The Promise Box (22 page)

Gideon crumpled up the letter and tossed it on the ground of the corral. He couldn’t
believe his parents. First his dat for being worried about what people thought, and
then his mem for writing the letter. He was twenty-four years old—an adult. He didn’t
know if any of the other folks had figured it out, but he had nothing to be ashamed
of. He’d been just a little kid, right?

He bent over and picked up the letter, tucking it into his pants pocket. Just then
he heard whistling behind him. Gideon turned to see Lydia strolling toward him.

“Hey, there!” She waved. “I was hoping you’d be out here.”

She neared, and Gideon opened his arms. He was surprised that she stepped into his
embrace. But just as quickly she backed up again. For an Amish woman he wouldn’t expect
any less.

“Did you have a
gut
day at school?”

Lydia let out a heavy sigh and shrugged.

“That good, huh?” He forced a menacing glare. “Do I need to come and have a talk with
someone again?”

“Oh, dear no!” Lydia giggled. “I think she’d try to hide under my apron if she saw
your stern face.”

“She?”

“
Ja
, Ellie Sommer. She’s six, I believe…and something got into her today.” Lydia shook
her head. “But thankfully we all made it through the day.” She stepped forward and
reached a hand toward Blue, patiently waiting. “I don’t want to spend all our time
on my day. I want to know how your day was.”

“It was
gut
. I put a harness on Blue—to prepare him for pulling a buggy next—and we walked down
the road a bit.”

“Really?” Lydia clapped her hands together. “
Ja!
” Her face glowed with excitement, warming Gideon’s heart.

She reached up and softly patted his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. “This is great
news, don’t you think?”

Gideon ran a finger under his shirt collar, unsure of why he felt so warm, so happy.
Yet looking deeper into Lydia’s gaze, he saw something. Respect. He hadn’t seen that
much before—not directed to him, anyway.

“Well, if you want to see, we can take Blue back to the barn.”

Gideon led the way. The barn was spotless and the items he needed were hanging on
the wall just as he’d left them. The letter in his pocket made a crinkling sound as
he walked, but Gideon didn’t want to think about that. He could get used to being
with a woman who respected him. A woman who didn’t point a finger at his past. A woman
he could trust.

Lydia glanced around the barn. It looked new, as if it had just been built in the
last few years. She thought about asking Gideon why they’d chosen to teach Blue how
to pull a buggy, since the Carashes weren’t Amish, but she’d save that conversation
for another time—she didn’t want to take away the horse’s focus from his new job.

“This thing here is a collar.” Instead of talking to Lydia, Gideon turned his attention
to the horse. He held the leather oval up for Blue to see. Lydia couldn’t believe
how patient Gideon was in showing Blue the leather oval before placing it on him.
Even though she shouldn’t let her mind wander, she couldn’t help but think what Gideon
would be like with a child—their child.

With gentle motions Gideon buckled the collar beneath Blue’s neck. He pressed it against
the horse’s wide shoulders,
talking to him the whole time in a low tone, like a father would talk to his toddler.

“Snug, but not too tight to cut off oxygen,” he said. Lydia wasn’t sure if he was
talking to her or the horse.

Knowing what he needed next, Lydia moved to the hooks on the wall of Mr. Carash’s
new barn and took down the harness.

“You’re familiar in the barn,” Gideon commented.

“I’d follow Dat often. He didn’t have a son and didn’t mind me hanging around.”

“I can tell. Blue can tell. He doesn’t seem the least bit nervous that you’re in here
with us.”

With slow, gentle movements Gideon seated the hames on the collar, buckled the strap,
walked to the horse’s flank, and adjusted the breaching seat. Then he walked forward
again to connect the breast strap to the hames. He ran his hand ahead of him along
the horse’s muscles, speaking with low words as he did. Lydia stood silent, motionless
as he worked. She didn’t want to be a distraction—to Blue or to Gideon. She had the
same awe watching him work as she used to have for her neighbor who was a carver.
Gideon was like an artist as he worked with Blue—it was a gift indeed.

“I can’t believe this is the same animal they considered putting down,” she dared
to whisper.

“I like to hear you say that, Lydia. It makes me feel as if what I do matters.”

“It does matter…very much.” Her words weren’t more than a whisper, but you’d think
she’d shouted them by the way Gideon’s head swung around. His eyes locked with hers,
and his focus was intense, as if he was drawing strength from whatever he saw in her
gaze.

Not more than ten seconds later, Gideon turned back around and adjusted the belly
band. The horse had been
perfectly still the whole time, yet Blue blinked one slow blink when Gideon put the
bit into the horse’s mouth and fed the reins through the cheek rings.

When he finished, he led the way out of the barn. Blue matched Gideon’s steady stride.
“Do you want to go for a short walk with us, Lydia?”

“
Ja
.” The air had a light chill to it. She pulled her sweater tighter around her, wishing
she’d brought a scarf too. Yet being in this beautiful place was worth the cold.

Pine-shrouded hills stretched in every direction. In one of the nearby trees, two
birds carried on a conversation and then stopped. Gideon and Lydia walked along, neither
speaking. The silence was broken only by the dull thump of hooves.

They crested the hill as they neared the Sommer place, and Gideon paused his steps.
Lydia Wyse
, his gaze seemed to say,
what do you want from me?

“Just yer love,” she found herself muttering.

“What was that?”

“I was just responding, Gideon.”

“But I didn’t ask anything.”

“I know, but I’m a teacher. I can read things. I know which student really did tug
on Julia’s
kapp
string. I know who studied his spelling words and who was just guessing…even before
I grade the papers.”

