Saving Gideon Read online

  Avery sat back on her heels and twisted around to face Mary Elizabeth. “Because they’re weeds?”

  The young girl shook her head in mock sadness, smiling the whole time. “These are the plants.” She pointed to a tear-shaped, jagged-edged leaf. “The rest are weeds.”

  Avery pushed herself to her feet. She should stop before she did any more damage to Gideon’s garden. She was just trying to help. She didn’t even know there were strawberries planted in the little plot of ground.

  Maybe it was time for a break.

  Mary Elizabeth gave her a kind smile. “Strawberries come back year after year. The rest have to be replanted.”

  Avery looked back to the larger plot that she had spent the morning “weeding.”

  Mary Elizabeth followed her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry. I don’t think Onkel had anything planted there.”

  Avery smiled in relief. “I just wanted to help.”

  “You are kind, Avery Ann.”

  They smiled at each other, the bond of friendship growing stronger between them each day. When it was time for Avery to go back to Dallas, she was going to miss the girl.

  Mary Elizabeth hooked her arm through Avery’s and turned toward the house. “Come. Let’s make some tea, and you can tell me how supper went last night.”

  Soon they were seated in the kitchen, sipping tea and eating the thick slices of angel food cake that Mary Elizabeth had smuggled over.

  “Where’s Louie?”

  Avery shrugged. “Wherever Gideon is, I suppose. He follows that man everywhere.”

  Mary Elizabeth smiled. “Gideon’s that way with animals. They all like him. That’s why there’re always so many dogs out front. They just seem to naturally want to be around him.”

  She could understand that. There was something special about Gideon Fisher, something that went beyond his conservative upbringing. There was a goodness about him, a fairness and a noble spirit.

  “So how was supper?”

  Avery made a face, not wanting to actually say the words that described their meal.

  Mary Elizabeth frowned. “I don’t understand. I told you everything Aunt Katie Rose said to tell you.”

  “Maybe I’m as bad at cooking as I am at gardening.”

  “I’m sorry. I wanted the two of you to have a nice supper together.”

  Avery smiled. “We did.”

  “But the food—”

  Isn’t the only part of a nice meal. Avery waved away her protests. “Maybe next time.”

  “You’ll try again?”

  “Of course.”

  “It might be better to start with something a bit easier to make.”

  “Or perhaps I should ask for the amazing Katie Rose’s help.”

  Mary Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a great idea!”

  “I was being—”

  “Brilliant!”

  “Sarcastic.” She finished in a small voice.

  “We’ll have to do it next Saturday so that school’s out.”

  “School?”

  “Katie Rose is our teacher. Oh, and the work frolic. We’ll have to wait until after that.”

  “Work frolic?”

  Mary Elizabeth nodded enthusiastically, still caught up in the plans to teach her to cook. “Hester Stoltzfus needs a new roof on her house and barn. Dat and the boys are going over there to build it for her. It shouldn’t take long.”

  “Really?”

  “Jah. Aunt Katie Rose is the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. I know she’d love to help you learn to cook.”

  Avery shook her head. “Your dad and brothers are going over to a neighbor’s house to replace her roof?” She tried to imagine her upper-crust Dallas neighbors crawling around on her roof with shingles and hammers. The image would not come into focus.

  “Jah.”

  “That’s . . .” Kind. Amazing. The way it should be.

  “The Amish way,” Mary Elizabeth supplied with a shrug.

  “Gideon?” They sat across from each other, between them a cold supper of sausage and sauerkraut that Mary Elizabeth had brought in with the cake.

  “Jah?” He looked up from his meal.

  “Mary Elizabeth mentioned a work frolic next Saturday.”

  “Jah.”

  “Will you eat here before you go?”

  His expression shut down. “I’m not goin’.”

  “You aren’t going?”

  “No.”

  “But I thought—”

  He shook his head and turned his attention back to his meal.

  “Mary Elizabeth said her dad and brothers are going.”

  “Jah.”

  “But you’re not.” It wasn’t quite a question.

  “No.”

  “Isn’t that sort of un-Amish?”

  He looked up at her, slowly, his gaze hard as glass as it bored into her. It didn’t take Avery long to realize she had crossed the line.

  “I am not goin’.”

  “Well, you should.” She wasn’t sure what had put those words in her mouth, however true, but once they were spoken, she couldn’t take them back. She plowed on. “What are you going to do? Just cut yourself off from everybody . . . your family and friends? And for what reason?”

  He got up and dumped the rest of his supper into the bucket of scraps they saved for compost. “I think it’s time you went home.” He stood at the sink, his back to her, his arms braced against the counter.

  They had agreed to a couple of days and that time had long passed. It was time for her to go. But she didn’t want to. She couldn’t leave him like this. She didn’t quite understand why, but she couldn’t.

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her middle. “No.”

  He turned around to face her. “No?”

  “No. In fact, I think you should to go to the work frolic. And I want to go too.”

  His jaw tightened, and a little vein pulsed in his neck.

  She stared right back at him, her gaze unwavering.

  Long minutes ticked between them. Then Gideon looked away.

