Saving Gideon

by Amy Lillard

  They were all right, a little soggy, but fine all the same.

  Lizzie arrived just before lunch as Avery had expected her to, and the pair set out to clean the flower bed and get the flowers into the rain-soaked earth.

  “In a couple of weeks, the colors will be full and lively.”

  Avery surveyed the plants with a critical eye. “Are you sure they shouldn’t be closer together?”

  “Positive. You have to give them room to grow.”

  Which was something Gabriel Fisher had seemed to deny his daughter.

  “Lizzie . . . what were you reading at the library?”

  She studied the ground. “Nothing.”

  “Lizzie. Tell me.”

  “I . . .” She looked up, her eyes pleading, needing a friend in the worst way. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

  “Who am I going to tell?”

  “Grossmammi. Dat. Onkel.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise not to tell.”

  “I was reading up on animal husbandry.”

  “Like being a vet?”

  Lizzie glued her gaze to the floor and shrugged one shoulder. “I know it is prideful, but I can’t help it. I want so bad to go to school and learn to take care of animals. To heal them.”

  “But?”

  “Dat would never allow it.”

  The image of the sour-faced, frowning Gabriel Fisher swam into focus. Of course he would never allow it.

  “It is against the Ordnung.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Mary Elizabeth smiled thorough her welling tears. “The Ordnung contains our rules.”

  “Like the constitution?”

  She shrugged.

  “And it’s written down in there that you can’t go to school past the eighth grade?”

  “It doesn’t have to be written, it is understood.”

  “And if you go to school anyway?”

  She took a deep shuddering breath “Then they will shun me.”

  Avery’s heart went out to the girl. It was one thing to pursue your dreams and quite another to do it at the expense of your family and friends.

  “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

  “It’s okay.” She said the words, but Avery knew they weren’t the truth. Lizzie’s heart was breaking. She was torn between what her heart wanted to do and what her community expected from her.

  Avery feared that one day Lizzie would have to choose between her family—and her dreams.

  8

  Why did you sell all of your sheep?” Avery asked this question of Gideon two days later on another trip into town. She’d told him she had forgotten a couple of key “girl” items and needed to go back to the store. She hated lying to him, but if she explained that she wanted to learn more about alpacas and their care, she knew he wouldn’t take her.

  “Who told you I sold my sheep?” He set his jaw. “Never mind, it was Mary Elizabeth.”

  “Don’t be mad. I don’t think she meant to tell me.”

  He grunted his usual response that Avery took as either a yes or a no, depending on what she needed from him.

  “So why did you sell them?”

  He took his gaze off the road for a split second, using the time to glare at her before returning his attention back to the front. “I didn’t want to take care of them anymore.”

  “Why?”

  “I sold my farm, and I didn’t have enough room at the new place.”

  “Why?”

  He tightened his grip on the reins. “What are you gettin’ at, Annie?”

  “Nothing,” she innocently replied. “It’s just that you planted corn in the fields, but the pasture is empty. You’ve got a lot of good grazing land just going to waste.”

  A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What do you know about grazin’ lands?”

  “Not a lot,” she admitted. “But I’m learning. It’s good land for alpacas.”

  “Llamas?”

  “Sort of.” She tried to make her answer seem nonchalant, but she wasn’t fooling him. The Amish might only go through junior high school, but she had learned that living in a close-knit community gave a person a lot of “people smarts.”

  He narrowed his eyes and gave her a scowl. “No.”

  “If you don’t want to raise them yourself, you could lease that land to a neighbor—”

  “I’ll not have a bunch of strangers trompin’ around my farm all day long.”

  “They wouldn’t be strangers.” She watched his cheek twitch as he kept his eyes toward the road as if the subject were closed. “At least give it some thought. It would be a good business.”

  “I think you need to mind your own.”

  He had her there.

  But she wasn’t about to let this drop. She’d be leaving soon—sooner than she probably wanted, and she couldn’t stand the thought of Gideon locked up on his own farm, exiled from the others by his own choice. He was alive, breathing, and walking, but parts of him acted dead. She wanted to see those parts come back to life before she returned to Dallas.

  She had planted the seed. Now all she could do was bide her time until she could bring it up again. And bring it up, she surely would. “Can you take me to the library too?”

  “I thought you needed to go by the general store.”

  “I do, but I wanted to get a few more books to read.” More books on alpacas—but he didn’t need to know that.

  “We should have time. I need to order some wood and such to fix my barn. I’ll go talk to the man at the hardware store, and then I’ll meet you back at Anderson’s.”

  Anderson’s was the epitome of the old-fashioned general store. Maybe that was the reason Gideon preferred to shop there over the big-name stores that were pushing their way into Clover Ridge. Or maybe it was because Anderson’s had a little bit of everything and what they didn’t have, they could order. Coln Anderson, the store’s owner, seemed to be able to get almost anything a body could need: fancy soaps, fabrics and zippers—even low-fat strawberry yogurt and Oreo cookies. The service alone was enough to make the community store the hub of the town. Most folks walked through whether they needed something or not. Sometimes to say a quick hello, sometimes just to pick up a piece of candy for the young’uns. Anderson’s kept everything together in Clover Ridge.

