Saving Gideon (35 page)

“All right. Were you able to get all that you needed from . . .” She looked up at him. “These were Annie’s.”

“
Jah
,” he said. “She’s gone back . . . home.” He couldn’t help the slight hesitation before he said the word. In the time she was with him, he’d started to consider his farm her home as well. But that wasn’t how it really was. She belonged in the big city. He did the right thing by making her leave.

“Aw, that’s too bad. I so liked seeing her come in.”

Unable to think of a proper response, Gideon just nodded. Then he shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for her to do whatever she had to do with the books. On his way home, he would stop by the lumber store. At least there he wouldn’t have to listen to another person lament the fact that Annie had gone home.

“All set,” the lady said, smiling up at him.

“
Danki
.” He tipped his hat as he turned toward the door.

“
Onkel
!” Mary Elizabeth stopped, her body half in and half out of the library. Something on her face made him wonder what part of the
Ordnung
she was breaking by being here.

“Mary Elizabeth.” He tried to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded unnaturally high pitched. Poor child, she all but wrung her hands.

“I came to return the books Annie borrowed from here.” There, see, it was getting less and less painful to say her name. “What are you doin’ here?”

Her face crumpled. “Please, please, please don’t tell
Dat
.” She grasped his hand into her own, squeezing hard in her earnest. “
Please
.”

It wasn’t in the Amish nature to say please. It was understood, a part of life. And that made Mary Elizabeth’s anxiousness all the more curious. Still, she was a good child, and fast approaching her
rumspringa
.

Gideon looked around. “Is there something going on here that I should tell?” He nearly turned in a circle as he looked around. “I see nothing that deserves a tellin’.”

A small, knowing light shone in his niece’s eyes. “That’s right. There is nothing to tell. I just came to read a few books.”

“
Jah
,” he said, disentangling his fingers from hers. “And that you should do.”

She almost wilted in relief. “
Danki, Onkel
.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

Whatever secrets she harbored, his sweet niece could carry them with her another day.

15

W
here are you headed so early on this fine Sunday morning?”

Avery turned to face her father. She had hoped to get out of the house without anyone knowing she was gone. In the almost two weeks since her return, her father had been treating her as if she had some sort of twisted Stockholm syndrome and had fallen in love with her kidnapper—never mind that she hadn’t been kidnapped. But every time she looked around, her father was right behind her. She turned a corner, he was there. She hadn’t been alone more than five minutes since returning to Dallas.

Maybe this was for the best. Time alone would give her more time to think about Gideon. And that was one thing she wasn’t going to do. Because thinking about Gideon led to tears and remorse and dwelling on past mistakes she didn’t want to remember.

“Church,” she said.

“Uh-hum.” Her father scrutinized her with a critical eye, taking in every detail of her most conservative dress and her low-heeled designer shoes. “I see.”

Which meant,
That’s why you’re dressed that way
.

Avery had not had the energy to pick up where she had left off. She had tried, but things she once considered to be of great importance, seemed trivial at best. She didn’t look bad. For the most part, she looked like the “old” Avery. But she had yet to figure out where “Annie” fit into the English world. The girl she had been before was long gone, and her father knew it, even if he couldn’t explain it.

“I called Ramon and got you an appointment to have your hair done before this weekend. We’re lucky he could squeeze you in—especially after you missed your last appointment.”

Avery raised a hand to her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been this long.

“And your nails. For heaven’s sake, make sure you have something done to them—professionally—before the benefit.” He tempered his words with a kiss on her cheek, as if the tiny token of affection could take away the sting of his criticism. Had he always been this shallow?

That wasn’t fair. They came from a world where—sad, but true—appearance was everything.

“Yes, Daddy.”

The children’s hospital benefit was in less than a week, and Avery was expected to attend and play her part. That left six days to ready herself and maybe, somehow, find a little of the old Avery to carry her through.

He patted her on the cheek and continued toward his home office.

Avery watched him go, and then made her way to the garage. Her father had replaced her Mercedes with a brand new one, this one pearly white. She felt guilty driving the car. She would rather have had an ordinary Honda and send the rest of the money to Ruth and Abram—not that they would actually take it from her. Still, somehow she would find a way to help with the costly treatments.

Until then, all she could think about was Gideon. Since the Amish met every other Sunday, the day had finally come—his day of redemption. He’d be in the service right now, but she didn’t know which family was hosting today’s preaching. Though she couldn’t say she understood the methods, she knew that today he would be forgiven and welcomed back into the community. Soon he would start courting another woman, and eventually he would marry her. A loveless marriage based on needs and finances and companionship.

