by Tricia Goyer
“You do like cherry, don’t you?” Eve’s words interrupted Gideon’s thoughts.
“Oh, ja. I’m sorry.” He widened his eyes and pushed his hat back on his head.
“Is it that horse? Is he what troubles you?” Eve rose. “Everyone—my father especially—is amazed by how quickly he’s falling into line yet. We haven’t seen such a thing. Sadly, I’ve seen too many untamable horses have to be put down.”
“Wasn’t thinking about the horse. Blue is the least of my worries.”
The scent of fried pork chops and corn on the cob caused his stomach to rumble. Gideon took a step toward the door. He knew it would be polite to greet Mr. and Mrs. Peachy since they’d been the ones to invite him to the meal, but Eve hurried toward the door and placed her hand on the door handle, halting his entrance.
“Is it a her, then?”
Gideon cocked an eyebrow, guessing who Eve was talking about, but not wanting to admit it. “Her who?”
“Lydia Wyse, of course. I see the way you watch her—so enamored by her in Amish dress.”
Gideon took a step back. He knew he was going nowhere until Eve gave him permission. His thoughts had been more on the truth of what had happened on the mountain all those years ago. Nightmares had plagued his few moments of sleep. Worries had filled his waking hours. Yet he didn’t want to tell Eve that. Let her think that Lydia weighed most on his thoughts.
He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “There’s a big difference between dressing Amish and committing herself to the lifestyle. We’ve both known youth during rumspringa who’d wear Englisch clothes all week and then show up to Sunday service dressed all prim and such in their Amish dress.”
Eve cocked her head. “Do you really think Lydia Wyse is doing that?”
Gideon didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He’d been watching. The town had been watching—as he’d expected they would. Lydia’s changes over the last few weeks seemed sincere.
“Ja,” he finally said. “She has changed, but just living as an Amish woman and being baptized into the church are worlds apart. One is a lifestyle, the other a commitment. I think she’s far from entrusting herself completely to the community, to our ways.”
Eve opened the door just a crack, and the scent of cherry pie wafted out with the other wonderful smells. He brushed his muddy shoes on the boot brush, nailed to the wooden planks of the front porch, and waited.
Eve studied him. “I wish I could agree with you.” She sighed. “But I have a feeling that we’ll be arriving at a church service in coming weeks to discover that Lydia has decided to become baptized.”
Gideon’s heartbeat quickened. “Have you heard something?”
“Ne.” She bit her lip and turned her wide blue eyes toward him. “But if I was in her shoes that’s what I would do.” Eve tucked a strand of reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “Some things are worth committing your soul to God for. Things that really matter more than we thought. People who draw you in without meaning to…”
Is she talking about me? Does she see something I can’t?
He stepped forward again, forcing Eve to open the door and step inside. Her father’s greeting welcomed him, followed by a wave from Mrs. Peachy.
“I think yer seeing things,” he mumbled under his breath. “Maybe you should try to pen one of those fiction books Lydia has done worked on.”
Eve chuckled. “I’m not a novelist but an observer of life. I saw the coming chapters when Marianna Sommer first laid eyes on Ben Stone. It’s almost as if some things were set in motion by God or something…and folks just can’t help but get all caught up.” Eve shrugged. “I’m jest wondering when it’s my turn to take a ride on that merry-go-round.”
CHAPTER
17
Church service was being held at Lydia’s house. It was the first time Jacob Wyse had hosted it, but all agreed it would only be fitting, considering the occasion—even if they all had to squeeze in. All their furniture had been put in the barn and they’d packed as many benches into the house as possible. When the congregation stood for the first hymn, Lydia rose and followed Bishop Alton Plank out the front door. They walked around the side of the house, and Lydia smiled at seeing the buggies lined up and the horses nibbling on grass in the Carashes’ pasture, with Blue right in the middle of them.
“Lydia, when I saw you at yer mem’s funeral with your set chin and Englisch clothes, I have to say I never expected this day.”
