Saving Gideon (6 page)

Just then, Gideon strode around the side of the house, Louie V. following behind like a lovesick groupie.

“My word,” Avery admonished, looking at the mess of her pedigreed dog. “Look at you!”

His paws were caked with dirt and mud, and the silvery bow she’d tied to his topknot was missing. The longer hair around his face hung free, blowing back as he trotted after his new friend.

Gideon stopped, glancing down at himself before shrugging.

“Not you.
Him
.” She pointed at Louie. “He’s filthy.”

“A little dirt never hurt nobody.”

“Says you.” She admonished him with a quick glare toward his mud-crusted boots.

“It’ll be good for him.”

“I don’t see how.” Her beautiful dog was, well, he was disgustingly dirty.

“Because he’s a sissy dog.” Any sting in Gideon’s words faded as he scooped the animal into the crook of one arm and joined her on the porch. “Time for dinner, no?” He opened the door and carried her pedigreed pooch inside as pretty as you please, leaving Avery no choice but to follow.

“No,” she said, the screen slamming as she entered the house. Maybe it was her father’s voicemail. Maybe it was the physical state of her dog. Or maybe it was the fact that her precious baby abandoned her for their host. Whatever the reason, a spark of annoyance flared inside Avery. “It’s not time for dinner. It’s time for
lunch
.”

Gideon turned to face her. “Around here we call the noon meal dinner. It is noon, so it’s time for dinner,
jah
?” Something in his quiet smile or the way he held her dog made her anger melt away as quickly as it had come.

“
Jah.
” Avery smiled, mimicking him.

“Here.” He thrust the dog into her arms along with a warm, wet rag. “You clean his feet, and I’ll get our
dinner
.”

Avery hid another smile as she gently wiped the mud from Louie V.’s tiny paws, all the while watching Gideon from under the cover of her lowered lashes. She just couldn’t figure him out. Gideon, that was. One minute he acted like he would rather she were anywhere but here, and the next he was caring for her dog as if he loved Louie as much as she—which was impossible.

He lived in this house alone. He had evidently been taking care of himself for a while. And he didn’t have a beard. That was one thing Avery did remember Jack saying about the Amish. The men grew beards—but not moustaches—after they got married. But Gideon didn’t have a beard, so it would stand to reason he didn’t have a wife. And that was something which piqued her curiosity. He wasn’t
that
moody. In fact, he was a good-looking man, caring and gentle, and hardworking. No, the house wasn’t perfect. The inside was dusty and careworn and the outside needed a couple coats of paint, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be corrected. He wasn’t a genius or a millionaire, but to a caring, gentle, hardworking young Amish woman, he’d be quite a catch.

Avery finished Louie’s feet and sat him down, then chanced another look at her host. Once again he had pulled the container of cold roast beef from the bottled gas-powered refrigerator along with the half-empty bowl of potato salad. Once again he carved thick slices of the dark rye bread, then motioned her over to join him. And once again—and she watched closely this time—he did not bow his head before digging into the meal.

They ate in silence, Gideon making no attempt at conversation. Avery wasn’t offended. She wasn’t sure if quiet meals were part of the Amish culture, but she had been eating alone for so many years, she didn’t think twice about eating her fill without saying a word.

Afterward, they washed the dishes together, and Avery couldn’t believe herself—washing dishes not once, but two days in a row. It wasn’t so bad, and again the thought of a wife popped into her head. Back home, the houses were always spotless. Her father kept a team of domestics to clean everything from the garage and pool to the attic and kitchen. Surely such an undertaking would be the duty of the wife. After all, she had heard the Amish weren’t big supporters of equal rights. So why was Gideon standing beside her rinsing and drying while she washed?

She glanced down at his left hand as he took the last plate from her. No ring, and no sign there had ever been one. But that didn’t mean anything. She thought she’d read once that the Amish didn’t wear jewelry of any sort—including tokens of their vows.

So he could have a wife and no ring. A wife who had gone to visit family or friends. Or maybe to help someone in need. It would explain why he didn’t want to stay in the house alone with her.

