Saving Gideon (37 page)

“I want to go have a look at the hogs,” Gideon told his brother as they passed stalls of mares.

“
Ach
, but you could use a dray or two for your farmin’.”

He was right, of course. Molly and Kate couldn’t continue to be the only farm horses and pull the wagon every time he needed to go to town. Still, Gideon hadn’t turned his entire land over to growing crops, and he had the mule. He had plenty of pasture that would most likely remain grazing land. It was too hilly for much else. Buying horses to farm just seemed like too much of a commitment to Gideon. If he bought more work horses, then there was no turning back. He’d be a farmer, wholeheartedly. Or at least it would seem that way. Gideon wasn’t sure if he was ready to turn into a farmer.

That’s what you wanted
. The voice inside him whispered, but it wasn’t true. He’d just wanted to die, but then Annie came along and pulled him away from that ledge. He had made his peace and was ready to move on, but as much as he wasn’t ready to invest in livestock, he surely wasn’t ready to turn his entire farm into neatly-planted rows of corn and soybeans. He had agreed to buy pigs, and he bought a mule. What more could a man do?

Gabriel stopped. “Go on with you, then.” He waved Gideon toward the large door that led outside to the pens that held the swine. “Get your pigs. I’ll be here.”

Gideon heard the disappointment in his brother’s voice, but didn’t say anything to correct it as he made his way outside. He would never be able to explain to Gabe how he felt, how he needed to take the healing process at his own pace. There would come a time when it didn’t hurt so bad, the loss of his family and of Annie. Jumping in and buying draft horses wouldn’t make it go away now.

He walked among the
Englischers
and the pens, studying the pigs as he moved along. He wouldn’t need many, maybe three or four to start. A boar and a couple of sows. His goal wasn’t to breed pigs, but raise them for meat. He looked around the pens, taking note of a particular swine or two. A saddleback with a white belly. The most popular American Yorkshire with its straight up ears. All good lookin’ creatures. Well-cared for and healthy. He’d take his chances when they got to the auction block.

“Gideon Fisher?”

He turned at the sound of his name.

A familiar-looking man stood behind him. Gideon didn’t recognize him right away, then it dawned. “You breed alpacas.” The man was the breeder Gideon had talked to at the last auction when he had bought Buster the mule.

“That’s right. I didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Gideon shrugged. “
Jah
,” he said, pointing toward the pigs. “Thinkin’ about raising some swine. You sellin’ today?”

“That’s right.” He turned and pointed down the row. “Got a pen right back there. Some of the prettiest creatures you’ll ever want to see.”

“Have you now?”

“Would you like to come take a look?”

Gideon tried not to appear too interested. After all, he’d come for pigs. If he couldn’t be talked into a dray nag or two, he surely couldn’t be convinced to invest in alpacas. “Sounds fine,” he said. “Mighty fine.”

True love is hard to come by.

Even as he fed the dogs and poured chicken feed around the barnyard for the hens and the strutting rooster to enjoy, the words came back to haunt Gideon.

His
bruder
was right. Foolishly romantic, but right. Love didn’t come along every day, and he loved the dark-haired Miss Hamilton from Dallas, Texas. But was it true love? And what difference would it make if it were? They were too different. From opposite worlds. She seemed to fit into his easily enough, but for how long? How long could she go without the creature comforts she was accustomed to before the strain of Plain living became too much to shoulder? He knew one thing without a doubt—he could never survive in hers.

So the only thing he could do was to go on. Live. Court. Farm. They were the only options he had. So that’s what he would do. Live. Court. Farm.

He grabbed up the pitchfork and headed into the barn. Now was as good a time as any to start. Honey needed milking. Buster needed some oats. Molly and Kate needed to be brushed down.

There was something poignant in the air inside the barn, the sweet scent of hay and better times. His childhood spent running barefoot through the barnyard, chasing kittens, and milking the cows. There were times when he missed those days, the ones before he knew what could be snatched away.

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.”