The Promise Box (24 page)

L
ydia watched the clock, scanning the roadway for the sheriff’s vehicle. It had been
forty minutes already. She knew he had to drive up from Eureka, and she wished there
was more that she could do than just wait. As she looked around, the other women and
older men had the same look—a mix of anxiousness and helplessness.

Thankfully, all the parents had come to be with their children. Other women came from
the community, too, and they huddled in small groups talking in low tones. Some mothers
asked the children what they remembered—hoping to find another clue—but all said the
same thing: one minute they’d seen Ellie on the swing, and a few minutes later she
was nowhere to be found.

An
Englisch
woman approached. Lydia had only seen her around the store one or two times. “I knew
something like this would happen.” She narrowed her gaze and focused it on Lydia.
“This is why Amish schools should be regulated. I don’t understand how the government
lets you people get away with this. One teacher—no helpers.” The woman looked around.
“There isn’t even running water or an indoor bathroom in this
place. And they claim to educate children here? It should be illegal.”

Tears filled Lydia’s eyes as she saw it from the woman’s point of view. She didn’t
have a doubt that some of her Seattle friends would be saying the same thing. Instead
of responding, Lydia only nodded. This wasn’t the time to discuss it, but that didn’t
keep the words from adding another jab of pain to her heart.

Another
Englisch
woman, this one with cropped brown hair, approached Lydia, butting in. “Do we know
why she left?” she asked. “Or could it be possible that someone took her?”

“I—Uh…I don’t know. I suppose…” She hugged herself. “I hope not.”

Why hadn’t she thought of that? If she’d still been in Seattle, that would have been
the first thing she thought of. But here?

“Actually, I do think she left.” It was Marianna’s voice. She approached and stopped
next to Lydia, placing a hand on her arm. “I stopped by to talked to Lydia—Miss Wyse—which
is why she wasn’t outside. I also think my showing up is what triggered Ellie’s leaving.”

Lydia studied Marianna’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I bet Ellie saw me and assumed she was in trouble. After all, she has been acting
up.”

Lydia nodded, running a hand down her neck. “
Ja
, I bet you’re right. Oh, poor Ellie.” She stepped closer and put an arm around Marianna’s
shoulders. “Children do these things. They have so much to learn. We’ll just keep
trusting that God is with her, and that He’ll lead the right person to her.”

Marianna sighed. “
Ja
, we’ll just keep trusting that.”

Gideon climbed over the fence and strode across the pasture. He looked behind him,
and there was the school. Straight ahead—less than a mile away—he could see the Sommer
house and the Carash and Wyse places beyond that. He’d never seen any children in
the pasture before—Blue’s wild nature had made sure of that.

He resisted the urge to jog through the pasture. Instead Gideon walked with slow,
even steps as his eyes swept from side to side. “Ellie! Ellie!”

Tension tightened his shoulders, grasped his throat. The fall day was warm—warmer
than it had been in a few days. The air smelled of sunshine and pasture grass, but
Gideon had to push away the feelings of darkness that threatened to creep over him.

His stomach ached and he wrapped his arms around himself as a shiver ran up his spine.

“Ellie!” Suddenly he wasn’t Gideon the grown man. Inside he felt like Gideon the little
boy. It had been dark, cold. He’d cried and cried, but no one had come. No one had
been there. He’d wandered off. It was his fault. He deserved to be lost.

Gideon walked on, calling Ellie’s name. He searched the high mountain pasture, but
in his mind’s eye he pictured himself alone.

Another prayer slipped from his lips. “Lord, be with this child. Watch over this child.
Protect this child.”

Even as he prayed for Ellie, his mind took him back to another group of men, women,
and children—families that no doubt had been praying for him.

Gideon stopped short. In his thoughts he still saw himself, but for the first time
he saw another there too. He pictured Jesus, with eyes of compassion, looking down
at him. Jesus didn’t point a finger or blame him for walking away. Instead
He stood there, watching over Gideon, answering the prayers of the people of West
Kootenai in unseen ways.

“You were with me.” A burden of pain released from Gideon’s shoulders as he said those
words. “Jesus, You are with Ellie.” His steps felt lighter and hope radiated through
his heart. “You are with me still.”

Something ahead caught Gideon’s attention. A spot of red in the brown wild grass.
At first he thought it was a small red shoe, but when he bent down and picked it up,
he saw it was a red handkerchief. One that he used to wipe his sweaty brow when he
was in this pasture training Blue. He must have dropped it.

“Blue.” Gideon scanned the pasture. Where was the horse? He’d let him loose out here
before heading to the school. Gideon looked toward the Carash house. Had someone put
him in the corral? He wasn’t there. Fear leapt to Gideon’s throat again. Had Blue
somehow gotten out?