“Gideon, are you married?”

He stopped, his fingers white-knuckled as he gripped the plate she’d just handed him. Then he seemed to visibly relax. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how tense he’d been.

“She died,” he said quietly. Then he set the plate down with a gentleness that belied the grip he’d had on it just seconds before, and stalked away.

She watched him stride out of the house and tried to tell herself that she
needed
to know what had happened. What if there was something wrong with him? What if he was some sort of crazy, a deviant who went around rescuing women from freak spring snowstorms, feeding them and giving them shelter and wheelbarrow rides and then . . .

Who was she trying to kid? She wanted to know because he intrigued her. She bit the inside of her lip and stared at the empty doorway. She could have picked a better way to ask though, instead of blurting it out like a teenager.

And hurting him.

She found him in the barn, in the same spot where he’d been that very morning. He sat there in the cool dimness, elbow braced on one knee, twirling a straw of hay between his thumb and forefinger. Like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“I believe it’s my turn,” she said, softly approaching him.

He looked up slowly as if he had known she was there all along, but wasn’t going to acknowledge her until she spoke first. Still he said nothing.

“To apologize.”

“It’s not necessary.” He tossed the hay aside, but didn’t meet her gaze. She had the feeling that if he did, she would see pain and vulnerability etched there. He must have loved his wife very much.

“It is.” She took another step toward him. “I was callous and hurtful and—”

“It’s fine.” His words grew louder, his jaw clenched.

Avery wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her . . . or himself.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, then turned to go back into the house.

“Tomorrow mornin’.” He halted her progress with those two simple words. “I’ll take you to town tomorrow mornin’. First thing.”

She spun around to face him. “I’ve been thinking about that.”

“You can call your people to come and get you. A fancy tow truck for what’s left of your car. I’ll stay with you if you like.”

“I’d like to stay here with you for a while.”

He opened his mouth, but shut it again instead.

“Just for a couple of days. I don’t want to be a bother, but I don’t want to go home right now.”

“I don’t—”

“I can pay you.”

“I do not need money.”

Good plan, Avery
. Tempt a man with such simple needs with the vulgar offer of cash. “Then I can help out. Paint the house.”
How hard could that be?
“Help you with chores.” After all, if she could wash dishes in frigid water she could do almost anything.

He opened his mouth once again, she was certain, to tell her no.

She kept her gaze on him, her voice pleading. “Gideon, please.” She was unsure why it was so important for her to stay. Maybe because today had been the most peaceful day she’d ever had. She could use a few more before heading back to Dallas and all the questions and sad stares and whispers behind her back that were sure to come.

He cocked his head. “Just a couple of days?”

Avery resisted the urge to smile in triumph. “No one even needs to know I’m here.”

3

T
he roads are clear,” Gideon said over a cold breakfast the following morning. Avery stared into her bowl of homemade granola cereal and fresh milk, then glanced longingly at her glass of orange juice. If only it were coffee. Gideon seemed not to notice the lack of caffeine to jump-start the day, or perhaps he didn’t need it.

But Avery did. Boy, did she.

She wasn’t about to tell Gideon, though. She wasn’t sure why he had agreed to let her stay, but he had. That was all that mattered. And she wasn’t about to upset things now with something as unnecessary—though much loved—as coffee. He had only agreed to a couple of days, but she was confident that when the time came, she could convince him to let her stay awhile longer. Until then, it was peaceful country living. Three wonderful weeks of quiet and solitude—much-needed quiet and solitude.

“Can’t leave your fancy car in that field forever.”

Of course he couldn’t leave her car where it was. He couldn’t very well plant around it, now could he? “You don’t have to worry about that. I called a wrecker yesterday. I guess there were quite a few accidents the other night.” She stole a look at him. “They can’t get out here until tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“
Jah
.” He stood and once again Avery was struck with just how
big
he was. “But I have other business in town as well.”

Avery drained the last of her juice, then stacked their plates and carried them to the sink. “Are you going to a store? Can you pick me up something while you’re there?”

