Saving Gideon (7 page)

Avery laughed. “I think he likes you.”

She cradled him to her face. “I like him too. One day I’d like to . . .” She looked up. “I’m Mary Elizabeth.” She waded through the dogs to get to Avery.

“Nice to meet you. One day you’d like to what?”

Mary Elizabeth shook her head. “It’s not important. Where’s
Onkel
?”

“He’s gone to town.”

Her eyes got even wider than they had before. “
Town
town?”

“I suppose. He had some errands to run.”

“Wow!”

“Is that strange? That he went to town?”

Mary Elizabeth ducked her head. “He doesn’t get out much. Not since . . .” She looked away. “I brought roasted chicken.” She made her way back through the sea of wagging tails toward her bike. “
Grossmammi
made it. She’s my grandmother.”

“Gideon’s mother?”

Mary Elizabeth nodded, apparently relieved Avery got the whole family relationship thing. “That’s right.”

She pulled the large Tupperware bowl out of the basket on the front of her bike and handed it to Avery.

She took it, flabbergasted. Who was this new Gideon? Until now, she had thought him a loner with no one save the memories of his wife to keep him company. But now he was a man with a mother and a niece and at least one brother or sister.

Yet he didn’t “get out much” and kept to himself. And despite his devout faith, he didn’t pray.

“There’s bread too.
Grossmammi
always packs him bread.”

Avery didn’t have to ask to know that Gideon ate by the grace of his mother. Because he didn’t know how to cook? Or because he wouldn’t eat at all unless someone provided the food to him?

That haunted look she had seen in his eyes had not been a trick of the lighting at all. He was haunted, maybe even heartbroken, over the death of his wife. He must have loved her very much.

Avery sighed. She wanted a love like that. Many times she thought she’d found it. But one thing always stood in her way: her father’s money. Jack wasn’t the first. There was Max who wanted money to start his own business. Justin had wanted money to fund his research trips to Africa, and Tyler had just wanted money.

She supposed it came with the territory, being born into the Forbes top twenty and all. But she was—had been—just romantic enough to believe that one day she would find that special someone who could see past the dollar signs and the zeros after her name and get to the real person.

She knew now that it would always be about the money.

Avery shook away those thoughts. Louie scampered into the house in front of them as they carried the food inside.

Mary Elizabeth went about putting things away. “I have cookies,” she said, as if she harbored some dark and juicy secret. “They’re supposed to be for
Onkel
, but I don’t think
Grossmammi
would mind if we ate a couple. You can’t accept guests without an offering of food. It’s bad manners.”

“Guests?”

Mary Elizabeth’s dimples deepened. “I’m not really sure who’s the guest in this particular situation, but,” she paused, “I have cookies.” Her eyes twinkled as she unwrapped a cloth. She did indeed have cookies. Delicious sugar cookies with just the right amount of orange-flavored icing.

And she knew how to make coffee on the wood-burning stove. Good coffee.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked Avery as they sat across the table from each other eating the last of the cookies they dared to sneak.

Mary Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip, and Avery wasn’t sure if she wanted to answer the question. “Sure.”

“Why are you wearing my uncle’s clothes?”

Avery let out a soundless sigh of relief. “I came kind of unexpectedly, and I didn’t pack very well.” An understatement, but still true. “So your uncle loaned me these clothes until . . .” She really didn’t have the rest of that so she waved her hand around a little and let her voice trail off, hoping it would satisfy the inquisitive girl.

“Can I ask you something else?” She leaned forward in her chair, but waited until Avery’s nod before continuing. “Did you meet my uncle during his
rumspringa
?”

“I’m going to have to say no, because I don’t even know what a rum spring is.”

“
Rumspringa
. It’s when Amish boys and girls go out and experience the world before they join the church.”

“Then definitely, no.”

Mary Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, and she sucked in a breath. “That’s
your
car in the field! Isn’t it!”

“Yes.” Couldn’t get much past her.

“But why didn’t you go to town with
Onkel
?”

“Listen, Mary Elizabeth.” Avery sat down her half-empty coffee mug and eyed the young girl. “I’m going to be staying with your uncle for a couple of weeks. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone I’m here.”

