by Tricia Goyer
“Oh.” Dat sat up straighter and ran his free hand down his beard. “And she had a note for me. Something to put in the Promise Box.”
Promise Box. The words sent a tingling sensation down her spine, and she straightened in her chair. “The Promise Box?”
Dat’s eyes brightened. “Ja.” He slowly placed his fork on the table. “I thought about telling you about it last night, but, well, we both needed quiet, time to grieve.”
“Okay, but what is it?”
He stood and offered the softest hint of a smile. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you about for a while.”
“Tell me about?”
“It was yer mem’s most special treasure.”
“How come I didn’t know, then?” None of the things her mother had owned were worth anything. They were just ordinary household items. None were special. Unless her mem had been hiding something. But why would an Amish woman do that? To live a Plain and simple life was all her mem knew.
“What could she have that would be considered valuable?”
Dat took slow steps toward their bedroom. “It was a gift fer you,” he called. “She had a plan yet to give it to you fer your birthday this year.”
Warmth filled Lydia’s chest. She wanted to see it but was almost afraid to. What did that mean—Promise Box?
In less than a minute he returned. In his hands was a simple wooden box. Lydia thought she’d seen it a few times—sitting on the table next to Mem’s Bible or on top of her nightstand.
That is the treasure?
He handed it to her and she took it. The wood was smooth but aged as if it had been held in her mother’s hands a thousand times.
“Did you make the box?”
Dat nodded. “Ja, years ago. For our first anniversary, I think. Ada Mae used to use it to keep stamps and change until she found a better use.”
“Then what did she use it for?”
He shrugged. “You’ll have to find out. Open it…but not here. Later. Give yourself time. You’ll want quiet. You’ll want to…” He smiled. “I don’t need to tell ya everything. Jest make it special.”
Lydia spread the old quilt under the tall larch tree and settled under a swath of sunshine that had managed to slip through the branches. She curled her legs to the side and tucked her long skirt under her. The breeze was warm. In the distance, Blue whinnied in the pasture. Lydia was only slightly disappointed that she didn’t see Gideon in the field with the horse. Although she would have liked to see him, she mostly wanted to be alone. To discover what was inside the box.
Lydia opened the lid, and her brow furrowed. She’d expected it to have keepsakes, but instead folded pieces of paper were tucked inside. She opened one. A Scripture verse.
“Lo, I am with you alway, Matthew 28:20,” was written in Mem’s neat script. There was nothing else.
Is this what Mem thought was so special?
Lydia sifted through the papers. Most of them had dates. One of them was thicker, as if it were a few pieces of paper folded together. A tremble moved up her arms, through her chest, and settled in the pit of her stomach. The date on the outside: almost exactly two months after she was born. What secret was tucked inside?
Baby girl, I’ve been praying for the day I would hold a kinder in my arms. A boppli of my own. I can’t believe yer mine. I’ve been waiting all my life to have a child, but you are more than I ever dreamed. Even the Englisch stop and tell me what a beautiful child. I agree. I hope they do not think me too prideful.
I thought it would be something special to have a daughter, but to be chosen by a mother…I cannot describe the feeling of knowing another would choose me to care for a child she carried and birthed. I feel unworthy. I feel special. I know there will be hard days, but I cannot imagine a moment I do not wonder of this gift. Of you.
I considered myself prepared to be a mother. With younger brothers and sisters I knew about the feeding, and bathing, and holding. But I wasn’t prepared for the swell of love deep inside. Sometimes I expect my dress not to be able to pin because I’m certain my heart has doubled inside my chest. I hold you more than I ought because I don’t want to lose a moment. I know how quickly the time passes.
You’ll be soon crawling around on yer own. Yet with each moment I have your head tucked under my chin—breathing in your scent—I think of another woman. A woman with empty arms. Does she wonder about you? Does she hold you in her dreams? I have no doubt of both.