“I know, Alton. I mean Bishop Plank.” She saw him so often in town in his logging clothes, not to mention having had his wife over for tea more than once, she forgot at times that he was the spiritual leader of their community.
“Are you sure of this? Sure of getting baptized into the church?”
“Ja, I am.” Lydia nodded. “I didn’t know what I’d lost until I found it again.” She bit her lip, forcing herself to remember their words. Life had been an exercise in memory of late, as she worked to preserve her conversations, thoughts, emotions within the pages of her book.
“I wish yer mem could have seen this day.”
Lydia lowered her head. She wished that too. She had to believe, though, that Mem had trusted in God’s promises and had known deep in her heart that this day would come.
“Well, if you’re certain, then I’ll tell you what I’ve told all the others. Joining the church through baptism has great importance. Over four hundred years ago our ancestors were tortured and killed because they believed in adult baptism. They didn’t think being baptized as an infant was enough. They felt one had to make a choice—one’s choice in Christian belief.”
“Yes, I remember that. I’d learned it—Mem made sure I knew the history of our faith.”
“Gut,” Alton continued. “By being baptized into the church you’ll have to live up to the rules of faith. It’s our duty to keep you accountable, and if not…”
“There will be church discipline, I know.”
“Since you already studied the Dordrecht Confession of Faith growing up, well, I find no need to do that again.”
She cleared her throat. “That’s kind of you. Mem and Dat taught me right. I just wanted my own way.”
“But you can make this commitment now?”
“Ja.”
“This is a promise for life.” Alton looked deep into her eyes.
She balled her fists at her side. “I know.”
“And if you’re uncertain, it’s time to reconsider and turn back.”
Lydia breathed deeply. “I’m not uncertain…not this time.” Joy bubbled up within.
“Gut. Then we better get back in there.”
Lydia followed him back into the church service, head lowered, praying she wasn’t making a mistake. And even though she knew that she only had to accept the life, sacrifice, and forgiveness of Jesus for salvation, she wanted to be part of this community. She believed in it—believed in the people.
They sang familiar hymns and Alton preached the same sermon she’d heard at every baptismal service growing up: the story about Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian.
“‘What doth hinder me to be baptized?’” Alton said with emphasis. “To which Philip answered, ‘If thou believest with all thine heart, thou mayest.’ And the Ethiopian replied, ‘I believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.’”
Lydia had heard the same words dozens and dozens of times, but this was the first time she understood. She did believe. Because of the promises Mem shared, she understood God’s Word more than ever before.
After the hymns and sermons had finished up, Lydia knew it was time. At Alton’s direction she approached the front, kneeling on the rag carpet—the carpet Mem had made, in the home Mem had cared for. Breaths came hard.
“You are making a promise to God, as witnessed by the church. Do you have anything to say? What is your desire?”
Lydia cleared her throat. “My desire is to renounce the devil and all the world, accept Jesus Christ and this church, and for this church
to pray for me.”
She knew then it was time for the four questions.
Instead of looking to Alton, she fixed her gaze on the wall behind his shoulder. Tingles moved up her arms.
“Do you believe and confess that Jesus Christ is God’s Son?”
“Ja.”
“Do you believe and trust that you are uniting with a Christian church of the Lord, and do you promise obedience to God and the church?”
“Ja.”
“Do you renounce the devil, the world, and the lustfulness of your flesh and commit yourself to Christ and His church?”
“Ja, I do.”
“Do you promise to live by the standards, the Ordnung, of the church and to help administer them according to Christ’s Word and teaching, and to abide by the truth you have accepted, thereby to live and thereby to die with the help of the Lord?”
She paused only slightly. “Ja.”
With a gentle motion Edwin removed the prayer covering from her head. His soft fingers curled under her chin and lifted. Footsteps approached and without glancing over she knew it was Gideon. Lydia’s dat had asked him to participate, and Gideon had agreed. The goose bumps rising on her arms confirmed his closeness. She glanced up. Gideon had dark circles under his eyes.
