Saving Gideon (24 page)

The evening was warm, the sun creating a golden halo in the sky, the breeze making the rays bearable. Gideon loved traveling by buggy. On the occasions when he had the opportunity to ride in a car, he found it unnerving. He enjoyed the gentle sway of the horses as they clopped along, the fresh air on his face, and the opportunity to slow down and talk to one’s companion.

He cleared his throat, feeling like a teenager at his first singin’. “The flowers are coming in nice.”

“Yes. Yes, they are.” She tilted her face toward the sky, and Gideon could see the tiny beat of her pulse in the side of her neck, and the edge where the sun’s color ended and her own began.

“Won’t be long now, and we—there should be some vegetables to gather.” He had almost said,
We will have some fresh food for the table
, but stopped himself just in time. There was no “we.”

“Are you sure this is all right?”

“You look fine,” he said again.

“I mean the two of us going to this dinner at your family’s house.”

“
Mamm
will be glad you came. She loves to feed anyone who will sit down long enough for her to fill a plate.”

Annie let out an audible breath. “I feel like I’m meeting the parents. I mean, I
am
meeting parents, just not the parents of a boyfriend. Suitor.”

“No.”

“I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be.” His words belied his own feelings.

“Who’s going to be there again?”

Gideon shrugged. “
Mamm
and
Dat
, Gabe and his boys, Katie Rose, Mary Elizabeth, and my brother John Paul. You’ve met ’em all.”

“So why am I quaking inside?”

He would like to know the answer of that for himself. “It’s just
nachtess
.”

“Just supper,” she repeated.

Somehow he knew this was something more. Whether it was that Annie had gone all out in dressing like a Plain woman or his father’s serious tone when he demanded that Gideon come eat, he wasn’t certain.

One thing he did know—this was more than just supper.

Avery’s cheeks were flushed, and her heart pounded. She felt like she was on the set of an old black and white movie, except everything was in color—beautiful, brilliant color. The sky was impossibly blue, the trees a fresh green, and the buggy vivid black. Crisp and real, yet surreal all at once. Riding in a buggy along the country road was enchanting too. She could almost imagine she was in a bygone century—except for the couple of times when a car pulled gently around them and sped down the road ahead.

She could hardly wait to eat an authentic Amish meal—especially one she hadn’t prepared. She had become quite a chef since coming to Gideon’s farm, but she was anxious to try the real thing.

And so many people. The banquets, parties, and benefits she attended for her father were mostly austere occasions for the event of the day—save the whales, send the underprivileged children to college, or build a new basketball court at a favorite park. The atmosphere was always controlled and calm, organized and withheld. Attendees of those dinners were there for one reason—to give money. They ate what they were served at hundreds of dollars per plate. But they didn’t come for the food, or the fellowship, or because their father had asked them to come and gather together. They were there because they were wealthy, and someone needed money.

This dinner, she had the feeling, would be different. Maybe that was the reason for her nervousness. She was accustomed to standing before hundreds, giving speeches and asking for funds to complete a project, but this dinner was all about family, something she didn’t have much experience with.

In no time at all, the buggy turned down a fence-lined, packed-dirt drive. At least it seemed like the travel time went by fast. Avery still wasn’t sure if she was ready.

“This is it,” Gideon said, swinging around toward the barn, while Avery turned in her seat to get a better look at the house.

The outside was similar to Gideon’s farm with its whitewashed clapboard and a big matching barn. A garden sat off to one side, a clothesline on the other, and tufts of red and yellow flowers grew out front. This house also teemed with life—chickens and horses, pigs, sheep, turkey, and geese. Not to mention the passel of dogs and cats napping in various places around the yard.

Gideon helped her down from the buggy, and Avery noticed that his hands didn’t linger on hers a moment longer than necessary. She shouldn’t care, but she did.

“Are you sure I look okay?” she asked as they approached the porch steps.

“Are all
Englisch
women this concerned with their appearance?”

Avery nodded. “Most of them.”

“Then that must
halt
now. Tonight you are not
Englisch
. Tonight you are among the Plain folk.”

As compliments go, it wasn’t a very good one, but it calmed some of her insecurities. Tonight no one would judge her appearance. All the women there would be dressed practically identical to her. There would be no sideline talks about someone’s dress or shoes or escort. They would talk about quilting and canning and milking and all the other things she heard about at the work frolic. The tension in her body melted away.

Gideon knocked.

Lizzie flung open the door, as if she had been waiting on their arrival, and ushered them inside. “Look, everyone. Gideon and Annie are here!”

A throng of family members greeted them as if they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of days.

Avery felt welcome in the Fisher home and more like she belonged. Only Gabe, Gideon’s older brother, withheld smiles and conversation from her. Lizzie wanted her to tell stories about her home in Dallas, how they had a cook and a maid and all sorts of gadgets that made life easier. Katie Rose wanted her to recount her cooking experience, and Gideon wanted her to describe Louie chasing butterflies down by the creek.

When it was time to eat, they all took their places down both sides of the long rectangular table and bowed their heads.

Avery asked for peace for Gideon and good fortune for his family. She also offered thanks to be included in such a special evening.

“
Aemen
,” Abram finished for them all.

Everyone served themself, and the table sagged under the weight of food. Bowls of sausage and sauerkraut were served to rival the likes of Inga, her father’s cook. There were mashed potatoes, green beans, and several relishes, as well as those amazing pickles she and Gideon had eaten on their picnic.

All in all, dinner was a loud affair. So many adults and children all in one place was nearly deafening. The elder Fisher’s home was a great deal bigger than Gideon’s with a large front room and gigantic kitchen. It was evident that God and love lived in this house.