  “Gideon Fisher.” Anderson greeted Gideon as he entered the cool interior of the store. The hard soles of his black boots thunked against the planks of the floor, a sound so familiar it was comforting.

  “Coln.” Gideon tipped his hat and headed over to the drink cooler. The day was turning out to be a warm one and cold lemonade would sure hit the spot. Somehow it felt right to be back in the general store with so many others of the district, everyone bustling around to get things readied up for spring. An invigorating smell permeated the air. The latest fabric, fresh straw hats, and new beginnings.

  Gideon twisted the cap off a bottle of lemonade, and took a sip, enjoying the tangy taste and the memories of better days.

  “Your sister and brother were in a little bit ago.”

  “That’s gut.” Gideon nodded. “Gabe needs time away from the farm.”

  “Not that brother. John Paul,” Coln corrected with a flash of a smile.

  It was amazing to Gideon that when someone spoke of his bruder, it was Gabriel who came to mind first. They had been so close growing up, practically inseparable. But since the accident, Gideon had pushed everyone away, including Gabe.

  The smell of new wafted over him again. Time to start again, right old wrongs, correct past mistakes.

  No doubt that “to town” trip had been taken to get the house and Gabe’s young’uns ready for the growing season. John Paul could no longer be considered among the kinner. He
was seventeen and in the first year of his rumspringa. Though he kept himself pretty close to home. It’d be the same when Mary Elizabeth’s time to run around came. Though uncle and niece, she and John Paul were as close as two could be.

  “Gideon, have you ever met my granddaughter, Carly? Her parents finally let her come visit for the weekend. I hope they’ll allow her to come back in the summer and help out until school starts.”

  Gideon took another swig of his lemonade and followed Coln to the candy counter. It took everything he had not to stare longingly at the gumdrops and beg the man to sort through the mess of them and gather him a bag of the grape ones.

  Instead he focused his attention on the pretty, dark-haired girl behind the counter. Her deep brown eyes held a definite slant, her skin smooth and just slightly darker than his own.

  Coln’s son and daughter-in-law weren’t able to have children of their own and had adopted a little girl from China. Gideon remembered the story, he just hadn’t realized it had been that long ago. But the truth stood before him smiling patiently while he gathered a polite greeting.

  “It’s mighty fine to meet you,” he said, though he had been introduced to her once before. She had been only knee high to a post stump then. Though a lot more grown up, she was still not bigger than a minute.

  She smiled shyly and tucked a strand of her silky black hair behind her ear. “Likewise.” Her eyes dropped to the magazine on the counter in front of her.

  Had it not been for the bashful reaction, Gideon may never have noticed what the young girl was reading. But it happened, and he did notice: a magazine with glossy pages and detailed pictures . . . and a vaguely familiar face.

  His heart gave a thump as her identity seeped through his consciousness.

  Annie.

  He might not have known her except for those violet eyes. She looked so different in the shiny pictures. Her smile brightened the whole page, but she was dressed in Englisch clothes, her hair falling at all angles around her pixie face. She looked at home and at ease.

  Gideon pointed toward the magazine. “May I?”

  Carly nodded, and he pulled it toward him, turned it right side up, and tried to focus on the pages before him.

  The magazine had a story about Annie—Avery—and her father and their house, a beautiful three-story structure on the outskirts of Dallas. Gideon had never seen such a place. Gleaming staircase, sparkling chandeliers, and paintings that looked expensive even if he knew nothing about them. He didn’t have to know a lot about the cost of the possessions she stood among to know that Annie had everything she could possibly want in the Englisch world. Yet right now she wanted to stay in Amish country with him. He couldn’t get his mind around the idea.

  He flipped the page to see more of her life before she crashed her car in his field. Gold faucet sinks, intricate imported rugs, and polished wood antiques filled the pages.

  Even with all the stories that Mary Elizabeth had been begging Annie to tell, Gideon was not prepared to see the extent of her family’s holdings.

  He tapped his fingers on the counter, a little too loudly—but it beat slamming the magazine shut on the opulence that was her life.

  It didn’t matter. Not one bit. She was going back to that decadent Englisch world real soon. Until then, it was no concern that his entire house would fit twice over into the room the Hamiltons used only to eat.

  Not one bit.

  Avery was beginning to love the library. All in all, it was her favorite part of each trip to town. Back in Dallas, if she wanted to know something, she Googled it on her laptop. But nothing compared to holding the words in her hands.

  “Good morning, Annie.” Sylvia, one of the two librarians, greeted Avery as she walked past.

  “Good morning.” No one questioned why she dressed half Amish and wore an English hairstyle, but Avery knew they probably speculated about it when she wasn’t there. It didn’t matter. She was the happiest she had been in years.

  “I got that book you wanted on the interlibrary loan.”

