by Amy Lillard
One thing he did know—this was more than just supper.
Avery’s cheeks were flushed, and her heart pounded. She felt like she was on the set of an old black and white movie, except everything was in color—beautiful, brilliant color. The sky was impossibly blue, the trees a fresh green, and the buggy vivid black. Crisp and real, yet surreal all at once. Riding in a buggy along the country road was enchanting too. She could almost imagine she was in a bygone century—except for the couple of times when a car pulled gently around them and sped down the road ahead.
She could hardly wait to eat an authentic Amish meal—especially one she hadn’t prepared. She had become quite a chef since coming to Gideon’s farm, but she was anxious to try the real thing.
And so many people. The banquets, parties, and benefits she attended for her father were mostly austere occasions for the event of the day—save the whales, send the underprivileged children to college, or build a new basketball court at a favorite park. The atmosphere was always controlled and calm, organized and withheld. Attendees of those dinners were there for one reason—to give money. They ate what they were served at hundreds of dollars per plate. But they didn’t come for the food, or the fellowship, or because their father had asked them to come and gather together. They were there because they were wealthy, and someone needed money.
This dinner, she had the feeling, would be different. Maybe that was the reason for her nervousness. She was accustomed to standing before hundreds, giving speeches and asking for funds to complete a project, but this dinner was all about family, something she didn’t have much experience with.
In no time at all, the buggy turned down a fence-lined, packed-dirt drive. At least it seemed like the travel time went by fast. Avery still wasn’t sure if she was ready.
“This is it,” Gideon said, swinging around toward the barn, while Avery turned in her seat to get a better look at the house.
The outside was similar to Gideon’s farm with its whitewashed clapboard and a big matching barn. A garden sat off to one side, a clothesline on the other, and tufts of red and yellow flowers grew out front. This house also teemed with life—chickens and horses, pigs, sheep, turkey, and geese. Not to mention the passel of dogs and cats napping in various places around the yard.
Gideon helped her down from the buggy, and Avery noticed that his hands didn’t linger on hers a moment longer than necessary. She shouldn’t care, but she did.
“Are you sure I look okay?” she asked as they approached the porch steps.
“Are all Englisch women this concerned with their appearance?”
Avery nodded. “Most of them.”
“Then that must halt now. Tonight you are not Englisch. Tonight you are among the Plain folk.”
As compliments go, it wasn’t a very good one, but it calmed some of her insecurities. Tonight no one would judge her appearance. All the women there would be dressed practically identical to her. There would be no sideline talks about someone’s dress or shoes or escort. They would talk about quilting and canning and milking and all the other things she heard about at the work frolic. The tension in her body melted away.
Gideon knocked.
Lizzie flung open the door, as if she had been waiting on their arrival, and ushered them inside. “Look, everyone. Gideon and Annie are here!”
A throng of family members greeted them as if they hadn’t seen each other in months instead of days.
Avery felt welcome in the Fisher home and more like she belonged. Only Gabe, Gideon’s older brother, withheld smiles and conversation from her. Lizzie wanted her to tell stories about her home in Dallas, how they had a cook and a maid and all sorts of gadgets that made life easier. Katie Rose wanted her to recount her cooking experience, and Gideon wanted her to describe Louie chasing butterflies down by the creek.
When it was time to eat, they all took their places down both sides of the long rectangular table and bowed their heads.
Avery asked for peace for Gideon and good fortune for his family. She also offered thanks to be included in such a special evening.
“Aemen,” Abram finished for them all.
Everyone served themself, and the table sagged under the weight of food. Bowls of sausage and sauerkraut were served to rival the likes of Inga, her father’s cook. There were mashed potatoes, green beans, and several relishes, as well as those amazing pickles she and Gideon had eaten on their picnic.
All in all, dinner was a loud affair. So many adults and children all in one place was nearly deafening. The elder Fisher’s home was a great deal bigger than Gideon’s with a large front room and gigantic kitchen. It was evident that God and love lived in this house.
Avery barely ate. Instead, she watched those around her. Everyone doted on Samuel, made sure he was happy and had everything he needed. It seemed that Katie Rose had taken the place of a mother in his life. The rest of the mothering went to Lizzie, an underage matriarch making sure that her brothers had what they needed and that they were minding their manners. Like that was a big chore. Even as loud and boisterous as the Fisher clan could be, Avery was inspired by their respect for one another.
“It’s so good to have everyone here,” Katie Rose said.
“Jah,” Ruth agreed, smiling at those seated around the table.
“Everyone, but Megan,” Lizzie said.
Ruth’s smile froze, and she glanced at her husband.
Avery could tell from her expression that Lizzie immediately regretted her words. She all but clamped her hand over her mouth to keep more from spilling out.
A hush fell over the table. Abram seemed to shut down, then go into autopilot mode. He blinked once, his eyes staying closed for only a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and then he opened them again and began to eat like nothing had happened.
Lizzie’s comment seemed innocent enough, but everyone’s reaction sent questions zinging through Avery’s mind. Evidently Megan was special to the family, yet somehow gone from them now.