Typically, Gideon couldn’t take one step into the pasture without the horse seeing
him and heading his direction.

Gideon turned in a slow circle again, his eyes searching the trees at the far edge
of the pasture.
There
. He spotted the horse standing about twenty feet back in the trees.

What in the world? Blue was looking his direction, but he didn’t budge. Gideon put
two fingers to his mouth and whistled, but still the horse didn’t move. The horse’s
ears were perked, but instead of coming to Gideon, Blue gently pawed the ground.

Gideon’s heartbeat quickened again, but this time from excitement. He broke into a
full run across the pasture, hoping Ellie was indeed there at Blue’s feet. Hoping
she was all right.

When he neared the horse, Gideon slowed his pace a little. A white
kapp
caught his attention. He wanted to whoop, but settled for a smile.

Ellie sat behind a tree stump. She motioned for Blue to go away. The horse paid her
no mind. He stood patiently by her side.

Gideon approached with slow steps. “Ellie.”

The young girl’s eyes were wide as she turned to him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She lowered her head and shrugged.

“Did you run away?”

Ellie didn’t look at him, but she did nod slowly.

“Do you know you have many people worried? Your dat, mem, your brothers. Marianna
and Miss Wyse.”

Ellie pouted. “Mari is mad at me. She’s gonna tell Mem.”

“Tell Mem that you weren’t listening to Miss Wyse?”

Ellie nodded again.

Gideon opened up his arms, stretching them toward the young girl. “Tell you what:
if you come back with me, I’ll talk to Marianna, Miss Wyse, and yer mem for you. I’ll
make sure they don’t get mad. In fact, I think they’re going to be happy to see you.
Would you like that?”

Ellie nodded again before standing and hurrying into his arms. Gideon picked her up,
hugging her to his chest.

“Thank You,” he whispered. “Thank You, God, for protecting this child. Thank You for
watching over us both.”

L
ydia looked at the piece of paper from Mem’s Promise Box and smiled as she read the
words:

“I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee,” Hebrews 13:5
. It had been the verse she’d pulled from the box last night, and it couldn’t be more
appropriate. God hadn’t left Ellie. God had protected the girl—protected all of them.
God had even allowed Gideon to be the one to find the girl. His face had glowed when
he’d carried her on one arm into the schoolyard. The healing had begun—deep healing.
She saw it in his eyes.

The community had gathered again to rejoice at the school. Everyone had been safe.
God had taken care of them. They all decided to take the next day off—just for families
to be together. Many women also stepped up and offered to come and help Lydia during
the day. It had been their fault, they said, for expecting one woman to do so much.
They didn’t blame her. Rather they blamed themselves and were ready to make a difference.
Lydia was thankful. Not only for the help, but for God’s reminder that she couldn’t
do it all alone—and that He didn’t expect her to.

Then, just as she and Gideon were heading out of the
schoolyard to go home and tell her dat of the excitement, Dave Carash stopped them.
He’d asked them to give him some time the next day. Said he needed to talk to them
both. Lydia would have been worried if she hadn’t seen deep compassion in the man’s
gaze.

Morning had come, and her heart was still full of thankfulness. Lydia had pulled Mem’s
rocking chair onto the porch and rocked as she waited for Gideon. When she saw him
ahead she tucked the Scripture verse back into the Promise Box and set it just inside
the door. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she called to Dat.

“
Ja
, have a
gut
time.”

She couldn’t help but jog down the steps and rush to Gideon. He wore a soft smile,
but his eyes looked weary.

“Hey, you.” She offered him a quick hug. “Looks like you haven’t slept a wink.”

He chuckled. “That obvious?”

“
Ja
. Are you worried? Do you think there is a reason Dave wants to talk to you?”

Gideon shrugged and they headed back the direction he’d just come. “I don’t know.
I’ve been wondering…into the wee hours. I suppose we’ll find out.”

Lydia slid her hand into his. “You know what?”

“Hmm?” he responded, but she could tell his mind was someplace else. “What’s that?”

“I’ve decided that by your side is my favorite place to be.”

His steps slowed slightly. “
Vell
, that’s
gut
.”

“I wouldn’t rather be anyplace else. Doing anything else.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Not even writing that book you’ve been wanting to write?”

Lydia’s spine straightened like one of the tall pine trees
outside the window. Should she tell him of the notebooks she’d been filling up? Bonnie
had texted that her notebooks made it and the manuscript was in capable hands. She
had nothing for him to read. He’d have too many questions. Her heart beat against
her rib cage, and though truth pushed against her lips, fear kept them corked. If
he knew everything would he still love her?

She’d tell him—she would. She needed the right words first.

