The Promise Box (12 page)

Had God known that? Of course He did. And Mem’s desire for her was Lydia’s desire
now. To hear and increase in learning. To attain wise counsel from this new community
of the faithful who God had brought her amongst. And maybe to get the chance to pass
on what she’d learned.

She looked around at the playground and smiled. In time, perhaps, she’d be found worthy.

Gideon tried to ignore the rejection he felt. He’d thought for certain that he and
Lydia were growing in their friendship, but maybe he’d just been mistaken. She was
returning home, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to be a part of it. The way she’d
pushed him away on their walk today proved that.

He was alone in his cabin. Caleb and some of the other bachelors were out at a Youth
Sing. Maybe he should have gone. Maybe spending time with some of the other young
women in the community would have helped him get his mind off of Lydia. Eve would
have been happy to see him.

Instead he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, again determined to write the letter.
It would be easier to tell Mem and Dat now that he knew rather than wait until he
returned to Pennsylvania and saw them face-to-face.

He read the letter over three times. What else could he say?

He was thankful he hadn’t written a few days ago. If he had, he might have been tempted
to mention Lydia. One mention of a young woman and he would have gotten his mem’s
hopes up. No, it was better just to face the truth all around.

Like his grandpa used to say, “You can tell when you’re on the right track. It’s usually
uphill.” Would there ever be a bright spot of hope—an easy, sunny path? Would he return
to Pennsylvania as empty, as lost, as he felt now?

Would he regret finding out about the hidden truth?

G
ideon was the first person in the store the next morning. He was waiting on the front
porch when Edgar turned the sign from
Closed
to
Open
. After writing the letter he’d been worried about approaching the older gentleman,
but after praying about it Gideon slept well. There was some benefit that came from
not knowing the truth, he supposed. What you didn’t know couldn’t keep you up at night.

Edgar sat on a stool behind the counter. Behind him was a small desk with a computer
and a chair where Gideon often saw Annie answering emails and placing orders. Edgar
motioned to the chair, and Gideon walked around the counter and sat. Two bakers chatted
in the kitchen and the scent of peanut butter cookies wafted through the air.

Edgar ran a hand down his freshly shaven face. His cheeks were pink. The end of his
nose was too, as if he’d been standing in the open oven sniffing the baking cookies.

“I was wondering when you’d come by and want to talk about it.”

Gideon’s eyes widened. It was almost as if Edgar had been
expecting him. “How did you know I was the Gideon who got lost in the woods?”

“Other than the fact that your face turned as white as a sheet of printer paper?”

Gideon shrugged. “I guess there’s always that.” He kicked his boot on the wooden floorboard,
too embarrassed to look in the man’s eyes. “Sir, I should have said something…should
have confirmed that boy was me. That’s one of the reasons I came here to West Kootenai.
I know I got lost all those years ago, when I was jest a
kinder
, but…I know there’s more that happened.”

“What do you mean there’s more that happened?” Edgar interrupted. One of the bakers
approached and set two cups of coffee before them. Without saying a word, she hurried
back to the kitchen. Gideon paid the coffee no mind.

“There’s more than me jest getting lost. More my parents never told me. That’s why
I came back. I figured that if they didn’t tell me the truth there’d be someone around
who would.”

“They never told you the story?” Edgar shook his head and took a sip from his steaming
cup. “I wonder why your folks never told you.”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering too.”

Edgar ran a finger across his chin as if considering the right words. “What do you
remember?” he finally asked.

“I was only four, so the images are fuzzy. I remember the train ride from Pennsylvania
to Montana. Me and my brothers and sisters filling the seats, and our dat telling
us to behave. That meant no shouting—no matter how excited we were—which was hard.
I’d never been on any trip like that before.

“I remember people staring at us. And for the first time realizing how different we
were being Amish. I hadn’t thought
much of it before that because everyone at home that I knew was like us.”

He blew out a breath, getting to the part Edgar was most interested in. Gideon forced
a nervous laugh. “I remember the first night we stayed at the place of folks who’d
lived in Bird-in-Hand but had moved to Montana. Their place was small, and all us
kids slept on blankets lined up in front of the fireplace. We were supposed to be
sleeping, but I was listening instead. In the adjoining kitchen the men were talking
about bear hunting. I decided then I wanted to get me a bear. I wanted to be big like
those guys.”

Gideon paused. He also remembered wanting to stand out—be special. With twelve brothers
and sisters he often went unnoticed. He’d been just one of the boys, a name and a
face among many. He blinked once slowly, and then turned to Edgar. He couldn’t tell
the older man that. It seemed so foolish now.

He cleared his throat. “The next morning I headed out not long after breakfast. With
twenty kids running around it took them awhile to realize I was gone—or so Mem told
me later.”

“Do you remember anything else?”

Gideon nodded, his forehead furrowing as he tried to reconstruct things. “I remember
trying to find my way back. Being cold. I fell in a small creek…” He shook his head.
“Most of it is blurry.” He crossed his arms over his chest as a shiver ran up his
spine. “I remember being alone. I wasn’t used to that. I remember crying and calling
for Mem.”

“They organized a search party.” Edgar looked up at the ceiling as if the memory played
out there on a screen. “They looked around the lake first because the property you
were staying at was close. Some of the men didn’t think you headed that direction
because one of the boy’s BB guns was missing.”

