Saving Gideon (34 page)

He took a deep breath and started for the door, again noticing the stack of books at the end of the couch.

He sighed again.
Annie
.

She might have gone back to Dallas, but she’d left several pieces of herself behind.

The book on top was the German-to-English dictionary she’d used to look up words from the Bible. Below that was a cookbook, then one on the alpacas she had been telling him about. He picked up the dictionary and turned it over in his hands. With a sad smile he opened it, running his fingers over the title page. Mayes County Library was stamped inside, the name of the library in town. He’d have to return those soon. He didn’t have any idea how long a person could keep books from there. Maybe tomorrow he’d run them into town and drop them off at the library. It would give him something to do. For now he had stalls to muck and hay to spread. He gave the tome on alpacas one last look before placing it on the stack and heading for the door.

Gideon took a deep breath; the sweet smell of a Clover Ridge spring filling his lungs. What a beautiful day to be out in the fields. It was May, the most perfect time of year. The grass was green, and the sky that wondrous shade of impossible blue.

He had everything he could possibly want. He took another satisfied breath and tamped down the swell of pride. It was a sin to be prideful. God had given him so much that he turned his pride to prayer and thanked the Lord for the gifts he’d received.

Off in the distance he heard the bleat of a sheep. But that wasn’t his lamb. It couldn’t be. He had sold all the lambs after the accident.

“Gideon.” He heard her voice so soft and yet so near it sounded like she was right next to him. He turned, and she was. So real, he could see the creases in her prayer
kapp
, the neat stitches in her pale blue
frack
.

“Miriam.”

“Come,” she said, holding a hand out to him. “The lambs need you.”

“But,” he started to protest.

“But what?” she asked, that sweet smile on her lips, her eyes sparkling.

“There are no lambs.” Then again, if she were still there, then surely the lambs were too.

Gideon realized his second chance had come home again. He took her hand, allowing her to lead him toward the pasture. “Where’s Jamie?” he asked.

Suddenly rain started to fall. Soft patters at first until it came down in sheets. Miriam didn’t answer, just walked on as if the sun was still shining.

“There.” She pointed toward the creek.

Gideon turned, expecting to see their son, but Jamie wasn’t there. The water had risen with the rain, nearly flooding the banks as it rushed on by. It was dangerous. But he could keep her safe now. All he had to do was keep her at his side—and find his son.

“Gideon!” Annie, his sweet Annie, stood on the other side. She was dressed in a plain blue
frack
with a sparkling red dress on top of the conservative Amish garb. She had on one flip-flop and one high-heeled sandal.

“Stay there,” he told her. She’d be safe as long as she didn’t try to cross the creek. If she could just stay there until the rains stopped.

She nodded, wringing her hands as if she wasn’t as confident in his decision. She inched closer to him, to the swollen banks of the creek.

“Stay there!” he yelled again. But the wind had picked up and carried his words away before they could reach her ears.

“What?” she cried, taking one step more.

He tried to tell her again to stay put, but as he opened his mouth to say the words, she disappeared. She was gone in the blink of an eye. One second she was there, the next she was gone.

He ran to the creek, but no sign of her. He tried to wade out into the water, but Miriam pulled him back. “I have to find her,” he said, unable to break free from her grasp. With that red dress on, Annie would be easy to spot. He’d find her, he would. But Miriam held him back.

“Let me go,” he commanded and begged, all in the same breath.

Miriam tilted her head, her expression serene and confused. “But Gideon, you’ve been free all along.”

He looked down at his arm. Miriam was no longer holding him. He turned toward her, but she was standing yards away, Jamie stood behind her, half buried in her sodden skirts. Wet, but fine.

His family was safe. He could get Annie now. He could save her.

He ran toward the creek, stumbled—and fell.

Gideon jerked awake, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily.

His hands shook as he pushed his hair off his forehead and rubbed his eyes.

He glanced around. He was alone. There was no rain. No Miriam. No Jamie.
No Annie
.

With a steadying sigh, he pushed himself off the bed. His knees popped as he stood. He shuffled across the floor, out of the bedroom, and down the hall toward the kitchen.

He half-expected to see Annie curled up asleep on the couch, Louie at her feet. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She wasn’t there. Then he stumbled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

With the amount of work he’d put in that day, he should have been in a deep, dreamless slumber, but his thoughts kept him awake with their churning.

He stared out the window over the sink, just able to make out the edge of the chicken coop and the north section of fence around the empty hog pen. He needed to buy some pigs, he told himself there in the dark. And a couple more chickens. Maybe a couple of goats. Anything to keep busy. At least until the day of his confession. After that, he could start living again. He would be free to forget about Annie, to let her go.

But until that day . . .

Gideon sat his glass down in the drainer and made his way back into the living room. Why did it seem as if his whole house was filled with Annie?

After the accident, he’d sold their farm, the
haus
and all the animals except for Molly, Kate, and Honey. He’d had to get away, the sharp edges of guilt slicing through him every time he looked out onto the fields, at their clothes, Jamie’s toys—even at the meticulously-kept garden in the front of the little house.

