by Beth Wiseman
All the time, effort, and yes, money she’d put into the garden—gone because of one storm. Instead of fresh vegetables in the summer and shelves lined with canned vegetables in the winter, they would have very little. The peace she’d felt just a moment ago disappeared.
She put her face in her hands and wept.
Soon after wolfing down his breakfast, Gideon made his way to Rachael’s to check on her and Eli. A fierce storm had come through last night, and the hail had sounded like rocks hitting the roof. He expected his father to ask him when he’d be back, but he didn’t say anything. It seemed his whole family was realizing how important Rachael was to him.
He pushed his hat onto his head and rushed through the damp morning grass, through his front yard and then hers. He didn’t bother going to the house. She would be in her garden. She always was.
But as he drew closer, he could see the plants they’d left outside the garden Monday. He also noticed that the flowers in two of the hanging baskets were ruined. He wiped his face with his hand, thinking about the hailstorm last night. The flower baskets weren’t a good sign.
He stepped into the garden, hearing the soft sounds of her crying before he saw her hunched over, kneeling on the ground. He took in the disaster of her garden—once a neatly manicured, nurtured little plot of paradise. Now it looked like a herd of cattle had trampled through it.
He went to her. Stood beside her. She didn’t move, just continued to cry. Gideon reached out, only to pull his hand back. Maybe she wanted to be alone. Maybe he was intruding.
Then she looked up at him, her eyes pooling with tears. He knelt beside her and rested his hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
She wiped her face with her hands and sniffed, lifting her chin. “Ya.” She stood, shrugging his hand off her shoulder. “It’s all ruined.”
“Rachael, it will be okay.”
“Nee.” She moved away from him. “It won’t.” Rachael turned her back to him. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
He walked closer to her. “Let me help you.”
She shook her head, turned, and walked past him. He followed as she went to the small storage shed right outside the garden where she stored her gardening tools.
“I’ll have to see what I can salvage.” She picked up a large bucket from the floor.
“Rachael—”
“There’s still time to plant some more tomatoes and peppers.” She grabbed a rake off the wall. “They’ll come in late, but it will be better than having none at all. I’ll have to rebuild the cucumber trellis—”
He stepped in front of her. “Stop.”
She looked up at him. “I can’t stop. There’s too much damage to repair. I’m wasting time arguing with you.”
“Then don’t argue.” He took the rake from her. “Let me help.”
“You have your own work to take care of.”
“Daed and Hannah Lynn can manage. It won’t hurt Hannah Lynn one bit to get out there and milk the cows.” He smiled a little, hoping to cheer her up.
She reached for the rake. “Geh home, Gideon. I can do this myself.”
“I know you can.” He refused to let go. “But you don’t have to. I’m here, Rachael.” He cleared his throat, his emotions getting the best of him. “I always have been.”
Her fingers released the grip on the handle. “Danki.” Her voice, small and vulnerable, twisted his heart. “You’re a gut friend.” She moved past him and walked out of the shed.
A friend. Normally he hated to hear that word. He’d always wanted to be so much more. But that wasn’t what she needed now. She needed a friend—and he would be there for her.
CHAPTER TEN
Flowers are happy things.
—P. G. WODEHOUSE
Three hours later, the sun blasted its heat straight above them. Gideon took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. They’d made good progress. Rachael had picked over the plants she thought she could save or at least attempt to nurse back and pointed out which ones needed to be thrown away. She even managed to find a bright side. “They’ll make gut compost,” she’d said shortly after they set to work.
Now he was raking a bare patch of soil where a group of green and white Hostas used to be. He couldn’t believe how much damage the hail had done. He was also learning more about plants and flowers than he’d ever known before.
“Thirsty?” Rachael came up behind him.
He turned. The pain so evident in her eyes earlier that morning was gone, replaced by determination. Without thinking, he brushed her cheek with his thumb. There was nothing there, but he couldn’t help himself. “You had some, uh, dirt . . .”
She brushed at her cheek, which turned a rosy shade. “I’m going inside to get some cold tea. Do you want some?”
“Ya. The sun is brutal today.”
“I’ll be right back.” She looked up at him and smiled before she went into the house.
For such a rotten start to the day, it was turning out to be a pretty good afternoon.
“Gideon!”
He heard Hannah Lynn’s voice in the distance. He leaned the rake against the fence and went to the gate.
“Daed sent me to find out what’s taking you so long.” She looked at the garden. “Wow. What happened?”
“Hail. Tell Daed I’m helping Rachael. I’ll be home when we’re finished here.”
“All right.” Hannah Lynn hesitated. “So . . . are you two . . .”
“Friends. We’re friends.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “I thought for sure the flowers would work.”
“I can’t get mad at you for trying.” He leaned forward. “But from now on, I’m doing things mei way.”
“Got it.” She held up her hands and backed away. “I’m done meddling in other people’s business.”
“I doubt that,” he muttered.
“What?”
“Nix.” He turned and grabbed the rake, returning to work.