“Ah,
ja
.” Gideon ran a hand down his face. “I’d forgotten
about the BB gun.” He chuckled. “See, I told ya I was going bear hunting.”

The front door opened, causing the bell to jingle against the glass, and a few of
the other bachelors entered and headed into the dining room. They waved at Gideon,
and then continued on. Many of them ate at least two meals a day at the restaurant.
It was easier than trying to cook in their small cabins.

“I don’t remember being rescued. I think I was sleeping when they found me. I remember
being carried. I remember waking up sleeping next to my mem.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t remember more.”

Fear tightened the muscles in Gideon’s neck. “What do you mean?”

“You were looking for a bear, but one found you. A few of the guys some him approaching.
They distracted him. They called to him, got the bear to chase them instead.” Edgar
cleared his throat.

A hollowness filled Gideon’s chest as his mind tried to comprehend what Edgar was
saying—that the older man was talking about him.

“They split off in two directions and the bear followed one of the guys—a father of
twelve himself,” Edgar continued. “It was dark, you see, and the mountain—even the
hills—are dangerous. The visiting Amish men weren’t used to the area. The man who
was being chased stumbled in the dimness of the afternoon. He fell down a steep incline.”

Gideon wanted to tell Edgar to stop. On one hand he didn’t want to know more. On the
other hand he needed to know.

“It wasn’t that far of a drop. Woulda been fine except that he landed wrong.”

A groan escaped Gideon and he covered his face with his hands as a pang of guilt struck
hard. The event had happened
twenty years ago, but the telling of it made it feel as fresh and painful as if it
had happened yesterday. No wonder Mem, Dat had hidden the truth. How could you tell
your
kinder
something like that?

“They found him twenty minutes later. They found you too, still sleeping. The bear
was gone.” Edgar shook his head. “A tragedy to be certain.”

“You say he landed wrong.” He didn’t know how to ask the rest of the question.

“When they found him he was alive.” Edgar shook his head. “But his injuries were too
severe. His neck was broken. He died as the rescue workers were trying to get him
to the hospital.”

“And the family—the woman and children of the man who died?”

Edgar clucked his tongue. “A sad story indeed. She married another Amish man, so I
heard. I don’t know the details, but it wasn’t a good situation. I suppose you can’t
be choosy when you have twelve mouths to feed. Her name was Myrna. I remember that
because it’s my sister’s name.”

“Myrna.” Gideon’s voice trembled. “It’s my mother’s closest friend. They were children
together and Mem has gone many times to visit her in Lancaster.” Gideon thought about
the sad stories he’d heard about Myrna’s life. All those times he’d never known that
he had a part in her heartache.

“Her husband is cruel,” he confessed, “and most of her children have left the Amish.
I never realized I was the reason why.”

Edgar placed a hand on Gideon’s shoulder, squeezing. “You can’t take that guilt. You
were only just a boy. It was an accident.” Edgar released his grip. “Don’t your people
believe that everyone’s life is in the hands of God? If anyone is to blame you can
talk to God about that.”

Gideon rubbed the back of his neck. It was tight. His chest felt tight, too, as if
it was trying to deflect the truth he’d just heard. He rose and moved to the counter,
spreading his hands across the cool surface and leaning against it.

“You all right?”

“
Ja
.” Gideon nodded. He wasn’t all right, but how could he tell Edgar that?

“So, it seems things are going well with Blue.” Edgar was trying to make small talk,
and Gideon felt sorry for the man. It should have been Gideon’s parents who told him
the truth.

He imagined returning home to Bird-in-Hand. Imagined striding up to the porch and
opening the front door. In his mind’s eye he could see Mem in the kitchen stirring
the pot of soup on the stovetop. He imagined Dat reading
The Budget
in his favorite chair. He pictured them looking at him. Would they look at him differently
now that he knew the truth?

Gideon also knew why his parents hadn’t told him before. Who wanted to see guilt,
like a wild pony, crushing their son’s heart?

“Thank you, Edgar.” Gideon straightened and then headed to the front door. Today he’d
work with Blue. Today he’d gaze at the Wyse place, wondering what he’d done to push
Lydia away.

Today he’d pray for Myrna—his mother’s friend—and also ask himself why he thought
knowing would be any better than the silence.

Gideon turned toward the door, but the rumbling of his stomach caused him to pause.
He turned instead to the restaurant. Eve waited tables this morning, and even though
she stood before another table of bachelors, with order pad in hand, her eyes fixed
on him as he entered.

“Sit anywhere you’d like,” she called to him. Then she
turned to gaze to the table where the salt shakers were lined up, waiting to be filled.
Gideon knew it was an invitation for him to join her rather than the other bachelors,
and as he looked into her dark brown eyes his heart warmed. Eve’s acceptance of him
was like a healing balm. A smile slid onto his lips, and he pushed down the pain of
the truth. Then, with quickened steps Gideon moved to Eve’s table. With Eve he always
felt valued—and this morning he needed that more than ever.

Lydia’s face filled his mind, but as he pulled out the chair he pushed the thought
away. His heart couldn’t risk rejection…not now. In life the easiest things were the
certain ones. And right now the only thing he could be certain of was that during
breakfast he’d have a fine conversation with a woman who wouldn’t draw him in one
day and push him away the next. A woman who’d chosen to be Amish all her life and
whose smiling eyes rested on him even now.