“Did you ever think about going with him?”
She smiled sadly. “I didn’t believe he would leave. For a long time I thought it was my fault, but I know now it was not.”
Booker stepped closer. “How can you be so sure?”
She raised her chin. “He vowed before God and the people of our church to live by the rules of our Amish faith. If he could turn his back on his vow to God, it was not because of me.”
“I imagine you’re right about that. Have you forgiven him?”
She wished she could hear him speak in his normal voice. It was hard to read his emotions in the forced whisper he had to use. “Of course.”
“If he came back, what would you do?”
“If he came to ask forgiveness and repent I would be happy for him and for his family. I can have Emma Troyer make you some blackcurrant tea. It will make your throat better in no time.”
“That’s what my mother used to do.”
Did she imagine it or did she hear sorrow in his voice? “Is something wrong?”
“I haven’t seen my mother in many years.”
“Why?”
“I’m estranged from my family.”
“That is a very sad thing. Only God is more important than our families. You should go visit them as soon as you can. Thanksgiving is coming in a few weeks. That, surely, is reason enough to put aside your pride and go home.”
“I wish that were possible, but it’s not. Good day, Rebecca.”
She didn’t want him to leave but she couldn’t think of a way to stop him. The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked away. She waited until she heard him descending the stairs before she entered her room.
She closed the door and leaned against it. What did he look like? Was he handsome or plain? What made him sad when he talked about his family? Why hadn’t he visited them? There were many things she wanted to know about Booker.
And curiosity killed the cat.
The old adage popped into her mind like the warning it was meant to be. She knew full well it was dangerous to become involved with an outsider. Yet there was something familiar about him that nagged at the back of her mind. Something that made her believe they’d met before. If that were true, why wouldn’t he simply say so?
Booker was a riddle. A riddle she wanted to solve. The thought of being cooped up at the inn suddenly took on a whole new outlook. He would be here, too.
Chapter Four
After leaving Rebecca, Gideon descended the stairs of the inn and headed for the café. For the first time in three days he had an appetite. He entered the dining area and was seated by a young Amish waitress.
He accepted an offer of coffee while he studied the menu. After the waitress filled a white mug and set it before him, he added a splash of real cream from a small pewter pitcher on the table. He took a cautious sip of the hot rich blend. Even though his voice hadn’t returned, swallowing wasn’t as painful. A second sip of coffee went down as smoothly as the first. Maybe he was finally on the mend.
Pulling his cell phone from his pocket he clicked the weather app and checked the local weather and road closings again. The storm that had coated the northern half of the state in ice was gearing up to add a foot or more of snow to the rest of the state.
He wasn’t going home tonight, but it was unlikely the roads would be closed for long. Once the storm passed, he’d be on his way. If not first thing in the morning, at least by the afternoon. He sent a text message to Roseanne notifying her that he wouldn’t be in to the office in the morning.
Her reply was succinct. Good!
Gideon closed his phone and turned his attention to the people around him. The café’s customers were mostly Amish enjoying a special treat of eating out after the auction. He remembered many times like this with his family. Although his mother professed to be annoyed with the expense, everyone knew she secretly enjoyed not having to cook.
There were a few non-Amish present in the café, too. He was the only one dining alone. Everyone else sat with family or friends.
His gaze was drawn to an Amish father, a man about his own age, seated with four small children and his wife at the table across the aisle. When their food arrived, the man took his infant son’s hands and held them between his own as he bowed his head in prayer. The baby protested only briefly before keeping still. Children were expected to behave and quickly learned the value of copying their elders.
Gideon knew the prayer the man was silently reciting. It was the Gebet Nach Dem Essen, the Prayer Before Meals.
O Lord God, heavenly Father, bless us and these thy gifts, which we accept from thy tender goodness. Give us food and drink also for our souls unto life eternal, that we may share at thy heavenly table, through Jesus Christ. Amen.
The Lord’s Prayer, also prayed silently, would follow the prayer before meals as well as the prayer after meals. Gideon hadn’t prayed much since he left home. A sense of shame crept over him. He had plenty to be grateful for and no good reason to ignore the blessings he’d received.
The Amish father lifted his head, signaling the end of the prayer for everyone at the table. He patted his son’s golden curls and began cutting up the meat on the boy’s plate. It was a simple act, but it moved Gideon to wonder if he would ever do the same with children of his own.
Maybe it was time he settled down and started looking around for a woman to spend his life with. He hadn’t already because the business took up all of his time. He’d been so intent on making a place for himself in the English world that he’d failed to notice the place he made was hollow and empty of love.
He had few friends other than Craig. He lived in a sterile one-bedroom apartment, ate takeout in front of his flatscreen TV. He had neighbors he barely knew and rarely saw. He’d avoided going to church in spite of Roseanne’s occasional urging and invitations. It wasn’t much of a life when he looked at it that way. Except for the flying. When he was in the clouds he was happy.
He closed his eyes. The smell of baking bread and pot roast filled the air. He thought back to the food his mother used to make. Roast beef and pork, fried chicken, schnitzel with sauerkraut, served piping hot from her wood-burning stove with fresh bread and vegetables from her garden.
