Saving Gideon

by Amy Lillard

  “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.

  Early Wednesday morning, Gideon took a sip of his coffee and made a face. How he’d managed to survive for nearly a year drinking his own coffee was a mystery of the ages. He sat down on the porch and watched the sun peek above the tree line as the day dawned. He’d milked the cows, fed the horses and the mule. Soon Gabriel would be by to ride with him to the auction over in Tulsa. He’d decided that he would go get some hogs, and maybe even another milk cow. With two little girls running on the farm, there’d be plenty need for milk.

  He’d been to supper a couple of times at the Miller haus. He’d decided to go a couple of more before he took her out for a Sunday drive. It was so different courtin’ as an adult than it had been when he was a teenager. Then, everything had been done in secret. Even the parents of the intendeds didn’t know the couple was courtin’ until they announced their desires to get married after harvest time.

  He smiled, remembering how he and Miriam had decided they’d court. They had left the barn dance and singing held by a friend in another neighboring district. They had danced around the barn, enjoying their time to run around and appreciate the world before settling down and joining the church. Gideon had taken her hand and led her over to the refreshment table. There he had handed her a plastic cup full of red punch and asked her if she wanted to get some fresh air.

  She’d fanned herself and nodded yes, her eyes sparkling with heated delight. They had waited until no one was looking, then they each slipped out a separate door and met in the shadows behind the old barn.

  “Miriam King,” he said, his voice a little wobbly on the end. He told himself it was because he was out of breath from all that dancing, but now he could admit how nervous he had been. Miriam would make a fine Amish wife. She was easy on the eyes, knew how to sew and put up jellies, and she made the best snitz pie in three districts. But what if she told him no?

  “Jah, Gideon Fisher?”

  “I was hopin’ that we could begin courtin’.”

  “And what is this we’ve been doin’?”

  “That’s not what I mean.” The words sounded like they’d been spoken by a bear, all gravely and rough.

  “Then what do you mean?”

  Ach, he wished he could see her face, had just a hint of what she was thinking.

  “I mean a true courtin’. We’ll spend the summer gettin’ to know each other better. Then in September we’ll tell our parents that we’re gettin’ married and that will be that.”

  And just like that, on a cool April night, he had asked her to marry him in the fall.

  He could see the white edge of her prayer kapp as she tilted her head to one side and thought over his request. He should have asked her in a better light. Or at least let what little light there was stay behind him. As it was, he couldn’t see enough of her face to know what was going on inside her head.

  “Miriam King . . .” Again that voice of a bear spoke for him.

  He thought she was playing with him, using some of the tricks she had seen the Englisch girls use in the motion pictures they had watched in town. Then she turned her head again, and he saw the sparkle of a tear on her cheek.

  “Miriam, what’s wrong?” His voice had turned quiet and gentle, the bear now gone. He stepped closer to her, running the pad of his thumb over the smooth skin of her cheek, whisking the moisture away with one gentle swipe. It was the first time he’d ever touched her save the clasping of hands during their swingy dances in the barn.

  “Oh, Gideon,” she cried. “You’ve made me so happy!”

  “I have?” She certainly didn’t look happy, so he had to take her word for it.

  “Jah.”

  He had kissed her then, with no one watching out behind the barn. He had known from the start that they were supposed to be together. God had put them that way and no man would tear them apart. There was no way he could know that years later it would be a decision he made that brought about their separation.

  Jah, courtin’ was done a lot different when it had to begin all over due to a death. It wasn’t all secret. There were a lot of dinners and vistin’. Well, he guessed it was a lot the same, but it was all known about. And since his fall from grace and redemption, everyone in the district was watching to see what he’d do next.

  He’d make it through this too. If he could lose Miriam and Jamie and then Annie, there wasn’t anything the district could do that he couldn’t survive.

  He propped his feet on the rail and tried not to miss Annie so much. He missed her rat of a dog too. Truth was, he was downright miserable without her. She had brought sunshine and hope, love and forgiveness, back into his life. And try as he might, he missed her something terrible. But he was glad she had been a part of it at all. He’d hate to think of where he’d be now had it not been for her. He had been so close to the brink, but she had dragged him back to safety. Now he owed her—he owed himself—the chance to move on. Yet he still felt the drag on his heart.

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. He had expected to see Gabe coming down the lane, but instead the buggy rolling his way belonged to Miriam’s parents.

  He stood as they pulled to a stop. John King got down first, then he helped his wife to the ground. Abigail smiled kindly as she lifted her skirts and came toward him. Gideon had no choice but to meet them at the bottom of the stairs. He was completely unprepared as Abigail wrapped him in a warm hug.

