Saving Gideon Read online

  He opened his mouth, but shut it again instead.

  “Just for a couple of days. I don’t want to be a bother, but I don’t want to go home right now.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I can pay you.”

  “I do not need money.”

  Good plan, Avery. Tempt a man with such simple needs with the vulgar offer of cash. “Then I can help out. Paint the house.” How hard could that be? “Help you with chores.” After all, if she could wash dishes in frigid water she could do almost anything.

  He opened his mouth once again, she was certain, to tell her no.

  She kept her gaze on him, her voice pleading. “Gideon, please.” She was unsure why it was so important for her to stay. Maybe because today had been the most peaceful day she’d ever had. She could use a few more before heading back to Dallas and all the questions and sad stares and whispers behind her back that were sure to come.

  He cocked his head. “Just a couple of days?”

  Avery resisted the urge to smile in triumph. “No one even needs to know I’m here.”

  3

  The roads are clear,” Gideon said over a cold breakfast the following morning. Avery stared into her bowl of homemade granola cereal and fresh milk, then glanced longingly at her glass of orange juice. If only it were coffee. Gideon seemed not to notice the lack of caffeine to jump-start the day, or perhaps he didn’t need it.

  But Avery did. Boy, did she.

  She wasn’t about to tell Gideon, though. She wasn’t sure why he had agreed to let her stay, but he had. That was all that mattered. And she wasn’t about to upset things now with something as unnecessary—though much loved—as coffee. He had only agreed to a couple of days, but she was confident that when the time came, she could convince him to let her stay awhile longer. Until then, it was peaceful country living. Three wonderful weeks of quiet and solitude—much-needed quiet and solitude.

  “Can’t leave your fancy car in that field forever.”

  Of course he couldn’t leave her car where it was. He couldn’t very well plant around it, now could he? “You don’t have to worry about that. I called a wrecker yesterday. I guess there were quite a few accidents the other night.” She stole a look at him. “They can’t get out here until tomorrow. Is that okay?”

  “Jah.” He stood and once again Avery was struck with just how big he was. “But I have other business in town as well.”

  Avery drained the last of her juice, then stacked their plates and carried them to the sink. “Are you going to a store? Can you pick me up something while you’re there?”

  Gideon hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Whatever you’d like.”

  “Strawberry yogurt. The low-fat kind, please. And some Oreo cookies.” She smiled her best “pretty-please” smile.

  He stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

  “Is that all right? Can you do that?”

  He nodded, but continued to give her that strange look.

  “I’ll pay for it. Here.” She thrust her credit card into his unsuspecting hands. “That should take care of my stuff and anything else we need. Supplies and such.” She shrugged one shoulder.

  Gideon turned the thin piece of plastic over in his hands, then gave it back. “No.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll square it up later. For now I’m goin’ to town. I’ll get your yogurt. And your cookies. I’ll get some supplies, too, but I’ll not be usin’ your fancy money.”

  His voice rang with finality, and Avery knew better than to try and change his mind. Instead, she watched from the living room window as he harnessed his horses, Molly and Kate. A man in a wide-brimmed hat seated in a dark buggy with an orange caution triangle posted on the back and two beautiful, shiny brown horses pulling at the front. They made quite a sight ambling down the country road. Had it not been for the modern safety measure, she would have believed she’d stepped back in time.

  Gideon’s farm felt like another time. A slower time without the stress and modern demands she constantly faced. She could breathe here—breathe and breathe easy.

  Avery stepped out onto the porch and inhaled deeply. She hadn’t had a Xanax since she found Jack in his hotel room with another woman. Hadn’t felt the need, that crushing pressure of anxiety on her chest, the weight of the world on her shoulders. This was the perfect place to hide out, relax, and gather herself before returning to Dallas.

  Avery sank into the wooden rocker and propped up her feet on the porch railing. It had quickly become her favorite spot. She could sit on the porch for hours, the wind blowing her hair, the smell of spring on the breeze. The rocker sat in the cool shade, but the tips of the sun’s rays touched the ends of her toes.

  She should have asked Gideon to bring her some clothes from town, but that seemed like too much of an imposition. She glanced out to the horizon. It really didn’t matter what she wore, no one was going to see her anyway and that in itself was liberating.

  Louie scratched at the door, whining to be let out. Or maybe he was already missing Gideon.

  With a sigh, Avery opened the screen. He trotted down the porch steps and scampered over to where the big boys lay in front of the barn. In addition to Gideon’s pack, there were at least three extra dogs gathered in the shade—a big black one, a medium-sized spotted one, and a rusty-yellow dog that was missing one leg. Louie V. flopped down beside them, like he’d always been one of them. They in turn barely acknowledged his presence, like he had been doing it for years.

  And like she’d been doing it for years as well, Avery returned to her rocker where she could watch the cars pass by on the country road. Not that there were many. That’s exactly why no one would know she was on the farm. It was too far out for anyone to just “drop by.”

