Saving Gideon (9 page)

“You
what
? It is not enough that you . . .” he stopped, unable to form the words. He knew Gideon was hurting, but the good Lord said there was a time for everything. Time for healing had come, but his
bruder
seemed to be sliding further down the slippery path of grief instead of pulling himself up from its depths. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Gideon shrugged.

“So be it.” Gabriel tamped down his protests. This was far from over.

“Did you come here for a reason, Gabriel?”

“I came to see if it was true.” He nodded again toward the
Englischer
.

Gideon nodded in return. “
Jah
.”

“Simon has a little more time on his hands now that school is almost out for the summer. He can come help you plant.”

“
Nay
.”

“You need to put somethin’ in the ground,
bruder
. All this land layin’ fallow.”

Gideon shook his head.

How many times had they had this conversation over the last month? Gabriel had lost count. He loved his brother, so much that he couldn’t allow him to go to waste. But nothing he said to Gideon made him change his mind about living again.

Maybe he should send Simon on over and see if Gideon could refuse his nephew. It was underhanded, but a man had to do what a man had to do if it meant saving the life of one near.

So for now he’d let it drop, but soon, really soon . . .

Avery couldn’t take it anymore. To her best guess, the brooding man standing in Gideon’s driveway had to be his brother. The two were nearly identical in appearance, but whereas Gideon had a mournful expression, his brother wore a permanent scowl. Or maybe it was just for her. She had seen him glance back toward her several times. Although she couldn’t hear their words, she didn’t need a slide rule to figure out they were talking about her.

She had almost gone over and introduced herself a couple of times, but thought better of it. The other Fisher looked like a big bully, holding Gideon’s arm and glaring at her.

Instead she decided to wait until she and Gideon were alone, then she would offer to leave. It seemed her presence here was not sitting well with his family.

Oh, well, there was always Aruba.

Yet she had grown to like the quiet here. It was a different kind of peaceful, serene and steady. She heard the moo of Gideon’s cow coming from the barn, and smiled. Maybe not so quiet, but the sounds were gentle and comforting.

Even if she felt there was more she should be doing to help Gideon. Maybe it was the mournful look in his eyes or the sluggishness of his footsteps, a delay that seemed to say he would rather be in someone else’s shoes.

But helping him seemed like a moot point after the looks his brother had given her. If she had to guess, Avery would say that the other Fisher did not approve of her being there. Not one bit.

The last thing she wanted to do was cause problems for the kind man who pulled her in from the snow.

Avery settled back in the chair as Louie scampered down the porch steps to flop at Gideon’s feet. She still couldn’t hear what Gideon and his brother talked about, but at least the topic of conversation had turned from her to something else. Something that kept the other Fisher from shooting death stares her way.

She watched the two men for a few more minutes, then Gideon’s brother hopped in his buggy. With a tip of his flat-brimmed straw hat, he set the horses in motion in the opposite direction.

Gideon turned slowly as his visitor disappeared, then walked back and climbed the steps to stand on the porch next to her.

“That’s Gabriel. My brother.” He braced his hands on his hips.

“I could see the resemblance.”

Gideon nodded. “He—”

“Doesn’t approve of me being here.”

He shrugged, but the rigid set of his jaw belied his uncaring attitude. “It’s not his farm.” Then he walked into the house without another word.

Avery stood and followed him inside.

Louie ran over to get a drink of water as soon as the screen door slammed behind them. “I can leave,” she said, addressing the Y-strap of his suspenders and the broad expanse of his shoulders. He stood facing the window that looked out over the backyard.

She didn’t want to go home, but neither did she want to be the cause of problems between Gideon and his family. “I’ll leave tomorrow. If you’ll take me to town.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“I think I should.”

“I want you to stay.” He spoke the words so softly she almost didn’t hear them at all. Then he yanked open the back door without a glance her way, and disappeared into the sunshine.

Avery was surprised when Gideon showed up to eat supper with her. She was rummaging around in the refrigerator when he knocked on the front door and let himself in the house. Without a word, he hung his hat on the peg inside, and gave a scoop of dog food to Louie before making his way to the sink to wash up.

Avery set the containers of food on the table, and they ate in a companionable if not stilted silence. It seemed like he had something on his mind. Something weighing heavily.