The atmosphere at the table became a bit subdued, but still remained a fun and energetic affair. Avery glanced at the animated faces in the room. What might it have been like for Gideon to grow up in such a spirited family?
“Seven sweets and seven sours is just a myth made up to attract tourists,” Lizzie said. She chatted nonstop while helping her grandmother and aunt clear the table. “We eat the same stuff like everyone else.”
“Some more than others,” John Paul said, pinching her side.
Lizzie swatted his hand. “The Lord loves all creatures great and small.”
John Paul opened his mouth to retort, but Ruth broke in. “Now, now,” she said gently.
Lizzie shot him a smug look, which John Paul returned with a just you wait stare that was all in fun. Suddenly Avery wished that she’d had a bigger family to enjoy, share jokes with, and love.
“Watch out. Coming through.” Lizzie and Ruth came to the table, each bearing two homemade pies. They set them in the center of the long table while Katie Rose handed out dessert plates like graded papers.
Lizzie pointed to one of the desserts. “This one’s pear pie.” She pointed to another. “And this one’s shoofly. It’s my favorite,” she whispered. “Then there’s cherry from the ones we canned last summer and pecan.” She leaned toward Avery. “I’d like to take that back. Pecan is my favorite.”
“At least it is tonight.” At last, John Paul got in his word, and Avery laughed.
Pie was served all around and against her better judgment, Avery took two small slices, one of cherry—her favorite—and the other of shoofly. That one she just had to try.
The cherry was blue-ribbon worthy. Sweet and delicious, the shoofly tasted like a little piece of heaven. A cake-like top covered a syrupy filling with a bottom crust that flaked under her fork. But even after that treat,
cherry topped her list. Maybe next time she’d have room enough to try the pear too.
Avery pushed her plate away, certain she wouldn’t be able to eat another bite for days. The food was amazing, the company even better. The evening had been perfect.
“Uh-hum.” Abram cleared his throat. The table fell silent, even the youngest of the children turning a wary eye on the eldest Fisher. “John Paul, Matthew, you take the boys outside to check on the horses. Mary Elizabeth, you go with them. Go on.” The teens looked reluctant, but didn’t argue. They gathered up the smaller children, Samuel included, and herded them toward the door.
Once the youngsters were out of the house, a hush fell over the diners. Ruth bowed her head, and Avery was certain she was praying. Abram cleared his throat again, then braced his elbows on the table in front of him and looked at each of them in turn.
“Mudder and I have some sad news to share.”
They all waited impatiently for him to continue. He took several deep breaths, and then his eyes filled with tears. “I . . .” He started, but seemed unable to finish.
Ruth raised her head, her green eyes strong and determined. “I have cancer,” she said firmly and without emotion as if she had long since come to terms with the news. “Breast cancer. I’ve asked the Good Lord for guidance, and your father and I have decided that I’m to go to Tulsa for treatments. We felt that you should know.”
Energy erupted around the table.
“How?”
“What will we do?”
Avery started to stand. “I don’t think I should be a part of this.”
Gideon grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. Other than that, he showed no emotion at his mother’s announcement. Like his father had over the mention of Megan, Gideon seemed to shut himself off from whatever was to come next.
“Nay.” He gave her hand another small squeeze.
“Nay,” Ruth echoed. “Annie, over these last few weeks, you’ve become like one of our family. This is a family affair, and you should be here for it.”
No one dared contradict her.
Avery sat down in her seat, glad to be included, and sad all the same.
“It’s not goin’ to be easy,” Ruth continued. “But it’s not my time, and I’m goin’ to fight this. I’ll need your help around the house and with the chores. The Bradleys have offered to drive us into town to the cancer treatment hospital. They have lodgin’ there when we need to stay.”
“What about insurance?” The words slipped from Avery’s mouth almost of their own accord.
“Plain folks don’t go in much for insurance,” Abram explained.
“The Good Lord will provide,” Ruth added, that serene quality back in her voice.
“Let me know how much you need,” Avery said. “I’ll help you with the bills.”
Abram faced her. “That’s mighty fine of you, Annie. But we can’t accept your charity.”
“It’s not charity. You just said yourself that we’re like family.”
Ruth smiled and shook her head.
Avery leaned forward. “Then take my car.”
“Your car is in no shape to drive to Tulsa.” Gideon had found his voice. “And even if it was, who would drive it?”
“It’s . . .” She almost hated saying it. “It’s a very expensive car. Even sold for scrap parts, it would be worth a lot.”
It was Abram’s turn to shake his head. “Plain folk take care of one another. There is a fund that will help us pay the doctors.”
“Cancer treatments are very costly. It won’t be nearly enough. Let me—”
“The Lord will provide for us,” Ruth said again.
Avery saw firsthand where Gideon had gotten that stubborn streak.
“But—”
“The Lord takes care of those who take care of themselves,” Abram said, shaking his head.
Avery turned to Gideon’s mother. “Ruth?”