  A flash on the road told her someone was near. Probably an “Englisher”—as Gideon called non-Amish folk—out driving around to catch a glimpse of the Amish going about their daily routine. Avery smiled to herself. They sure would be surprised if they caught sight of her in Plain men’s clothing and her modern haircut.

  Before Avery could move into the house, a young Amish girl pulled her bicycle to a stop in the yard. Gideon’s dogs, the extras, and Louie V. all jumped up and ran to greet her, tails wagging and tongues lolling as they barked out their welcome.

  A little on the plump side, her pale blue dress tightened at the waist. She had a round, pleasant face that was both sweet and unassuming. She put down the kickstand and turned toward the house.

  Avery wasn’t sure which of them was the most surprised.

  The girl’s cornflower blue eyes widened. “I—” She stammered, then glanced around as if to make sure she was at the right house. “My uncle lives here.”

  “Yes, I know.” Really, what else could she say? “I’m Avery Hamilton, your uncle’s . . . guest.” So much for no one knowing she was there.

  “Is this your dog?” She crouched down and was immediately swallowed up by the prancing legs and swinging tails. Her head popped up above the fray. “Can I hold him?”

  “Sure.”

  When the young girl stood again, she held Louie in her arms while he tried with all his might to lick every bit of her he could reach.

  Avery laughed. “I think he likes you.”

  She cradled him to her face. “I like him too. One day I’d like to . . .” She looked up. “I’m Mary Elizabeth.” She waded through the dogs to get to Avery.

  “Nice to meet you. One day you’d like to what?”

  Mary Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s not important. Where’s Onkel?”

  “He’s gone to town.”

  Her eyes got even wider than they had before. “Town town?”

  “I suppose. He had some errands to run.”

  “Wow!”

&n
bsp; “Is that strange? That he went to town?”

  Mary Elizabeth ducked her head. “He doesn’t get out much. Not since . . .” She looked away. “I brought roasted chicken.” She made her way back through the sea of wagging tails toward her bike. “Grossmammi made it. She’s my grandmother.”

  “Gideon’s mother?”

  Mary Elizabeth nodded, apparently relieved Avery got the whole family relationship thing. “That’s right.”

  She pulled the large Tupperware bowl out of the basket on the front of her bike and handed it to Avery.

  She took it, flabbergasted. Who was this new Gideon? Until now, she had thought him a loner with no one save the memories of his wife to keep him company. But now he was a man with a mother and a niece and at least one brother or sister.

  Yet he didn’t “get out much” and kept to himself. And despite his devout faith, he didn’t pray.

  “There’s bread too. Grossmammi always packs him bread.”

  Avery didn’t have to ask to know that Gideon ate by the grace of his mother. Because he didn’t know how to cook? Or because he wouldn’t eat at all unless someone provided the food to him?

  That haunted look she had seen in his eyes had not been a trick of the lighting at all. He was haunted, maybe even heartbroken, over the death of his wife. He must have loved her very much.

  Avery sighed. She wanted a love like that. Many times she thought she’d found it. But one thing always stood in her way: her father’s money. Jack wasn’t the first. There was Max who wanted money to start his own business. Justin had wanted money to fund his research trips to Africa, and Tyler had just wanted money.

  She supposed it came with the territory, being born into the Forbes top twenty and all. But she was—had been—just romantic enough to believe that one day she would find that special someone who could see past the dollar signs and the zeros after her name and get to the real person.

  She knew now that it would always be about the money.

  Avery shook away those thoughts. Louie scampered into the house in front of them as they carried the food inside.

  Mary Elizabeth went about putting things away. “I have cookies,” she said, as if she harbored some dark and juicy secret. “They’re supposed to be for Onkel, but I don’t think Grossmammi would mind if we ate a couple. You can’t accept guests without an offering of food. It’s bad manners.”

  “Guests?”

  Mary Elizabeth’s dimples deepened. “I’m not really sure who’s the guest in this particular situation, but,” she paused, “I have cookies.” Her eyes twinkled as she unwrapped a cloth. She did indeed have cookies. Delicious sugar cookies with just the right amount of orange-flavored icing.

  And she knew how to make coffee on the wood-burning stove. Good coffee.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked Avery as they sat across the table from each other eating the last of the cookies they dared to sneak.

  Mary Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip, and Avery wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer the question. “Sure.”

  “Why are you wearing my uncle’s clothes?”

  Avery let out a soundless sigh of relief. “I came kind of unexpectedly, and I didn’t pack very well.” An understatement, but still true. “So your uncle loaned me these clothes until . . .” She really didn’t have the rest of that so she waved her hand around a little and let her voice trail off, hoping it would satisfy the inquisitive girl.

  “Can I ask you something else?” She leaned forward in her chair, but waited until Avery’s nod before continuing. “Did you meet my uncle during his rumspringa?”

  “I’m going to have to say no, because I don’t even know what a rum spring is.”

  “Rumspringa. It’s when Amish boys and girls go out and experience the world before they join the church.”

  “Then definitely, no.”

  Mary Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, and she sucked in a breath. “That’s your car in the field! Isn’t it!”

