by Amy Lillard
His eyes, so much like her own, seemed doubtful at best.
She couldn’t help but smile. “You see, Gideon, it’s all about faith.”
He shook his head, his pie sitting untouched before him.
“I thought I raised you better than this,” Ruth admonished. “What awaits the faithful on the other side?”
He paused. “Heaven.” His voice was rough, raw with emotion.
“And on this side I have my family. So you see, I win in either direction.”
“But—”
“I know it’s prideful to believe that I’ll automatically go to heaven, but I have faith. And my faith is strong. So if He takes me from this world, I’ll go to be with Him. I can’t lose.”
“I’ll sell my farm,” Gideon finally said. “You can have the money from that—”
“You’ll do no such-a thing.” She sat back in her chair, her own pie forgotten. “I’m hearing that you have finally started to work your farm. You can’t go back on that now.”
“But Annie’s right. This will be costly. We’ll need every penny we can find.”
“Jah, that it will.” Her heart swelled when he said “we” and not “you.” This was a family fight. “But I’ve already told you, the Lord will provide.”
“I can’t help but—”
“You can. Everythin’ bad that happens to us is just a test of our faith. I’m not about to lose mine now.” She worried that he might take offense to her words, but he didn’t. Or maybe he didn’t see the connection to his own life.
She knew Gideon still had faith. It had been trampled on and nearly taken from him in his grief, but it was still there, shimmering below the surface, just waiting to be rediscovered.
He nodded, and she knew the exact moment when his merely agreeing with her became a testimony of rekindled belief. He might not recognize it now, maybe not ever, but he knew the Lord was good, that He would provide, and all would be well.
“Now eat your pie,” she said. Then she gave up a small thanks to God above.
The talk with his mother must have soothed Gideon’s fears. He wasn’t exactly cheerful when he returned, but he seemed more at peace with himself. And that, in turn, eased Avery’s heart. They hadn’t yet talked about that revealing conversation in the dark. He hadn’t mentioned it, and she hadn’t brought it up. Ruth would tell her to let sleeping dogs lie, so that’s just what Avery planned to do.
She shook out the quilts she used each night for a bed and laid them over the porch railing. Breakfast had been eaten, the dishes cleaned, and now there were chores to be done. She needed to wash out her dresses, sweep the kitchen floors, then pick the strawberries. But for now, it’d be good to let the covers hang outside for a while and capture the freshness of the sunshine and beautiful spring day.
At the rattle of a buggy, she turned and looked. Gabriel pulled to a stop in front of the watering trough. He nodded to her, then made his way into the barn.
As far as greetings went, his wasn’t exactly warm, but then again, she had never topped the list of Gabriel Fisher’s favorite people.
With a shake of her head, she pushed thoughts of Gabe from her mind and went in search of her broom.
The brothers planned to attend an auction that afternoon. Gideon had mentioned that Gabriel was looking for a couple of new cows and that he had somehow talked him into going along for the ride. This was a step in the right direction. Just getting Gideon off his own farm was a feat in itself. She smiled at the memory of Lizzie’s wide eyes when she told the young girl her uncle had gone into town that first time. And now he was attending auctions. What a difference a week made. The Lord truly was good. He was pulling Gideon back into the living.
She waved good-bye to them as they pulled away in Gabriel’s buggy with promises to be back by supper. Porch swept, Avery set to work washing out her borrowed dresses and hanging them on the line to dry.
Later that afternoon, Avery wiped a hand across her brow and made a mental note to work in the garden earlier in the day next time. Of course, today was unseasonably warm, but Oklahoma was a lot like East Texas, and it was only going to get worse. She dropped another plump berry into the stainless steel bowl she had brought from the kitchen and crawled a couple of spaces down to search for more. Lizzie had told her to be careful about the berries she picked, for once they were off the plant, they would not ripen. And she wanted only ripe berries for the strawberry cake she had planned for tonight’s dessert.
The hum of an engine and the crunch of tires on gravel pulled her attention away from the berries. Gideon would be home soon, but surely not in this sort of transportation.
An unfamiliar silver sedan pulled to a stop and a blond-haired man stepped out wearing clothing more suitable for an exclusive country club than the back roads of an Amish district. Sunlight glinted off the frames of his dark glasses as he shut the door behind him.
Jack.
Avery scrambled to her feet, brushing the bits of grass and dirt from her skirt. Louie growled.
How had he found her?
His eyes scraped over her from head to toe, taking in every detail of her appearance. Every Amish detail. “It’s good to see you, Avery.”
“What are you doing here, Jack?” She wasn’t about to pretend she wanted him there.
“We need to talk.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“We do.”
She shook her head.
“Maybe you could invite me in”—He peered over her shoulder toward the house, as if looking for something. Or someone—“to have a cup of coffee.” His attention swung toward the barn. “Or maybe to just sit awhile.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Listen, I know I made some mistakes.”
Mistakes?
“But if we could sit down, talk it out . . .”