Yer dat feels the same love as I. I’ve caught him more than once in the night just sitting by your cradle and watching you. He told me the other day that he didn’t feel worthy of such a gift. I told him that’s why it’s called a gift; it’s something given, not earned.
You are so lovely, daughter, so innocent. I only wish you could stay as such. I hate to think ahead to the day when I’ll explain to you about the circumstances of you coming to us—of you knowing the truth. Hopefully when the time comes the truth of the love your dat and I have will overshadow the pain. It is my greatest wish.
Love, Mem
Lydia stared at the words. She read the letter three times, trying to take it all in. Her mother’s words of love weren’t surprising. She’d known that love. She’d felt it. She’d seen it in Mem’s gaze. What surprised her was that from those first months, Mem was already concerned about her discovery of the truth. It wasn’t an easy truth to understand.
Lydia placed the letter on the quilt and looked past the pasture to the trees and hills, to the tall, jagged mountain peaks that jutted into the sky beyond. One could see the beauty of the mountains, yet the hardship of the climb up into them wasn’t known until the hike started. One could know the pain of revealing the coming truth; feeling it was something different. Mem had hoped her love was enough to keep Lydia in their home, to keep her Amish. The hardship of watching her daughter walk away must have been overwhelming to bear.
Lydia lifted the letter and pressed it against her chest.
Why didn’t I appreciate you more?
A small sob broke through with her words. “Why didn’t I accept your love, stay rooted in it and protected by it, when I had the chance?”
Her mem’s greatest fears had come to light the day she turned sixteen. Lydia wished she could go back. But there was no going back. There never would be.
Her fingers flipped through the other folded up pieces of paper. Would all of these make her equally sad?
Lydia prepared to close the box when the note on the very top caught her attention. The handwriting was shakier than the other ones, and it was dated…just four days ago. The day of Mem’s death. It was the last note Dat had tucked inside the Promise Box for Mem.
She picked it up, turned it over in her hand, and then put it down again. They were her mem’s last words, and she doubted that she’d written about beans. Lydia put the note in the box, closed the lid…then pulled it out again and opened it up before she lost her nerve.
Dearest Lydia.
If you found this box, it means that my time on earth is through. I have been a selfish woman. For most of the day I’ve felt my life slip away. I’ve battled sickness all my life, but nothing like this. It’s as if the pull to heaven is stronger than the pull to earth.
I thought about having Dat use a neighbor’s phone to call you and tell you to come, but I convinced myself to wait until tomorrow. I want to see you, dear daughter, but not the sadness in your gaze. And I want one more day with your father just to appreciate the ordinary, simple moments of our life.
Although it has not always been an easy life, I don’t regret one day of it. I am thankful to the Lord for many things: To live the Amish lifestyle. To be surrounded by a gut community. To have been taught to know the Lord and love Him. And last—and most—for your father and you.
Some women have ten children, but I wouldn’t trade ten for you. Though you are far from me in miles, you are not far in heart. With each promise I write, I not only thank the Lord for His goodness, I also pray y
ou can find hope in these words.
Out of all the promises one is my favorite:
“Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee,” Deuteronomy 31:6.
No matter where you go our good Lord will be with you. He will never leave you. My prayer is that you don’t feel as if you left Him when you left the Amish.
Dear Lydia, I don’t know what words a mother is supposed to share with her daughter, but the ones I share here, within this wood casing, are those that have meant the most to me. They are not thoughts or quotes, they are promises. This is my Promise Box.
I didn’t understand God’s promises for many years. I assumed our Lord giving us salvation and the hope of heaven was enough. But through the years God has promised so much more. And I learned this promise because of you, the first promise offered.
Within these notes is your story, daughter. The promises from God are for you.
Love, Mem
The letter ended. Lydia wished there was more. She wished Mem had called. I’d give anything for one more day with her.
Her heart sunk with heaviness, but the joy of finding this box of treasures was like helium balloons, holding it up from sinking completely.
Annie had mentioned something about Mem’s promises too. Promises? What promises? What did Mem mean?