  “Yes.” Couldn’t get much past her.

  “But why didn’t you go to town with Onkel?”

  “Listen, Mary Elizabeth.” Avery sat down her half-empty coffee mug and eyed the young girl. “I’m going to be staying with your uncle for a couple of weeks. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone I’m here.”

  “But that would be lying.”

  “Not really. Not if no one asked you if your uncle has a visitor.”

  She seemed to mull that over. “Dat would still call that a lie. And you’ll need a chaperone.”

  “We do not need a chaperone.”

  “Maybe Dat would let me come.”

  “You have school.” Avery realized denying the need was not going to get her anywhere. Evidently the Amish had hang-ups—however noble and charming—about appearances. But there would be no need for worry, if Mary Elizabeth would just agree to keep quiet about the whole thing.

  Mary Elizabeth pulled a face, typical teenager even in the Amish world. “Oh, I don’t go to school anymore.”

  “You haven’t graduated?”

  Mary Elizabeth drew herself up to her tallest height as if that could counter her cherub face and innocent eyes. “I am fourteen.”

  “Oh.” Avery didn’t know how to respond. “And?”

  “And I don’t go to school anymore. My job now is to help my dat with the boys, and to cook and clean.”

  “And not go to school.”

  “I have passed the eighth grade and learned all I need to know.”

  If only that were true for us all.

  Mary Elizabeth shook her head, a smile wiping away the tension on her face. “You Englisch are so funny. You go to school for years and years, but Amish go to school until the eighth grade. Then they go home and learn how to be Amish husbands and wives.”

  “And that’s where you learn how to . . . ? Avery waved a hand toward the wood-burning stove.

  “Make coffee?”

  “Light the stove.”

  Mary Elizabeth nodded. “Jah. Dat taught me.”

  Dat, dat, dat. All the young girl ever mentioned was her father. Avery wasn’t sure about Mary Elizabeth’s mother, but after her blunder with Gideon the night before, she wasn’t about to ask.

  Avery pointed toward the stove. “Can you teach me how to light it?”

  “You want to learn?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’ll teach you.”

  Mary Elizabeth, as it turned out, was a patient teacher. After the fifth try, Avery finally got the hang of it. Then Mary Elizabeth showed her how to put the grounds into the pot and boil the water to make the coffee. Avery sighed. Tomorrow morning she’d have fresh coffee. Even if she had to make it herself.

  “Is this how you make coffee when you are at your home?”

  Avery shook her head. “I don’t usually make coffee, but I think there’s an electric coffee maker.”

  “You think?”

  “I don’t go to the kitchen much. Our cook.” Avery shuddered. “Mean, little Austrian woman. She makes a fine strudel, but don’t dare set foot in the kitchen to try and get some for yourself.”

  Mary Elizabeth laughed, and suddenly stopped. “There is one person who lives with you and all she does is cook?”

  Avery nodded.

  “Do you have a really big family?”

  “Just me and my father.”

  “And does your father eat a lot?”

  Avery hid her smile before answering. “No more than average.”

  Mary Elizabeth seemed to mull that over. “Who does the cleaning?”

  “The maids, I suppose.” She’d never really given it much thought.

  “And do they wash the clothes?”

  “Yes.” What didn’t get taken to the
cleaners.

  “Katie Rose does most of our washing. But I help. She’s my aunt.”

  Another Fisher sibling? “It’s good that you help.”

  “I suppose, but—”

  “But what?”

  “Do you know how to cook?”

  “No.”

  “Do the washing?”

  “No.”

  “Can you iron?”

  “No.”

  Mary Elizabeth sat back in her chair, the look on her face both horrified and fascinated. “How long did you attend school?”

  “A long time,” Avery answered, not wanting to give the details. She held two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s, but there were times when she’d never learn. She could speak three languages. She had charmed foreign diplomats and helped her father seal multi-million dollar deals, but none of that mattered here. She couldn’t light a stove. Couldn’t prepare a meal. What good was book learning in the Amish world?

  “I don’t think any education is wasted.” Avery hated the defensive edge that had crept into in her voice.

  Mary Elizabeth’s expression turned wistful. “I guess not. But it is prideful.”

  Avery had never really thought about it that way, but to a certain point, education and what a person did with it was on the braggart side. Parents wanted doctors and lawyers for their sons and daughters, whether by learning or marriage. The average cocktail party greeting started with who you were and what you did for a living. Framed diplomas and class ranking . . . what did it matter here?

  “I suppose,” was all she could manage in reply. Instead she poured herself another cup of coffee, enjoying it all the more since she had made it.

  “You’re very pretty.”

  “Th-thank you.” Mary Elizabeth’s sweet comment caught her off guard. She didn’t feel very pretty wearing Gideon’s castoffs and no makeup.

  Avery raised a hand to the matted mess atop her head. She had used a rag the night before and wiped at the blood and tangles, but she had been trying to figure out a way to really wash it. The bucket by the fireplace could only hold so much water. And since the snow had melted away, Gideon had stopped making a fire altogether.