Avery barely ate. Instead, she watched those around her. Everyone doted on Samuel, made sure he was happy and had everything he needed. It seemed that Katie Rose had taken the place of a mother in his life. The rest of the mothering went to Lizzie, an underage matriarch making sure that her brothers had what they needed and that they were minding their manners. Like that was a big chore. Even as loud and boisterous as the Fisher clan could be, Avery was inspired by their respect for one another.

“It’s so good to have everyone here,” Katie Rose said.

“
Jah
,” Ruth agreed, smiling at those seated around the table.

“Everyone, but Megan,” Lizzie said.

Ruth’s smile froze, and she glanced at her husband.

Avery could tell from her expression that Lizzie immediately regretted her words. She all but clamped her hand over her mouth to keep more from spilling out.

A hush fell over the table. Abram seemed to shut down, then go into autopilot mode. He blinked once, his eyes staying closed for only a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and then he opened them again and began to eat like nothing had happened.

Lizzie’s comment seemed innocent enough, but everyone’s reaction sent questions zinging through Avery’s mind. Evidently Megan was special to the family, yet somehow gone from them now.

The atmosphere at the table became a bit subdued, but still remained a fun and energetic affair. Avery glanced at the animated faces in the room. What might it have been like for Gideon to grow up in such a spirited family?

“Seven sweets and seven sours is just a myth made up to attract tourists,” Lizzie said. She chatted nonstop while helping her grandmother and aunt clear the table. “We eat the same stuff like everyone else.”

“Some more than others,” John Paul said, pinching her side.

Lizzie swatted his hand. “The Lord loves all creatures great and small.”

John Paul opened his mouth to retort, but Ruth broke in. “Now, now,” she said gently.

Lizzie shot him a smug look, which John Paul returned with a
just you wait
stare that was all in fun. Suddenly Avery wished that she’d had a bigger family to enjoy, share jokes with, and love.

“Watch out. Coming through.” Lizzie and Ruth came to the table, each bearing two homemade pies. They set them in the center of the long table while Katie Rose handed out dessert plates like graded papers.

Lizzie pointed to one of the desserts. “This one’s pear pie.” She pointed to another. “And this one’s shoofly. It’s my favorite,” she whispered. “Then there’s cherry from the ones we canned last summer and pecan.” She leaned toward Avery. “I’d like to take that back. Pecan is my favorite.”

“At least it is tonight.” At last, John Paul got in his word, and Avery laughed.

Pie was served all around and against her better judgment, Avery took two small slices, one of cherry—
her
favorite—and the other of shoofly. That one she just had to try.

The cherry was blue-ribbon worthy. Sweet and delicious, the shoofly tasted like a little piece of heaven. A cake-like top covered a syrupy filling with a bottom crust that flaked under her fork. But even after that treat, cherry topped her list. Maybe next time she’d have room enough to try the pear too.

Avery pushed her plate away, certain she wouldn’t be able to eat another bite for days. The food was amazing, the company even better. The evening had been perfect.

“Uh-hum.” Abram cleared his throat. The table fell silent, even the youngest of the children turning a wary eye on the eldest Fisher. “John Paul, Matthew, you take the boys outside to check on the horses. Mary Elizabeth, you go with them. Go on.” The teens looked reluctant, but didn’t argue. They gathered up the smaller children, Samuel included, and herded them toward the door.

Once the youngsters were out of the house, a hush fell over the diners. Ruth bowed her head, and Avery was certain she was praying. Abram cleared his throat again, then braced his elbows on the table in front of him and looked at each of them in turn.

“
Mudder
and I have some sad news to share.”

They all waited impatiently for him to continue. He took several deep breaths, and then his eyes filled with tears. “I . . .” He started, but seemed unable to finish.

Ruth raised her head, her green eyes strong and determined. “I have cancer,” she said firmly and without emotion as if she had long since come to terms with the news. “Breast cancer. I’ve asked the Good Lord for guidance, and your father and I have decided that I’m to go to Tulsa for treatments. We felt that you should know.”

Energy erupted around the table.

“How?”

“What will we do?”

Avery started to stand. “I don’t think I should be a part of this.”

Gideon grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. Other than that, he showed no emotion at his mother’s announcement. Like his father had over the mention of Megan, Gideon seemed to shut himself off from whatever was to come next.

“
Nay
.” He gave her hand another small squeeze.

“
Nay
,” Ruth echoed. “Annie, over these last few weeks, you’ve become like one of our family. This is a family affair, and you should be here for it.”

No one dared contradict her.

Avery sat down in her seat, glad to be included, and sad all the same.

“It’s not goin’ to be easy,” Ruth continued. “But it’s not my time, and I’m goin’ to fight this. I’ll need your help around the house and with the chores. The Bradleys have offered to drive us into town to the cancer treatment hospital. They have lodgin’ there when we need to stay.”

“What about insurance?” The words slipped from Avery’s mouth almost of their own accord.

“Plain folks don’t go in much for insurance,” Abram explained.

“The Good Lord will provide,” Ruth added, that serene quality back in her voice.

“Let me know how much you need,” Avery said. “I’ll help you with the bills.”

Abram faced her. “That’s mighty fine of you, Annie. But we can’t accept your charity.”

“It’s not charity. You just said yourself that we’re like family.”

Ruth smiled and shook her head.

Avery leaned forward. “Then take my car.”

“Your car is in no shape to drive to Tulsa.” Gideon had found his voice. “And even if it was, who would drive it?”