Читать книгу The Christmas Quilt - Patricia Davids - Страница 11

Chapter Two

Rebecca was still the loveliest woman Gideon had ever laid eyes on, and she had lied to him.

Seeing her in person, it was as if a single day had passed—not ten years. Feelings he thought long dead and buried rushed to life, leaving him shaken. Coming here had been a bad idea.

He stood near the back of the tent where he could keep an eye on Rebecca and the auction proceedings as he pondered the stunning information she’d revealed. The noise of the crowd, the chanting voice of the auctioneer, the shouts of his helpers as they spotted raised hands in the audience, all faded into a rumbling background for Gideon’s whirling mind.

She obviously had no idea who he was, and he needed to keep it that way. His missing voice was a blessing in disguise. If she knew who he was, she wouldn’t have spoken to him at all.

Because he had been baptized prior to leaving the faith he had been placed under the Meidung, the ban, making contact with his Amish family and friends impossible unless he publicly repented and asked for the church’s forgiveness. Bidding for Rebecca’s quilt at this auction would be his roundabout way of giving aid she could accept.

By leaving the faith after making his vows he had cut himself off completely from everything he’d known. There were no visits from his family. No letters or phone calls telling him how they missed him. There had been many lonely nights during his first years in the non-Amish world when he’d almost gone back.

Only having the eighth-grade education the Amish allowed made it tough finding a job. It had been tougher still getting a driver’s license and a social security card, worldly things the Amish rejected. If it hadn’t been for his dream of learning to fly, he might have gone back.

If Rebecca had been waiting for him, he would have gone back.

He hadn’t planned to speak to her today. His only intention had been to come, buy her quilt to help her raise money for her surgery and then leave town. He had the best of intentions—right up to the moment she sat down in front of him.

So close he could have reached out and touched her. So close and yet so far.

His hands ached with the need to feel her fingers entwined with his, the way they used to be when they had walked barefoot down a shady summer lane after the youth singings or a softball game. Life had been so simple then. It was so much more complicated now.

Why, after all this time, did she still have such a profound effect on him? Even from this distance he felt the pull of her presence the same way he felt the pull of the earth when he was flying above it.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t some green farm boy enchanted by a pretty face. He was a sensible, grown man long past teenage infatuations. It had to be a combination of the flu and nostalgia brought on by being surrounded by people who shared the heritage he’d grown up with.

Everywhere he looked he saw Amish men with their beards and black felt hats. The women, wearing long dresses in muted solid colors with their white bonnets reminded him of his mother and his sisters.

Shy, solemn and subdued when among the English, the Amish were gentle, loving people, happy to quietly raise their families and continue in a life that seemed centuries out of touch with the modern world.

Would he even recognize his little brothers and sisters if they were here? Joseph, his baby brother, had been six when Gideon left. He’d be a teenager now and ready to begin his rumspringa. He would be free to explore worldly ways in order to understand what he was giving up before he took the vows of the faithful.

Did Joseph long for the outside world that had taken his older brother? If so, Gideon prayed he would go before his baptism. That way he could be free to visit his parents and see his old friends without being shunned. Gideon wondered about them often, thought of driving out to see them, but having left under such a cloud, he believed a clean break was the best way. Was it? How could he ever be sure?

Gideon adjusted his aviator sunglasses and glanced around. He doubted anyone he knew would recognize him. He wore a knit cap pulled low on his forehead. His hair was shaggy and a bit unkempt, unlike the uniformly neat haircuts of the Amish men around him.

His eyes were sunken and red from his illness and the long road trip. Two days’ worth of beard stubble shadowed his cheeks. Glances in his rearview mirror on the way down showed a man who looked like death warmed over. No, no one was likely to recognize him. That was a good thing.

He was an English stranger, not the Amish youth who once asked Rebecca Beachy for her hand in marriage. Confusion swirled through his mind when he thought again of how she had deceived him.

He’d known her since their school days. They’d grown up on neighboring farms. They had courted for two full years and he proposed to her a week before her twenty-first birthday. Yet she’d just told him she learned she was going blind when she was twenty. Why hadn’t she told him back then?

She broke his heart when she said she’d been mistaken about her feelings for him. Was that the truth or had it been a lie? Her sudden change of heart hadn’t made sense back then any more than it did now.

Did she think he couldn’t handle the truth? Or had she known he would eventually leave the Amish and tried to protect herself from that heartache? Maybe she’d wanted to spare him a lifetime spent with a blind wife.