“But that would be lying.”

“Not really. Not if no one
asked
you if your uncle has a visitor.”

She seemed to mull that over. “
Dat
would still call that a lie. And you’ll need a chaperone.”

“We do not need a chaperone.”

“Maybe
Dat
would let me come.”

“You have school.” Avery realized denying the need was not going to get her anywhere. Evidently the Amish had hang-ups—however noble and charming—about appearances. But there would be no need for worry, if Mary Elizabeth would just agree to keep quiet about the whole thing.

Mary Elizabeth pulled a face, typical teenager even in the Amish world. “Oh, I don’t go to school anymore.”

“You haven’t graduated?”

Mary Elizabeth drew herself up to her tallest height as if that could counter her cherub face and innocent eyes. “I am fourteen.”

“Oh.” Avery didn’t know how to respond. “And?”

“And I don’t go to school anymore. My job now is to help my
dat
with the boys, and to cook and clean.”

“And not go to school.”

“I have passed the eighth grade and learned all I need to know.”

If only that were true for us all.

Mary Elizabeth shook her head, a smile wiping away the tension on her face. “You
Englisch
are so funny. You go to school for years and years, but Amish go to school until the eighth grade. Then they go home and learn how to be Amish husbands and wives.”

“And that’s where you learn how to . . . ? Avery waved a hand toward the wood-burning stove.

“Make coffee?”

“Light the stove.”

Mary Elizabeth nodded. “
Jah. Dat
taught me.”

Dat, dat, dat
. All the young girl ever mentioned was her father. Avery wasn’t sure about Mary Elizabeth’s mother, but after her blunder with Gideon the night before, she wasn’t about to ask.

Avery pointed toward the stove. “Can you teach me how to light it?”

“You want to learn?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll teach you.”

Mary Elizabeth, as it turned out, was a patient teacher. After the fifth try, Avery finally got the hang of it. Then Mary Elizabeth showed her how to put the grounds into the pot and boil the water to make the coffee. Avery sighed. Tomorrow morning she’d have fresh coffee. Even if she had to make it herself.

“Is this how you make coffee when you are at your home?”

Avery shook her head. “I don’t usually make coffee, but I think there’s an electric coffee maker.”

“You
think
?”

“I don’t go to the kitchen much. Our cook.” Avery shuddered. “Mean, little Austrian woman. She makes a fine strudel, but don’t dare set foot in the kitchen to try and get some for yourself.”

Mary Elizabeth laughed, and suddenly stopped. “There is one person who lives with you and all she does is cook?”

Avery nodded.

“Do you have a really big family?”

“Just me and my father.”

“And does your father eat a lot?”

Avery hid her smile before answering. “No more than average.”

Mary Elizabeth seemed to mull that over. “Who does the cleaning?”

“The maids, I suppose.” She’d never really given it much thought.

“And do they wash the clothes?”

“Yes.” What didn’t get taken to the cleaners.

“Katie Rose does most of our washing. But I help. She’s my aunt.”

Another Fisher sibling? “It’s good that you help.”

“I suppose, but—”

“But what?”

“Do you know how to cook?”

“No.”

“Do the washing?”

“No.”

“Can you iron?”

“No.”

Mary Elizabeth sat back in her chair, the look on her face both horrified and fascinated. “How long did you attend school?”

“A long time,” Avery answered, not wanting to give the details. She held two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s, but there were times when she’d never learn. She could speak three languages. She had charmed foreign diplomats and helped her father seal multi-million dollar deals, but none of that mattered here. She couldn’t light a stove. Couldn’t prepare a meal. What good was book learning in the Amish world?

“I don’t think any education is wasted.” Avery hated the defensive edge that had crept into in her voice.

Mary Elizabeth’s expression turned wistful. “I guess not. But it is prideful.”

Avery had never really thought about it that way, but to a certain point, education and what a person did with it was on the braggart side. Parents wanted doctors and lawyers for their sons and daughters, whether by learning or marriage. The average cocktail party greeting started with who you were and what you did for a living. Framed diplomas and class ranking . . . what did it matter here?