Lydia put the letter back into the box and closed it. She couldn’t read more now. Not yet. Mem’s words were alive to her, as if she was sitting right next to her. She’d have to take them slowly, treasure them. Or at least that was her excuse.
She rose and folded up the quilt…and noticed Gideon striding across the pasture, approaching Blue. Lydia had books to edit. The wise thing would be to go shopping in Eureka and then spend some time working on a manuscript. Yet the sight of the man and the horse tugged at her like a magnet. She approached the fence and watched as Gideon tied a loose rope around Blue’s neck. The horse acted like Gideon had done so every day of his life.
Lydia knew the truth: Blue was untamed and unreliable. Gideon knew that about the horse and understood.
She pulled the quilt tighter to her chest, running her fingers over the straight hem. Did Gideon read people as well as animals? What did he see when he looked at her? Her mem saw someone worthy of God’s promises, but Lydia hadn’t seen that in herself. Not for a very long time.
CHAPTER
8
Gideon straightened and adjusted his hat, willing his heart to calm its double beat. Lydia watched from a distance. Beside him Blue’s ears twitched, and the horse tossed his head. Gideon chuckled. “You felt that, did you?”
If he wanted to succeed with Blue, he’d better pay the pretty redhead no mind. The horse picked up Gideon’s piqued emotions. Confidence and calmness were the two most important qualities of a horse trainer.
Blowing out a long, deep breath, he wrapped an arm around the back of Blue’s neck and rubbed him briskly on both sides of the neck. To get ready for the halter, the horse needed to understand Gideon could touch all around his neck without startling him. Gideon had seen more than one person trying to reach around a horse’s neck only to have the horse get spooked, plowing him over. Being calm didn’t mean that the horse wouldn’t jump and be scared…but it helped.
After a few minutes, Blue warmed up to him, and Gideon took the halter and rubbed it on the side of Blue’s face, getting him used to the feel. When Blue was comfortable, he attempted to wrap the halter around Blue’s neck and buckle it. The jingling of the harness caused Blue’s ears to prick. He jerked. Gideon swooped the halter off, grabbing the rope just in case Blue bolted. Sure enough, the horse started out on a trot. Gideon held onto the rope, letting Blue know he wasn’t going to get away. The horse tugged slightly, and then submitted, running in full circles around Gideon. He released a breath and held on, knowing the horse would calm. Thirty seconds later Blue paused and glanced over at Gideon again. Gideon reeled in the rope as if he were pulling in a large fish. Blue came with no problem.
Gideon tried to ignore Lydia, but he couldn’t help but glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She watched with interest, and Gideon liked having her there. He liked that she appreciated his work. Lydia would make a great friend. He had many Englisch friends in the area. One more wouldn’t hurt, right?
Gideon again forced himself to stay calm and focused on the horse. He didn’t make a big deal of the fact that the jingle of the harness had spooked Blue a few minutes ago. Everyone deserved a second chance.
This time he placed the noseband on Blue first, then reached to the other side of Blue’s head and grasped the crownpiece and buckled it. He looked to Lydia again, expecting a wave or thumbs-up. Instead she stood chatting on her cell phone. His heart ached as if Blue had bruised it with a wild kick. Who was he fooling? They were too different. He was just someone who’d occupy her time until she headed back to her city life.
The truth hurt.
That’s why he hadn’t approached Edgar to get more details about that event twenty years ago. The truth would hurt. Wasn’t that why Mem and Dat had kept quiet all these years?
Yesterday, after the funeral, he’d gone back to the bachelors’ cabin and sat on the front porch, boots kicked up on the porch railing, looking into the hills.
He’d sensed Edgar’s eyes on him during the funeral, but he refused to make eye contact. Why did he have to be the stupid kid who had gotten lost in the woods? Who’d disobeyed his parents and caused trouble in the whole community? His mother had reminded him many times where disobedience had led him. How could he forget?
