by Tricia Goyer
“I’ve been thinking of buying myself another horse.” Mr. Peachy ran a hand down his beard. “I was wondering—”
Lydia walked out the front door without a glance over her shoulder. Her steps seemed determined. Gideon scowled.
“Let me know if you’d like me to check the horse over,” Gideon interrupted.
Mr. Peachy’s brow furrowed. “Well, not anytime soon—”
“Ja, not soon, but if I’m still here…” Gideon patted the man’s shoulder. “But I’m going to head outside for a time. Talk to a few folks and then see if they, uh, need help loading the bench wagon.”
“Ja, I’ll contact you…” Mr. Peachy’s words trailed behind Gideon as he hurried outside. He paused on the porch steps. In the distance, Lydia walked down the dirt road toward the store and school.
“She said she was going to peek in the window of the school,” a soft, warm voice said.
Gideon turned to see Eve Peachy sitting in a rocking chair, holding one of the neighborhood children. Eve and the toddler boy watched some of the other kids pushing each other on a tire swing. Children’s laughter filled the air.
“Oh, I was jest…worried about her. I mean after losing her mem.”
“She didn’t seem too sad. Happy like.” Eve stood, placing the toddler on her hip. “I heard some of the women talking to her in the kitchen. Lydia said she’d been running for so long, and she’s happy to feel as if she’s come home.”
He nodded and turned his gaze back in Lydia’s direction. She continued down the road, the summer sunlight highlighting her kapp. Her black dress was down to mid-calf and unlike the thick black shoes most Amish woman wore, she wore brown slip-on shoes with a swirl design on the side. He supposed one couldn’t give up all things Englisch overnight.
With a slight shrug of his shoulders he turned back toward the front door of the house. The men were beginning to carry the benches and table tops to the bench wagon, where they’d be taken to the next house for service in two weeks.
“I’m sure if you hurry you can catch up with her.” Disappointment was evident in Eve’s voice.
“Nah.” Gideon waved a hand. “I was just concerned about her, that’s all. If she’s doing well, she doesn’t need me.”
“You know you want to.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I want to be a friend.”
“I figured as much. From the way you look at her, you appear very friendly.”
He looked closer at Eve. She blinked quickly, as if struggling to hold back tears.
Caleb had teased him weeks ago that he held Eve’s fancy. Gideon hadn’t believed it until now. But what could he do? One’s heart wandered where it desired. He shuffled from side to side. As eager as he was to see Lydia—to talk to her—he was also eager to get out of view of Eve’s disappointed grimace.
“Well, maybe I should go down. She might want company. I mean, being new to town…”
Without saying another word, he hurried down the road with a quickened stride, and in less than one minute he caught up with her.
Hearing his footsteps on the gravel, Lydia turned. He grinned, but his smile faded when she looked into his eyes. Lydia’s gaze reflected disappointment. Was she disappointed he’d interrupted her walk?
“I saw you heading off. If you need me to drive you anywhere…”
“In the buggy?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, no, I don’t need a ride. Just heading out for a walk. Enjoying the beauty. Talking to God.” Her words trailed off and heat rose to her cheeks. “That sounds strange, doesn’t it?”
“Not to me.” He waved a hand down the roadway. “Do you mind if I join you?”
“Actually…” Lydia bit her lip and glanced down the road to the school. “I was just thinking of Mem and my own first day at school. She came to see me—” Lydia’s voice cracked and she took a deep breath and found her composure. She crossed her arms over her black apron, the color she’d be wearing for a year as a sign of mourning. “Mem missed me. She sat in the back. The teacher didn’t seem to mind, but I did. I wanted to be grown up. Like the other kids.” She looked up at the sky and closed her eyes, allowing the rays from the sun to pour over her.
“I’ll let you be, then. Give you time.” He took a step back and expected her to argue. To say that she wanted him with her after all.
Instead she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Thank you. And thanks for the ride today too. I appreciate all your care. Getting to know you has meant so much.”
Gideon studied her gaze. The nervous attraction that had reflected from her eyes the past few days had been replaced with a mix of peace and wonder, making her even more beautiful.
He waved a good-bye and hurried back toward the Peachy house. When he got there a few minutes later, he grabbed up one of the last benches and carried it out to the bench wagon, joining the other men. He supposed he should be happy. Lydia had made a good choice. She’d chosen to follow the way of faith. He knew it was what really mattered. Yet part of him also felt sad. Lydia was growing closer to God and to her dat. Would there be a time when she’d no longer need his friendship?
After he finished helping loading up the benches, he hung around longer than the other bachelors, waiting for Lydia to return, just in case he needed to drive her and her dat back. At least that was his excuse. As he was talking to Mrs. Peachy about her garden, Gideon felt a hand on his arm. He turned expectantly, believing it to be Lydia. Instead, Mr. Wyse stood there.
“I do appreciate your help this week.” Mr. Wyse extended some folded-up bills.
Gideon pulled his hands back, showing the man he would not take it. “Ne, I wanted to help. It was just a small way…a small offering in your time of loss.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Wyse tucked the bills back in his pocket. “I appreciate that. And I was going to tell you there’s really no need for you to drive me home. No need to help with chores. My leg’s doing better.”
