by Tricia Goyer
She reached up and softly patted his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “This is great news, don’t you think?”
Gideon ran a finger under his shirt collar, unsure of why he felt so warm, so happy. Yet looking deeper into Lydia’s gaze, he saw something. Respect. He hadn’t seen that much before—not directed to him, anyway.
“Well, if you want to see, we can take Blue back to the barn.”
Gideon led the way. The barn was spotless and the items he needed were hanging on the wall just as he’d left them. The letter in his pocket made a crinkling sound as he walked, but Gideon didn’t want to think about that. He could get used to being with a woman who respected him. A woman who didn’t point a finger at his past. A woman he could trust.
Lydia glanced around the barn. It looked new, as if it had just been built in the last few years. She thought about asking Gideon why they’d chosen to teach Blue how to pull a buggy, since the Carashes weren’t Amish, but she’d save that conversation for another time—she didn’t want to take away the horse’s focus from his new job.
“This thing here is a collar.” Instead of talking to Lydia, Gideon turned his attention to the horse. He held the leather oval up for Blue to see. Lydia couldn’t believe how patient Gideon was in showing Blue the leather oval before placing it on him. Even though she shouldn’t let her mind wander, she couldn’t help but think what Gideon would be like with a child—their child.
With gentle motions Gideon buckled the collar beneath Blue’s neck. He pressed it against the horse’s wide shoulders, talking to him the whole time in a low tone, like a father would talk to his toddler.
“Snug, but not too tight to cut off oxygen,” he said. Lydia wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or the horse.
Knowing what he needed next, Lydia moved to the hooks on the wall of Mr. Carash’s new barn and took down the harness.
“You’re familiar in the barn,” Gideon commented.
“I’d follow Dat often. He didn’t have a son and didn’t mind me hanging around.”
“I can tell. Blue can tell. He doesn’t seem the least bit nervous that you’re in here with us.”
With slow, gentle movements Gideon seated the hames on the collar, buckled the strap, walked to the horse’s flank, and adjusted the breaching seat. Then he walked forward again to connect the breast strap to the hames. He ran his hand ahead of him along the horse’s muscles, speaking with low words as he did. Lydia stood silent, motionless as he worked. She didn’t want to be a distraction—to Blue or to Gideon. She had the same awe watching him work as she used to have for her neighbor who was a carver. Gideon was like an artist as he worked with Blue—it was a gift indeed.
“I can’t believe this is the same animal they considered putting down,” she dared to whisper.
“I like to hear you say that, Lydia. It makes me feel as if what I do matters.”
“It does matter…very much.” Her words weren’t more than a whisper, but you’d think she’d shouted them by the way Gideon’s head swung around. His eyes locked with hers, and his focus was intense, as if he was drawing strength from whatever he saw in her gaze.
Not more than ten seconds later, Gideon turned back around and adjusted the belly band. The horse had been perfectly still the whole time, yet Blue blinked one slow blink when Gideon put the bit into the horse’s mouth and fed the reins through the cheek rings.
When he finished, he led the way out of the barn. Blue matched Gideon’s steady stride. “Do you want to go for a short walk with us, Lydia?”
“Ja.” The air had a light chill to it. She pulled her sweater tighter around her, wishing she’d brought a scarf too. Yet being in this beautiful place was worth the cold.
Pine-shrouded hills stretched in every direction. In one of the nearby trees, two birds carried on a conversation and then stopped. Gideon and Lydia walked along, neither speaking. The silence was broken only by the dull thump of hooves.
They crested the hill as they neared the Sommer place, and Gideon paused his steps. Lydia Wyse, his gaze seemed to say, what do you want from me?
“Just yer love,” she found herself muttering.
“What was that?”
“I was just responding, Gideon.”
“But I didn’t ask anything.”
“I know, but I’m a teacher. I can read things. I know which student really did tug on Julia’s kapp string. I know who studied his spelling words and who was just guessing…even before I grade the papers.”
“You can, eh? Okay, what am I saying now?”
He leaned close so his face was only six inches from hers. She looked up from beneath her lashes and felt his breath on her forehead.
“You’re not saying anything. You’re asking.” Lydia lifted to her toes. “And yes, sir, you may kiss me.”
Gideon blew out a low breath. “Well, I’ll be…You are a mind reader.”
As Gideon kissed her, the playfulness of a moment before disappeared, lifting like vapors of dew under the sun. Warmth, eagerness, pressed against her lips. It was more than attraction. It was validation. She took a step closer, opening her palm and pressing it against his chest. Blue whinnied and Lydia pulled back. Then she heard it. The sound of a truck coming down the roadway.
Gideon stepped back and held the reins tightly as the truck passed. She read worry on his face. How would Blue perform? The truck rumbled by, and they waved to their neighbor from down the road, yet Blue didn’t move.
“Do you see?” She pointed. “That was amazing. Blue didn’t budge.”
Gideon shook his head and scratched his cheek. “Unlike when you first drove into town.”
She glanced around at the dirt road, high mountain pastures, and trees. “You call this a town?”
“Well, the area.” He shook his head.