  “Gideon Fisher,” she said, laying a hand against his cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

  He could only nod through the clog of emotion blocking his throat. He hadn’t talked to them since the funeral, had been avoiding them. He couldn’t face them. Or the fact that their dochder and grandchild would be alive had it not been for his hasty instructions that stormy day a year ago.

  “We know it’s early, son, but . . .” John clasped his hands behind his back as if he didn’t know what else to do with them. He rocked back on his heels, then straightened his hat. “Well, we’re movin’ to Ohio. Today. Abigail’s got some kin there, and we thought it was time we got to know them better.”

  “I see.” Somehow he’d missed that bit of news. Or maybe his hiding had been more successful than he’d realized.

  “We couldn’t leave though. Not without talkin’ to you first.”

  He didn’t know what to say. So he waited for Abigail to continue.

  “John and I know this has been hard on you.”

  “It’s been hard on all of us,” John added.

  “Jah.”

  “Miriam was so special to us,” Abigail continued. “Though the good Lord saw fit to take her before we were ready to let her go. And little Jamie . . .”

  John wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his side. “Does no good to leave a job l
ike this to a woman,” he said with a small shake of his head. “We heard your confession at church and, son, you need to know that you can’t go through life blamin’ yourself. The Good Lord has a plan for us all, and it’s revealed to us through Him. You can’t take these burdens onto yourself.”

  Gideon couldn’t stop the hitch in his breath. Of all the things he expected them to say, this was the last. “And you . . . forgive me . . . for what happened?” Of course they did. It was the Amish way, but to know it and to hear it were two different things.

  “There’s nothin’ to forgive.”

  “It was a terrible, terrible accident,” Abigail said. “But it was an accident. The only forgiveness needed is for you to forgive yourself.”

  Emotion washed over him—relief, sadness, grief, and love for this couple who had treated him like a son. He took one step forward, then another, until he had his arms wrapped around both of them.

  How long they stood like that was anyone’s guess. When Abigail pulled away, tears streamed down her face. John wiped his eyes, and Gideon pretended not to notice while he did the same.

  He looked from one of them to the other. “Why don’t you come in?”

  “We’ve got to go. The driver will be to our house soon,” Abigail explained.

  “And we’ve got to get the buggy back to the deacon.”

  Gideon looked over to the familiar horses and rig. “Isn’t this your buggy?”

  “We sold it to the deacon for his grandson to have.”

  “It would be too hard to move it all the way up north. And Clara—that’s my cousin—she said they drive gray-colored buggies up there. Just like they do in Lancaster County.”

  “You don’t say?” Gideon couldn’t keep the smile from his voice. Abigail King’s excitement was infectious. He was happy to see her so thrilled about moving.

  He smiled as the Kings got into the buggy. They waved as they ambled down the lane, off to discover whatever was waiting for them in Ohio.

  A new buggy . . . a new state . . . a new beginning.

  He watched until they disappeared out of sight.

  A new beginning. He was goin’ to get one of those for himself too.

  Starting today.

  “You’re mighty quiet over there, bruder.”

  They’d gotten an early start for the auction, and the horses marched along at an easy pace. Once they got into town they would meet up with the driver who would take them on to Tulsa and the livestock auction. The sky was a beautiful blue, the sun shining like a blessing from above.

  “Jah.” Gideon’s mind was still on his early morning visitors.

  “You have somethin’ heavy in your thoughts?”

  “Nay.” He hated telling his brother anything but the truth, but he wasn’t ready to expose all the details. They had been close their entire lives. Having birthdays barely a year apart could do that. Most of the time Gideon loved the camaraderie and fellowship he shared with Gabe. Just not today.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes, the creak of the tack gear and the jingle of the harness practically the only sounds for miles.

  “Do you love her?”

  “What?” Gideon faced his brother.

  “I asked if you love her.”

  “Does it make any difference?”

  “It could.”

  Gideon knew that Gabe had the soul of a romantic buried somewhere beneath his grim exterior. He had been one of the exceptions. Gabriel had loved his wife dearly and had since the first day he’d laid eyes on her. They’d had something special and everyone around them could see it. But romantic love was a plus. Companionship and compatibility were much more important for the years to come.

  “Are you goin’ to keep on courtin’ Rachael Miller?” Gabe asked after awhile.

  “Jah. Rachael is a fine woman.” With more and more to do around the farm, he needed someone to help.

  “Just remember this”—Gabriel glanced at his brother—“true love is hard to come by.”

  “And what did true love do for Katie Rose?”

  “Samuel Beachy was a fool.”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow at his brother’s tone. “I hope you’re glad Mamm can’t hear you say that.”

  “You ought to listen to me on this one,” Gabe continued, not looking at Gideon as he spoke. “Love is special. You shouldn’t throw it aside so carelessly.”