An invisible wall rose between them. One she knew too well. A wall of shame that God’s
love and light were just starting to penetrate. She needed more time. Soon enough
he could discover everything—her whole heart—for himself.

“No.” She shook her head. “I like being with you even more than that. And,” she hurriedly
continued, changing the subject, “I’ve been thinking about something else too.”

“What’s that?”

“After the experience with Ellie, I’ve decided I don’t want to live anywhere else.
Everyone—well, almost everyone—was so
gut
. Amish and
Englisch
alike. It’s as if the dividing line isn’t as thick or long here. The Amish people
here are different. I like that.”

“
Ja
, they’re good people.” Gideon nodded. His eyes glanced over, and the worry eased.
“They shed a few pounds of rules when they come to Montana, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“
Vell
, folks do not end up in Montana by accident. It takes a lot of work to transplant
to a new place, even for a season. It takes boldness to walk away from a safe community
into an unsafe one—and when I say unsafe I’m not talking about the rugged peaks or
the dangerous animals like bears and such. I’m talking about the dangerous
people
. The Amish who attend
prayer meetings. The
Englisch
who run to their Amish neighbor’s side whenever there is a need.”

Gideon softly chuckled. “And then there’s that Amish woman who left the Amish to marry
a singer who loves God. Marianna is such a rebel. Or even the parents who allow a
recently
Englisch
woman to teach their children.”

“I see what you’re saying.”

“It’s as if, when the winds blow through the mountain passes, stretching down to the
log homes, it’s not just the wind. It’s more like the Spirit of God that jest can’t
leave things be. He brings winds of change.”

As if highlighting his words, a light, cool wind blew from the south, brushing Lydia’s
cheek and causing a collection of dry leaves to dance over her shoe tops as they scurried
across the road.

Gideon watched them. “It’s like when one removes the chaff from the wheat. Moving
to Montana is like taking a pitchfork to all yer thoughts and ideas, and as you toss
them up the wind carries away the meaningless until only the wheat—the substance—remains.”

“It sounds as if you’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“I have been thinking about it—even before this incident with Ellie—and over the last
few days, I’ve talked to Caleb about it too. It seems only a special sort of people
move here for good. Ones who are willing to face the wind and be sifted.”

They neared the Carash house, and Gideon slowed his steps. The look in his eye told
her he had more to say before he met with Dave.

“Sifted as wheat.” She muttered those words, sure they were in the Bible somewhere.
She was sure she’d just read it recently. That was one thing about Mem’s Promise Box:
the Scripture passages were good, but not enough. It was like
nibbling on snacks when her soul wanted dinner. Because of that she’d asked Dat for
Mem’s Bible, deciding she needed to read it for herself. Discover more of God’s promises
for herself.

Gideon blew out a breath. “The sifting doesn’t leave the wheat still and unharmed.
It rips it apart. And I’ve been thinking, Lydia, what if the pain we all face is for
a purpose?”

“What do you mean?”

“My parents always say,” he continued, “‘God’s ways are best. We need to trust Him.’
But that always put a bitter taste in my mouth. If He is a good God, a loving God,
why do bad things have to happen? Why does a sweet Amish woman who just lost her husband
have to deal with being raped?” Gideon squeezed her hand tighter. “Why does a
gut
Amish man who was trying to help a lost boy have to die and his wife and children
suffer?”

Gideon sighed. “Yet, from the horrible act your birth mother faced, you were born—a
gift to your parents and something I’m thankful for.”

“And about that man—that Amish man that saved your life? Has God spoken to your heart
about that?” Lydia softly bit her lower lip, hoping God had.

Gideon lowered his head but didn’t answer.

Dear Lord, please help Gideon find peace for his soul
.

Finding Ellie had only been the beginning of God at work. Lydia knew God wanted to
do more. He always wanted to do more.

Dave Carash drove them to the last place Lydia expected: the small cemetery where
many of the faithful citizens of the West Kootenai area were buried. Gideon placed
a hand on
Lydia’s back as they walked through the simple metal gate. Her eyes moved to the grave
where Mem had been laid to rest. A simple stone marker gave Mem’s name and dates of
her birth and death. Unlike the
Englisch
, the Amish she knew never wrote more than that. They never wrote things like
Mother, Sister, Friend
or even sweet sayings like
Forever in Our Hearts
. Maybe it was because the Amish believed it was God alone who saw the soul—who knew
what was deep in a person’s heart.

The last time Lydia had been there, Dat’s neighbors had just started filling in a
gaping hole in the ground where Mem’s coffin lay. Months later, the grass hadn’t completely
grown over the spot, but some had. Time had passed and things had changed. But she
had changed most during that time.

