Saving Gideon (25 page)

“It’s . . .” She almost hated saying it. “It’s a very expensive car. Even sold for scrap parts, it would be worth a lot.”

It was Abram’s turn to shake his head. “Plain folk take care of one another. There is a fund that will help us pay the doctors.”

“Cancer treatments are very costly. It won’t be nearly enough. Let me—”

“The Lord will provide for us,” Ruth said again.

Avery saw firsthand where Gideon had gotten that stubborn streak.

“But—”

“The Lord takes care of those who take care of themselves,” Abram said, shaking his head.

Avery turned to Gideon’s mother. “Ruth?”

The Fisher matriarch shook her head as well. “Your offer is generous and much appreciated, but we’re Amish. And Amish take care of their own.”

Avery felt shut out, that if she were truly Amish, the Fishers would accept her help. Yet she knew that’s not what Ruth had meant. They had their own ways of dealing with these matters, ways that kept them close as a community and family.

Still Avery wasn’t about to let this rest. She had spent the better part of her life raising money for others in need. She would find a way this time too.

There was a stifled sob from across the table, and Avery looked up to see Katie Rose’s shoulders start to shake.

“It’s okay,” Ruth said, pulling Katie Rose’s head down onto her shoulder. “The Lord will provide for us.”

Katie Rose sniffed and snuggled her head into the crook of her mother’s neck. “I know.” She sniffed again. “I know.”

Avery wished that she could do something—anything—to take away some of their pain.

Then Ruth straightened and smiled through her tears. “Maybe we should do a Bible readin’, huh?”

“
Jah
.” Abram nodded.

Avery looked to Gideon, his hands white from clenching them together on top of the table. Other than that, he looked as if they hadn’t been talking about anything more important than the weather. He had shut off. Avery knew. He fought feelings he didn’t want to battle. Instead of dealing with them, he had pushed them down and capped them off. Pretty soon they were going to blow.

She just hoped he could get them out before too much damage was done.

“Annie, will you go get the others?” Ruth asked.

Avery nodded.

“Gabe,” Ruth said as Avery stood. “I’ll expect you to tell the boys and Mary Elizabeth. Tell them how you want, but make sure they understand that God’s in charge, and we are doin’ His biddin’.”

“
Jah, Mamm
.”

“
Dat
and I will talk to John Paul tonight.”

Avery opened the door to the warm spring night. The stars were just starting to sparkle in the indigo sky. The crickets had begun their nightly song. In the distance, she could hear the call of the mourning dove. A beautiful night for such terrible news.

The younger children all stood around outside the barn, the older ones huddled together, no doubt trying to figure out what had happened and why they were exiled from the room.

“You can come in now.”

Seven eager and worried faces turned toward her, and then seven bodies of all sizes ran toward the house as fast as their feet would carry them. All but Samuel.

“What happened?”

“What’d we miss?”

They all started asking questions at once, but Avery just shook her head. “Get in there. Abram’s about to read from the Bible.”

She left them standing half in and half out of the house, then hurried across the yard to get Samuel. He had stopped to look at some clover that grew in a patch between the house and the out buildings. She scooped him into her arms and held him close, loving the clean smell of his shirt and the sweet aroma of innocence. He smiled up at her and handed her the white clover flower he’d picked.

“Annie,” he said.

It was all Avery could do not to break down on the spot.

Gideon was quiet the entire ride home.

Avery wanted to comfort him, to touch him and let him know that even if she couldn’t say that everything was going to be all right, she understood his pain. Felt it herself.

But he sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead as if his life depended on it.

Avery sat next to him, trying to figure out what to say.

When they reached the house, she had no more ideas, but she couldn’t let him go to the barn alone. Not like this.

“Gideon, I . . .” she said, as he hopped out of the buggy and came around to her side. “I . . .” she started again.

He only shook his head. “It’s been a long day.” He set her on the ground as if she weighed no more than Samuel. “I’ve got to care for the horses, and then I want to get some sleep.”

“I’m worried about you.” There, she said it. It was the truth. God would care for Ruth and Abram—all they had to do was pray. But Gideon . . . Gideon needed more than that.

What was it Abram had said?
The Lord takes care of those who take care of themselves
. From what she had seen so far, Gideon was in no state to take care of himself.

“It’s not me you need be concerned with,” he said as he unhooked the horses and gathered their reins.

“But I am.”

“In the morning, Annie. We’ll talk after we’ve rested.” Then he turned and led Molly and Kate into the barn without another word or glance in her direction.

She watched him, not knowing what to do, unsure if anything could be done. Then she turned in the opposite direction and made her way to the house.

When she walked in the door, Louie was there to greet her, barking out his welcome and begging to be picked up and cuddled. Avery obliged, gathering him to her as she went about lighting lamps and getting ready for bed.

It had started out as such a perfect night. With the exception of the terrible news, the evening had gone well. A loving family, so wholesome and caring, was something she had never experienced. Something she had always missed in her life. Until she met Gideon and his family, she had never known what she had been searching for.

She sat Louie on the bed and carefully removed all the garments Lizzie had helped her don a lifetime ago. Avery had enjoyed being one of the Plain folk for the night—the fellowship, the Bible reading . . . the
pie
.

She smiled. The Amish sure did love their pie.

Once the borrowed dress was hung back in its place of honor in the closet, Avery slipped into one of Gideon’s shirts and padded to the front room, Louie hot on her heels.

