by Tricia Goyer
“Ja. I know, but…” She was about to tell the woman she’d already been thinking of lesson plans for the last month, jotting down notes in her journal, but changed her mind. “I—I don’t mind. I do have one question, though. How many scholars will I have?”
“Fourteen—it’s a big class.”
Lydia smiled. “And I’m looking forward to knowing every one of them.”
Fourteen little personalities. That would give her something to write about.
Gideon and Lydia strode along the dirt road side by side, walking to Lake Koocanusa, along the shore, and back up the road. Her breaths grew labored as they climbed the gentle, sloping hill to a spot where they could overlook the lake on one side and the houses that dotted the fields and woods on the other.
The more time Lydia spent in Montana, the more she was awed by the beauty. Today the lake sparkled topaz blue. A few speedboats roared across the water, stirring up froth like ribbons of frosting. Great trees cloaked the hills like a prince’s cape. Yet the image of Gideon, striding by her side—make that swaggering by her side—brought even more awe. Who knew a man like this existed? She was thankful for him…but even more thankful that she’d pursued God first, that she’d gotten her life right in His sight before she turned to the matters of her heart.
Even though their hands swung just inches apart as they walked, they didn’t touch. Lydia shared her excitement over the school year to come, and Gideon spoke of his training with Blue. They talked as if they’d been friends for years, and Lydia liked that.
Gideon spread out the quilt they’d brought on the lush green grass at the top of the hill, and Lydia sat and pulled out sandwiches, canning jars filled with lemonade, and two kinds of dessert from the basket.
“I brought a piece of pie from yesterday, and I made cherry turnovers too.”
Gideon’s jaw dropped. “Turnovers? Really? That’s my favorite dessert. My mem makes the best.”
Lydia unwrapped the waxed paper and handed him one. “I’m worried now. I mean I think they’re good, but how could they compare to your mem’s?”
Gideon held it up, examining it. “It looks all right.” The twinkle of humor lit his eyes. “But we’ll have to taste.”
He took a big bite, but the smile on his face faded.
“What? Is something wrong?”
Gideon held up one finger. “I’m not sure. I taste something…” He took another bite, chewing it slowly. Then another bite after that.
She held her breath as he swallowed.
“It’s baking soda…maybe. There is a strange taste.”
“What?” Lydia huffed. “I didn’t taste anything wrong.”
“Oh, you already had one?”
“Ja, I had to make sure they tasted good, and I liked it. Dat did too.”
“Ne. I’m sure there is a problem. Here…” He reached for the wax-papered dessert again. “Let me try another one and see if I can figure it out.” The corners of his lips twitched into a smile.
“Gideon!” Laughter burst from her lips. “You are such a joker.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, that you think so.” He took another large bite from the second turnover, attempting to keep a serious look on his face. “I’m still trying to figure out what’s wrong. It might take me the whole half dozen to come up with the answer.”
“Well, you can eat all you want. I have an announcement.”
Gideon took another bite and chewed. “Sounds serious.”
“It is. I’ve been offered a job as teacher.”
Gideon nodded and smiled. “And you’re going to take it?”
“Of course. Don’t you think I’d make a good teacher?”
“The best—and that’s what I told everyone at the meeting. ‘Hire her or all your horses will run wild!’”
Lydia laughed. “Seriously, it was what I’d hoped, but I didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want to assume—”
“You hoped? Like in the last few weeks when the interviewee fell through?”
She bit her lip, wondering how much to confess. Tension tightened her gut. “No, before that. That first morning at the Kraft and Grocery, when they mentioned it, I wanted the job. In a strange way I felt as if that’s why I’d returned.”
Gideon put down the pastry and wiped his hands on his pants. “But you were Englisch then…” He frowned.
Lydia’s smile fell even as her heartbeat quickened. “But I was planning on returning. I’d already decided.” Heat rose to her cheeks.
“That didn’t weight your decision, did it? That or other things…?”
Lydia immediately thought of the book. Of him. A part of her knew that those factors had weighed in, at least at first.
“Not really.” Her words rushed out before Gideon could read the truth on her face. “After I found Mem’s Promise Box, I started seeking God more. I knew He wanted me to give my whole life to Him.”
Gideon nodded, but she read uncertainty in his gaze. “If you say so, Lydia.”
Then a smile filled his face where a frown had been just a few minutes before. “But a new job like that is worth celebrating.” He picked up another turnover and took a big bite.
They continued to joke as they ate lunch, and Lydia was pretty certain she’d never had a better day. She was glad he’d believed her about the teaching position too. Glad it hadn’t caused a problem between them.
“Lydia, I was wondering…” He wiped the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. “I, uh, was wondering if we can do this again, often like.”
Her whole chest warmed. Was it possible to start floating from the buoyancy within?
“‘Often like.’ That sounds nice.” She eyed him. “It’ll give me a chance to know you better, Gideon. To hear about your life.”
For the next thirty minutes they talked about his family back in Bird-in-Hand. His father’s farm. His brothers and sisters and the time he broke his arm when he fell out of a farm wagon.
“My younger brother and I were trying to see who could stand on one foot longer as Dat drove through the rutty field. We both fell when the wheel hit an especially large hole, but I landed wrong.”