“Back then, did you ever think it would come to this: me and you stealing kisses on this very road?”
“Ja.” He nodded.
Lydia playfully slugged his shoulder. “You did not!”
“All right. I maybe didn’t think of this, but there was something about you then that I was attracted to. There was a spark, Lydia. I don’t want you to lose that spark.” He patted Blue’s side. “It’s like horse training. There are those who train a horse by beating it down. The horse will obey but it is like a robot.”
“So you are saying you don’t want me to be an Amish robot?” She couldn’t help but chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“It’s funny because I never thought I’d use those words together in a sentence.”
“No, I don’t want you to be an Amish robot. I want you to be the woman God created you to be. One who happens to look beautiful in a kapp.”
She bent over and picked a wild daisy—the last one lining the road this season. “But the more time we spend together, the more we seem to complement each other. I like to write, you like to read.”
He nodded. “I like to eat, you like to cook.”
She considered the verse she’d read this morning from the Promise Box: “Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.”
“It wonders me how a woman like you could care for someone like me,” Gideon said, interrupting her thoughts. “Yer more than I ever dreamed of, Lydia. It’s like having two dollars for one slice of Annie’s pie and then realizing you get the whole thing for that price.”
“Chust a minute now.” She tucked her chin and made her Pennsylvania Dutch stronger than normal. “Are you comparing me to pie?”
“Ja.” He reached out and touched her shoulder, running his palm down her arm like he did when he was calming a horse—only it was his wild emotions he was trying to calm. “What is it about you, Lydia?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve—I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
“I understand. It’s…” A dozen words flashed through her mind, too quickly to pick just one.
“What?” he asked
.
“Never mind. It’s silly.”
“No, tell me,” he insisted.
“Well, it’s like when I’m working on a paragraph. My mind tries to capture what I’m thinking and feeling. I try to put into black letters on a white page a glimpse of a moment—a part of me. And then the words file into place, and I finally can stop holding my breath.” Heat rose to her cheeks as butterflies spun and danced in her stomach. “You—you walking into my life made sense to a story that was just a jumble of words before.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Your story?”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Our story.”
They stood on the side of a road that smelled of sun and rain, and the patient gelding stood by. One of Lydia’s stockings had pooled around her ankle and the wild grass from the side of the roadway, blown by the warm breeze, tickled her skin.
Since the first moment he’d taken her hand in his during their walk she knew this would happen. The emotions had bottled up like baking soda and vinegar, and they had no way to escape except through her confession. “I want my story to be our story from now on, Gideon. Listen to me. I sound so desperate, don’t I?”
He glanced down at her and smiled, as if the words gave life to his soul.
She searched his face, waiting for him to say something—anything. “Aren’t you going to respond?”
He shrugged. “I—I…”
“Mem always said my words were prettier than Bev Troyer’s garden at times, but don’t feel you have to, well, be all eloquent,” she said. “Just say something…anything.”
“Do I have to?”
He stepped closer until his dirty work boots touched the toes of her brown shoes.
He lifted her chin, his touch so gentle she almost wasn’t sure if he touched her at all, and then he bent to her.
Lydia reached a hand and cupped it around the nape of his neck. Her eyes fluttered closed and his lips were on hers. More forceful, yet gentle too—as if it took everything inside to restrain his emotion.
Her breaths grew short, and his arm circled around her back, lifting her inches off the ground. Then, just as quickly, he released his grip.
Lydia slid back to the earth. Well, her feet touched down, but the emotions in her chest soared like the hawk doing a lazy circle around the field.
“Wait…we…I…,” he said.
“Are you trying to use the English language, sir?” She winked at him, feeling the heat again rise on her cheeks.
“Trying is a good word. Not succeeding.” He lifted his brimmed straw hat and rubbed his forehead. “What I am needing to say is we—I—need to talk to yer dat. I don’t want you to think that I will steal your kisses only to return to Ohio and break your heart.”
“You better not.” But then, realizing further what he was saying, Lydia crossed her arms over her chest. Was he really going to talk to Dat about the next step in their relationship—courting with plans to marry?
“How could I ever leave after I’ve had a taste of something so wonderful?” Gideon grinned.
“Ja, well, I’ve seen you and that pie.” She touched her fingertips to her lips and took a step back. “And I have to warn you: don’t try to eat yourself full. Two kisses are enough for tonight.”
A chuckle burst from his lips. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Lydia. I have a feeling I couldn’t get enough of you—I couldn’t ever git my fill.”
“Ja, well, before I get too caught up in all your fancy, romantic talk, I need to head home and fix dinner for Dat.” She turned and moved in the direction of her house. The emotions between them were strong, and she thought of what Mem had told her more than once: “Many things have been opened by mistake, but none so frequently as the mouth.”
If she stayed here, they’d just continue with their sweet talking…and that would lead to even more kissing. It was wonderful, ja, and that was the problem. A prudent woman knew better than to indulge in a God-given gift before it was time to open it.
She waved. “Tomorrow, then.”
“Ja, tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll see you after school.”
“Or you can stop by for lunch.”
He winked. “Are you suggesting a lunch date with the teacher?”
