Saving Gideon (8 page)

He’d known he wouldn’t be able to keep her presence a secret for long, but he thought for sure and for certain it would be more than a day and a half.

“
Onkel.
”

“Gideon.”

Gideon tipped his head without making eye contact with either one of them. “Mary Elizabeth. Miss Hamilton.” He could barely look at his guest. Mary Elizabeth must’ve helped wash her hair. It looked silkier and darker than it had this morning and the kitchen smelled like apple shampoo. And fresh coffee. Both aromas were nearly irresistible.

“
Kaffi
smells
gut
.” He waved toward the stove.

Mary Elizabeth fell over herself trying to fetch a mug and fill it with the hot brew.

“I didn’t know you liked coffee,” his houseguest said.

There was a lot about him that she didn’t know. Like the fact that every time he closed his eyes last night, her image swam to the front of his mind.

Gideon tried to act as if nothing was amiss as he set the bags down on the floor next to the table and pulled out a chair. But he didn’t feel easy. He was
naerfich
, like a skittish horse.

Looking from one of them to the other, he took a sip. Caffeine surely wasn’t going to help, but he hadn’t had a cup of coffee in so long he’d almost forgotten what it tasted like.

“I-I was just leaving.” Mary Elizabeth tied the strings of her
kapp
under her chin, like
that
was going to make up for her staying longer than she should have. She glanced from him to Miss Hamilton. “
Grossmammi
made you some roasted chicken. And some bread.”

“And some cookies.” Miss Hamilton held one up for him to see.

They acted skittish, like he was going to bite their heads off. That in itself made him wonder what they had been up to all afternoon—besides hair washing.

“Speaking of cookies.” He bent down and retrieved one of the bags. “This one has the things you asked for. You might want to put the yogurt in the refrigerator. Mr. Anderson packed it in a brown paper sack with some ice, but it won’t stay fresh for long.”

“How clever.”

“Oh, they always do that,” Mary Elizabeth chimed in. “It takes a little while to get home in a horse and buggy, so we have to find ways to keep the perishables fresh.
Grossmammi
takes a ice chest and—”

“That’s enough, Mary Elizabeth. Miss Hamilton didn’t come here for lessons on Plain living. She’s not interested in such things.”

“Actually, I’m very interested. Don’t you have an ice chest, Gideon?”

He didn’t remember giving her permission to use his Christian name and yet it rolled off her tongue like honey. “No.” Thankfully, she let the subject drop and instead retrieved her yogurt and placed it in the refrigerator. She looked at the cookies as if she had changed her mind about them, then set the unopened package next to the bread box.

“I guess I should be going now.
Dat
wanted me to till up the vegetable garden today.” Mary Elizabeth made a face that let Gideon know exactly how she felt about growing vegetables.
Poor child
. The older she got, more and more was expected of her. Even with Katie Rose there to help, Gideon knew that taking care of Gabriel and the five boys had to be an overwhelming task.

He walked Mary Elizabeth to the door, Miss Hamilton beside him every step. On the porch, his niece hugged his houseguest as if they were longtime friends. Then she hopped on her bike, gave them both a wave, and pedaled toward the road.

It would do no good to ask her not to tell her father about Miss Hamilton, but he could only hope she didn’t rush home and spill it first thing. Maybe he’d have a couple of days before he had to explain why he had an
Englischer
living in his house, when he didn’t exactly know why himself.

It was after six by the time Gideon finished brushing down Molly and tossing out some fresh hay for the barn animals. He couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time to go inside. Find some supper.

Check on his houseguest.

Gideon scooped up some food for the pure-blood rat she called a pet and walked to the house with the tiny beast trotting along beside him.

He hesitated on the front porch, trying to decide whether to knock or just go in. It was his house, so he turned the knob without warning and went on inside.

The front room looked much as it did every day, except there was a woman in it. A violet-eyed, almost-pixie curled up on his couch fast asleep. She looked peaceful lying there, beautiful in her own
Englisch
way. She was a strange mix of her world and his with her too-short hair and his old clothes. Gideon resisted the urge to wake her. Instead, he fed her dog, then went to the kitchen.

Mary Elizabeth said that she had brought roasted chicken, and she had. No one made the dish like his
mudder
. Gideon pulled the meat from the bones and piled it, white and dark alike, on a plate. There were potatoes and carrots, too, and a fresh loaf of sourdough. He sliced the bread and arranged it on a plate. Then he poured them some milk and set everything on the table.

That’s when he noticed it. The front room was clean. Well, at least cleaner than it had been this morning. The mantel gleamed in the waning sunlight from the kitchen window. The floor had been swept, the rugs shaken out, and the china hutch dusted. The place hadn’t looked this good since he’d moved in.

No wonder she was asleep. She had been bee-busy this afternoon.

He debated with himself whether he should let her sleep or wake her up. She was his guest, and he couldn’t rightly sit down at the table and leave her to fend for herself.

But she looked so peaceful
. He stood over her and stretched a hand toward the soft, dark hair that gently curled against the nape of her neck. Then he thought better of it and nudged her shoulder.

She jumped as if she’d been poked with a prod, and jackknifed into a sitting position. “What time is it?” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.