She told him about sneaking a piece of pie Mem had prepared to take to a neighbor who was ill.
“I covered it with a cloth and Mem didn’t know until we got there. The neighbor acted as if I’d spit in her tea, but Mem couldn’t stop chuckling for the rest of the day.”
They chatted some more and then a blue jay joined in, filling in any empty space between their words with a song. Lydia glanced at the world around them, trying to remember every detail. Every word.
“So is this your first time in Montana?” She packed up their lunch.
The smile faded from Gideon’s face.
“No, I’ve been here once before, but I was just a kid.” The color in his cheeks faded to gray. Gideon grabbed the picnic blanket and basket, and they headed down the hill. Lydia quickened her steps to keep up, a tightness growing in her chest as she waited for him to say something more, but Gideon continued on silently.
When she couldn’t bear the quiet any longer, Lydia glanced up at him. “Did I say something wrong? Do something? You seem lost in thought. I mean you’re here with me…but not here.”
He glanced at her. Worry tinged his gaze. “Are you sure you’re going to stay?” The words seemed to come out without him meaning them to.
“In Montana? Ja, there is my dat to care for. And now I’ll be teaching during the school year.”
“I mean stay Amish.”
Lydia paused her steps, unsure of where this was coming from. “You saw me get baptized yesterday.” She studied his eyes and noted concern, but for some reason she felt there was something else he wasn’t saying. She tried to again think of what she could have said to trigger his sour mood. Nothing came to mind.
He stopped beside her. “Ja, I know you got baptized.” He shrugged. “I just got the image of you in the car. It fit you so natural like. I was thinking how great it would
be to have more days like this. Many more. But I was wondering if there would ever come a time when you’d start to miss things.”
“Like what?”
“Like editing. Like driving. Like…electricity.”
Lydia chuckled. “Well, electricity is nice. Driving is more convenient. But the closeness I feel to God, my dat, and friends—I appreciate that so much more. And instead of editing, I’ll be grading papers. That should satisfy. And…” Lydia paused. She wanted to tell Gideon about the book she was writing—a book just for her—but she couldn’t yet. She didn’t want him to think or act in a certain way because he thought she would be writing it down.
“And what?”
Lydia twirled her kapp string around her finger. “And I was just going to say that if I get more days like this for giving up days like that, then it’s completely worth it.”
A smile glowed on Gideon’s face. “Ja, totally worth it.” He reached out and took her hand. Her stomach flipped.
They were nearly to Lydia’s house when their date was interrupted by a gelding happy to see them. Blue trotted to the fence and eyed the picnic basket.
“Sorry, no apples for you today, boy.” Lydia giggled. “But next time I walk to the store I’ll make sure I get enough to bake a pie…and bring you some apples too.”
They petted Blue until he backed away and returned to the pasture, nibbling on the clusters of grass.
“You seem to be a natural at training. Is it something you’ve always wanted to do?”
Gideon’s shoulders straightened, and she could tell he took her words to heart. “I started out as a farrier, actually.”
“A farrier?” Lydia searched her memory, trying to remember what that was.
“One of the neighbors down the road needed an assistant. He trained me to take care of the horses’ hooves, doing the trimming and balancing and placing of shoes. Dat told me once, ‘Son, if you learn how to shoe a horse and ride ‘im, you’ll be able to eat.’ He was proud I listened. I remember jest being sixteen and Dat telling everyone I was part blacksmith, part veterinarian—because a farrier is a bit of both. I enjoy making sure the hooves are trimmed so they have proper footing. But my greatest joy is training, especially when I can take a wild horse—one that a person’s considering putting down—and turn him around.”
Lydia gasped. “Were they thinking of that for Blue?”
Gideon looked away, lifting his head to watch an eagle’s slow, sweeping circle over the pasture. He didn’t have to say the words. She understood.
He then pointed to Blue. “I’m sure Blue doesn’t understand. There are times he runs from me. He doesn’t want to submit to the training. He fights against the halters and ropes, yet I don’t back down. I can’t. The pressure and small amounts of discomfort I offer him are like a gift compared to what’s in store if I leave him to his own wild devices.”
Gideon’s words reminded Lydia of something she’d read just this morning. “I ‘will refine them as silver is refined, and will try them as gold is tried,’” she said.
“Excuse me?”
Lydia stepped forward and placed her forearms on the wooden rail of the fence post, leaning on it for support. “It’s a Scripture verse that I read this morning. I’m not sure if you knew, but Mem had health issues for most of her married years. They diagnosed a heart problem years ago. She lived far longer than the doctors expected her to. Dat—” Lydia’s voice caught in her throat. “Dat said her will to see me grown was greater than any heart problem.” A sad chuckle escaped her lips. “She was stubborn like that.”
She reached down and plucked a tall stalk of wild grass from around the fence post. “But I liked what Mem wrote me once: God wanted her so purified that she shone. Her desire was that through her shining God could look down and see His reflection.”
Gideon tilted his head and smiled. “I like that, ja.”