Couldn’t he have been remembered for something good? Something noble? Guilt harnessed itself to his heart, and he wished he could shake it off.
“C’mon, Blue.” He led the horse through the pasture away from Lydia. Leading with a rope was an important part of the training. It put a connection between him and the horse; through it Blue learned trust.
They walked through the pasture and then toward a hill, passing under the trees. It was dimmer there. His mentor’s words trailed through his thoughts:
“The horse needs to learn that no matter what you bring into his life, you will not purposefully hurt him. In fact, the trust built might even save a horse’s life one day.”
“You’re trusting me, aren’t you?” Gideon spoke the words to Blue, but he also couldn’t help but feel as if God was speaking the same words to his heart.
“Trust isn’t really trust when you’re allowed to roam free in the sunshine, is it?” he said in a whisper. “You’re gonna learn trust by walking in the shadows. By feeling constrained. By letting me lead.”
After guiding Blue for fifteen minutes, Gideon took off the halter and untied the rope around the horse’s neck. With a pat on Blue’s hindquarters, Gideon let the horse know the lesson was over for the day. He carried the tack across the pasture and thought about heading back to his cabin to write a letter to Mem and Dat. Maybe he’d give them a chance to tell him the truth before he asked Edgar.
Gideon had made it halfway across the pasture when he glanced over at the Wyse place again, fully expecting to see Lydia still talking on the phone. Instead, she stood near the front porch with two other bachelors—Amos and Micah. Micah’s buggy was parked out front, and his horse nibbled on the grass by the fence line.
Lydia’s head tossed back, and her laughter spilled onto the breeze. His gut tensed. He pulled off his hat and wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve. What were those two doing there? They hadn’t cared enough about Mrs. Wyse to show up at the funeral, and now they were going to stop by?
Gideon lowered his head. Of course—like his mem always told him—another’s actions weren’t his to judge.
He kept walking, tried to ignore them, but Gideon knew the beautiful redhead stood behind the purpose for their visit. I should just let them be. But something inside propelled him that direction. He approached the fence, and Mr.
Wyse’s dog, Rex, bounded toward him. Gideon reached down to pet the dog, and then climbed over the fence and approached the others.
He fixed his eyes on Lydia, and she glanced his direction. “Is there an ice cream social I hadn’t heard about?”
“Oh, no.” Lydia placed a hand over her chest and then looked back at the two young men. “They’ve come bringing Dat home. He walked down to the Kraft and Grocery, and he stumbled off the porch and banged up his leg. Annie had called my cell and was going to drive him home herself when Micah offered. Which was so kind.” Lydia smiled at him. “I can’t believe—”
“Is he all right? Yer dat?” Gideon looked to the doorway.
Lydia frowned. “I hope so. He limped inside and wouldn’t let me take a peek at his leg, but I’ll check on it. Said he tripped over a loose board on the front step. I hope that’s all it is.”
“It’s been a hard few days for him.” Gideon glanced to Amos, Micah, and then back to Lydia. “But it was good to see you smile. I heard your laughter all the way out in the pasture.”
“Ja, well it’s Micah’s fault.” She narrowed her gaze at the blond bachelor. “He’s the one who told me what Dat said.”
Gideon pushed his hat farther back on his head. “What’s that?”
Micah smiled. “When I asked Mr. Wyse if he wanted a ride, he said, ‘Suppose so. Seems to me my git ain’t goin’ very far.”
Lydia laughed again. “It’s funny because Dat always used to ask me, ‘Lydia, are you ready yet? We best git going.’ I’d always tease him and ask what his ‘git’ was.”
Then as quickly as the smile brightened her face, it faded. A shadow of memory moved across her eyes. “And then Mem would always respond the same.” Lydia sighed. “She’d always say, ‘My husband is getting so crittlich of late. Give yer daughter a moment.’” Lydia lowered her head. “It’s amazing how those little things that didn’t seem to matter mean the most now.”