by Amy Clipston
It was a short drive to the creek. Once they parked, Ruth led the way while Gideon followed, picnic basket in one hand and Becky holding on to the other. Gideon might have suggested coming to the creek, but Ruth seemed to be following his lead. She chose the exact spot where they shared their first kiss and frequented throughout their courtship. They brought Grace here countless times as well.
“Is this okay?” Ruth avoided his eyes as she took the picnic basket from him.
“Uh, yeah. This is fine.” Gideon didn’t want to analyze her intentions. He would focus on the beautiful day the Lord had gifted them. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and a cool breeze rustled the leaves as it blew through and met with the babbling creek. Ruth spread out a red-and-white checkered blanket, then sat and unpacked the basket.
Gideon instinctively followed Becky. He remembered how Grace would get too close to the water’s edge. It wasn’t deep in this area, but falling in would yield some nasty scrapes from the rocks barely peaking above the ripples of water.
“Careful,” he said as he reached for her hand.
They sat on a rock facing the creek. “Mamm and Daed brought me here once for a picnic too. It’s pretty here.”
Gideon gazed at her profile, and once again he saw Grace. Esther and Ruth looked a lot alike, so maybe it wasn’t surprising that he kept seeing Grace in Becky. Or maybe he just wanted to see Grace. For months after she was gone, he’d dreamed about her. Each time, she was happy and smiling, and Gideon tried to hold on to that image through the darkest days.
“Everything’s ready.” Ruth had the food spread out in front of her, and her feet were tucked beneath her as she smiled at them.
Gideon had taken plenty of pictures since he moved away. He wanted to take out his cell phone and capture this moment, the way Ruth’s hair blew free in the breeze, her smile. The last time he saw his wife, her face was contorted into an expression that didn’t even resemble the woman she was. This was his Ruthie, a postcard vision of the way things used to be. Then he glanced at Becky, their niece, and wondered if it would be possible to cherish the old memories but also make new ones.
After they bowed their heads in silent prayer, Ruth helped Becky spread chicken salad on her two pieces of bread. Ruth had gotten up early and found all the ingredients, and Esther baked an apple pie the day before so Ruth snagged three slices.
“This is the best chicken salad ever,” Becky said with a mouthful. After she swallowed she asked, “What’s different about yours? Mamm’s doesn’t taste the same.”
Gideon chuckled. “There’s a secret ingredient in it.” He picked up his own sandwich and pretended to study it, squinting and holding it at eye level. “At least, that’s what your mother tells everyone.”
Ruth froze, even stopped chewing, as she wondered if Gideon realized his blunder.
Becky giggled. “She’s not mei mudder, she’s mei aenti.”
Gideon’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of red. “Uh, yeah.” He looked at Ruth, his eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry about that.”
Ruth finally finished chewing and swallowed. “It’s fine.” Becky obviously reminded Gideon of Grace too.
“What’s the secret ingredient?” Becky’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Well . . .” Ruth tapped a finger to her chin. “It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you, now would it?”
Gideon laughed again, and the sound of his voice melted away the tension that had built up about this trip. Even though she’d looked forward to it, she worried that at any minute things might explode. Ruth believed that part of the reason they’d split up was because the sight of each other reminded them too much of Grace.
“She won’t even tell me her secret ingredient.” Gideon grinned as he rolled his eyes.
Becky smiled. “And you’re her husband.”
Ruth lifted her eyes to Gideon’s, but he looked somewhere over her shoulder, lost in . . . what? Memories? Regrets? Thoughts of Grace?
Becky set her sandwich on the paper plate. “If you’re married, why don’t you live together?”
It was an innocent question, but Ruth wanted to keep things light today. She looked at Gideon and hoped he’d answer the child in a way she could understand. But he had just put the last bite of sandwich in his mouth and merely raised an eyebrow at her.
“We just don’t.” Ruth forced a smile and tried to sound casual as she eased a plate with pie closer to Becky, eager to steer the conversation in another direction. “Your mamm made this yesterday.”
