Saving Gideon

by Amy Lillard

He wanted that again, that peace and joy, that lightness of spirit. That faith. And the comforting voice that whispered long into the night assuring him that all was well.

  From John and Abigail he had received his forgiveness. Now he needed it from God, and more important, from himself. Maybe then he could move ahead. Go forward toward the life he should be living and not the one he’d been trapped in all these months.

  Without thinking, Gideon dropped to his knees.

  “Dear Lord in heaven above. Father, God of all things, please forgive me. I have been so long without You, without Your guidance I—” Gideon faltered. “I don’t know what to do. I need Your help, Lord, Your wisdom and kindness to shine down on me. Even though I am not worthy, Lord, please make me so to accept the blessings of Your gifts, the gift of life. And help me, Lord, start living again.”

  As he prayed, tears streamed down his face. The world stopped moving around him. There were no sounds in the barn, no rustle of leaves from outside. Just him and God. And Gideon felt the spirit of the Lord move within him as a peace like he had never known settled into his heart.

  A week passed and then another, and once again Avery’s father had countless things for her to do. Library dedications, children’s hospital fund-raisers, ribbon cuttings. The list went on and on. She had never felt more useless in her life.

  The city was big. Too big. Even bigger than she remembered. Faster, louder. She couldn’t hear God there. There was too much noise, too much distraction after the quiet of Clover Ridge. Not just country life, but Amish country life. With Gideon, her life had taken on purpose and meaning. She hadn’t floated from one party to another, to a press meeting and then to dinner and another party. She’d had chores and responsibilities. She had loved working in the garden and trying to cook and setting the table while she waited for Gideon to come in from the fields. With Gideon, she’d been different. She’d been better.

  She sent a letter to Lizzie explaining as best she could what had happened between her and Gideon. She left out the part that she hadn’t wanted to leave and that her father had practically ripped her from Gideon’s side. She omitted the part where she had cried and begged him to let her stay, and how he hadn’t even looked her in the eyes as he told her it was for the best.

  Avery knew Gideon felt that what he had done was in the best interest of everyone involved—even if it wasn’t.

  Lizzie sent her a letter back, saying how much she missed her and how she had hoped she would’ve stayed. Avery cried when she read it. Cried when Lizzie told her that her onkel had started courtin’ the sweetly Amish widow, Rachael Miller. It was what was expected and demanded of him by the church.

  Then she packed up the freshly laundered frack with its matching cape and white apron and sent it back to the Fishers. She’d included a note that said simply, Thank you. There were not enough words to say how much her time with Gideon—her time with all of them—had meant to her. And how very glad she was to have met them and been a part of their family, even for a short time.

  Avery glanced around the ballroom at all of the politely bored faces and tried to remember how she felt before her time in Oklahoma. She couldn’t. Before she went to Amish country, she had wondered if there was something more. Now she knew there was.

  “Avery, sweetie. So good to have you back.” Natalie Esteban sauntered up beside her and kissed the air at each cheek. Once upon a time Avery had considered Natalie to be among her best friends. That was before she truly knew what friendship meant.

  “Heather Daniels said the after party is at her place tonight. You up for it?”

  Avery opened her mouth to tell Natalie no, then closed it again. Maybe her father was right. Maybe she wasn’t making enough of an effort to her return. It wasn’t like Gideon had tried to stop her from leaving. He practically dumped her at her father’s feet. There was no going back to Amish country. There was only going forward in Texas.

  “Absolutely,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt. With any luck, if she pretended that this was where she wanted to be, eventually she would come to believe it was true.

  “That’s my girl.” Natalie blew her another kiss then glided away, bracelets jangling.

  Avery straightened her shoulders. It was time to start living again. This was the life she had been given, and she had to do the best with what she had. She was going to have fun tonight—if it killed her.

  This party was going to be the death of her. Avery watched her once upon a time best friend jump into the swimming pool fully clothed in a dress that cost enough to feed a small country. The partygoers at poolside all laughed and cheered as she resurfaced, sputtering and trying to keep her head above water, her sequined dress saturated and dragging her down. Someone handed her another drink as they hauled her out of the pool dripping wet. Natalie downed it in one eye-watering gulp, then pulled her dress over her head. Avery thought the man who pulled Natalie from the pool was Carson Henry, heir to the Henry Electronics billions. It was hard to tell. He leaned in and passionately kissed Nat while she stood in her strapless black bra and lacy thong underwear. Natalie wrenched away and with a laugh, pushed her savior into the pool, and then jumped in behind him.

  Avery sighed. Same party, different day. Had this really been how she passed her time? She had never been one to drink to excess, but she had gone along with the crowd for appearances, showing up at parties and hanging out because there was nothing better to do.

  Or maybe because she hadn’t realized there was something better to do.

  With a barely audible sigh, she took her virgin cranberry juice into the house where the party was still thriving, but a little less rambunctious. At least, there were no pools to jump into.