As a kid, he never gave a thought to how much work his mother did without complaint. All he’d thought about was escaping the narrow, inflexible Amish way of life. Had it really been so bad?
I must be sick if I’m longing for the good old days.
He sat up and motioned the waitress over. Before he could place his order, the outside door opened and his cousin Adam walked in. Their eyes met for a long second. Adam looked away first. He walked past Gideon without so much as a nod of recognition. Gideon didn’t expect the snub to hurt as much as it did.
Adam was being true to his faith. It was his duty to shun a wayward member, to remind Gideon he had cut himself off from God as well as from his family. Gideon had known for years that he would be shunned if he returned unrepentant, but he had never experienced the treatment firsthand.
Years ago, his mother explained to him that shunning was done out of love, to show people the error of their ways, not to punish them. It didn’t feel that way at the moment. Gideon’s newfound appetite deserted him.
Adam stepped behind the counter and took over the cash register. The waitress beside Gideon’s table asked, “Have you decided what you’d like?”
“What kind of soup do you have?”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise at his hoarse whisper. “We’ve got homemade chicken noodle soup today. I’ll bring you a bowl. You sound like you need it,” she said with a sympathetic smile.
He folded the menu and tucked it between the sugar jar and the ketchup bottle. “That’ll be fine.”
His soup arrived at the same moment Rebecca walked in.
She stood poised in the doorway to the inn with her cane in hand. She tilted her head slightly, as if concentrating on the sounds of the room. A smile lit her face and
she moved ahead to a booth by the window. It was then he saw her aunt seated with several older Amish women. They greeted Rebecca warmly and made room for her to sit with them.
He was impressed that she had been able to pick out her aunt’s voice in the crowded room and locate her without assistance. She moved with a confidence he admired. If being at the inn made her uncomfortable it didn’t show at the moment.
Gideon slowly stirred his soup and unobtrusively watched her.
Was he in the room?
Rebecca wished she could ask her aunt or her friends if Booker was in the café. She didn’t, because she knew it would seem odd. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to her preoccupation with him.
It was bad enough that she had this preoccupation with a total stranger. She didn’t need to share her foolishness with anyone else.
“Nettie, how are Katie and Elam these days?” Vera asked.
“My boy is over the moon with his new sohn. Katie is a fine mudder and a strong woman. Little Rachel doesn’t quite know what to make of her new bruder. She is used to being the apple of her daed’s eye, you know.”
Emma said, “I have some news that I have been dying to share.”
When she didn’t say anything else, Nettie prompted, “Well, what is it?”
“Adam and I are expecting.” Her voice brimmed with barely contained excitement. “Congratulations. That’s wunderbaar.” Rebecca was truly delighted to hear that her friends were to become parents.
Vera echoed Rebecca’s congratulations and said, “To think you were considered an old maid until a year ago.”
Naomi, Emma’s mother, chuckled. “When Adam moved to town, right away he saw my Emma for the good woman she truly is. It just goes to show God has His plans for each of us in His own time.”
“That He does,” Emma agreed. “Adam and I are going to visit his family and share the news tomorrow. If the weather cooperates.”
Vera grasped Rebecca’s arm. “We must make a quilt for this new blessing.”
Rebecca agreed. “Ja, we will.”
She toyed with her food as her companions talked about babies, the weather and the turnout for the auction. She had made quilts for all the babies of her friends and family, but there were no quilts for children of her own.
She had turned aside every romantic overture that had come her way. There had been a few over the years, but not many. In Hope Springs, the single women outnumbered the men for it was usually the young men who were lured away by the outside world. Why would a man who remained choose a blind woman for a wife when he had healthy ones to pick from?
Besides, none of the men had been Gideon. It was hard to imagine giving her heart to anyone else.
Why? What was she waiting for? Was she hoping Gideon would come back and declare his love again? She had turned down his offer of marriage because she loved him. Because she believed he deserved better than a blind millstone around his neck. Fear and the painful knowledge that she didn’t deserve such happiness made her turn away from him.
If she could undo anything in her life, she would change only one thing—the night she slipped away with her sister Grace to join Gideon and his friends at a forbidden party. That one night changed everything.
She shut out the memory. Gideon wasn’t coming back, and she had nothing to show for her sacrifice. One day she would be old and alone, without even her aunt to care for. What would happen to her then? She could go back to her parents, but when they were gone, which of her brothers or sisters would she go to live with? Any of them would take her in, but would they do so with joy in their hearts? It was unlikely.
Would it be so bad to marry Daniel Hershberger? If she did, she would have a house of her own and the hope of children. She might learn to love him in time. Daniel was a good man.
If only the thought of kissing him didn’t leave her cold.
When their supper was finished, Rebecca went back to her room and sat alone on the bed. Her aunt had gone to her friend Naomi’s home for a comfortable evening of visiting. Rebecca had been invited, but used her headache as an excuse not to go. In the silence of her room, Rebecca found herself thinking again about Booker.