“I suppose,” was all she could manage in reply. Instead she poured herself another cup of coffee, enjoying it all the more since she had made it.

“You’re very pretty.”

“Th-thank you.” Mary Elizabeth’s sweet comment caught her off guard. She didn’t feel very pretty wearing Gideon’s castoffs and no makeup.

Avery raised a hand to the matted mess atop her head. She had used a rag the night before and wiped at the blood and tangles, but she had been trying to figure out a way to really wash it. The bucket by the fireplace could only hold so much water. And since the snow had melted away, Gideon had stopped making a fire altogether.

“Mary Elizabeth,” Avery started, almost ashamed of herself. She was supposed to be keeping her presence a secret, but she had shared cookies, learned how to light the stove and make coffee. Now she was about to ask for the biggest favor of them all. “Can you help me wash my hair?”

Surprise lit her angelic features. “Wash it?”

“It’s just that the water is cold. I thought maybe I could heat some, and you could help me. You know, pour it and such.”

“Oh, that’s right. Uncle Gideon doesn’t have a heating unit for his water.”

“Heating unit? You mean that some Amish families have hot, running water?”

“Of course. We’re not hillbilly. We’re just Amish.”

“And you have hot running water at your house?”

“
Jah
. And at
Grossmammi’s
too. Most of the families around these parts have it.”

“But electricity—”

“Isn’t needed. We use windmills to pump the water to the house and propane to heat it.” She shrugged as if to say,
It’s as simple as that
.

“So how does your uncle heat his water?”

“I don’t think he much cares.” The statement was sweet and melancholy. “Not since . . . I’ll help you. Wash your hair,
jah
. You light the stove, and I’ll get a towel from the washroom.”

In no time at all, Avery was bent over the sink while Mary Elizabeth poured the warm water over her head. She quickly cleaned her hair with the shampoo the young girl had brought in with the towel. Ramon, her hairdresser, would faint a thousand times over if he could see her now—discount shampoo, no conditioner, and rural water heated on a wood-burning stove. But her hair was clean and felt better than it had in days.

“The family that owned this house—before
Onkel
bought it—jumped the fence.” Mary Elizabeth dried Avery’s hair with the fresh-smelling, snow-white towel.

Avery frowned. “Whose fence? The one in the backyard?”

Mary Elizabeth laughed out loud, but Avery didn’t see anything humorous.

“
Jumped the fence
means they left the community.” Mary Elizabeth mopped her eyes with the tail end of her apron. “They turned Mennonite.”

“You can do that?”

“
Jah
. Of course. Not many leave though. And fewer still join up. Most
Englischers
have a problem leaving their luxuries behind.”

“What made them leave?”

“Well . . .” Mary Elizabeth paused. “It’s a sin to gossip, but I heard that the missus had a hankerin’ for a few of the finer things. Her husband tried to appease her, but she had a sister who turned Mennonite, and she wanted what her sister had. He built her a bathroom and got running water to the house, but she convinced him to leave before he could do much else. I heard tell they live in Missouri now.”

“And your uncle bought this farm from them?”

“After he sold . . .” She paused. “Maybe we should give your puppy a treat.”

“Louie V. is spoiled enough.” Avery folded a crease in her pants, mulling over ways to turn the conversation back to Gideon and the house.

“Louie V. is a cute name, but odd.”

“He’s named after . . .” Confessing her dog carried the name of her favorite designer seemed shallow and superficial, even for a socialite from sin-city Dallas. Avery shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I should go.” Mary Elizabeth gathered up their coffee mugs and took them to the sink.

Avery had a feeling the young girl was doing her best to steer the conversation away from her uncle and the farm. She followed after her. “What’s your hurry?”

At the sound of Gideon’s voice, they both whirled around.

4

T
he last thing Gideon expected to see when he returned home from town was Mary Elizabeth’s bicycle parked out in front of his house. That wasn’t entirely true—it was the second to last thing. The actual last thing was his houseguest in the kitchen swapping stories with his niece.