A few minutes later, Rachael appeared. “Fresh brewed,” she said, handing it to him. “I only had a few ice cubes in the cooler. It’s not very cold.”
“It will do.” He took a long swig of the drink. Then he looked around the garden. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?”
“In my shed. Why?”
“Thought it would be a gut idea to make a list of what you need to get this garden back in shape.” He set aside the rake and headed for the shed. She followed. “Where’s the paper?”
“Here.” She pulled out a small notepad and short pencil from a little yellow pail hanging on a nail on the shed wall. He wasn’t surprised she was that organized.
“How about we walk around the garden and you tell me what you need? Then I’ll geh to town tomorrow and pick it up.” When she opened her mouth, he held up his hand. “Don’t even try.”
“Try what?”
“To tell me nee. Or talk me out of it. Or say that you can do it yourself.” He leaned over her. “I’m doing this whether you like it or not.”
“Okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “First thing I need is five hundred pounds of potting soil.”
He held the pencil over the pad, his eyes widening. “How much?”
She grinned. “Gotcha.”
By suppertime, Rachael was exhausted. Gideon had left an hour ago, saying he had to put in a couple of hours at the farm before sundown. Before she could say she was sorry, he told her not to be. It was as if he had sensed her guilt before she’d spoken it.
But it had been like that all day with him. She stood at the edge of the garden. They had accomplished so much together. This morning she was devastated by what had happened. Now she had hope that her garden wasn’t a complete disaster. She still wouldn’t have as many vegetables as she’d planned for, but they would have enough.
She heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw her grandfather coming toward her. He stood next to her and whistled.
&
nbsp; “I know,” she said. “The hail really hit the gaarde hard.”
“Ya. I saw the mess earlier. I’m impressed by what you and Gideon did today.” He looked at her. “You make a gut team.”
Rachael looked at the garden again. It was stripped down and there was still a lot of work to do. But instead of seeing everything she lost, she focused on what she and Gideon had accomplished. It had been nice to work alongside someone, especially him. Her grandfather was right. They did make a good team.
Peace entered her soul, a peace she hadn’t felt since coming to Middlefield. She’d faced two of her biggest fears—her grandfather getting sick again and her garden being destroyed. In spite of everything, she could still count the blessings. Danki, Lord.
“Well, I’m hungry.” Her grandfather tapped the ground with his cane. “How about I cook supper tonight?”
She grimaced. “Nee.”
He frowned. “What about our deal?”
“Oh, we still have a deal.” She put her arm around his shoulder. “But you’re a terrible cook.”
“True. How about I check on the horse and you make supper?”
“That sounds better.”
As her grandfather made his way to the barn, Rachael looked at the garden one more time. She’d done enough work for the day. Tonight she would relax. Maybe even read a book, something she hadn’t had the energy or the patience to do in a long time. She took one last look at her garden and smiled.
She walked to the shed and was about to shut and lock the door when she noticed a piece of paper on the floor. She picked it up. Gideon’s list. He must have dropped it when he left. She’d go to the Beilers’ tomorrow and give it to him. She stepped out of the shed and closed the door, then snapped the padlock in place.
She decided to double-check the list to make sure she didn’t forget anything. She didn’t want Gideon making multiple trips to town on her account.
Then she stopped reading. She brought the list closer to her eyes, studying the handwriting. Plain, neat, square letters. Handwriting she’d seen before.
Her pulse thrummed as she ran into the house and to her room, opened up the drawer on the side table, and pulled out the note cards that had been attached to the flowers. Rachael laid them on the bed and placed the note next to them.
The handwriting was identical.
She smiled. It widened as she reread the flower cards. My Compliments. Admiration. Sincerity. Lasting Beauty. Dedication. All written in Gideon’s unique hand.
Her heart warmed. Hadn’t he proven all of these to her? His admiration of her garden. His sincerity when he spoke. The lasting beauty of his friendship. His dedication to being there when she needed him most.
Not only did the flowers speak what was on his heart, his actions did too.
She stacked the cards together. She would see Gideon tomorrow, and this time he was the one in for a surprise.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For there is a sound reasoning upon all flowers. For flowers are peculiarly the poetry of Christ.
—CHRISTOPHER SMART
Gideon rose well before dawn to milk the cows. He was on the third one when his daed walked into the barn.
“Nearly done?” Daed asked.
“Ya.” The splashing sound of the milk hitting the bucket filled the barn.
“You must have started early.”
“I wanted to finish so I could check on Rachael . . . er, Eli.”
His father smiled. “I know who you meant.” Then he grew serious. “How is she?”
“Fine.” He patted the cow’s flanks and picked up the bucket. He walked over and poured the milk into a larger trough. “I promise I won’t be gone all day.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Daed pulled his hat over his brow. “We’ll take up the slack for a little while.”
“Danki.” He handed his father the bucket. “Have at it.”
His father smirked and took the bucket. Gideon was almost out the door when Daed called after him.
