’t name her. Miriam did.”

“Oh.” Avery didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t rescue you.”

She crossed her arms. “I beg to differ.”

Gideon looked out the window, the rain still coming down in a soft drizzle that would last for hours. “
Ach
, the rain is good.”

“It’ll help your corn.”

“That it will.”

“I wanted to plant the flowers today.”

They had left the plastic buckets of impatiens and marigolds on the porch along with the petunias, zinnias, and all the other flowers they had chosen. Gideon had acted like he didn’t care one way or the other about the flowers, but when they got to the nursery, he started picking out different types and colors with as much enthusiasm as she.

“The rain will make the weeds easier to get out of the ground. The new plants easier to put in,” Gideon added.

“I suppose you’re right, but . . .”

“But what?” He turned to face her and for some reason, Avery didn’t want to say the words.
Soon I’ll be going home, and I don’t want to waste a day of it
. “We need to get the marigolds in the garden before the bugs eat my tomatoes.”

Gideon laughed, most probably picturing the tiny little tomato-less plants in their neat little row. “I’m sure your tomatoes will be all right ’til the morrow.”

They
were
all right, a little soggy, but fine all the same.

Lizzie arrived just before lunch as Avery had expected her to, and the pair set out to clean the flower bed and get the flowers into the rain-soaked earth.

“In a couple of weeks, the colors will be full and lively.”

Avery surveyed the plants with a critical eye. “Are you sure they shouldn’t be closer together?”

“Positive. You have to give them room to grow.”

Which was something Gabriel Fisher had seemed to deny his daughter.

“Lizzie . . . what were you reading at the library?”

She studied the ground. “Nothing.”

“Lizzie. Tell me.”

“I . . .” She looked up, her eyes pleading, needing a friend in the worst way. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Who am I going to tell?”

“
Grossmammi
.
Dat. Onkel
.”

“Okay, okay. I promise not to tell.”

“I was reading up on animal husbandry.”

“Like being a vet?”

Lizzie glued her gaze to the floor and shrugged one shoulder. “I know it is prideful, but I can’t help it. I want so bad to go to school and learn to take care of animals. To heal them.”

“But?”

“
Dat
would never allow it.”

The image of the sour-faced, frowning Gabriel Fisher swam into focus. Of course he would never allow it.

“It is against the
Ordnung
.”

“I don’t understand.”

Mary Elizabeth smiled thorough her welling tears. “The
Ordnung
contains our rules.”

“Like the constitution?”

She shrugged.

“And it’s written down in there that you can’t go to school past the eighth grade?”

“It doesn’t have to be written, it is understood.”

“And if you go to school anyway?”

She took a deep shuddering breath “Then they will shun me.”

Avery’s heart went out to the girl. It was one thing to pursue your dreams and quite another to do it at the expense of your family and friends.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

“It’s okay.” She said the words, but Avery knew they weren’t the truth. Lizzie’s heart was breaking. She was torn between what her heart wanted to do and what her community expected from her.

Avery feared that one day Lizzie would have to choose between her family—and her dreams.

8

W
hy did you sell all of your sheep?” Avery asked this question of Gideon two days later on another trip into town. She’d told him she had forgotten a couple of key “girl” items and needed to go back to the store. She hated lying to him, but if she explained that she wanted to learn more about alpacas and their care, she knew he wouldn’t take her.

“Who told you I sold my sheep?” He set his jaw. “Never mind, it was Mary Elizabeth.”

“Don’t be mad. I don’t think she meant to tell me.”

He grunted his usual response that Avery took as either a yes or a no, depending on what she needed from him.

“So why did you sell them?”

He took his gaze off the road for a split second, using the time to glare at her before returning his attention back to the front. “I didn’t want to take care of them anymore.”

“Why?”

“I sold my farm, and I didn’t have enough room at the new place.”

“Why?”

He tightened his grip on the reins. “What are you gettin’ at, Annie?”

“Nothing,” she innocently replied. “It’s just that you planted corn in the fields, but the pasture is empty. You’ve got a lot of good grazing land just going to waste.”

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What do you know about grazin’ lands?”

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “But I’m learning. It’s good land for alpacas.”

“Llamas?”