Gideon hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. “Whatever you’d like.”

“Strawberry yogurt. The low-fat kind, please. And some Oreo cookies.” She smiled her best “pretty-please” smile.

He stared at her as if she had lost her mind.

“Is that all right? Can you do that?”

He nodded, but continued to give her that strange look.

“I’ll pay for it. Here.” She thrust her credit card into his unsuspecting hands. “That should take care of my stuff and anything else we need. Supplies and such.” She shrugged one shoulder.

Gideon turned the thin piece of plastic over in his hands, then gave it back. “No.”

“But—”

“We’ll square it up later. For now I’m goin’ to town. I’ll get your yogurt. And your cookies. I’ll get some supplies, too, but I’ll not be usin’ your fancy money.”

His voice rang with finality, and Avery knew better than to try and change his mind. Instead, she watched from the living room window as he harnessed his horses, Molly and Kate. A man in a wide-brimmed hat seated in a dark buggy with an orange caution triangle posted on the back and two beautiful, shiny brown horses pulling at the front. They made quite a sight ambling down the country road. Had it not been for the modern safety measure, she would have believed she’d stepped back in time.

Gideon’s farm
felt
like another time. A slower time without the stress and modern demands she constantly faced. She could breathe here—breathe and breathe easy.

Avery stepped out onto the porch and inhaled deeply. She hadn’t had a Xanax since she found Jack in his hotel room with another woman. Hadn’t felt the need, that crushing pressure of anxiety on her chest, the weight of the world on her shoulders. This was the perfect place to hide out, relax, and gather herself before returning to Dallas.

Avery sank into the wooden rocker and propped up her feet on the porch railing. It had quickly become her favorite spot. She could sit on the porch for hours, the wind blowing her hair, the smell of spring on the breeze. The rocker sat in the cool shade, but the tips of the sun’s rays touched the ends of her toes.

She should have asked Gideon to bring her some clothes from town, but that seemed like too much of an imposition. She glanced out to the horizon. It really didn’t matter what she wore, no one was going to see her anyway and that in itself was liberating.

Louie scratched at the door, whining to be let out. Or maybe he was already missing Gideon.

With a sigh, Avery opened the screen. He trotted down the porch steps and scampered over to where the big boys lay in front of the barn. In addition to Gideon’s pack, there were at least three extra dogs gathered in the shade—a big black one, a medium-sized spotted one, and a rusty-yellow dog that was missing one leg. Louie V. flopped down beside them, like he’d always been one of them. They in turn barely acknowledged his presence, like he had been doing it for years.

And like she’d been doing it for years as well, Avery returned to her rocker where she could watch the cars pass by on the country road. Not that there were many. That’s exactly why no one would know she was on the farm. It was too far out for anyone to just “drop by.”

A flash on the road told her someone was near. Probably an “Englisher”—as Gideon called non-Amish folk—out driving around to catch a glimpse of the Amish going about their daily routine. Avery smiled to herself. They sure would be surprised if they caught sight of her in Plain men’s clothing and her modern haircut.

Before Avery could move into the house, a young Amish girl pulled her bicycle to a stop in the yard. Gideon’s dogs, the extras, and Louie V. all jumped up and ran to greet her, tails wagging and tongues lolling as they barked out their welcome.

A little on the plump side, her pale blue dress tightened at the waist. She had a round, pleasant face that was both sweet and unassuming. She put down the kickstand and turned toward the house.

Avery wasn’t sure which of them was the most surprised.

The girl’s cornflower blue eyes widened. “I—” She stammered, then glanced around as if to make sure she was at the right house. “My uncle lives here.”

“Yes, I know.” Really, what else could she say? “I’m Avery Hamilton, your uncle’s . . . guest.” So much for no one knowing she was there.

“Is this your dog?” She crouched down and was immediately swallowed up by the prancing legs and swinging tails. Her head popped up above the fray. “Can I hold him?”

“Sure.”

When the young girl stood again, she held Louie in her arms while he tried with all his might to lick every bit of her he could reach.