Shouldn’t that have been his choice to make?

His fingers curled into fists. Had he known the truth he would have stood by her.

Wouldn’t he? Gideon bit the corner of his lip. Would knowing her condition have changed him from a dissatisfied youth itching to leave the restrictive Amish life into one who welcomed the challenge God placed before him?

He knew Rebecca wouldn’t leave the faith. They’d had plenty of discussions about it in the months they were together. She knew of his discontent. When she broke off their courtship, he left home in a fit of sullen temper and cut himself off from everything and everyone he’d known. Because of her.

No, that wasn’t fair. He left because he wanted something only the outside world could offer. He wanted to fly. He’d wanted her more, but without her his choice had been clear.

Would he have married Rebecca knowing she wouldn’t be able to see his face or the faces of their children? He wanted to believe he would have, but he was far from sure.

He watched as several Amish women stopped to speak to her and the woman she sat with. One of them held a baby in her arms while a fussy toddler clung to her skirt. They were the same women he’d seen with her on television. The young mother handed her baby to Rebecca and picked up her older child, a little girl with dark hair and eyes.

Seeing a babe in Rebecca’s arms reminded him of all she had missed in her life. Was it her choice never to marry? How strong she must be to face her hardship alone.

What was the cause of her blindness? Was it some inherited disease she didn’t want to pass on to her children?

The Amish accepted handicapped children as special blessings from God. If she chose not to marry for that reason, then she wasn’t being true to her faith any more than he had been.

Gideon pulled his knit cap lower over his brow. Nothing about the past could be changed. It was pointless to wonder what would have happened if he’d stayed in their Amish community. He’d left that life long, long ago. It was closed to him now.

The past couldn’t be changed but he could help shape a better future for Rebecca. He was here to raise money for her, not to reminisce about unrequited love. As the bidding began on her quilt, he raised his hand knowing it didn’t matter what the quilt cost. He wasn’t going home without it.

Rebecca couldn’t believe her ears when a bidding war erupted over her quilt. With each jump in price shouted by the auctioneer she thought it couldn’t possibly go higher, but it did. Higher and higher still.

Who could possibly want to pay so much for a quilt stitched by a blind woman? She grasped her aunt’s arm. “Can you see the bidders?”

“Ja. It is between an Englisch fellow and Daniel Hershberger.”

“Daniel is bidding on my quilt?”

Her aunt chuckled. “I told you the man was sweet on you.”

The owner of a local mill that employed more than fifty people, Daniel was a well-respected Amish businessman. Although he was several years older than she was, he often stopped by to visit with her and her aunt. Rebecca shook her head at her aunt’s assumption. “I think you’re the one who caught his fancy.”

“He doesn’t make sheep eyes at me when he’s sitting on the porch swing.”

“I have only your word for that. I’m blind. What is the Englisch fellow like?”

“It’s hard to tell. He’s standing at the back. He’s wearing a knit cap and a short leather jacket. He has dark glasses on.”

“Is he young or old?” Rebecca wished her aunt had paid attention to the stranger sitting behind them earlier. Was he the one offering a ridiculously high price for her handiwork?

“Not too young. He has a scruffy short beard that so many Englisch boys seem to like. He looks pasty, like he’s been ill.”

It must be Booker. Rebecca smiled in satisfaction but her delight quickly faded. Was he bidding because of the quality of her work or because he felt sorry for her? It shouldn’t matter but it did. She didn’t want his pity.

But if he wasn’t doing it out of pity, then why?

A strange excitement settled in her midsection when she thought about his low, gravelly voice speaking quietly in her ear. There was something about him that made her want to know him better.

The auctioneer shouted, “Sold!”

As the room erupted in chatter and applause, Rebecca asked, “Who got it?”

“The Englisch.”

Rebecca stood up. “I must go and thank him. Can you take me to him?”

“Let the crowd thin out a little. Everyone is hurrying to get gone because the weather is getting worse. Ester Zook said it was already starting to sleet when she came in.”

Once Booker left the event Rebecca knew she’d never have the chance to speak with him again. “I don’t want to miss him. Please, it’s important to me.”

“Very well. I see him heading toward the front where people are paying for their purchases.”

Rebecca walked beside her aunt against the flow of people leaving the tent and wished Vera would move faster. What if he paid for her quilt and left before she had the chance to thank him? It was foolish, really, this pressing need to speak to him. She didn’t understand it, nor did she examine her feelings too closely. He was an outsider and thus forbidden to her.