How was he feeling? Was he sitting alone in his room as she was? Was he thinking about her? It warmed her to think she might be on his mind.
He was an intriguing man. Perhaps it was just his pitiful voice that made him so. When he could speak plainly, she might find him dull. Or not. She couldn’t get him out of her head.
He’d said he wasn’t married, and she had to wonder why.
Which was a silly thing to be thinking about!
In a fit of disgust, she got up and took out her Christmas Star quilt. She had only the binding to finish. It wouldn’t take long. Perhaps if her hands were busy, her mind wouldn’t wander into forbidden territory.
Early the next morning, Gideon walked out the inn’s front door and entered a world frozen and cocooned in white. Snowflakes continued to fall, settling soundlessly onto the sidewalk behind a shopkeeper who had just cleared a path from his doorway to the street. Tree branches bent low beneath the weight of their white frosting. Everywhere, a hushed silence engulfed the town.
A few hardy souls had already ventured out. Directly across the street, a man worked to uncover his car with an ice scraper that was clearly too small for the job.
The quiet gave way to the jingle of harness bells. As they grew louder, Gideon looked down the street to see a horse-drawn sleigh coming his way. An Amish family with six rosy-cheeked children filling the back of the sleigh drove past him. Their eyes were bright with the excitement of the ride.
The man digging out his car met Gideon’s gaze and grinned. “I’ve got one hundred and fifty horses under the hood for all the good they are doing me at the moment while the Amish go flying by with only one horse. I reckon the simple life has some advantages, after all.”
Gideon grinned as he stood in front of the inn with no particular destination in mind. He just wanted to be out. Out in the clean fresh air of a snow-covered small Ohio town. Hope Springs was a lot like Berlin. A little bigger, but not by much. The same type of stores crowded together off the tree-lined streets.
He noticed antiques for sale and a touristy Amish gift shop down the street. The merchandise there likely came from China and not from the local craftsmen. Across the street was a hardware store. A pharmacy sat sandwiched between the hardware store and a clothing store. A little farther on a gas station sat at the corner.
Hope Springs wasn’t that different from a hundred other Ohio towns. Oddly, after ten years in the city, Gideon felt right at home on these streets. Time to explore a little. Left or right?
Before he made up his mind he heard the door of the inn open behind him. To his surprise, Rebecca came out. She was bundled up against the cold in a heavy, dark blue woolen coat. A black bonnet covered her head. In one hand she clutched her purse. In the other hand she held her white cane. With little hesitation, she turned left and began walking down the sidewalk swinging her cane lightly in front of her.
He should have spoken, but he wasn’t sure how his voice would sound this morning. What if she recognized him when he spoke?
Gideon followed her and watched as she tested the height and depth of a snowdrift in her path at the corner. She wasn’t really going to try and find her way around town in these conditions, was she? Where was her aunt? Why wasn’t someone with her?
To his astonishment, she made her way over the snowdrift easily and continued across the icy street. It was then he saw an obstacle she couldn’t detect with her cane. There was no way for her to know the snow-laden branches of the trees that lined the avenue were hanging at shoulder level. She was about to walk into a cold surprise. He tried calling out a warning but his voice failed him.
Galvanized into action, Gideon hurried after her. He raced across the slick street as fast as he dared. Rebecca would get a face full of snow in another few steps. He tried again to call out. This time
he managed to croak, “Rebecca, stop.”
She paused and turned her head as if searching for the source of the pitiful sound he’d made. He reached the curb but hit a patch of ice on the sidewalk. His feet flew out from under him and he landed with a painful thud at Rebecca’s feet.
He moaned and rubbed the back of his smarting head. When he opened his eyes, she was standing over him, her face silhouetted against the cloudy winter sky. He knew from memory that her eyes were the blue of a bright summer’s day but she held them closed now behind her dark glasses.
He wanted her to open her eyes so he could see them. He wanted to see all the memories they held of their time together.
He wanted her to see him.
Two words, his name, would be all it would take to let her know who he was. If he said those two words would she turn away? Would she shun him? He couldn’t take that risk.
“Are you all right?” She located him with her cane and bent down to assist him.
He gave a groan as he managed to leverage himself to sitting position. “I think so,” he whispered.
“Booker?”
“Yes.”
She slipped her hand beneath his elbow. “You poor man. Let me help you.”
“Thanks.” He accepted her assistance as he rose to his feet and dusted the snow from his clothes.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“I’ve got a pretty hard head.”
“You shouldn’t rush on these slippery walks. What were you thinking? Where were you going in such a hurry?”
It wasn’t the first time he’d been chided for his lack of common sense by this woman. He’d missed her occasional scolding as much as he’d missed her tenderhearted sweetness.
“I was hurrying to save you from walking into some snow-laden branches hanging over the walkway.”
Her frown changed to the smile he adored. “Bless you for your concern, Booker. I would not enjoy getting a face full of snow.”
Patricia Davids Christmas Brides of Amish Country: An Amish ChristmasThe Christmas QuiltA Hope Springs Christmas Page 22