Becky’s doe eyes found Ruth. She blinked several times, a look of confusion on her face. Ruth thought about what Esther said, how you never knew what would come out of Becky’s mouth. Or any five-year-old for that matter. Ruth needed to grab the reigns of this conversation.
She set down her plate and pressed her palms together, smiling. “You know what? I’m only going to be here a week, so I want to hear all about you. What are your favorite things to do? What’s your favorite color? Or anything else you’d like to share with us.”
Becky put the rest of her sandwich on her plate and pulled the slice of pie closer. Ruth should probably tell her to finish her sandwich first, the way she’d had to do with Grace, but redirecting the conversation seemed more important.
Becky shrugged, not looking at Ruth or Gideon. She forked a bite of pie then slowly raised it to her mouth, her eyebrows knitted as if she was in deep thought.
Ruth braced herself for more questions about she and Gideon. The wait seemed to go on forever, but Becky finally said, “Blue is my favorite color.”
“Mine too.” Ruth pointed to her dark-blue blouse and then to Becky’s light-blue dress. She looked at Gideon. “It was Grace’s favorite color too.”
Gideon genuinely smiled, and Ruth was happy to see that he was open to talking about Grace.
“So, I remember you being named Rebecca,” Gideon said after wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Do you always remember being called Becky?”
The child let out an exaggerated sigh before dramatically throwing her head back. Once she straightened, she sighed again and said, “I want to be called Beatrice.”
Ruth bit her lip to stifle a smile, then she glanced at Gideon.
“Beatrice?” Gideon scratched his forehead.
Ruth was still getting used to seeing him without the cropped bangs he’d always had. Now his dark hair was combed to the side. But when the wind blew, it fell forward, resembling the cut of the man she remembered.
“Why do you want to be called Beatrice?” Gideon chuckled. “I don’t think that’s an Amish name.” He looked at Ruth. “Is it?”
Ruth shrugged. “If it is, I’ve never known anyone Amish who has it. Where did you even hear that name?”
“I think a bird whispered it in my ear.” Becky covered her mouth with both hands and giggled. She lowered her hands slowly, looking back and forth between Ruth and Gideon. She laughed so hard it was contagious, and within seconds Gideon and Ruth were guffawing as if they’d just heard the funniest joke ever.
The more they laughed, the more Becky giggled. And before Ruth knew it, tears of joy pooled in the corners of her eyes from the gut-busting laughter she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
There is nothing more glorious than the laughter of a child.
When she finally caught her breath, she looked at Gideon. He’d stopped laughing, but Ruth recognized his expression. It was original to Gideon, a look that came into his eyes, the way his jaw twitched, the manner in which his mouth was slightly open. It was the look he’d given her every time he wanted to make love.
CHAPTER 6
Gideon listened as Becky—or Beatrice, as she preferred—rattled off more of her favorite colors, how she could stand on her head for ten minutes, how she ate frog legs one time and jumped like a frog for days, and a host of other stories that had Ruth in stitches, laughing so hard, she had both arms wrapped around her middle.
Gideon laughed along with her, but he was distracted by seein
g his Ruth again, the Ruth he remembered from before the accident. His longing for her caught him off guard. But it wasn’t just a physical desire. Ruth’s light seemed to grow brighter the more she laughed. He wondered if she would treasure these new memories the way he hoped to.
“Beatrice, you have done some amazing things.” Ruth finally caught her breath and looked at Gideon with an expression he remembered. If he had to label the look he would call it joyful. A familiar twinkle in her eyes lit up her face when she smiled. She seemed to be feeling something, too, their eyes connecting more than once.
For the next hour, they roamed up and down the shore of the creek, stopping to skim rocks every now and then. Their niece kept them entertained with stories and childish antics.
By the time they headed home, it wasn’t long before Princess Beatrice fell asleep in the booster seat. After Gideon parked his truck and killed the engine, the little one awoke, yawning.