Before they had gone more than a few feet, she heard Daniel Hershberger’s voice at her side. “I’m right sorry I couldn’t buy your quilt, Rebecca. It was uncommonly pretty.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Vera replied, pausing to speak with him, to Rebecca’s dismay.

“I didn’t get the quilt, but rest assured I have donated what money I can to your cause. I’ve already given a check to Bishop Zook.”

Tamping down her impatience, Rebecca recognized Dan’s exceptional act of charity for the gift it was. “Danki, my friend. God will bless your generosity. If you will excuse us, I wish also to thank the man who outbid you for the quilt. Do you see him?”

“Ja,” Daniel replied. “He is in line waiting to pay. Before you go, I wanted to ask both of you to supper this coming Sunday. Unless you have other plans? My sister is coming and she can cook a fine meal.”

“We do not have other plans,” Vera answered before Rebecca could come up with a workable excuse.

Daniel was a good man and a friend, but Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to see him as anything else. If her aunt was right and he wished to court her, he was in for a letdown.

“Excellent. What time shall I expect you?” His delight was clear.

Rebecca waited impatiently for the two of them to work out the details. She wanted to find Booker and speak to him before he left Hope Springs for good.

She wanted to thank him, yes, but there was another reason. One she didn’t understand. She felt compelled to speak with him again. It didn’t make any sense but she had learned to follow her instincts when her sight failed her.

Vera and Daniel continued discussing his dinner invitation. Suddenly, Rebecca couldn’t wait any longer. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go.”

She unfolded her cane and moved forward, swinging it side to side as she went. Vera caught up with her. “Rebecca, what is wrong with you? That was rude.”

“I don’t want to miss speaking to Mr. Booker. Do you see him? Where is he?”

“Straight ahead of you, but slow down before you trip.”

The line Gideon stood in moved quickly toward a set of tables where he could collect his expensive new quilt. He hoped they’d take a personal check. The bidding had far exceeded the amount of cash in his pocket. If they wouldn’t take his check, he’d have to use his credit card and hope it didn’t put him over his limit. This venture was foolhardy and expensive, but he was glad he had come.

When he reached the table, he took off his glasses and hung them on his shirt pocket. “Do you accept personal checks?”

The man at the table looked up and Gideon’s heart dropped when he recognized his cousin, Adam Troyer, beneath the wide-brimmed straw hat. He was ten years older and sported the beard of a married man, but there was no mistaking him. Gideon steeled his heart against the humiliation to come and prayed he wouldn’t be recognized.

Adam’s eyes grew round. “Gideon? Is that you?”

So much for remaining incognito.

Surging to his feet, Adam grabbed Gideon’s hand and began pumping it in a hearty shake. “I can’t believe my eyes. What’s it been? Seven, eight years?”

“Ten,” Gideon croaked.

“Too long. What’s the matter with your voice? You sound terrible.”

“Laryngitis. It sounds worse than it is.”

“What are you doing here?” Adam finally released Gideon’s hand.

“Buying a quilt.”

“Which one?”

“The one made by Rebecca Beachy.” Gideon handed over the yellow card with his number on it.

“So, you were the bidder! I didn’t recognize you from across the room. There is a lot of speculation going on about you. This is the most any quilt has brought in the history of Hope Springs.” Adam nodded toward the women folding and packing the quilts into boxes behind him. They were all glancing his way.

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather not have everyone know who I am. Have you forgotten? I’m under the ban.”

Adam’s face grew pensive. “I had forgotten. Like you, I went out into the world for many years, but God brought me home. We would welcome you back to the church with great joy, Gideon.”

“I’m not here to rejoin the faith. I’m only here to help Rebecca. She and I were…close once.”

“I remember. We all thought you’d marry.”

“So did I, but life doesn’t often turn out the way we plan.”

“Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

Gideon gave his cousin a wry smile. “I should know that one.”

“It’s from Proverbs.”

“Guess you can tell I haven’t been reading my Bible.”

Adam’s gaze softened. “It’s never too late, Gideon.”

Pulling out his checkbook, Gideon ignored his cousin’s comment and wrote a check for the price of the quilt. “If Rebecca learns the money came from me, from an ex-Amish, she might not accept it. I don’t want to make trouble for her.”

“I understand. After this meeting I will not know you, but it sure is goot to see you. Where are you staying?”