“Suppertime.”

“I must have dozed off.”

“Come eat,” he said, and turned back toward the table.

They ate in silence. To Gideon, the food tasted better than it had in months, but he wouldn’t let himself believe it had anything to do with the dark-haired woman sitting across from him. No, the food tasted so good because of the physical exercise he’d done that afternoon. Mucking out the stalls and spreading clean, fresh hay all around on the barn floor. If he was going to sleep in the barn, the very least he could do for himself was to tidy it up. He supposed it was good for a body to move around and work. Just like his pampered companion.

He ducked his head over his plate, then cut his gaze back up to her. She looked dead on her feet despite her afternoon nap. She wasn’t used to such physical chores.

“Room looks nice.” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears.

“Thanks. The dusting gave me a headache. I must be allergic.”

“You want some more of Sister Clara’s tea?”

She shook her head. “Some Tylenol should help.”

He scraped up the last bite off his plate and walked to the sink.

Side by side they washed the dishes, dried them, and put them away.

She poured herself a glass of water while he fetched the headache pills.

A long moment stretched between them as he watched her down the Tylenol. She rinsed out her glass and placed it on the drain board.

“I guess I’ll wash up before bed.”

He braced one hip against the table and watched as she took out a big pot, filled it with water, and lit the stove to heat it. She looked as if she had been doing it her whole life. If not for her clothes and hair, she would have looked like any other Amish woman.

Well, maybe not
any
.

There was something special about Avery Ann Hamilton. Could the people in her life see it too? Maybe not. Maybe that’s why she wanted to stay with him and hide out on his farm.

She looked at him expectantly.

He hastily straightened up and cleared his throat. “I think I will too. Clean up. Before bed.” He stumbled over his words like a tongue-tied schoolboy. He was tired. That was all.

“’Night,” he said.

“Good night.”

She was yawning heartily when Gideon headed for the barn.

The sun was barely above the tree line when Gabriel pulled his buggy to a stop in front of his brother’s house. He hadn’t believed his ears yesterday afternoon when he’d come in from the fields and heard Mary Elizabeth telling Katie Rose about Gideon’s houseguest. An
Englischer
woman running ’round in barn door trousers and a man’s shirt? It was too unbelievable, but Mary Elizabeth knew better than to lie. That meant one of two things: either Gideon had completely lost his mind, or Gabriel’s level-headed daughter had.

He said a silent prayer for his brother, for there she was, sitting on the porch as if she belonged there. She had her bare feet propped up on the railing and a little dog at the base of her chair.

She stood as he got down and gathered the reins to lead his horses toward the watering trough. But they were both spared comment as Gideon came out of the barn.

Gabriel tried his best to hide his shock. Gideon had gone and done the unthinkable. He had shaved his beard.

“Brother!” Gideon called, but sheer surprise kept Gabriel’s own words from leaving his mouth.

Gabriel cast a sidelong glance at the woman, then grasped his brother around the arm and pulled him to one side.

“
Ach
, man. What are you doin’?” He continued before Gideon could open his mouth to reply. “I come to your house after hearin’ tales that you have a woman livin’ here, an
Englisch
woman, and I find that it is true. And your beard!”

Gideon’s arm twitched, no doubt a knee-jerk reaction to his words, resisting the urge to run a hand across his smooth-shaven face.

Gabriel watched his brother’s eyes, so much like his own, cloud with misery, then harden with resolve. “I do not deserve to wear a beard.”

“The bishop is not goin’ to allow this.”

“Then shun me.”

“It may come to that, brother.”

He had hoped his words would shock some sense into Gideon, but he just looked away.

Gabriel would have to say an extra prayer for Gideon tonight. He needed more than God’s guidance, he needed God’s intervention.

“I don’t want that,” Gabriel said, “I just want—”

“Everythin’ to go back like it was before. It can never be that again.”

Gabriel’s stomach dropped at the pain and grief etched across his brother’s face. He and Gideon had been so close growing up, nearly inseparable. Best friends as well as siblings. But Miriam and Jamie’s deaths had changed all of that. His brother’s body was still standing there, for the most part he looked the same. But his heart was missing.

Gabriel understood. He was a widower himself, but he and his Rebecca had been blessed with five fine sons and the most faithful daughter a man could ask for. They alone had kept him from going out of his mind when he lost his wife. Gideon didn’t have that kind of support. It was as if his soul had died with his family and all that was left was an empty shell of a body that walked and talked but no longer really lived.

And now this
Englischer
!

He glanced toward the porch. “How did she get here?”

“Miss Hamilton?”

“Is that her name?”

“
Jah
. She wrecked her fancy car in that big snowstorm. I helped her out of the cold.”

“She’s been here for
four
days?”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “What are you tryin’ to say, Gabe?”

“I’m worried about you, brother.”

“Worry is a waste of time.”

“I think I have good reason.” He nodded back to the
Englischer
.

Anyone could tell that she came from a different world. Privilege rolled off her in waves. Why she wanted to stay on an Amish farm was anybody’s guess, but Gabriel couldn’t help but be protective, if not suspicious. “She doesn’t belong here.”

“That may be, but I’ve invited her to stay.”