She had just taken the last bite of her chicken when Gideon pushed his plate aside. “I’m goin’ to town in the mornin’.”

She looked at him, realizing her time on the farm had come to an end. “I’ll get my stuff together.” Maybe from Clover Ridge she could rent a car to take her to the airport in Tulsa. Surely she’d be halfway to Aruba before her father realized she wasn’t already there.

But Gideon shook his head. “I told you before that you don’t have to leave. I just wanted you to know where I was goin’ in case . . .”

She had thought he was going to say in case she was worried about him. But that would be too familiar.

“I’m goin’ to town,” he repeated. “To get some seeds to plant.”

Avery couldn’t stop the frown that wrinkled her brow. “Okay, then.” Maybe Gideon just needed to hear the words. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Gideon spent the next afternoon—like he had the one before—avoiding Miss Hamilton. Something about her unsettled him, made his stomach light, and his hands tremble. He had said he wanted her to stay, not realizing until he said the words that he meant them. He
did
want her to stay. And that was the very reason to avoid her.

But unlike the afternoon before, he plowed while waiting for the sun to go down.

He’d had no intention of growing anything this year—or ever—but she was in his house, sitting on his porch in his own favorite spot. A man could only stay in the barn so long before he needed a change of scenery, and Molly and Kate seemed eager for the exercise. Even after the spur-of-the-moment trip into town, the mares were more than willing to pull the plow through the soft earth. The snow had made the ground easy to turn. Moisture-rich, black earth just waiting for seeds.

Corn. He’d plant corn. He’d never been much of a farmer. He’d grown hay and alfalfa for feed. Miriam had planted vegetables and flowers like all Amish wives. The bulk of their money had come from the sheep, but after the accident, he’d sold them all. He couldn’t bear to take care of them. Never would again. For months he had wanted nothing more than to join his family on the other side, but if he wasn’t going to die, he might as well farm.

Gideon pulled off his hat and dragged his sleeve across his forehead. Louie dropped to his haunches, tongue lolling as he waited for Gideon to continue. The tiny beast had been his constant companion in the fields, running alongside him, romping through the fresh earth and snapping at bugs. The sight of the pampered dog going country made Gideon smile.

It was a fine day for plowing. The sun was hot but not unmerciful. The sky was blue, and the Oklahoma wind blew just enough to keep things cool. Gideon lifted his face toward the sun and closed his eyes.

Yes, a fine day for plowing. He slapped his hat against his leg, placed it back on his head, and clicked his tongue to start the horses again.

Gabriel pulled his wagon in front of Gideon’s house the following afternoon. The Lord had led him here—that was his only excuse. Simon sat next to him chattering away about things only a ten-year-old boy could recount. Maybe with Simon there, Gideon wouldn’t be so quick to say
nay
about planting and such.

“Is that her?” Simon pointed to the dark-haired
Englischer
kneeling in the overgrown garden at the side of the house.

“
Jah
.”

She was still there, this
Englischer
, bent over in the strawberry patch, yanking out what looked to be perfectly good plants. She grabbed hold of another one, ripped it from the earth, and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Oi!” She spun around evidently so engrossed in her task that she didn’t hear them pull up. “Where’s Gideon?” he said without preamble. She didn’t belong here, and he wasn’t about to act like she did.

The bright sun glinted off her dark, dark hair as she turned and waved toward the field across the road from the house. “Plowing.”

Gabriel squinted and sure enough he could make out man and horses. He’d been trying to get his brother to grow something—anything—for nigh on a month to no response. But there he was finally taking an interest in life again.

He raised his hand in greeting.
God is good
. What a difference a day made. Gabriel wanted to believe he was the reason his brother had finally decided to plant, but he feared it had more to do with the woman who had invaded their midst.

Gideon waved back, then started across the field toward them. The
Englisch
woman stood watching his brother as he crossed the road and headed across the yard.

“
Onkel
,” Simon waved his arm up high in the air, then typical of his hyper, ten-year-old nature, started chasing one of the dogs around the yard.

The little pup that had been sitting at the woman’s feet yesterday joined in the romp, yapping and running, its pink tongue hanging out the side of its mouth.

“It’s a fine day for plowin’,” Gabriel said when Gideon got close enough to hear.

“
Jah
. That it is.” He slipped his hat from his head and ran his sleeve across his sweaty forehead.