Lydia expected Dave to say something about Mem, but instead he turned to Gideon.

Dave cleared his throat. “There’s one thing unique about this cemetery. My guess is
that it’s one of the few places where Amish and
Englisch
are buried side by side.”

Gideon nodded and looked to Lydia. “As they live in life, so are they buried in death.”
Then his gaze left hers and focused again on Dave.

“Another thing: there are some folks buried here who lived here their whole life—like
Edgar’s parents. They were some of the first settlers to the area and rarely left
these mountains.” He strode over to a grave closer to the back corner.

“Then there are those who were only here for a few days.”

Lydia’s gaze moved to the headstone—the old weathered one from twenty years prior—and
her heartbeat moved to her throat. She glanced from the simple headstone to Gideon’s
eyes, a gasp escaping her lips. “Mose Umble. Is that him? Is that the man who saved
you?”

She didn’t need Gideon to answer. From the shocked look on his face, she knew that
it was.

Gideon’s legs felt like water. The world around him darkened to shades of gray. He
heard Lydia’s voice, but he couldn’t make out her words. Dave was saying something
too.

Focus, focus
. He turned to Dave. “What did you say?”

“I was saying that, as you know, most Amish don’t write anything but names and dates
on headstones, but Mose’s wife…she insisted.”

A thousand needles moved up and down Gideon’s arms, and he was thankful for Lydia’s
hand in his. Thankful he could focus on the warmth and strength of her presence.

Gideon read the words again, his stomach clenching:

“
Some things are worth dying for
.”

“It’s, uh, a nice saying.” He forced the words from his mouth.

“Yes, yes, it is. But it’s more than that.” Dave stepped forward. “If I would have
known you were
the
Gideon, I would have told you the story sooner. I didn’t know, didn’t realize you
were that boy. I didn’t know until Ellie got lost. Hadn’t put two and two together.”

Gideon nodded, not knowing what to say. What to do.

“I’m not talking about the story of Mose finding you and coming upon that bear,” Dave
said. “I’m not even talking about the fall. I’m talking about what happened afterward.”

Lydia stepped closer. “Maybe we should go to the restaurant, get a cup of coffee.
Gideon, you’re looking pale.”

“
Ne
.” He shook his head. “I want to hear at this place. I need to…”

Dave crossed his arms and looked up to the mountains.
Then he pointed. “See those hills over there—where they sweep down and meet over?
That’s about where we found you.”

“We?” Gideon asked.

“
Ja
. I was Mose’s search partner. We were the ones that came upon you.”

“But I thought—Edgar told me it was two Amish men who found me.”

Dave shook his head. “Edgar has a good memory, but not perfect. I was the other one,
but at the time I’d only lived here for six months. I wasn’t even married to Susan
yet. We saw you first in the distance. Then, only seconds later, we saw the bear lumbering
your direction. Neither of us talked about what to do. It was like instinct. We started
throwing rocks at that bear and shouting.”

“And then you started running.” Gideon pictured it in his mind’s eye. The young
Englisch
man and the older Amish man, father of twelve. Of course the bear went after the
slower one.

“We got separated,” Dave continued. “It took us awhile to find him.”

“Us?” Lydia asked.

“Yes, there were some other searchers who’d heard the yelling and had come. They found
you still asleep. Two men carried you down the hill, while three others and myself
went looking for Mose.”

Gideon shook his head. He glanced to the grave again and then back to Dave. It was
easier to look at Dave.

“I remember being lost, but I don’t remember being found,” he said. “You’d think I’d
remember that. How was he…when you found him?”

“He was alive, conscious, but not doing good at all. We could tell right away that
his neck was broke. We knew better than to move him, so one guy went down for Search
and
Rescue.” Dave pinched his lips together and lowered his head, then looked up to Gideon.
“Mose didn’t have strength to say much. He started going in and out of consciousness
then. He did tell me to tell his wife and children that he loved them. He also asked
about you.”

Tears threatened to fill Gideon’s eyes. He nodded.

“I told him, ‘
Mose, the boy is fine. Not a scratch. But it doesn’t look as if you’re doing too good
.’ Mose smiled then. It was a big, happy smile. Then he whispered, ‘
Some things are worth dying for
.’”

The tears came now. Gideon couldn’t hold them back. He didn’t want to. He released
Lydia’s fingers, and then his hands covered his face. Yet with the tears came peace.

Dave stepped forward and placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “I wanted you to realize
that, Gideon. Mose knew, and he was thankful he was able to make the sacrifice. He
was a father. He would have picked the same thing again if he had the choice. I know
it. I told his wife, Myrna, what he said, and she insisted that it be put on his gravestone,
no matter what the bishop said. She said people needed to know. Needed to remember.”