“Does she make you happy?”
He looked at his father. They’d never talked about Rachael before, even though he obviously knew about Gideon’s feelings for her. Were things between him and Rachael exactly the way he wanted them? No. But he accepted that now. He treasured their friendship. No matter what, he wanted Rachael to be a part of his life. “Ya. She does.”
“That’s what counts. Geh on. And take your time over there.”
Gideon grinned and left the barn. He stepped outside into the warm sunshine. He tilted his head toward the sun, taking in its warming rays, which seemed to seep straight into his soul.
He headed for her house. When he got to the gate, something on the ground caught his eye. A yellow rose. He’d nearly stepped on it. He picked it up, recognizing it from the variety of roses she had on several trellises on the west side of her garden. They had survived the hail assault. It was small, a little underdeveloped. A card was attached.
He smiled. She’d discovered his secret after all. He looked at the card.
Friendship.
His heart sank. She couldn’t be clearer than that. But that didn’t change his mind or how he felt. He opened the gate and latched it behind him. A thought occurred to him. Although no one could predict something as destructive as a hailstorm, he could help protect her garden from deer and other pesky critters by fixing the latch on the gate so that it would close on its own.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another rose lying on top of the dirt bed he’d smoothed out yesterday. This one was pink. The card said Joy. This one was a little better. He smiled, glad she was happy.
He lifted his head at a shrill whistle coming from the back of the garden. He walked to the partly finished greenhouse. A hand appeared in the window, holding a white rose. Just as he started toward the greenhouse, the hand and flower disappeared. He ran to the other side of the wall.
She wasn’t there. He looked on the ground. Gideon chuckled as he picked up the white rose. He read the card. New Beginnings. So roses had meanings too, just like the other flowers. But what did New Beginnings mean?
“Gideon.”
He turned to see Rachael coming out from behind the oak tree. Her smile hit him square in the chest, the look in her beach-glass eyes nearly buckled his knees. “Rachael,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion.
She looked at the flowers in his hand. “I see you got my messages.”
“I see you figured out mei secret.” He walked toward her. “I hope you liked them.”
“I did. A lot.” She moved closer. “And I’d hoped it was you.”
“You did?”
She held a flower. A small red rose. “Here. To complete your bouquet.”
“I have to say, I’ve never had anyone give me flowers before.” He looked at the rose. “What does this one mean?”
“Love.”
Rachael’s mouth grew dry as she waited for Gideon’s reaction. For a moment, she thought she’d made a mistake. What man would want flowers? When he didn’t say anything, dread pooled inside her. She’d been too eager to surprise him. Then she used the word love. Now she was probably scaring him away.
“There are different kinds of love,” she said, trying to fix this. “Friendship love, for example.” She giggled, but it faded when he didn’t smile.
“Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you love me . . . as a friend?” He pushed up his glasses.
“Uh, not exactly.”
He held the roses at his side. “Rachael, I need to be straight with you.”
She gripped the red rose. One tiny thorn pressed into her skin, but she barely felt it.
“The flowers weren’t mei idea. They were Hannah Lynn’s.”
“They were?” The dread tightened inside.
“She thought it would be a nice surprise. I think it ended up being more of a game to her. She found the flowers and told me what they meant.”
“I see.” Rachael turned around, her cheeks flaming. And here s
he thought he’d put a lot of thought and effort into finding just the right words. The right flowers. Instead he just let his sister do it. He was the delivery boy.
“Rachael, look at me.” When she didn’t turn, she felt his hand on her shoulder. “Please.”
She spun around but didn’t look up at him.
“I shouldn’t have let Hannah Lynn talk me into it.”
She wondered if he realized how he was twisting the knife. “It’s okay.”
“Nee, it’s not. I never wanted you to get the wrong idea.”
Too late for that.
“But I’m not gut with words.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder. “I usually say the wrong thing.”
“Gideon, I’ve never known you to say the wrong thing.”
“I’m pretty sure I have now. You look upset.”
She pressed the rose against her chest. “I’m not upset.” She tried to laugh, but it came out sounding like she was choking on a lemon. “And the flowers . . . I just wanted to show you how much I appreciated what you did for me yesterday.”
“They’re nice.” He took the rose from her. “I like this one most of all.”
His words took her off guard. “You do?”
“Ya.” He moved closer. “It says what I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time.” Gideon touched the end of her chin with one of the rose’s soft petals. “I care for you, Rachael. Not as a friend. You mean a lot more to me than that.”
Her heart flipped over as he took her hand in his. “Gideon, you’re wrong.”
“What?”
“You are gut with words.” She tilted her face to him. “You just said the perfect thing.”
He bent forward and kissed her, pressing his lips so sweetly against hers she thought she might float away. Then he pulled her against him, and she felt him rest his chin on the top of her head.
“I thought I’d scare you off,” he said, his voice sounding a little breathless. “That’s why I never said anything.”
“And here I thought I scared you off.” She took a step back. “How long have you felt this way?”