“Are you sure?” The words spurted from Gideon’s mouth.
“Ja. I feel better—both my body and my heart. It’ll be good to roll up my sleeves again. To feel useful.”
“All right…if you have no need.”
Then, with a final wave, the older man moved toward the hitching post for his horse. It wouldn’t take him more than ten minutes to hitch the horse to his buggy.
How things had changed.
Just hours ago Gideon had worried about how to keep his heart protected from falling for Lydia when he was destined to be around her so often. Now he didn’t need to worry about that. He could spend his days like he had before she arrived—talking with the other bachelors, planning for the hunting season, shooting practice over by Alkali Lake, and thinking again about the truth he’d wanted to discover while he was here.
The lost feeling surfaced. So familiar. Gideon hadn’t realized it had lessened for a week. Even though they were just new friends, being with Lydia had helped that.
But now, as he walked down the wooded trail toward the bachelors’ cabins, he felt disoriented. He was still in the same community, but the disconnection grew with each step. It was the same as when he was with his family. With all his brothers and sisters he was always surrounded by people, but he was just a seat warmer, a place filler. That time alone on the mountain haunted him in ways Gideon didn’t understand.
Should tomorrow be the day he talked to Edgar and discovered the truth? Gideon had a feeling it was.
Lydia walked up the steps of the small log cabin school and looked into the window. Peering inside, she saw that three rows of small desks, a teacher’s desk, a woodstove, and a chalkboard on one wall made up the room. Her mind wanted to run ahead and imagine what it would be like to teach there, but she stopped herself. As she had felt during the church service, her returning had to be about what God desired for her. If she considered anything else, then her return could be as futile as her leaving. And that was the last thing she wanted.
Lydia turned and gazed out at the metal swings, the slide, and th
e merry-go-round that looked old enough for her dat to have played on as a youngster. Then she pulled a slip of paper out of the pocket of her dress. She’d been looking through the Promise Box this morning when she spotted it. This letter had more than a date on the front. It also had a note written under the date: Lydia’s first day of school.
She’d felt bad not letting Gideon join her, but since she’d woken this morning, she’d planned on coming down this way after the church service. Her chest still felt full of God’s light, and she was eager to connect with Mem.
Dear Lydia,
You insisted on walking to school with the Slabaugh children next door. The oldest, Hester, is nearing twelve and fully capable to watch after you. She’s cared for you on numerous occasions when my weak heart put me in bed for a spell, but I still didn’t want to see you go. Maybe it’s best, though, that I didn’t walk with you. I might have followed you inside and sat right beside you.
The chores are done. They were done quickly without my “helper.” It took twice as long to hang the wash and tidy up with your help…but who was in a hurry? Not me. I miss your voice telling me about the stories you think up and the songs. The lines from the church hymns sound best from yer lips.
I begged yer dat last night for him to allow you to stay home another year. He told me you needed to grow up into the woman God designed you to be. I could see the words hurt him to say them, but he spoke truth.
I complained to the Lord about it, and I pulled out my Bible hoping to find some peace. I cling to God’s promises to be with me, to keep me, to have a good future for me. I needed to find a promise to help me on this day too. I read in the German Bible first, and then I pulled out the Englisch Bible our driver let me borrow. He was right—the English words do make it easier to read.
I started reading the Proverbs, and the fifth verse caught my attention: “A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels.”
I found peace then. It was as if God was telling me that your hearing and learning would move into the hands of another now. I do like Miss Yoder. She is a godly young woman. I’m praying for her now, and praying for you. Praying that your greatest knowledge will settle on the love of God.
God says, “Vie Gottlofen haben jein jrierlen, wider mit Gott, oder ihr gewissen,” which means the ungodly have no peace with God or their conscience. No matter how we raise our kinder, each child must respond to the love of the Father. I am praying for that day. I pray for your choice, Lydia. I pray you claim God’s promises for yer own.
I know not whether that day is later or soon, but may all you are taught about our gut Gott take root deep in yer heart.
And I must close now because I realize you forgot yer lunch pail on the front step! I can’t say I’m saddened by the discovery as it will give me an opportunity to check in on you.
Love, yer mem
Lydia’s hands quivered as she read those words. She folded up the paper and slipped it back in her pocket, realizing that the day Mem prayed for her to claim God’s promises for her own was today. This day.
Had God known that? Of course He did. And Mem’s desire for her was Lydia’s desire now. To hear and increase in learning. To attain wise counsel from this new community of the faithful who God had brought her amongst. And maybe to get the chance to pass on what she’d learned.
She looked around at the playground and smiled. In time, perhaps, she’d be found worthy.
Gideon tried to ignore the rejection he felt. He’d thought for certain that he and Lydia were growing in their friendship, but maybe he’d just been mistaken. She was returning home, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be a part of it. The way she’d pushed him away on their walk today proved that.
He was alone in his cabin. Caleb and some of the other bachelors were out at a Youth Sing. Maybe he should have gone. Maybe spending time with some of the other young women in the community would have helped him get his mind off of Lydia. Eve would have been happy to see him.