  She collapsed on the sofa and sipped her drink.

  “You can’t change them, you know.”

  Startled, Avery looked over to see Natalie’s younger sister, Meredith, sitting next to her. She had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts she hadn’t noticed the young girl seated on the expansive white leather couch. Meredith with her long, dark, board-straight hair was all of seventeen, but it was more than her age that set her apart from the other guests.

  “Pardon?”

  “I said you can’t change them.”

  Avery glanced around at the chaos called a party, and at the moneyed drifters who were supposed to be her friends. “I guess not.”

  “All you can do is hope for the best.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  The somber dark-haired girl flicked a wrist vaguely. “Hope that one day, they’ll grow up into productive citizens.”

  “I grew up once.” Avery didn’t mean to say the words aloud.

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I heard you and Jack Welch broke up.”

  “True.”

  “I never liked him. He was just so . . . smarmy.”

  Out of the mouths of babes. As true as the statement was, it still stung. Avery felt the well of unwanted tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, don’t cry. I’m sure you’ll find someone much better. Mother is always telling me that I don’t think before I speak, and—”

  “No, no. You’re right. I will find someone better. I already have.”

  Meredith looked around trying to spot someone new in the familiar crowd. “Is he here?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is he?”

  “In Oklahoma.”

  “If you love him, why are you here while he’s in another state?”

  Why indeed? “I’m not sure if he loves me back.”

  “You know how to tell though.”

  Avery shook her head.

  “That song, silly. From the movie Mermaid. His kiss.” She sang the words just a little off key and brought a smile to Avery’s lips. “You know.”r />
  She did, and those simple words brought back a wealth of memories—she and Gideon on their last picnic, the way his lips clung to hers as if he couldn’t help himself. She initiated the kiss, but he kissed her back. She had accused him of still being in love with Miriam, but now he was courting another woman. An Amish woman. When he should be with her.

  “I also heard that you spent some time with the Amish.” Meredith said this as if it were some kind of state secret.

  “I did.”

  Her brown eyes grew wide. “Really? What was that like?”

  “It was . . .” Avery hesitated. Not once since she had gotten back from Oklahoma had anyone asked her how it felt to be among the Amish. Never had she tried to sum up the experience with mere words. “It was slow. But in a good way,” she added. “Quiet, but that was good too.”

  Meredith made a face. “Sounds boring.”

  Avery shook her head. “It was wonderful, actually.”

  “And they really live without electricity?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bet you missed that, huh?”

  “No.” I miss Gideon.

  “Who’s Gideon?”

  Had she said his name aloud? “He was the man I stayed with while I was there. A farmer.” Those words sounded too mundane to describe Gideon, but none other seemed to fit either.

  “He’s Amish?”

  “Jah. I mean, yes.”

  “And you miss him.”

  “Yes,” she said quietly. And she missed Lizzie and Samuel, Ruth and Abram—even Gabriel and his scowl. She missed having the coffee she had made each morning and trying to get the dough right to make chicken pot pie. She missed the stories and the peaceful solitude. And Gideon, she so very much missed Gideon.

  A cheesy old quote came to mind, If you love something set it free. He had set her free. What if she proved her love by returning?

  Avery’s heart gave a sudden lurch, then pounded in her chest.

  “Avery?”

  “Huh?” She twisted in her seat to stare at Meredith, while a plan turned over and over in her mind.

  “I asked if you wanted another drink.”

  “No. I . . . I need a cab.”

  “You haven’t had that much.”

  “I know. I need a cab.”

  “I haven’t seen you drink all night.”

  “Your sister has, and she’s my ride.”

  “You’re leaving? I thought the fun was just beginning.” She looked around at the couples dancing, her sister outside still kissing the half-clothed Carson Henry in the shallow end of the pool.

  “I’ve got to go,” Avery said quietly. She had to get back to Gideon, to show him how much she cared. She might get there and he might turn her away, but she had to try. She loved him too much to just let everything they had go.

  Meredith got a knowing light in her brown eyes. “You’re going back.”

  Avery nodded.

  Meredith plucked her cell phone from her tiny, sequined evening purse. “Baxter, please bring the car around. And hurry. I have a friend who needs to get home as soon as possible.”

  A truer statement she had never heard.

  Meredith walked her down to the front of the building and saw her safely to the Esteban’s limousine. Secretly Avery thought Meredith had fancied herself to be some sort of undercover matchmaker by helping her get back to Amish country. Avery supposed she kind of was. In fact, Meredith rode with Avery all the way out to her house where Maris was waiting with a small overnight bag and Louie all ready to go.

  “Thank you, both,” Avery addressed the women, worlds apart yet they had united for her.

  Maris smiled and pressed her keys into her hand. “I’ll tell your father you’ll call him in a day or two.”

  Avery nodded. Her father was smart. He’d understand why she had to go. Okay, maybe understand was too strong of a word. But one day he’d realize that she did it all for love. She just hoped Gideon understood too.