Gideon climbed out of the driver’s side while Ruth helped Becky out and set her safely on the ground, then closed the passenger door.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Becky yawned again, then waved before she rushed across the front yard and into the house.
“Thanks for the great meal,” Gideon said as he walked around the truck to join Ruth. The creek seemed to take them back in time. Now they were stepping back into reality. But he wasn’t ready for the day to end. And he wasn’t looking forward to the next item on his agenda: facing their old house.
“It was a good day.” Gideon swallowed hard and pushed away thoughts of intimacy between him and Ruth, even though his eyes kept drifting to her lips.
“Ya, it was a gut day.” She smiled.
“It’s easy to slip back into the dialect, ya?” Gideon’s eyes found her lips again. He forced himself to look away, kicking at the grass with one of his Nikes. “Do you ever think of coming back here to live?”
Ruth shrugged. “Sometimes. What about you?”
Gideon lowered his gaze, thought for a few seconds, then looked up at her. “Sometimes.”
Ruth had pulled her hair up in a ponytail again, but it was long enough for the breeze to blow strands across her face. She brushed the loose tresses away. He wished he could remove the band holding her hair, let it fall loose, and run his fingers through it. “How long will you be here?”
“I’m planning to stay for a week. We’ll have the reunion Saturday, then I fly out on Tuesday.”
Gideon nodded as he looked at the ground, then forced a smile. “I better go.” He paused as dread churned in his stomach. “I’m going to the house, to see what needs to be done to sell it. After you read the listing agreement, let me know what you think.”
He turned and walked back around to the driver’s side of the truck.
Ruth nodded as she chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds. “I should help you. With the house.”
She had planned to make that part of her recovery process while she was here—visiting their former home. But she wasn’t sure if it would be easier going alone or with Gideon. If she went alone, she was sure to melt in a puddle on the floor and stay there for hours crying. With Gideon, she’d at least try to corral her emotions.
Shaking his head, Gideon sighed. “You don’t have to do that.”
Ruth wasn’t sure if he didn’t want her to go with him or if he was just being kind. “I came here to see my family and friends, but I also need to face a few things while I’m here, and the house is one of them. It’s not fair for you to do the work alone. I should help.”
Gideon looped his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and rocked back on his heels once. “It might be easier on both of us if we do it together.”
“Maybe.” Ruth raised her eyes to his as she thought about their time together at the cemetery, the bond they still shared. She glanced over her shoulder. “I need to run in the house and let Esther know what I’m doing.”
Ruth returned a few minutes later. Her sister had been way too happy that she was spending more time with Gideon. She hoped Esther didn’t get her hopes up about them getting back together. There was just too much water under that bridge.
It was a quiet ride to the house. And that was okay. Gideon surely had the same apprehensions she had. What would it be like to see their furniture covered up, their possessions packed, and reminders of how they ran away? Gideon packed almost everything since he left two months after Ruth. Esther said it didn’t look like he’d taken much. Ruth understood. She left with very little too.
The yard was recently mowed, but the flowerbeds were barren of blooms and full of weeds. She recalled the plush greenery mixed with the colorful flowers she used to plant every spring.
Her heart pounded like a bass drum as she hesitated on the porch steps. Gideon unlocked the front door with a key he pulled from his pocket, and Ruth lifted a foot, heavy as lead, and stepped onto the porch.
As the door creaked open, Ruth prayed something positive would come from this visit, that somehow it would prove to be a part of their healing. The musty smell of mold hit her hard as she stepped across the threshold, her feet crunching on dried leaves that must have blown in through the broken window. Esther hadn’t mentioned a broken window, but her sister also said she hadn’t been to the house in almost a month. She meant to clean right before Ruth arrived, but Becky had gotten sick last week.
With no electricity, and the predictable spring rains, Ruth wasn’t surprised the mold was already starting.