She opened her mouth to remind him that she had caught him in bed with another woman, but stopped. That wouldn’t mean anything to him. She, Avery, didn’t mean anything to him either. Never had.
“Why are you really here, Jack?” It was a rhetorical question. She knew why he was there. She just wasn’t sure how he had found her. Or how to get him to leave.
He took a step toward her. “I’ve missed you.”
She crossed her arms. “Try again.”
“Avery . . .”
“You have no business here, Jack.”
“You’re here. You’re my business.”
“Not anymore, I’m not.”
He removed his sunglasses with a sweep of his hand that looked so practiced she almost laughed. Might actually have done it if the situation weren’t so sobering. “I need you, Avery.”
“My father cut off your funding?”
“I need an insider—”
“No.”
“Someone who can tell me what it’s really like here—”
“No.”
“For authenticity.” He glanced around. “They’re just so secretive.”
They weren’t. They had welcomed her, treated her like one of their own. Ruth had revealed her emotions, Lizzie had told Avery her deepest desires, and Katie Rose had taught her how to cook. Maybe the reason they didn’t accept Jack was that he was out to exploit them. The Amish were sheltered, not stupid.
“These are good, decent people, Jack. God-fearing people. Leave them out of your Hollywood pipedreams.”
“And what are you doing here?”
Now there was a question. Her sabbatical had gone beyond rest and relaxation to hiding out. And now?
Now, she didn’t have the answer.
She only knew she wanted him to leave. His presence contaminated everything it touched. He didn’t belong here, and she surely didn’t like the reminders of her real life. She
had been just fine pretending that she would never eventually have to go home.
Jack cocked one eyebrow and waited. “Well?”
The rattle of a horse and buggy rumbling along the dirt lane saved her from having to answer. She glanced up, thankful for the familiar rig pulling down the drive.
Gideon was home.
All the joy Gideon felt on the ride home died as his brother steered his buggy toward the barn. They had visitors. Or at least Annie had a visitor. A fancy man with slicked-back blond hair and polished shoes. It could only be one person. Jack. Her one-time suitor.
They stood in the yard just this side of the strawberry patch. Annie wore a frown. He couldn’t tell if she was unhappy or if the sun was in her eyes. Surely if she needed something she would holler. But she didn’t.
Gideon jumped down from the buggy and caught his brother’s eye.
Gabe raised a brow.
Gideon shrugged. He wasn’t about it admit it, but it bothered him that Annie had invited someone over. He just wished she had mentioned havin’ company this mornin’ before he’d left. Of course, she was Englisch, and they did things a mite different than Plain folk. Gideon had lost sight of that this week. It was no wonder with her goin’ around in an apron and a prayer kapp just like a proper Amish woman.
He shrugged again as if this all meant nothing to him and ambled over to where they stood.
Louie met him halfway, barking and yapping at his heels until he picked up the critter and tucked him under one arm.
“Gideon.” Annie breathed his name as if truly happy to see him.
Gideon pushed that thought away. “Annie,” he returned with a nod of his head.
“Annie?” Jack parroted.
Annie turned to the well-heeled man. “It’s . . . what he calls me. Jack, this is my . . . host, Gideon Fisher. And his brother Gabe.” She nodded toward Gabriel who stood apart, waiting by the buggy. “Gideon, Jack Welch.”
The Englischer gave a small wave to Gabe, then stuck out his hand. “Pleasure,” he said with a quick flash of his teeth.
“Jah.” Gideon shifted the dog so he could shake his hand. The handshake was strong and firm, too much so, like this Jack had something to prove.
But he didn’t want to think about Jack, didn’t really want to talk to him. He wanted to talk to Annie. He glanced at her. “I bought a mule.”
“You did!” She clapped her hands together, those big, grape gumdrop eyes of hers sparkling. “That’s wunderbaar.”
“Jah.”
Jack swiveled his head toward Annie, then back to Gideon. “Wunderbaar?”
“It means wonderful,” Annie explained.
“I know what it means. I just didn’t know you did.”
There’s a lot about her you don’t know.
Jack turned his attention away from Annie and focused it on him. “Say, how ’bout we all go have a cup of coffee. I didn’t see a Starbucks in town, but there’s that little diner.”
Gideon didn’t have time to answer before Annie shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Then maybe here. A glass of lemonade?”
“Gideon’s much too busy with the farm.” She looked at Gideon like she was trying to tell him something. He sat the dog on the ground, wondering what she was gettin’ at. “Right, Gideon?”
The farm was busy, but not that busy. He had another couple of hours before he had to milk the cow. Even then it was only one cow. He needed to get his new mule settled into the barn, but that wouldn’t take more’n fifteen, twenty minutes. The best he could figure, she wanted to be alone with her fancy suitor.
He couldn’t say it didn’t sting, that she wanted to get rid of him, and that she wanted to spend time alone with an unfaithful man. He couldn’t explain the ways of the Englisch no more’n they could explain the ways of the Amish.