Instead he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, again determined to write the letter. It would be easier to tell Mem and Dat now that he knew rather than wait until he returned to Pennsylvania and saw them face-to-face.
Dear Mem and Dat,
I am sure you figured out by now that I didn’t come to Montana to hunt. While I will enjoy hunting, that is not the point. I came to know the truth of the past. I’ve known for many years that more happened in the hills of West Kootenai…things that you didn’t tell me. Maybe soon I’ll I understand why.
I didn’t go asking around—don’t worry about that. I know how Mem always says to keep my nose in my own business. Instead, I sat down with a man who recognized my name. As one of those who’d been on the rescue party he called my name a hundred times. Tomorrow I will ask him the truth of what happened.
I was jest a young boy who got lost. I suppose you felt as if you were protecting me by not explaining everything that happened, but sometimes one needs to know the truth to be able to face it with courage. I might regret knowing, but at least I’ll stop making up my own scenarios in my head.
I hope everyone is doing well. Montana is beautiful, even though memories come back every time I look at the hills. I bet the little girls are growing up. Tell Rachel I might not be able to throw her up as high in the sky when I return. I imagine Glen’s Esther has had her baby by now. Was it a boy or a girl? It seems that all the new babies in our family have been boys of late—not that I mind.
I have made new friends, and the church here is nice.
The gatherings are smaller than in our community. I worked at Log Works for a time, but lately I’ve been training a horse, and I have other jobs lined up. I like those types of jobs better.
I hope you are all doing well.
Your son, Gideon
He read the letter over three times. What else could he say?
He was thankful he hadn’t written a few days ago. If he had, he might have been tempted to mention Lydia. One mention of a young woman and he would have gotten his mem’s hopes up. No, it was better just to face the truth all around.
Like his grandpa used to say, “You can tell when you’re on the right track. It’s usually uphill.” Would there ever be a bright spot of hope—an easy, sunny path? Would he return to Pennsylvania as empty, as lost, as he felt now?
Would he regret finding out about the hidden truth?
CHAPTER
15
Gideon was the first person in the store the next morning. He was waiting on the front porch when Edgar turned the sign from Closed to Open. After writing the letter he’d been worried about approaching the older gentleman, but after praying about it Gideon slept well. There was some benefit that came from not knowing the truth, he supposed. What you didn’t know couldn’t keep you up at night.
Edgar sat on a stool behind the counter. Behind him was a small desk with a computer and a chair where Gideon often saw Annie answering emails and placing orders. Edgar motioned to the chair, and Gideon walked around the counter and sat. Two bakers chatted in the kitchen and the scent of peanut butter cookies wafted through the air.
Edgar ran a hand down his freshly shaven face. His cheeks were pink. The end of his nose was too, as if he’d been standing in the open oven sniffing the baking cookies.
“I was wondering when you’d come by and want to talk about it.”
Gideon’s eyes widened. It was almost as if Edgar had been expecting him. “How did you know I was the Gideon who got lost in the woods?”
“Other than the fact that your face turned as white as a sheet of printer paper?”
Gideon shrugged. “I guess there’s always that.” He kicked his boot on the wooden floorboard, too embarrassed to look in the man’s eyes. “Sir, I should have said something…should have confirmed that boy was me. That’s one of the reasons I came here to West Kootenai. I know I got lost all those years ago, when I was jest a kinder, but…I know there’s more tha
t happened.”
“What do you mean there’s more that happened?” Edgar interrupted. One of the bakers approached and set two cups of coffee before them. Without saying a word, she hurried back to the kitchen. Gideon paid the coffee no mind.
“There’s more than me jest getting lost. More my parents never told me. That’s why I came back. I figured that if they didn’t tell me the truth there’d be someone around who would.”
“They never told you the story?” Edgar shook his head and took a sip from his steaming cup. “I wonder why your folks never told you.”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering too.”
Edgar ran a finger across his chin as if considering the right words. “What do you remember?” he finally asked.
“I was only four, so the images are fuzzy. I remember the train ride from Pennsylvania to Montana. Me and my brothers and sisters filling the seats, and our dat telling us to behave. That meant no shouting—no matter how excited we were—which was hard. I’d never been on any trip like that before.
“I remember people staring at us. And for the first time realizing how different we were being Amish. I hadn’t thought much of it before that because everyone at home that I knew was like us.”
He blew out a breath, getting to the part Edgar was most interested in. Gideon forced a nervous laugh. “I remember the first night we stayed at the place of folks who’d lived in Bird-in-Hand but had moved to Montana. Their place was small, and all us kids slept on blankets lined up in front of the fireplace. We were supposed to be sleeping, but I was listening instead. In the adjoining kitchen the men were talking about bear hunting. I decided then I wanted to get me a bear. I wanted to be big like those guys.”
Gideon paused. He also remembered wanting to stand out—be special. With twelve brothers and sisters he often went unnoticed. He’d been just one of the boys, a name and a face among many. He blinked once slowly, and then turned to Edgar. He couldn’t tell the older man that. It seemed so foolish now.