  She couldn’t let herself consider the fact that he could send her away a second time. She had faith, hope, and love. Wasn’t the greatest love? Surely that would carry more weight than the life differences they faced.

  Avery kissed Maris on the cheek, hugged Meredith, and loaded Louie V. into the pearly-white Mercedes. She started the car and waved good-bye before heading down the driveway and through the gates that led out into the city.

  “All right, Lou. Let’s go home.”

  16

  The sound of an engine roared from the road, but Gideon didn’t look up from the fence gate. He had done so much this spring, but the fences were still in bad need of work as May was coming to an end. It had to be done soon. His alpacas should be arriving today. Excitement buzzed around him. He never thought he’d feel this way about hairy animals that could spit thirty yards, but this was a new day. His new beginning.

  He and Rachael had begun their courtin’, but were taking it slow. Jah, she needed a few things done around the house, and he could do those odd jobs for her. Until they actually got married, Gabriel’s oldest boys had signed on to help her. They would bring in this year’s crops, and Mary Elizabeth was helping her can relish and chowchow to sell in the market.

  He wouldn’t let himself think about Annie and what she might be doin’ now. He couldn’t start over by lookin’ back. But at night, when everything was quiet, she snuck into this thoughts.

  Gideon pushed and pulled at the fence post, testing its stability. Satisfied with the results, he hooked the latch and peeled off his gloves. It would do for now. Hopefully soon, he would be able to upgrade the fencing. The orange tabby that had come up a couple of days before wound her scrawny body in between his legs, then rubbed her face against the new post.

  The property looked so different than when he first bought it. At the time, he had wanted to escape, but now he enjoyed the seclusion. Not many traveled this far from town without a purpose.

  He heard a truck door slam. He’d finished just in time. His alpacas were here. Wouldn’t Annie be surprised to learn he had followed her advice? Mary Elizabeth had written Annie at least one letter, but he refused to let himself ask what it said and whether his niece had heard back from their Englisch friend. Asking one question would only lead to more—and he couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on what could never be.

  As much as he told himself it was for the best, he could never forget the wounded look in her eyes when she knew he was sending her home. He hadn’t wanted to. He missed her something terrible. But it was better to lose her now than when she owned even more of his heart.

  A familiar voice called out behind him. “Thank you!”

  It was worse than he thought. Now he was hearing her voice.

  He shaded his eyes and searched the line of trees next to the road, hoping to spot the delivery truck full of alpacas. But instead he saw . . .

  “Annie?” The word came out as a whisper. He feared that if he spoke any louder she might disappear. Surely he had imagined her. He closed his eyes. Counted to three, couldn’t stand it any longer, and opened them again.

  Annie!

  She waved to the driver of the car that had dropped her off, her too-short black dress flashing in the sunlight. Then she bent, took off her shoes, and started toward the house.

  He held his breath. He couldn’t afford to be prideful, but what reason would she have for coming back now, if not for him? He watched her walk slowly up the lane toward him. Well, it seemed like she walked slowly. She didn’t run, and she didn’t hurry to his side.

  Louie made it to him first, then Annie. His sweet, sweet Annie.

  She stopped a little more than an arm’s length away. “Hi.”

  “Guder mariye.”

  The Oklahoma wind feathered through her hair. He would have brushed
it back had she been even a few inches closer. Instead, he scratched the pooch behind the ears.

  “I came back.” Her words were breathless as if she’d run the whole way from Dallas.

  “I can see that.”

  She looked at him, her violet eyes steady, but uncertain. “I have three things I need to ask you.”

  He nodded. “Jah?”

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “You told me once that you still loved your wife.”

  “Jah.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Jah,” he said without hesitation. “I do.”

  Her lips trembled, then she pressed them together, the only sign that what he’d said had affected her at all.

  “And are you still planning on courting another woman?”

  “It was what the bishop wanted.”

  “And now?”

  He shrugged, unable to say the words, hesitant to be too hopeful. Rachael was a fine Amish woman and would make any man a gut wife. But nothing he would ever feel for her could compare to how Avery set his heart to soarin’. Plain livin’ could be difficult for those born into it. It was next to impossible for those wantin’ to join up.

  She took another deep breath, this one steadying, and her eyes darkened. “How does the bishop feel about outsiders living in his district?”

  Gideon swallowed hard. His heart hammered in his chest. “That’d probably depend on who wanted to come live here.”

  “Me,” she said. “What about me?”

  He cleared his throat, pushing down the hope rising within him. He was as nervous as she, and he wanted to take her hands into his own and tell her everything would work out just fine. But that wasn’t something he knew for sure and for certain. “I think he’d be allrecht with that. Once he gets to know you.”

  “And what about you?”

  “That’s more’n three questions.” Then he took the first step that brought them closer together and pulled her into his arms.

  She was warm, melting into his embrace. Gideon buried his face in the curve of her neck and breathed in the lavender scent that was all Annie.