  A smile crept to her lips. And Avery felt she had won a victory of sorts.

  “Ach, the Englisch.”

  “So we can go?”

  “We’ll go.” He shook his head, staring at her. “Too bad you didn’t save any of the pot pie. It’d come in handy for repairin’ Hester Stoltzfus’s roof.”

  Avery clapped her hands together, unable to stop her smile. They were going to a work frolic!

  6

  Mornings were her favorite, definitely. And this Monday morning was no exception. Never before had Avery hopped out of bed at the first sign of the sun, and readied herself for the day. Of course, preparing for a day here was far different than what she had to do in Dallas. Every morning in the country, she put up the quilts she used for her bed and changed into the frack so graciously loaned to her by Mary Elizabeth. She splashed water on her face, ran her fingers through her hair, and made coffee for Gideon. No steamy shower followed by morning facial, a layer of makeup, and whatever armor she needed to face her father’s plans for the day.

  It was liberating to jump out of bed, and with minimal effort, be ready to go.

  No pressing weight of responsibility either. Oh, there were things that needed to be done, and she knew that she did a fraction of what the Amish women accomplished each day. But she found satisfaction in the fulfillment of a job that was worthy and worthwhile. Putting food on the table to feed a family, wash clothes, clean house, till a garden. The fruits of her hard work were right in front of her each day. Not a wisp of a deal, or the knowledge that someday someone might benefit from her efforts.

  Today she was going to do something
extra special: she was going to make Gideon breakfast. Not a cold breakfast, but a real one. Well, a better one, at least. Eggs, bacon, and toast. Something more than granola to fuel his work in the fields.

  This morning she was prepared. She knew what she had to do. Lizzie had already told her that she had to get the eggs out of the hen house. Who would have known?

  Avery snuck out the back door and cautiously made her way across the yard. The green flip-flops she had commandeered slapped against her heels, making way too much noise. This was supposed to be a surprise, and though Mary Elizabeth hadn’t said so, Avery felt it was probably a good idea not to make too much noise around the chickens.

  She slipped the flip-flops from her feet and tiptoed toward the hen house. More than anything she wanted to surprise Gideon. And she wasn’t going to let one less-than-successful meal deter her from her goal. She wouldn’t allow herself to call her chicken pot pie a failure. Failure was not trying at all. And she’d tried. Her dinner just hadn’t succeeded, that’s all.

  The hen house was one of the little faded buildings next to an empty pen that should have contained goats or pigs. Judging by the smell, she was betting on pigs. The squat building had a ramp that led inside and a small opening that she had to stoop to get through. She slipped back into the sandals and ducked inside.

  Fingers of sunshine shone inside the henhouse, their staggering rays of light streaming through the wire-covered windows lining the top of each wall. Dust and feathers danced on the beams as she made her way inside. It smelled almost as bad as the pig pen. Almost. Dank and stuffy, she didn’t know what the chickens saw in the place. But they had eggs, so in she went.

  What was it Lizzie had said? Just go up to the chicken on the roost. Stick your hand underneath her and take the eggs like they belong to you.

  Like they belonged to her.

  Avery wasn’t exactly sure what a roost was, but she had to assume it was some sort of Amish word for nest. If that were true, then all of the chickens were on the roost.

  She looked around until she spotted a hen, a pretty, rusty-orange colored one that looked nice. At least her beak didn’t turn down as much at the corners as the others’ did.

  “Good morning.” She nodded toward the bird.

  At the sound of her voice, the hen jerked her beak back and forth, then turned her head away as if she had better things to do than deal with a lowly human.

  “I just need to get a couple of your eggs.” The green shower flops slapped against her heels as she stepped nearer. The chicken jerked once again. Avery inched closer, doing her best not to lift her feet and make any more noise than necessary.

  “Aren’t you a pretty . . . chicken?”

  She reached out a hand, slowly as to not disturb the hen. Fingers shaking, she hoped the fat, red bird wouldn’t notice. Avery was supposed to act like she knew what she was doing. Wasn’t that what Lizzie had told her?

  But when she got near enough to the chicken, so near she could almost touch the tips of those rusty-colored feathers, the bird moved with lightning speed.

  In a flash, Avery drew back, cradling her stinging hand close to her chest. “Ow.”

  An angry welt had already started to form between her thumb and forefinger. Luckily, no blood.

  She propped her hands on her hips and eyed the fat hen. “So that’s how this is going to be, is it?”

  The chicken stared back with blank eyes.

  Avery reached out again, proud of the fact that even though the hen had pecked her once, her fingers were steady. She could do this.

  Lightning speed. Another welt. This one on the back of her hand.

  “Ouch.”

  But she needed those eggs.

  She inched her fingers close to the hen, but the crazy bird lifted herself up in her nest, flapping her wings and squawking. All the other hens started flapping their wings, too, and screeching, the cacophony almost more than she could stand. Avery backed up a step, and the hen followed, hopping down to the planked floor of the henhouse. Avery screamed, and fled from the building, the hen viciously pecking behind her.

  Wishing she had shut the door to the henhouse, Avery neither stopped nor looked back until she was safely on the porch.