The Fisher matriarch shook her head as well. “Your offer is generous and much appreciated, but we’re Amish. And Amish take care of their own.”
Avery felt shut out, that if she were truly Amish, the Fishers would accept her help. Yet she knew that’s not what Ruth had meant. They had their own ways of dealing with these matters, ways that kept them close as a community and family.
Still Avery wasn’t about to let this rest. She had spent the better part of her life raising money for others in need. She would find a way this time too.
There was a stifled sob from across the table, and Avery looked up to see Katie Rose’s shoulders start to shake.
“It’s okay,” Ruth said, pulling Katie Rose’s head down onto her shoulder. “The Lord will provide for us.”
Katie Rose sniffed and snuggled her head into the crook of her mother’s neck. “I know.” She sniffed again. “I know.”
Avery wished that she could do something—anything—to take away some of their pain.
Then Ruth straightened and smiled through her tears. “Maybe we should do a Bible readin’, huh?”
“Jah.” Abram nodded.
Avery looked to Gideon, his hands white from clenching them together on top of the table. Other than that, he looked as if they hadn’t been talking about anything more important than the weather. He had shut off. Avery knew. He fought feelings he didn’t want to battle. Instead of dealing with them, he had pushed them down and capped them off. Pretty soon they were going to blow.
She just hoped he could get them out before too much damage was done.
“Annie, will you go get the others?” Ruth asked.
Avery nodded.
“Gabe,” Ruth said as Avery stood. “I’ll expect you to tell the boys and Mary Elizabeth. Tell them how you want, but make sure they understand that God’s in charge, and we are doin’ His biddin’.”
“Jah, Mamm.”
“Dat and I will talk to John Paul tonight.”
Avery opened the door to the warm spring night. The stars were just starting to sparkle in the indigo sky. The crickets had begun their nightly song. In the distance, she could hear the call of the mourning dove. A beautiful night for such terrible news.
The younger children all stood around outside the barn, the older ones huddled together, no doubt trying to figure out what had happened and why they were exiled from the room.
“You can come in now.”
Seven eager and worried faces turned toward her, and then seven bodies of all sizes ran toward the house as fast as their feet would carry them. All but Samuel.
“What happened?”
“What’d we miss?”
They all started asking questions at once, but Avery just shook her head. “Get in there. Abram’s about to read from the Bible.”
She left them standing half in and half out of the house, then hurried across the yard to get Samuel. He had stopped to look at some clover that grew in a patch between the house and the out buildings. She scooped him into her arms and held him close, loving the clean smell of his shirt and the sweet aroma of innocence. He smiled up at her and handed her the white clover flower he’d picked.
“Annie,” he said.
It was all Avery could do not to break down on the spot.
Gideon was quiet the entire ride home.
Avery wanted to comfort him, to touch him and let him know that even if she couldn’t say that everything was going to be all right, she understood his pain. Felt it herself.
But he sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead as if his life depended on it.
Avery sat next to him, trying to figure out what to say.
When they reached the house, she had no more ideas, but she couldn’t let him go to the barn alone. Not like this.
“Gideon, I . . .” she said, as he hopped out of the buggy
and came around to her side. “I . . .” she started again.
He only shook his head. “It’s been a long day.” He set her on the ground as if she weighed no more than Samuel. “I’ve got to care for the horses, and then I want to get some sleep.”
“I’m worried about you.” There, she said it. It was the truth. God would care for Ruth and Abram—all they had to do was pray. But Gideon . . . Gideon needed more than that.
What was it Abram had said? The Lord takes care of those who take care of themselves. From what she had seen so far, Gideon was in no state to take care of himself.
“It’s not me you need be concerned with,” he said as he unhooked the horses and gathered their reins.
“But I am.”
“In the morning, Annie. We’ll talk after we’ve rested.” Then he turned and led Molly and Kate into the barn without another word or glance in her direction.
She watched him, not knowing what to do, unsure if anything could be done. Then she turned in the opposite direction and made her way to the house.
When she walked in the door, Louie was there to greet her, barking out his welcome and begging to be picked up and cuddled. Avery obliged, gathering him to her as she went about lighting lamps and getting ready for bed.
It had started out as such a perfect night. With the exception of the terrible news, the evening had gone well. A loving family, so wholesome and caring, was something she had never experienced. Something she had always missed in her life. Until she met Gideon and his family, she had never known what she had been searching for.
She sat Louie on the bed and carefully removed all the garments Lizzie had helped her don a lifetime ago. Avery had enjoyed being one of the Plain folk for the night—the fellowship, the Bible reading . . . the pie.
She smiled. The Amish sure did love their pie.
Once the borrowed dress was hung back in its place of honor in the closet, Avery slipped into one of Gideon’s shirts and padded to the front room, Louie hot on her heels.
She made her bed on the couch, fluffed her pillow, and lay down. Her mind fluttered back to how she fussed over herself while getting ready. Shame over being so obsessed with her appearance enveloped her. There were so many other problems—worthier problems—in the world. She knew now that what she wore was of no consequence. Old habits and all that.