“It’s been helping me—Mem’s words and the way she looked at things. It seems she not only read God’s Word, she turned to Him in prayer, and she waited to hear how what she read applied to her life.” Lydia leaned forward and rested her chin on the fence post.
Gideon sighed. “I heard it said once you cannot train a horse with shouts and expect it to obey a whisper.”
“I love that. And the amazing thing is that those whispers echo—because I can hear them too, through her pen to my heart.”
Gideon nodded. “My oma used to say, ‘We get too soon oldt, undt too late schmart.’ But I’m proud of you, Lydia. You’re listening. Understanding.”
“Now…now I am. But all those years wasted…”
“I understand, Lydia.” He looked at her. “It’s almost like this gelding here and other challenging cases. They think they need to save themselves. Protect themselves.”
The intensity of his gaze overwhelmed her, and then he quickly glanced away.
“Looking back, I wish I’d made different choices.”
“Don’t we all.” A mournful look darkened Gideon’s face—one she didn’t understand. She was about to ask him about it, but then Gideon turned to her. “It’s a way of maturing, I suppose. You wouldn’t make the same choices now as you did then, would you?”
“Ne.”
He crossed his broad arms over his chest. “I suppose the thing that surprises me the most isn’t that we—as humans—make stupid choices, but that we are allowed to make choices at all. If Blue realized his strength, he wouldn’t listen to me. He has the ability to overpower me every time. It’s amazing to think that God gave us that same power too—our free will.”
“Ja. Wow. I never thought of it that way.” The words released with her breath. “But you’re right.”
They sat there for a while, taking in the sight of Blue nibbling on the grass, watching the eagle’s invisible path, and following the dip of the sun to the west. A contented peace came over Lydia, and she remembered something she and Bonnie had shared long ago. Lydia had told Bonnie that she’d know the right man for her when she was just as comfortable with him in moments of silence as she was in moments of talking. The only thing was up until a few months ago she’d never figured that man would be Amish.
Gideon made a clicking sound with his mouth, and Blue pricked his ears and trotted over.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Did you teach him that?”
“Ja.”
Gideon tried to hold back the smile, but he wasn’t doing a very good job. The lightness of his heart reflected in his eyes.
“You must be proud when you see a difficult horse come so far.”
“It’s not about pride, Lydia—it’s about stewardship. We’re supposed to take care of what God puts into our possession. Going forth and subduing the earth isn’t about forcing yourself. It’s tending to.”
“Do you train horses for buggies too?”
“I have.”
“There’s a buggy shop near our old home in Sugarcreek. Mem and I used to walk down there and watch them work. I remember what a big problem it was when the police asked them to start installing reflectors because of all the accidents. You’d think our friends and neighbors were asked to start flying spaceships for all the commotion.”
“I wondered if the buggies are similar to the ones we have in Pennsylvania. I’m always amazed how almost each area has different styles and standards.”
“Do you want to see photos?”
“Photos?”
Lydia lifted her chin. “You say that word as if I’d just confessed to wearing Englisch clothes under my dress and apron.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised.” He chuckled. “If that’s the worst thing you have to hide, Lydia…if that’s the worst thing, I think we’ll be all right.”
An uneasiness stirred inside her. She thought of the small stack of notebooks tucked under her bed. They were filled with all that had happened since she’d returned to West Kootenai. The book of memories she was writing was just something she was doing for herself—at least she was prett
y sure it was only for her. Her plan was to go back to those notebooks and pull out sections for a book for Bonnie. Sections that wouldn’t reveal too much, but that would interest readers who weren’t familiar with Amish ways. Her returning would be a good story…without her spilling all her heart and emotions into the printed page.
She was writing it as a testimony to what God was doing in her life, and maybe a testimony to her future children and grandchildren too. But she wasn’t hiding those notebooks, not really. She’d tell Gideon when the time was right…when she was sure he felt settled with her and would not be spooked away as easily as an untrained horse.
She didn’t respond with her words, but instead Lydia placed her hand in his and tugged on it, taking two steps toward her house.
“I’ll show you a few photos. Bonnie—my friend—rented out my condo in Seattle for me, and she was kind enough to pack up my personal things and send them. But after the photos I must get dinner started. Dat is used to eating early and going to bed early, and he’s like a bear. If I don’t provide something, he’ll start foraging around for himself.”
Gideon tugged back on her hand slightly, and she paused to look at him.
“Does that mean I’m invited for dinner?”
“Ja, of course, but I’ve talked enough for both of us today. After dinner it’s your turn. I want to hear more about your life. I want to hear about what it was like growing up.”
Her mind was already trying to decide if she wanted to make the potpie like she’d planned or come up with something easier. But as she turned back toward the house, something other than her dinner menu was even more worrisome. The briefest flash of fear crossed Gideon’s gaze. Lydia didn’t understand it.
Maybe I’m just seeing things.
What about his childhood was so painful to share?
CHAPTER
20
Lydia made chicken potpie. As soon as the table was cleared Dat excused himself for the night—even earlier than normal—and Lydia knew the truth. He wanted her and Gideon to have as much time together as possible.
Gideon sat in her mem’s log rocking chair. Where Mem had been engulfed in the chair, Gideon’s tall frame made it look as if it were a child’s chair.