  She pressed a hand to her thumping heart and took a deep breath, finally turning around to see if she had been followed. Whew. No rogue chickens snapping their way across the yard. Safe for now.

  “Annie, what’s all the commotion back here?”

  She peered up to find Gideon watching her. “Uh . . . nothing.” She clasped her hands behind her, hoping she didn’t leave a smear of blood on her dress. She couldn’t stop the flush of heat that filled her cheeks. Some surprise this was turning out to be.

  “It is a sin to lie.”

  Why did he have to employ the same tone that he used with Lizzie? He even lifted his eyebrows in that Isn’t there something you want to tell me? look she had seen often enough.

  She let out a discouraged sigh. “I wanted to cook you some eggs for breakfast.”

  He nodded and crossed his arms as if he were settling in to hear her tale. “Jah.”

  “Before I could cook the eggs, I had to get them.”

  Gideon’s eyes widened. No sooner had the words left her mouth when Gideon jogged toward her, pulling her hands from behind her, and holding them in his own. He turned them this way and that, examining the peck marks left by the angry red hen. He ran his thumb over one of the marks, his touch alone soothing the reddened skin.

  “I should wring her neck and let Katie Rose make a fine Sunday supper from what’s left,” Gideon said, still holding her fingers in his own.

  “Please don’t.” Avery tugged her hands away. She feared that with a little time she would get entirely too accustomed to his touch. “Lizzie said I had to take charge when I went in there. I guess the hen could smell my hesitation.”

  “That hen is a menace. Should have eaten her months ago.” His eyes grew more serious, his mouth a thin line turned down at the corners.

  He looked so stern that Avery couldn’t stop the giggle from bubbling up inside her. She slapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stop it from escaping, but too late. The laugh burst forth, followed by another.

  She held her sides, laughing, with Gideon chuckling right alongside her. The tension in her body drained away, and the silliness of the situation shone clear.

  Hearing Gideon’s laugh revived something in her, but it sounded rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in awhile. She hadn’t had anything to laugh about in quite some time, herself. The pleasure that she could share this moment with him overwhelmed her.

  She wiped tears from her face, her giggles finally subsiding. “There are eight hens in there. How do you know which one pecked me?”

  “It was the fat red one for sure and for certain.”

  “Nope, it was the black one.”

  “It is a sin to lie, Annie.”

  Maybe the fat red chicken was a menace after all. “Promise me we won’t eat that hen.”

  He twisted his mouth as if trying to decide how to answer.

  “Promise me, Gideon. She was only trying to protect her eggs.”

  A full minute passed before he answered. “Jah, then. We won’t eat the hen.”

  Avery nodded, satisfied.

  “For now,” he said before ducking into the henhouse.

  Not a squawk could be heard. Avery waited, her breath held. Then Gideon returned holding four fresh eggs in one big hand. “Come. I’ll show you how to make dippy eggs.”

  Avery tilted her chin. “Dippy eggs?” She followed behind as Gideon led the way into the house.

  Gideon nodded. “But first.” He directed her toward the sink, then washed her hands gently, his warmth heating her fingers despite the coolness of the water. The an
gry, red wounds needed to be cared for to keep them from getting infected, but Avery couldn’t look Gideon in the eye as he dabbed the marks with antibiotic cream and covered them with plain, beige bandage strips.

  “There,” he said, standing up. “Now for breakfast.” Avery noticed he had trouble looking at her squarely as well.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, grateful when the intimate moment passed, and yet sad at the same time that it was over.

  Dippy eggs turned out to be eggs over easy. To Avery, they tasted a lot like heaven. Or perhaps it was the company. As much as she enjoyed spending time with Gideon, she preferred to believe that the fresh eggs were the reason this morning’s breakfast had seemed so special indeed.

  Gideon sat back in his chair. “Today I’m going to plow the fields across the road.”

  Avery scooped another forkful of eggs. “Where my car was?”

  “Jah. Gabe and Simon will be here this afternoon to help as well. It should go quick.”

  She nodded, wishing once again that she could cook so she could make him something more substantial for supper. “Lizzie is coming by to help me clear the garden plot so we can plant vegetables.” And strawberry plants. She hoped the small gesture could repay him for all the kindness he had shown her.

  “You needn’t do that.”

  “I want to.” That was the truth. She found it relaxing to dig in the dirt—even when destroying perfectly healthy strawberry plants. There was something special about connecting to the earth, a holiness in gardening, and a uniqueness about time spent outdoors with nothing but the ground beneath her and the sun shining on her shoulders.

  He gave her a quick nod and a lingering smile. “There are stakes in the barn for when you need them.”

  “Stakes?”

  “To tie up the plants. Tomatoes and string beans.”

  There was more to gardening than she knew, but she would learn. For as long as she stayed here, anyway. Just how would her father take her newly-found love of gardening once she returned to Dallas? He might actually approve. Her love of the outdoors would save him a fortune in landscaping.

  The days before the frolic were filled with chores and visits from Mary Elizabeth, but seemed to drag by just the same. Avery was excited to be able to witness the Amish working together.