  Gideon managed to push Gabriel’s words to the back of his mind for the remainder of the day. It wasn’t hard to do as they soon arrived in town and met with the driver. After discussing the fee they would pay him—which included money for gas, lunch, and three jars of their mother’s homemade pickles—they started for Tulsa.

  It had been a long time since Gideon had been in a car, and he had to admit that it wasn’t his favorite way to travel. Things passed by in a blur of light and color. It was hard to see out the windows and enjoy the sights. Once he started to concentrate on one thing, the car passed right by it before he could truly enjoy it.

  Thankfully they weren’t hours away from their destination, and they pulled into the fairgrounds a short time later. Their driver parked, and they agreed to meet back at dinnertime. They would get a bite to eat, and he would take them back to Clover Ridge.

  Gideon and Gabe weren’t the only Plain people in attendance, but they were far outnumbered by the Englischers. They received a few stares as they passed the pens of creatures up for bid.

  “I want to go have a look at the hogs,” Gideon told his brother as they passed stalls of mares.

  “Ach, but you could use a dray or two for your farmin’.”

  He was right, of course. Molly and Kate couldn’t continue to be the only farm horses and pull the wagon every time he needed to go to town. Still, Gideon hadn’t turned his entire land over to growing crops, and he had the mule. He had plenty of pasture that would most likely remain grazing land. It was too hilly for much else. Buying horses to farm just seemed like too much of a commitment to Gideon. If he bought more work horses, then there was no turning back. He’d be a farmer, wholeheartedly. Or at least it would seem that way. Gideon wasn’t sure if he was ready to turn into a farmer.

  That’s what you wanted. The voice inside him whispered, but it wasn’t true. He’d just wanted to die, but then Annie came along and pulled him away from that ledge. He had made his peace and was ready to move on, but as much as he wasn’t ready to invest in livestock, he surely wasn’t ready to turn his entire farm into neatly-planted rows of corn and soybeans. He had agreed to buy pigs, and he bought a mule. What more could a man do?

  Gabriel stopped. “Go on with you, then.” He waved Gideon toward the large door that led outside to the pens that held the swine. “Get your pigs. I’ll be here.”

  Gideon heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, but didn’t say anything to correct it as he made his way outside. He would never be able to explain to Gabe how he felt, how he needed to take the healing process at his own pace. There would come a time when it didn’t hurt so bad, the loss of his family and of Annie. Jumping in and buying draft horses wouldn’t make it go away now.

  He walked among the Englischers and the pens, studying the pigs as he moved along. He wouldn’t need many, maybe three or four to start. A boar and a couple of sows. His goal wasn’t to breed pigs, but raise them for meat. He looked around the pens, taking note of a particular swine or two. A saddleback with a white belly. The most popular American Yorkshire with its straight up ears. All good lookin’ creatures. Well-cared for and healthy. He’d take his chances when they got to the auction block.

  “Gideon Fisher?”

  He turned at the sound of his name.

  A familiar-looking man stood behind him. Gideon didn’t recognize him right away, then it dawned. “You breed alpacas.” The man was the breeder Gideon ha
d talked to at the last auction when he had bought Buster the mule.

  “That’s right. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  Gideon shrugged. “Jah,” he said, pointing toward the pigs. “Thinkin’ about raising some swine. You sellin’ today?”

  “That’s right.” He turned and pointed down the row. “Got a pen right back there. Some of the prettiest creatures you’ll ever want to see.”

  “Have you now?”

  “Would you like to come take a look?”

  Gideon tried not to appear too interested. After all, he’d come for pigs. If he couldn’t be talked into a dray nag or two, he surely couldn’t be convinced to invest in alpacas. “Sounds fine,” he said. “Mighty fine.”

  True love is hard to come by.

  Even as he fed the dogs and poured chicken feed around the barnyard for the hens and the strutting rooster to enjoy, the words came back to haunt Gideon.

  His bruder was right. Foolishly romantic, but right. Love didn’t come along every day, and he loved the dark-haired Miss Hamilton from Dallas, Texas. But was it true love? And what difference would it make if it were? They were too different. From opposite worlds. She seemed to fit into his easily enough, but for how long? How long could she go without the creature comforts she was accustomed to before the strain of Plain living became too much to shoulder? He knew one thing without a doubt—he could never survive in hers.

  So the only thing he could do was to go on. Live. Court. Farm. They were the only options he had. So that’s what he would do. Live. Court. Farm.

  He grabbed up the pitchfork and headed into the barn. Now was as good a time as any to start. Honey needed milking. Buster needed some oats. Molly and Kate needed to be brushed down.

  There was something poignant in the air inside the barn, the sweet scent of hay and better times. His childhood spent running barefoot through the barnyard, chasing kittens, and milking the cows. There were times when he missed those days, the ones before he knew what could be snatched away.