What’s troubling him?
Lydia swallowed hard. Now wasn’t the time to worry about such things.
A wooden bucket filled with fresh, clear water hung from Gideon’s fist. Gideon lifted the bucket and poured it into Alton’s cupped hands. She looked forward again and closed her eyes. The water was warm as it poured down over her head. Once, twice, three times.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,” Alton said.
Lydia blinked and opened her eyes, water drops falling from her lashes. Gideon stepped forward again and extended his hand. Lydia placed her fingers in his, and he helped her rise.
Beside her Alton spoke. “In the name of the Lord and the Church, we extend to you the hand of fellowship. Rise up, and be a faithful member of the church.”
Alton’s wife, Katie, approached, placing a holy kiss on Lydia’s lips. A thought flashed through Lydia’s mind and heat rose to her cheeks. She wished it was Gideon she was kissing. She swallowed. Those thoughts weren’t holy at all. She’d have to depend on God more than she ever had…and deep down she knew that’s exactly where He wanted her.
She rose and turned, her eyes sweeping the congregation. Tears rimmed many eyes but flowed freely down her father’s cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.
She looked around at their place packed with people.
I’ve come home, Mem. I’ve come home.
Gideon took a big bite of his bread slathered with butter and jam. His hand still tingled. It had been tingling since he’d held Lydia’s an hour before. He told himself not to be foolish. She was a sister in Christ and nothing more. The knowing danced in his heart. She was staying. She’d become Amish and part of the church. Eve was right. It was more than he’d hoped for. With that knowing the memories of being lost on the mountain hadn’t plagued him for the last few hours as they had for the previous weeks.
Yet as he watched her from where she stood in the kitchen with the other women, as they prepared lunch for after the church service, two thoughts battled for position within his mind. First, that God had brought her into his life for a reason. Maybe God had a plan for them—for a future together?
The first thought shined with hope, but the second darkened his thoughts with fear: if anyone could break his heart, Lydia could, and he couldn’t handle that.
Was it just six weeks ago that she’d driven into town? She’d come in like a whirlwind. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she’d been Englisch her whole life. And now, looking at her, he’d have thought she’d never lived a day away from her Amish community.
He watched her working in the kitchen, chatting with the other women. Lydia took a spoon and tucked it under the lid of the pickled beets, lifting the rim and breaking the seal. Setting down the spoon, she quickly unscrewed the lid and set it out for Eve Peachy to take to one of the tables. She did the same with another jar, and then—as if feeling his eyes on her—turned and glanced over her shoulder.
Her gaze locked with his and brightened. He saw clear interest…but something else too. Worry? Shame? Maybe a bit of both. He swallowed hard, then took another bite of his bread. What was she not telling him?
Of course, she could ask the same question of him. Gideon lowered his head.
They hadn’t talked since he’d chewed her out for giving Blue an apple. He should have told her then that he was going to the Peachys’ house just to look at a horse Mr. Peachy was considering. He could tell from Lydia’s gaze she believed it was something other than that. Something concerning Eve. He should have confessed that Mrs. Peachy had offered dinner in exchange for his advice.
An Englisch man had driven a horse up from Columbia Falls, and Mr. Peachy wanted Gideon’s expert opinion.
The horse had been a great buy, but even though he’d chatted for a time with Eve and Hope, there was no attraction there. Why couldn’t he risk telling Lydia how he felt? Maybe because it hurt too much. It was better just to be friends than to open up and have her back off again.
Lydia finished with the jars and set to work washing up dishes. Telling himself that he’d worry about her later, Gideon turned to welcome Amos, who had just taken a seat beside him.
I was just seeing things, Gideon told himself. That wasn’t attraction, care, in her gaze. It must have been the sun coming through the window, distorting my view.
Amos pointed to the jar sitting in front of Gideon. “Can you pass the pickles?”
“Oh, ja. Sorry about that.”
Amos stuck a fork inside and pulled out a small pile, placing them on his plate. “Want some?” He held the jar up for Gideon.