“You can, eh? Okay, what am I saying now?”

He leaned close so his face was only six inches from hers. She looked up from beneath
her lashes and felt his breath on her forehead.

“You’re not saying anything. You’re asking.” Lydia lifted to her toes. “And yes, sir,
you may kiss me.”

Gideon blew out a low breath. “Well, I’ll be…You
are
a mind reader.”

As Gideon kissed her, the playfulness of a moment before disappeared, lifting like
vapors of dew under the sun. Warmth, eagerness, pressed against her lips. It was more
than attraction. It was validation. She took a step closer, opening her palm and pressing
it against his chest. Blue whinnied and Lydia pulled back. Then she heard it. The
sound of a truck coming down the roadway.

Gideon stepped back and held the reins tightly as the truck passed. She read worry
on his face. How would Blue perform? The truck rumbled by, and they waved to their
neighbor from down the road, yet Blue didn’t move.

“Do you see?” She pointed. “That was amazing. Blue didn’t budge.”

Gideon shook his head and scratched his cheek. “Unlike when you first drove into town.”

She glanced around at the dirt road, high mountain pastures, and trees. “You call
this a town?”

“Well, the area.” He shook his head.

“Back then, did you ever think it would come to this: me and you stealing kisses on
this very road?”

“
Ja
.” He nodded.

Lydia playfully slugged his shoulder. “You did not!”

“All right. I maybe didn’t think of this, but there was something about you then that
I was attracted to. There was a spark, Lydia. I don’t want you to lose that spark.”
He patted Blue’s side. “It’s like horse training. There are those who train a horse
by beating it down. The horse will obey but it is like a robot.”

“So you are saying you don’t want me to be an Amish robot?” She couldn’t help but
chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“It’s funny because I never thought I’d use those words together in a sentence.”

“No, I don’t want you to be an Amish robot. I want you to be the woman God created
you to be. One who happens to look beautiful in a
kapp
.”

She bent over and picked a wild daisy—the last one lining the road this season. “But
the more time we spend together, the more we seem to complement each other. I like
to write, you like to read.”

He nodded. “I like to eat, you like to cook.”

She considered the verse she’d read this morning from the Promise Box: “
Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart
.”

“It wonders me how a woman like you could care for someone like me,” Gideon said,
interrupting her thoughts. “Yer more than I ever dreamed of, Lydia. It’s like having
two dollars for one slice of Annie’s pie and then realizing you get the whole thing
for that price.”

“
Chust
a minute now.” She tucked her chin and made her Pennsylvania Dutch stronger than
normal. “Are you comparing me to pie?”

“
Ja
.” He reached out and touched her shoulder, running his palm down her arm like he
did when he was calming a horse—only it was his wild emotions he was trying to calm.
“What is it about you, Lydia?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve—I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

“I understand. It’s…” A dozen words flashed through her mind, too quickly to pick
just one.

“What?” he asked.

“Never mind. It’s silly.”

“No, tell me,” he insisted.

“Well, it’s like when I’m working on a paragraph. My mind tries to capture what I’m
thinking and feeling. I try to put into
black letters on a white page a glimpse of a moment—a part of me. And then the words
file into place, and I finally can stop holding my breath.” Heat rose to her cheeks
as butterflies spun and danced in her stomach. “You—you walking into my life made
sense to a story that was just a jumble of words before.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Your story?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Our story.”

They stood on the side of a road that smelled of sun and rain, and the patient gelding
stood by. One of Lydia’s stockings had pooled around her ankle and the wild grass
from the side of the roadway, blown by the warm breeze, tickled her skin.

Since the first moment he’d taken her hand in his during their walk she knew this
would happen. The emotions had bottled up like baking soda and vinegar, and they had
no way to escape except through her confession. “I want my story to be
our story
from now on, Gideon. Listen to me. I sound so desperate, don’t I?”

He glanced down at her and smiled, as if the words gave life to his soul.

She searched his face, waiting for him to say something—anything. “Aren’t you going
to respond?”

He shrugged. “I—I…”

“Mem always said my words were prettier than Bev Troyer’s garden at times, but don’t
feel you have to, well, be all eloquent,” she said. “Just say something…anything.”

“Do I have to?”

He stepped closer until his dirty work boots touched the toes of her brown shoes.

He lifted her chin, his touch so gentle she almost wasn’t sure if he touched her at
all, and then he bent to her.

Lydia reached a hand and cupped it around the nape of his neck. Her eyes fluttered
closed and his lips were on hers.
More forceful, yet gentle too—as if it took everything inside to restrain his emotion.

Her breaths grew short, and his arm circled around her back, lifting her inches off
the ground. Then, just as quickly, he released his grip.

Lydia slid back to the earth. Well, her feet touched down, but the emotions in her
chest soared like the hawk doing a lazy circle around the field.

“Wait…we…I…,” he said.

“Are you trying to use the English language, sir?” She winked at him, feeling the
heat again rise on her cheeks.

“
Trying
is a good word. Not succeeding.” He lifted his brimmed straw hat and rubbed his forehead.
“What I am needing to say is we—I—need to talk to yer dat. I don’t want you to think
that I will steal your kisses only to return to Ohio and break your heart.”

“You better not.” But then, realizing further what he was saying, Lydia crossed her
arms over her chest. Was he really going to talk to Dat about the next step in their
relationship—courting with plans to marry?

“How could I ever leave after I’ve had a taste of something so wonderful?” Gideon
grinned.