“Sort of.” She tried to make her answer seem nonchalant, but she wasn’t fooling him. The Amish might only go through junior high school, but she had learned that living in a close-knit community gave a person a lot of “people smarts.”

He narrowed his eyes and gave her a scowl. “No.”

“If you don’t want to raise them yourself, you could lease that land to a neighbor—”

“I’ll not have a bunch of strangers trompin’ around my farm all day long.”

“They wouldn’t be strangers.” She watched his cheek twitch as he kept his eyes toward the road as if the subject were closed. “At least give it some thought. It would be a good business.”

“I think you need to mind your own.”

He had her there.

But she wasn’t about to let this drop. She’d be leaving soon—sooner than she probably wanted, and she couldn’t stand the thought of Gideon locked up on his own farm, exiled from the others by his own choice. He was alive, breathing, and walking, but parts of him acted dead. She wanted to see those parts come back to life before she returned to Dallas.

She had planted the seed. Now all she could do was bide her time until she could bring it up again. And bring it up, she surely would. “Can you take me to the library too?”

“I thought you needed to go by the general store.”

“I do, but I wanted to get a few more books to read.” More books on alpacas—but he didn’t need to know that.

“We should have time. I need to order some wood and such to fix my barn. I’ll go talk to the man at the hardware store, and then I’ll meet you back at Anderson’s.”

Anderson’s was the epitome of the old-fashioned general store. Maybe that was the reason Gideon preferred to shop there over the big-name stores that were pushing their way into Clover Ridge. Or maybe it was because Anderson’s had a little bit of everything and what they didn’t have, they could order. Coln Anderson, the store’s owner, seemed to be able to get almost anything a body could need: fancy soaps, fabrics and zippers—even low-fat strawberry yogurt and Oreo cookies. The service alone was enough to make the community store the hub of the town. Most folks walked through whether they needed something or not. Sometimes to say a quick hello, sometimes just to pick up a piece of candy for the young’uns. Anderson’s kept everything together in Clover Ridge.

“Gideon Fisher.” Anderson greeted Gideon as he entered the cool interior of the store. The hard soles of his black boots thunked against the planks of the floor, a sound so familiar it was comforting.

“Coln.” Gideon tipped his hat and headed over to the drink cooler. The day was turning out to be a warm one and cold lemonade would sure hit the spot. Somehow it felt right to be back in the general store with so many others of the district, everyone bustling around to get things readied up for spring. An invigorating smell permeated the air. The latest fabric, fresh straw hats, and new beginnings.

Gideon twisted the cap off a bottle of lemonade, and took a sip, enjoying the tangy taste and the memories of better days.

“Your sister and brother were in a little bit ago.”

“That’s
gut
.” Gideon nodded. “Gabe needs time away from the farm.”

“Not that brother. John Paul,” Coln corrected with a flash of a smile.

It was amazing to Gideon that when someone spoke of his
bruder
, it was Gabriel who came to mind first. They had been so close growing up, practically inseparable. But since the accident, Gideon had pushed everyone away, including Gabe.

The smell of new wafted over him again. Time to start again, right old wrongs, correct past mistakes.

No doubt that “to town” trip had been taken to get the house and Gabe’s young’uns ready for the growing season. John Paul could no longer be considered among the
kinner
. He was seventeen and in the first year of his
rumspringa
. Though he kept himself pretty close to home. It’d be the same when Mary Elizabeth’s time to run around came. Though uncle and niece, she and John Paul were as close as two could be.

“Gideon, have you ever met my granddaughter, Carly? Her parents finally let her come visit for the weekend. I hope they’ll allow her to come back in the summer and help out until school starts.”

Gideon took another swig of his lemonade and followed Coln to the candy counter. It took everything he had not to stare longingly at the gumdrops and beg the man to sort through the mess of them and gather him a bag of the grape ones.

Instead he focused his attention on the pretty, dark-haired girl behind the counter. Her deep brown eyes held a definite slant, her skin smooth and just slightly darker than his own.

Coln’s son and daughter-in-law weren’t able to have children of their own and had adopted a little girl from China. Gideon remembered the story, he just hadn’t realized it had been that long ago. But the truth stood before him smiling patiently while he gathered a polite greeting.