“Ne. I’m not too hungry today.” That was the truth.
“Ja, I heard that happens.”
“What happens?”
“When you’re in love…it’s hard to eat.”
“Who says I’m in love?”
Amos didn’t answer his question. Instead he took a large bite of his bread, smothered in peanut butter. He swallowed, then pointed his fork at Lydia. “She cares for you, you know.”
Gideon shook his head. “Yer just saying that.”
“Ne. I wish. I’ve tried to talk to her at the store. Micah, too, but she hardly gives us the time of day. We’ve both seen the way she looks at you…like she’s wishing you would ask her for a date.”
“How can I do that? I don’t have a buggy. There’s no place to go. If I took her to dinner at the restaurant, everyone would see. It would be like taking the whole town on a date.”
“Ja.” Amos laughed. “That’s the truth, it is.” He scratched his head, causing his blond hair to stick up. “Vell, then, how about a walk.”
“A walk?”
“Ja, a romantic walk.”
Gideon ran a hand down the side of his face. He was already sweating at the thought. He’d asked to walk with her before. It still stung that she’d turned him down. He glanced over at Amos, narrowing his gaze. “What if she says no?”
Amos raised an eyebrow and leaned a bit closer. “Ah, friend, but what if she says yes?”
Gideon approached the Shelter house, and his brow furrowed. Numerous buggies were parked outside. What was this about? Surely not what he’d first thought.
Just as he was leaving the Wyse house after service today, Mr. Sommer had asked him if he could stop by the Shelter place tonight. He’d assumed that Will Shelter had also wanted to talk about a horse, but as he looked around he no longer thought that was the case. Through the front window Gideon saw that many Amish couples from the community had gathered. It looked like some type of meeting…but what about?
Children raced around the yard. The boys played tag, and the girls chased after them laughing. Gideon rubbed his forehead. When h
ad things changed? When did things turn around and it become up to the men to pursue the women? It would be so much easier just to know who was truly interested in him—and who wasn’t. Namely, if he knew about one person. Did Lydia care, or would she just push him away if he tried to get close to her again?
He walked up the front porch steps, and the front door opened before he had a chance to knock. Will Shelter opened the door. He was a tall man, as large as a bear, or so it seemed.
“Well, here he is,” Will announced as Gideon stepped inside. “Here’s someone else who could add to our conversation.”
Gideon pulled off his hat and glanced around. Abe Sommer patted the empty chair beside him. Gideon placed his hat on one of the hooks on the wall by the door and hurried over to sit. “I’d love to give input…if I knew what this was about.”
Laughter filled the room.
“Ja, that might help,” Sallie Peachy called out.
Will Shelter cleared his throat. “The matter has to do with Lydia Wyse.”
Heat rushed to Gideon’s face, and he readjusted himself in his seat. From beside her husband, Deborah Shelter’s face glowed. How did she know his feelings for Lydia? How did anyone know? He thought about his conversation with Amos at lunch. Had his friend mentioned something? He looked around, seeing some of the other deacons of the church. Did they call him here to warn him to give time and space to his feelings for Lydia? After all, she’d just been baptized today.
“We want to offer Lydia the teaching position at the school. In the last month or so many of us have spent time with her. She seems to be serious about her return to the Amish. Today was evidence of that,” Will Shelter said.
“Still…” Mrs. Peachy used a clean paper plate to fan her face. “We know so little about this young woman. I mean, if we offer her this position we are setting her up to be an important example in the lives of our children. We are claiming that she is a spiritual example for our children to follow—”
“What we really want to know,” Deborah Shelter cut in, “is what you know about her. We know you’ve spent time together.”
“Not, much time, uh…” He paused to choose his words wisely. “What I’m trying to say is that I haven’t spent every day with her—not even close—but I have seen Lydia enough to see a change. I saw her the first day she drove into town, and I didn’t trust her. She’d left the Amish. We all knew that. We all saw the pain in the eyes of her parents, especially her mem.”