  “You did?”

  Sylvia pulled a huge book off the shelf behind her. “The Complete Encyclopedia of Llamas and Alpacas.”

  “That’s great.” She wanted to check out other books while there, but this one would keep her reading for a while.

  “You’ve got an extended check-out time, but it has to go back in a month.”

  “No problem.” She’d definitely be back home in a month. The thought made her sad so she pushed it away.

  She took the books out of the canvas bag and placed them on the counter. “I’m finished with these, but I want to keep the cookbook for another week.” There were still recipes she wanted to try.

  “That’ll be fine.”

  Avery smiled as Sylvia scanned the big book out and pushed it across the counter.

  A familiar voice sounded behind her. “Avery?”

  A voice she hadn’t heard in weeks. Her heart gave a thump of dread. She didn’t want to turn in case he was really behind her.

  But it had to be him. No one in Amish country called her Avery.

  “It is you.”

  She wheeled around, knowing he stood behind her, but still unprepared. Avery braced herself. “Hello, Jack.”

  He looked the same—handsome, blond, and tan. But he didn’t seem as tall as he once had. Was that because she’d been around Gideon so much? Or because she’d grown as a person?

  “I’m so glad to see you. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  She tipped her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you check Aruba?”

  “Avery. What was I supposed to do? I was worried sick. I called your father to see if you were home. I couldn’t very well tell him what happened, now could I?”

  “I suppose not.” It was impossible to keep the derision out of her tone.

  Sylvia looked from one of them to the other, making no attempt to hide her curiosity.

  Avery wasn’t bothered by it, but she could tell Jack was. He grabbed her book, shoved it into her bag, and then took her arm. “Let me buy you a drink.”

  “Seriously, Jack.”

  “An ice cream, then. We have a lot to talk about.”

  She tried to wrench free of him. “No. We don’t.”

  He half-escorted, half-dragged her toward the doors. Avery only went along for Gideon’s sake. And Lizzie’s. Everyone at the library knew she and the Fishers were friends. She didn’t want anyone to think poorly of them because of her behavior.

  Out on the street, Avery managed to tug free of Jack’s grasp.

  “What do you want, Jack?”

  “Ah, Avery.” His blue eyes—too blue because they were enhanced by contacts—scanned her. Avery could only imagine what he saw: a touch of sunburn on her nose, a trail of freckles across her cheeks, and her hair hadn’t been cut in a couple of weeks, nor had it been properly styled. It curled around her face in a riot of dark locks. She wore another of Lizzie’s castoffs, this one brown with cute, little cap sleeves that kept it from being too boring. Her fingernails were all chipped off, her pedicure gone, and she still ran around in those too-big shower flip-flops she had found at Gideon’s.

  Remarkably enough, she wasn’t embarrassed.

  “You’ve been here the whole time.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a realization. “You’ve been living with them.”

  “What I’ve been doing is none of your concern anymore.”

  He had the audacity to smile, looking like a used car salesman with a lemon to unload. “Ah, baby. You didn’t think I was serious about that waitress.” He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

  Avery slapped his fingers away. “Looked pretty serious from where I was standing.”

  “That’s why you haven’t returned my calls.”

&nb
sp; “Good-bye, Jack.” She turned and started for the general store. It wasn’t quite time to meet Gideon, but she wasn’t about to stand there a moment longer.

  “Avery . . .” He turned around, walking backward in front of her, not bothering to look where he was going. Same old Jack. “You and I go back—way back. I made a mistake. Surely you could forgive one little mistake.”

  She stopped, sputtering. Hot words bubbled up inside her like acid. “Mistake? I came here to tell you that I would marry you. Right away. No waiting, no big ceremony. And I find you in bed with someone else. That’s a little bigger than a mistake.”

  “Come on, baby.”

  “I’m not your ‘baby.’”

  “Avery.”

  “Stay away from me, Jack.” She pushed past him, leaving him standing in the street staring after her as she made her way into Anderson’s General Store.

  Thankfully, he didn’t follow.

  Anger churned inside her as they ambled back toward Gideon’s house. Avery kept her eyes straight ahead, her hands twisted together in her lap.

  Every so often, she could see Gideon look at her, then turn his attention back to the road.

  She knew he had questions, that he was concerned. He was too nice of a man not to care, but Avery was afraid that if she started talking she might never quit. She didn’t want to give Jack that kind of power over her.

  “Sometimes it helps if you talk about it.”

  Wasn’t that the exact same thing she had told him last Sunday?

  “I-I ran into someone I used to know.”

  “I hope no one was hurt.”

  She had been, but she’d heal. Then she realized what he said. “I mean, I saw someone I knew.”

  He nodded, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He was trying to make her feel better.

  “It’s just—”

  “It’s just what, Annie?”

  “The night . . . the night I came here . . . the night I wrecked my car I’d come to tell my fiancé that I’d marry him. You see, I wanted a big wedding, and he wanted—”

  “Whoa.” He pulled the horse and buggy to the side of the road.