Lizzie had told her during one of their many talks that the Amish didn’t view love in the same way the English did. Love was a bonus, not the foundation of a relationship. Sometimes love came many years later—if at all—and didn’t rule the emotions and decisions of the couple.

Avery could see the benefit in such thinking. Love had gotten her in too much trouble to count. In the past, she had given her heart away freely and had it handed back to her without remorse. This time was different. She’d left her heart with Gideon, and she knew it would never be hers again.

The parking lot of the Boston Avenue Methodist Church was packed when she pulled in. She liked the church because she could sneak into the balcony and listen without staring eyes. It wasn’t as big as the First Methodist and other churches in the Dallas-Ft. Worth area, but it suited her just fine.

Today’s message was love and forgiveness. As a man with dark, brown hair came forward to kneel and pray, Avery thought once again of Gideon. She bowed her head and prayed God would give her the strength to go on without him.

At the end of the church service, Bishop Beachy spoke. “I’d like to call a members meetin’.”

Gideon twisted his hands together in his lap and waited. How fitting that he would repent at the service held at his parents’ house.

The young people who hadn’t yet joined the church, and the visiting members from other districts rose and glanced warily around, but filed out quietly all the same.

When the door had closed behind the last one, Gideon cleared his throat. “I want to confess that I have failed. I want to make peace and continue in patience with God and the church and in the future to take better care.”

“Gideon Fisher, please come forward.”

He caught his mother’s eye, and steeled himself against the emotion he saw there. “Kneel before the church and tell us what is your sin?”

Gideon dropped to his knees on the hard, wooden floor surrounded by the members of the church and the walls that had protected him as a child. It served as just another reminder of all he stood to gain. “I didn’t trust God. I went against the
Ordnung
. And I am truly sorry for the error of my ways.”

“And now?”

“I’m ready to change.”

The deacon stepped forward. “We know that many of you have heard the rumors. How Gideon Fisher shaved his beard and took up with an outsider. We all went out to talk with Gideon, and we are satisfied that he has repented from those ways. But as always, it is up to the church to decide.”

“Gideon Fisher, you may leave,” the bishop said.

He pulled himself to his feet and walked quietly to the door that led to the kitchen. From there he went out back and sat on the porch to await his fate.

He wasn’t worried. The district was full of good people, and today’s confession was just a formality. If no one had found out about his loss of faith, he wouldn’t be here now. But since others had found out and started talking, the bishop had to do something public. Gideon understood. When he was called, he’d go back in, accept the discipline of the church, and would mostly likely be forgiven right away. His offense was not serious enough to warrant a six-week ban. Tomorrow he’d head over and state his intentions to Rachael Miller. And that would be that.

“
Bruder
.” Gabe stood at the door to the house, his brooding expression giving nothing away. “They’re ready for you.”

Gideon stood and followed his brother inside.

Crickets chirped and stars twinkled in the dusky purple sky. Gideon pushed aside the thought of a certain pair of eyes the exact same color and, instead, concentrated on the woman standing on the bishop’s porch with him.

“
Danki
for supper, Rachael Miller. It was
gut
not to have to eat my own cookin’ for a change.” The bishop had arranged this evening meal prepared by his wife and Rachael, and Gideon had officially begun the courtin’ of the young widow. He knew the others were watching from inside the
haus
.

Rachael smiled shyly and smoothed a hand over her apron. “You’re welcome, Gideon Fisher.”

He twisted his hat brim in his hands and walked the few steps to the ground, while she wrapped an arm around the support post and remained at a respectable distance.

He had to admit that she was a pretty little thing. The kind of woman that made a man feel strong and protective. She had silky brown hair tucked under her prayer
kapp
and big brown eyes, sweet and honest. She could cook like the dickens and had two of the sweetest girls he had ever had the pleasure of being around. She would make a fine wife.

“There’s been some talk about the district,” she said into the still night.

“So I’ve been told.”

“It’s been said that you fell in love with the
Englischer
who stayed with you this spring.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He had fallen in love with Annie Hamilton—Avery Hamilton—but the feelings had no place in his life.

“I know where this is going, Gideon. Why you came to supper tonight. You don’t have to confirm or deny those feelings. I think it’s only fair that you know what’s being said. It makes no difference to me either way.”

“
Danki
, Rachael.”

“So.” She raised her shoulder in a half shrug. “I guess I’ll see you in town and such.”

“I think your uncle would like that.” He held out a hand, and she placed hers inside. It was warm and calloused like a workin’ girl’s should be. But he didn’t feel even a glimmer of the spark he’d felt with Annie. No matter. He ran a thumb over the back of her hand and squeezed her fingers gently before letting her go. “
Gut nacht
, Rachael Miller.” He released her and made his way to his buggy, aware the whole time she watched him from the porch.