“I’m not staying. I’m driving back to Rochester, New York, tonight.”

“Rochester? Nee, you aren’t driving that way. The sheriff just told us the interstate has been closed south of Akron due to the ice storm.”

“You’re joking.” This was a complication Gideon hadn’t foreseen. He should have paid more attention to the weather forecast before jumping in his car and driving three hundred and fifty miles.

“It’s settled,” Adam declared. “You’re staying with us. My wife, Emma, and I run the Wadler Inn. You can’t miss it. It’s on Main Street at the edge of town. We’re normally booked solid during the auction, but we’ve had a couple of cancellations.”

Gideon glanced around to make sure no one was listening. He leaned closer. “I’m under the ban, cousin. You cannot offer me a place to stay. Just speaking to me could cause trouble for you.”

“You let me worry about that. The bishop here is a good man and just. Unlike your old bishop in Berlin, he is not eager to condemn a man for his sins. He truly believes in forgiveness. Besides, it is my duty to pray for you and to give aid to those in need. You look like you’re in need. Go to the inn when you leave here and tell the man at the front desk that I sent you. There is no need to mention that you are my wayward cousin.”

“Thanks, Adam. I appreciate it. Is there anyone else who might recognize me?” Gideon slipped his sunglasses back on. He knew what Adam was risking by associating with him. He risked being shunned by members of his church. Gideon wouldn’t stay if it meant trouble for Adam.

“Some of my family lives near here, but they did not come today. I’m not sure they would know you. You are much changed.”

Relieved, Gideon signed his check and left it lying on the table knowing Adam should not accept anything from his hand.

With a slight nod, Adam acknowledged Gideon’s thoughtfulness.

Gideon caught sight of Rebecca and her aunt making their way through the crowd in his direction. Turning back to Adam, he said, “As soon as the roads are open I’m out of here.”

Adam’s face grew serious. “Life doesn’t always work out as we plan.”

“If Rebecca asks for my name, tell her I wish to remain anonymous.”

“I can do that. It is good to see you, cousin. I have missed you. All your family has missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too. How are…how are my parents?”

“I had a letter from them just last week. They are well. Your brother Levi has a new son. That makes four boys for him now.”

“Levi is married? Scrawny, shy Levi?” Gideon found it hard to believe his brother had four kids. He was only a year younger than Gideon.

“Betty and Susie, too. They each have a girl and a boy.”

He had eight nieces, nephews and in-laws he’d never met. How sad was that? “Grandchildren must make my mother happy.”

“Not as happy as having you return.”

Gideon swallowed back the lump that rose in his throat. “When you see them—”

He paused. Coming here had been a mistake. It opened up far too many painful memories. “Tell them I’m doing well.”

Taking his box with the quilt packed inside, Gideon turned and made his way toward the exit. Ten feet short of the opening he heard her call his name.

“Booker, please wait!”

Keep walking. Pretend you don’t hear her.

His feet slowed. He could give good advice to himself but he apparently couldn’t follow it.

What would it hurt to speak to her one more time? After today he’d never see her again. Just this once more.

Turning around, he waited until she reached him. Her aunt hung back, a faint look of displeasure on her face. It wasn’t seemly for Rebecca to seek out an Englisch fellow.

She moved toward him until her cane touched his feet. When she opened her mouth to speak, he forestalled her. “I know what you’re going to say, Miss Beachy, but there is no need.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. He memorized the fine arch of her brows, the soft smile that curved her lips. She wore a pair of dark, wire-rimmed spectacles, but he knew her eyes were sky blue. If this was the last time he saw her face he wanted to remember it until the day he died.

“There is always a need to show our gratitude for the kindness of others, Mr. Booker.”

“Consider me thanked. I’ve got to get going.” Any second now he was going to blurt out his identity and undo all of the good he’d accomplished.

He was keenly aware of Rebecca’s aunt standing a few paces back. A burly man came out of the crowd and stood with her, a look of displeasure formed on his face, too. Gideon turned his back to them. It was possible they’d met but he wasn’t sure.

This was nuts. He wanted to see Rebecca again. He’d done that. He wanted to help her and he had.

Mission accomplished. Walk away.

No, what he really wanted was an answer to why she stopped loving him. But that was an answer he was never going to get.

“Good luck with your surgery, Miss Beachy. I wish you every success.” He turned away and walked out into the stinging cold sleet.