Rays of sunshine streamed in through the windows, lighting up the living room where she and Gideon had played with Grace, held family devotions, and where she taught Grace how to knit. It seemed like another lifetime ago but was so familiar that Ruth wanted to go get a broom and begin cleaning. When she was done, she’d make supper for her family. But that life was gone. All that remained were memories of a shattered life that needed repairing as much as the house itself.
Gideon opened one of the windows and a breeze sailed through the room. Ruth followed suit and opened another window in the living room. They were delaying the inevitable.
Grace’s room.
Ruth suddenly wished she hadn’t come with Gideon. How silly she’d been to think she would be able to contain her emotions, whether Gideon was here or not. She made her way to the kitchen and ran her hand along the white counter, pulling back a thick layer of black dust. As she leaned against it, she eyed the table with six chairs and remembered how she and Gideon had wanted at least four children. God had seen fit to give them only one.
They were all here on borrowed time, but she never could have imagined when Grace was born that their time together would only be ten years. She and Gideon tried to have more children prior to Grace’s accident. The doctor said there was no reason they couldn’t conceive, but it never happened.
Gideon sidled up next to her, his hip brushing against hers as he leaned against the counter beside her. “We had a lot of good times here.”
Ruth nodded, overly aware of Gideon’s arm as he pressed it atop the counter behind her, bringing himself even closer to her. She wanted to latch on to his T-shirt, squeeze it in her hand, and bury her face in his chest. To have his arms around her, comforting her. But she didn’t move.
“It’s not as bad as I thought.” Gideon walked to the sink, leaned over, and lifted the window pane. “Although, I don’t really know what I thought. Please thank Esther for checking on the place.”
He sounded as lost as Ruth. “Esther felt bad that she hadn’t been by in a month, and I’m sure she didn’t know the window was broken. I’m surprised the guy who mows didn’t tell someone. Or maybe he didn’t notice. If we let the house air out overnight, we could start cleaning tomorrow.” She’d just committed herself to another visit.
Gideon nodded before he walked back into the living room. Their brown-and-white striped couch was covered with a sheet, and so was the rocking chair in the corner where Ruth had rocked Grace to sleep so many times. Boxes were stacked everywhere, and Ruth t
hought about how awful it must have been for Gideon, doing the task alone.
Gideon slowed as he looked left toward the door that led to their bedroom, then right at the staircase. After a few seconds, he moved to the left, inching open the closed bedroom door.
Taking tiny steps, she followed him into the room. She pictured the pastel wedding quilt in shades of blue, yellow, pink, and pale green that used to cover their bed and was now in one of the boxes that lined the walls. Her eyes drifted around the room as she eyed all that was strange and familiar, her feelings mixing into an emotion Ruth couldn’t define.
Gideon turned around to face her, a look in his eyes as if he might pull her onto the bed. He walked toward her instead, and as he neared, the expression she thought she recognized wasn’t sexual, but desperate and wild. His eyes watered.
“I’m so sorry for everything I did after Grace died, for everything I said, and”—he took in a deep breath—“and for everything I didn’t do. I wasn’t there for you at all.”
Ruth was already shaking her head. “No, Gideon. I was equally to blame for the way things went. I’ve wanted to apologize to you for years, for being the one who left first, who abandoned you. I just didn’t know how . . .” She waved a hand around the bedroom. “I left you with all of this to handle, along with your grief, and I’m sorry.”
Gideon’s bottom lip quivered. “As head of the household, it was my job to take care of you.”
Ruth lifted a hand to her chest, her heart thumping wildly. Her lip trembled as she fought the tears pooling in her eyes. Right now, Gideon seemed to need forgiveness and understanding more than she did. She wondered if he’d had any sort of counseling or a support group to lean on.
“I know we were raised that way, that the man is the head of the household. But, Gideon, our daughter died. We couldn’t take care of ourselves, much less each other.”
He pulled her into his arms, his beard brushing against her cheek as he held her face against his chest, shaking so hard his tears were turning to sobs.