So he’d gotten rid of it all only to move out here and now be constantly reminded of Annie. Everywhere he turned he found a piece of her. He eased down on the couch, positive he could still smell the scent of her shampoo and the dab of lavender she wore. Across from him sat the chair where he had dozed after pulling her in from the cold.

And the stack of books she’d brought in from the library. He turned on the oil lamp closest to him, then leaned down and traced the cover of the book on top—the one she’d borrowed about alpacas. The face that stared back at him was not unpleasant—dark, intelligent eyes and gentle-looking in nature. She’d said they were good creatures, though she had never seen one in real life. He’d seen them at the auction. He considered himself a good judge of people and animals, and the alpacas appeared to be everything Annie said they were and more.

A perfect alternative to sheep.

If a man decided he wanted to raise a creature like that.

And he hadn’t.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.

Gideon picked up the book and sat back, propping it in his lap. He traced the cover one more time before opening it to the first page and starting to read.

He had to get off the farm. Gideon took one last tug at the harness rig on Molly and Kate, then swung up into the buggy.

He told himself it was because he needed to return her library books, and that he could use a few things from town. But really, he had to get away from her. At least in this open-air rig he wasn’t confronted with her scent, her very presence, every time he rounded a corner.

He enjoyed the ambling trip into town, the sun on his face, and the smell of spring and horses all around. It was
gut.
One day at a tim
e
, he thought, pulling to the side so a car could move around him.

Tonight he was going over to his parents’
haus
to talk about his mother’s treatments. Together they would make a plan that, with the Lord’s help, would see them through. He knew Ruth Fisher’s faith was strong, and he tried his best to steel his up too. But he . . .

Nay
. H
e pushed those thoughts away, tamped them down inside. He’d not go around doubtin’. He had to remain strong for his
mamm
, and that’s exactly what he was goin’ to do.

Gideon straightened his shoulders, and clicked Molly and Kate to a slower pace. They passed the sign welcoming them to Clover Ridge,
The Best Little Town in Oklahoma
. It was a gut town. The people there supported the Amish, let them set up shop right next door and sell their goods, Amish cheese, furniture, and even a restaurant that brought visitors in from all over the state.

Gideon pulled the buggy to a stop in front of Anderson’s General Store. He’d pick up a few things for the
haus
before dropping off the books on the way back out of town.

“Mornin’,” Coln greeted as Gideon stepped in from the sunlight. He tipped his hat in response and nodded once to Hester Stoltzfus’s brother-in-law, then made his way over to the hardware section. He needed a few nails to brace up the fence posts around the hog pen. Wouldn’t do any good to go get hogs and have them bustin’ out and runnin’ over the garden and crops. He might even need to get a couple of two-by-fours to brace it up as well. Which meant a stop at the lumberyard.

“Gideon Fisher.”

He turned, not realizing how engrossed he was in his own thoughts until nearly startled out of them by the shopkeeper.

“Coln.
Gut
to see you.”

“And you too, Gideon. But I don’t see your lovely visitor with you today.”

Gideon felt his heart twist inside his chest. “
Nay
.” His voice sounded a little rough. He cleared his throat, hoping no one noticed the cloud of emotion that settled over him.

“Well, I hope she’ll be in soon. We have a new shipment of fabric. Just arrived. She was asking about something to make a new
frack
. I believe my wife said Katie Rose was planning to make her a dress.”

Annie had said the same thing. The day he had brought her into town and had her father come and fetch her.

Gideon wagged his head. “She’s gone home,” he finally managed, thankful his voice sounded almost like himself.

Anderson’s face fell. “Ah, well that’s too bad. She was a lovely sight when she came in.”

That she was
. Gideon only nodded.

“You’ll tell Katie Rose for me, in case she’s still interested?”

Gideon nodded again. He wanted to pay for his nails and get back out into the sunshine. Away from even more memories.

He stepped around Anderson and walked toward the counter. “I’ll just buy these now.”

If Gideon was rude, Coln made no mention of it, not even a twitch of his expression to show that he felt slighted.
Gut
. Gideon wasn’t trying to be rude. He just needed a breath of fresh air.

Finally he stepped out of the general store with his little bag of nails, everything else he’d thought to pick up while in town forgotten.

Perhaps he’d walk over to the library to return Annie’s books. The air might do him some good, even though he’d gotten plenty of that on the trip into town.

He gathered the books and started off toward the library.

He’d not been inside the building since his
rumspringa
. Not that it wasn’t allowed. More often than not, the Plain people passed knowledge down from one to another through word of mouth and teachings. He’d learned what he knew from his
dat
and his
grossdaadi
. Even Miriam’s father had taught him much of what he knew about raising sheep.

The library was cool and well lit, but not too bright. The skylights from the ceiling added a natural effect to the indoors.

He stepped up to the counter and nodded to the woman seated there.

“Guder mariye.”

She smiled back at him. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need to return these books.” He placed them on the counter and pushed them closer to her. “My guest borrowed them and . . .” he faltered. “I need to bring them back to you.”