She made her bed on the couch, fluffed her pillow, and lay down. Her mind fluttered back to how she fussed over herself while getting ready. Shame over being so obsessed with her appearance enveloped her. There were so many other problems—worthier problems—in the world. She knew now that what she wore was of no consequence. Old habits and all that.

Ruth and Abram had welcomed her into their home. Avery had the feeling that it would have been the same had she showed up in a
frack
or the cocktail dress she’d been wearing when she crashed her car.

She sighed and turned over. And Samuel. He would understand none of what had been announced tonight. Probably for the best. By now, Ruth and Abram had told John Paul. Avery wondered how he took the news. And Lizzie. Gabe was supposed to tell her. Avery couldn’t imagine the iron-faced Gabe understanding a young girl’s worries about her grandmother. Hopefully, Lizzie would come by tomorrow afternoon after her German lesson, and they would have the chance to talk.

Gideon had promised Avery that they would talk as well, but she suspected he had only said that to get her to go to bed.

Like that did her any good. She was just too keyed up to sleep.

Avery sat up and turned on the lamp. Maybe she would read a little. Surely that would help.

She threw back the covers, ignoring Louie’s whine of protest, and went in search of something to read. She still had a couple library books, and the books that were in the house when she got here—and the Bible.

It drew her in, called her name. She picked it up, ignoring the pen and paper she normally kept close whenever she read the Bible, and instead tucked her feet up under her and started to read.

Der Herr ist mein Hirte; mir wird nichts mangeln.

The Lord is my shepherd; there is nothing I lack.

Er weidet mich auf grüner Aue und führet mich zum frischen Wasser.

He lets me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.

Er erquicket meine Seele; er führet mich auf rechter Straße um seines Namens willen.

He renews my life; He leads me along the right paths for His name’s sake.

Und ob ich schon wanderte im finstern Tal, fürchte ich kein Unglück; denn du bist bei mir, dein Stecken und dein Stab trösten mich.

Even when I go through the darkest valley, I fear no danger; for You are with me, Your rod and Your staff—they comfort me.

Du bereitest vor mir einen Tisch im Angesicht meiner Feinde. Du salbest mein Haupt mit Öl und schenkest mir voll ein.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Gutes und Barmherzigkeit werden mir folgen mein Leben lang, und werde bleiben im Hause des Herrn immerdar.

Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live.

A peace like she had never known washed over Avery. God was with her. Always. God was her protector, her champion, her light.

Avery had first heard those words in Sunday school, before her mother had died, when they had gone to church as a family. How many times had she heard them since?

Now they held a special significance. She read them as if seeing them for the first time, their meaning suddenly clear.

Her eyes filled with tears as her heart expanded in her chest.

She’d been saying all night that God would take care of Ruth, but now . . . now she
knew
He would take care of her.

She didn’t think twice. She jumped up from the couch and headed out the door, barely taking the time to let Louie out with her. Emotion burst within her and she needed to share her joy with Gideon.

The well-worn path to the barn was soaked in moonlight. Avery didn’t hesitate. She flew across the yard to the barn doors and found Gideon sitting outside. Not smoking his pipe like she suspected he would when he could not sleep.

“What are you doing out here?”

He sat in the shadows, his voice thick and hoarse. Avery couldn’t see his face. She didn’t need to in order to know that tears slid down his cheeks and into his newly-grown beard. He stood when she approached.

“I-I . . .” The elation from moments ago stilled in her chest. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’s wrong. Nothin’ at all.” But his voice was filled with derision.

She had found her way to God, and Gideon was struggling.

“She’s going to be okay, Gideon.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I do.”

“No—”

“The Lord will take care of this.”

He almost laughed, the sound heart wrenching. “You sound like my mother.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. She’s a very smart lady.”

They stood there, she in the moonlight, he in the shadows, and listened to the crickets and frogs call to one another.

“I haven’t asked God for a lot in my life,” Gideon said quietly. “And the things I’ve asked for have been taken away or unanswered. I don’t know if I can believe that God takes care of His people anymore.”

“That’s part of faith.”

“Then I’m all out.” His clothing rustled as he shifted.

“You’re not. It just feels that way.”

“
Nay
.”

“Oh, Gideon, I felt the same way when my mother died. I was ten, the time in a girl’s life when she needs her mother the most. I felt hurt. Hopeless. It’s hard. And you ask why to anyone who’ll listen, but no one has those answers. You can drive yourself crazy with questions like that.”

“I want to help her.”

“You want to save her.”

“Is that so wrong?”

“No.” She gave her head a slight shake. “It’s not wrong. I would have saved my mother if I could have.”

“How did she die?”

“Suddenly. In a car wreck.”

“So there was nothing you could do?”

“No.”

She could hear him breathe and wished again to be closer, close enough to lay a hand on his cheek, intertwine her fingers with his, anything to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

“Gideon, your mother has agreed to go to treatments. That’s a lot. Some people would just throw their hands up and let the cancer do what it would. But Ruth, she’s a fighter.”

“There’s got to be more.”

“You can pray.”

“How can that be enough?”

Avery smiled. “Because God’s involved.”

They sat in silence for several heartbeats. Inside the barn, animals shifted on the hay as they rested in their stalls.

“It’s more than that,” he said finally.

“Then tell me.”

She heard his deep, shuddering sigh, but she couldn’t determine if he was pulling himself together or coming apart at the seams.