“I’ll just . . . put the mule in the barn.” He slapped his gloves against his thigh and walked backward toward Gabe’s buggy. “Get your dog, Annie, ’fore he gets stepped on.”
He turned and walked to the wagon without another glance.
Gabe eyed him as Gideon started to untie the mule from the back of the buggy. “He’s been asking questions around town, that one.”
“I heard.”
“He seems to have taken a shine to your Annie.”
“She’s not my anythin’.” Gideon grabbed the strap and tugged on the mule to get him to follow him to the barn.
“Long as you remember that,” Gabe called after him, then swung back into the buggy.
It took exactly fifteen minutes to get the mule settled in and get back to the house. To his annoyance, the Englischer’s car was still parked in front when Gideon came out of the barn. Annie and her visitor had moved closer to his car, but that was as near as it came to him leaving.
Gideon ignored them as he walked up the porch steps Louie ran over to him and together they went into the house, the screen door slamming behind them. He went straight to the kitchen and washed his hands in the sink.
It was none of his business a’tall. Well, ’ceptin’ this was his property, and Annie was under his care of sorts. She was his guest, anyway. And that bore a certain amount of responsibility. He should check on her to make sure she was okay.
He dried his hands on a dishtowel and made his way back into the living room. He could see them easily from the window. Annie stood with her arms folded across her middle, while her Englischer leaned against the front of his car.
He was a slick one, this outsider. His pants gray, his shirt the pale yellow of the butter cream frosting his aenti put on the cupcakes she made every Easter.
He shouldn’t be spying on them. Annie had made it clear she wanted to be alone with this Jack. He should grant her this request. And he should not feel jealous at the possessive light in the other man’s eyes.
But he didn’t like how the outsider had treated Annie. Didn’t like that any man thought he could treat a woman with such disrespect, and then to come around again like nothing had happened . . .
Gideon tore his gaze away from the pair and went back into the kitchen. He cut himself a wedge of pie and a hunk of cheese to refuel for the afternoon.
He sat down at the table with his snack. The auction had been sort of fun. He hadn’t been in a long time, and it was gut to see all the folks he’d been missing these last few months. It was gut to spend time with his brother. And gut to bring a new animal onto his farm. He had gotten a deal on the beast—that was why he bought him. He hadn’t gone with the intentions of purchasing an animal, but the mule would help with the plowing and save Molly and Kate’s energy for trips to town.
And church.
He hadn’t made up his mind about going, but he had been thinking about it. Mostly due to his mamm. If she could keep her faith even with what was ahead of her, he felt . . . well, he felt like he owed it to her to keep his right alongside. At least try to.
The auction had done something else. It had brought him face to face with the alpacas Annie was always talking about. Once he saw them, he walked over and visited with the man who was selling them. They were everything Annie had said—small, gentle, and docile in disposition. They had thick fleece coats in many beautiful colors, and they would provide for years since they—like sheep—were not slaughtered for their commodity. He’d talked with the man for a few minutes, then walked away, but the lazy eyes and alert ears of the alpaca had stayed with him for the rest of the afternoon.
Louie whined, and Gideon broke off a piece of crust and fed it to the tiny dog. What could they be talking about out there? And how long was he going to stay? Gideon shifted in his seat trying to see out the window, then fooled himself into believing that wasn’t his intention at all.
Would the Englischer try and take Annie with him? Would she g
o?
He grabbed up his plate and took it to the kitchen, peering out the window as he did. They still stood in the yard, but he could barely see them. He deposited his plate and fork in the sink and eased back over to the window.
The wind ruffled the ends of Annie’s hair that had pulled free of the pins she used. She started to brush it back, but Jack Welch beat her to it. There was a familiarity to his touch, and Gideon had to remind himself again that the ways of the Englisch were so very different than his own. He had to remind himself again that Annie was Englisch.
Their muffled voices told him nothing. He could hear the sound, but not the words. Jack said something. Annie replied. She still had her arms across her middle, but now Jack Welch had taken ahold of her elbows. Gideon couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like she was trying to pull away from him.
Jah. That was gut.
Annie took a step back and forced Welch to straighten. She said something else, and the blond-haired man replied. Then he leaned down, his intention clear—he was going to kiss her.
But Annie moved just in time, and the kiss fell on her cheek instead.
Although he had no right to be, Gideon was pleased.
The next thing he knew, she was striding toward the house.
Louie barked as if sensing her return. Gideon jumped back from the window, hoping she didn’t see him, that she didn’t know he had been spying on her.
He hurriedly sat in the rocking chair, barely getting his behind on the seat before she burst into the house, her face like a thundercloud. Cheeks flushed, eyes blazing.
“Of all the—” She saw Gideon sitting in the living room.
He rose to his feet out of sheer habit. “Annie.”
“Sorry . . . I . . . I thought you were out back.”
“Did you have a nice visit?”
She hesitated a fraction too long before answering. “Very nice. Jack wished he could stay a bit longer, but he had to get back to town.” She tucked the loose strands of hair back under her kapp and smiled a little too brightly. “A mule, huh?”