“Ja.” She smiled. “I’d like that. I’ll pack a lot, just in case someone’s a wutz. Maybe even a whole pie.”
Gideon chuckled, but instead of waving good-bye, he reached out and gently grasped her arm. “I have a feeling when I’m with you Lydia—a feeling of fullness.”
“Like you’ve eaten too much pie?” She chuckled.
“Sort of, but it’s my heart that’s all filled up.” His gaze turned serious. “We’ve been talking about all the holes—the pain—in our past, but the more I’m with you, the more the present seeps in and fills up those spots, like a healing balm.”
“I like that, Gideon,” she said, thankful that God had used them to bring healing to each other. Lydia thought of her birth mother, but then she pushed thoughts of Grace out of her mind. Couldn’t she be content with what she had? With what God had given her? “What a gut God to bring us on this healing path…together.”
CHAPTER
29
The children had been so well behaved that Lydia decided to give them an extra five minutes of morning recess. The sounds of their laughter filled the air, and she smiled as she got out the modeling clay, eager to show them how to make imprints with leaves.
A minute before she was about to call the children in, the school door opened and a young woman walked in. She was petite with brown hair and a soft smile. Instead of a kapp, the woman wore a scarf over her head. Her clothes were plain but not Amish.
Lydia approached. “Hi, Marianna. Can I help you with something?”
“Ja, I came to talk to you about Ellie, my sister. I was visiting my parents last night and Charlie mentioned to me that Ellie’s having a difficult time.”
“I suppose. I mean, I’m trying my best. I don’t know what I can do to help her.”
“I am sure you’re doing a gut job. Ellie was the youngest for many years until little Joy came along. I’m afraid we’ve all been easier on her than we should.” Marianna glanced around. “But if you’d like I can stay today—to help with her. My husband and I don’t have a boppli yet.” A smile filled Marianna’s face as she said the word ‘husband,’ as if that word still brought her great joy. “Ellie will not act up with me here—at least I hope she won’t.”
Lydia’s brow furrowed; she was unsure of what to think. “I would love to have you, Marianna, but is it all right? I mean, I hate to say this, but I know they only allow Amish teachers and…”
“Oh, I see what you’re saying. Because I’m not Amish you think the families won’t want me here.” Marianna touched her scarf. “I should explain. I live in this community, too, and these families are my friends. I don’t attend the Amish church, but I believe much of the same. I’m married to an Englisch man, Ben.”
“And your family doesn’t shun you?” It was a question Lydia had wanted to ask.
Marianna crossed her arms. “If I was in Indiana, things would be different. For many years my parents wanted me to stay Amish more than anything. Yet they respect Ben. He has a great love for God. My dat hasn’t left his Amish heritage, but he agrees a love for God is most important. I feel the same.”
Lydia enjoyed the gentle way Marianna spoke. It wasn’t false humility, but a gentle peace that lit her face over knowing she’d done the right thing. Lydia hadn’t seen such joy often, which seemed strange since she lived among a people who turned their backs on the ways of the world to do exactly what they believe God required.
“But I understand if you don’t want me here, or if you need to ask.”
“No,” the word rushed from Lydia’s lips. She touched her kapp. What did Marianna think of her returning to the Amish? Did Marianna believe you could love God with your whole heart within the Amish community too? She hoped Marianna could see the hope in her eyes.
“I would love to have you here. Ellie’s a sweet girl. There has to be a problem with the way I’m handling things because she doesn’t seem to have problems in other areas at all. In fact,” Lydia hurriedly continued, “I’d like her to sing a small solo part in the Thanksgiving production next month.”
Marianna cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? She has such a sweet voice, and maybe if I can highlight her strengths—”
“Ja, but that would make her stand out. It would be prideful, don’t you think, for her to be treated in a different and special way?” Marianna bit her lip. “Or at least that’s what Mem would say. She wouldn’t allow it, so it shouldn’t even be brought up.”
The peace that had been on Marianna’s face before folded into wrinkles on her forehead, like ripples that circled out from a stone thrown into a still pond. A tendon tightened in her neck. Even though Marianna wasn’t dressed Amish, perhaps she still struggled with what to believe—what to accept and what to walk away from. Maybe it was easier for Lydia to see since she’d walked away from it all for a time.
“I understand what you’re saying, Marianna. Do you think you could talk to your parents about Ellie’s solo? I grew up just like you, and I understand how we don’t want to do anything that would lead someone to be prideful. I do have a friend, Bonnie—my boss, actually—who invited me to an Englisch church many times. I went three or four times, and once when I was there a woman sang. Her voice was amazing. I remember staying fixed in my seat. The strange thing is when I watched I wasn’t thinking so much about the woman, but of God. I had a feeling in that moment that God had made her as she was to point to how amazing He is. Do you find that strange?”
“Not at all.” Heat rose to Marianna’s cheeks, and she glanced to the side and then back to Lydia again. “My husband—he is a musician. Just last year he was traveling the country and performing concerts. He has some music CDs…” Marianna seemed to struggle for words and the ripples in her forehead deepened into trenches. “And we’re both praying about next steps. If Ben should do concerts or…”