An Amish Proposal for Christmas, page 2
The next three hours passed in a blur of names and buildings. They toured the auction building and the livestock barn. At least the smell of animals brought him some sense of familiarity, even comfort, but they stayed less than twenty minutes before Becca hurried him out to walk up and down the aisles separating the rows of outdoor booths. Over seven hundred vendors sold everything from sunglasses to comic books to soaps and other handmade items.
He slowed near a booth selling cookies and cupcakes and pies. Becca pulled him away. “Three more aisles, then we’ll stop for lunch.”
The words were more of a command than a suggestion. She smiled, but he saw the steely resolve in her expression. She wasn’t his boss. Was she?
Gideon realized in that moment that he was starving. How long had they been walking through the market? And how much more was there to see?
Apparently, a lot—they sailed past booths with produce, spices, even rugs. Finally, they reached the end of an aisle that bordered the red parking lot.
“Questions?”
“Lots.”
“Great. Let’s head to the auction restaurant and debrief.”
Debrief? Did she just say debrief? Was she even Amish?
His mood improved after he’d eaten a roast beef sandwich with fries and a piece of fresh apple pie, plus slugged back three cups of coffee. Maybe the caffeine would help him keep up with her.
Becca had chosen an egg salad sandwich, side salad and chocolate pie.
“Food’s gut.”
“You definitely won’t go hungry here.”
“How do you do it?” He popped the last piece of apple pie into his mouth, again drained his cup and sat back.
“Do what?”
“All of it—keep up with such a big place, remember everyone’s name, handle everyone’s crisis?”
Twice she’d been stopped because of vendor disagreements regarding space. She’d handled those deftly, and both vendors had good-naturedly accepted her solution. But when she’d helped a young Amish teenager change the roll of paper on a mobile cash register, he shook his head in disbelief. Was there anything that Becca Yoder didn’t know how to do?
“It’s not that hard—plus, I’ve been doing it since I was...”
“Young. Yeah, your dat mentioned that.”
“Plus, I’m good.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Modest, too, apparently.” He said it softly, but she didn’t let it go.
“Is that what you like, Gideon? Modest girls?”
Instead of looking away, he met her gaze. “You know what they say about pride...going before a fall and all that.”
“Actually, the proverb says Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”
“Same difference.”
“Is it?” She shrugged and finished the last bite of her pie. “I didn’t mean to come across as bold or proud. But I am good at this job.”
“Then why are you leaving it?” There. He’d asked the question that had been niggling at the back of his mind since meeting her. There must be something wrong here if she was so anxious to leave. “I assumed you were marrying, but...”
“But what, Gideon?” Now her eyes were laughing. She waited, not letting him off the hook he’d put himself on.
“Well, it’s just that you haven’t mentioned a beau or any wedding plans or...”
“Maybe I don’t like talking about personal stuff.”
“Maybe.”
She checked her watch, then pulled out her dat’s list. “We still have the parking lots to cover, all the entrances and exits, rest areas... And I want to show you the scooter rental and ATM machine.”
Gideon groaned.
Becca drummed her fingers against the table. “How big is your parents’ farm?”
“One hundred and twenty-two acres.”
“Fairly large by Amish standards.”
“And yet small by Texas standards.”
Just the memory of home lowered his blood pressure. How he wished he were there. Why had he left? He should be checking the crops in the fields, not walking the aisles of a market.
“You worked on the farm?”
“Every day—planting, harvesting, checking fence.”
“But, see, that’s my point. Our entire facility is only forty acres—a third of what you’re used to.”
Which didn’t make him feel a bit better. Becca popped out of the booth, carried her dishes to a bucket and deposited her trash in the receptacle. Only then did she look back to see if he’d followed.
“Ready?”
“Or not...” But they weren’t children playing a game of hide-and-seek. He was a grown man. He was a farmer, and he was totally out of his comfort zone at the Midwest’s largest outdoor market.
Why had he let his parents talk him into this?
Why hadn’t he argued with them?
Somehow, he’d thought that if he came up here, gave this job his best shot and convinced everyone how ill-suited he was for such a venture, his parents would readily dismiss the idea. He’d thought that he’d be home within the week.
Home.
Nausea filled his stomach as he stepped back outside with Becca. He didn’t want to be here. He did not like large crowds of people, and he did not remember a single thing that he was supposed to have learned today.
He closed his eyes and pictured the cottonwood trees next to their creek. He imagined the grain ripening in the fields.
Becca cleared her throat.
He opened his eyes.
Crowds of people, a line of Englisch cars and pretty Becca—impatiently tapping her foot.
Exile. That was what this was.
But he could—he would find a way home.
Chapter Two
Rebecca was worried on Tuesday. On Wednesday, she practically hit panic mode. Not only was Gideon shy and quiet, but he also made no effort to be pleasant with the various vendors and supervisors. It was as if he didn’t understand that his success depended on their success.
It was almost as if he wasn’t planning on staying.
To make matters worse, her dat had invited him to dinner on Friday night.
“Why wouldn’t I? He’s new to town, and we’re the only people he knows so far.”
“We haven’t exactly bonded.”
“Whose fault is that?”
“His, Dat. It’s his fault.”
Becca knew that she had her dat’s attention when he lowered his paper, ducked his head and stared over the top of his glasses at her.
“Are you worried that he’s the wrong person for the job?”
She started backpedaling quickly. “Of course not. I’m just...tired, is all. It’s a lot of work to train someone. I don’t know how you’ve managed all these years.” Then she fled to the kitchen to help with dinner.
“Sounds like your escape plan is in jeopardy.” Sarah tossed her a sympathetic smile.
Sarah was the oldest, and in Becca’s opinion also the prettiest. Where Becca was only five foot four, Sarah was five foot ten. She was thinner, too, and had their father’s dark brown hair. More than those things, though, her demeanor was something that Becca wished she had: calm, competent—wise, even. Sarah was completely unaware of just how pretty she was. It only added to her attractiveness.
Which made the fact that she was twenty-eight and single even more puzzling. There’d been the one engagement eight years ago. That had ended quite unexpectedly. Becca had been sixteen at the time and completely involved in her own life—that must have been the year her dat suggested she’d be an excellent bread baker and arranged for her to work at the Blue Gate Bakery. That was when Becca had first known she didn’t have traditional Amish dreams—at least, not traditional for girls.
“Why did you run off from your engagement to Adam?”
“I didn’t run off.” Sarah began to slice a fresh loaf of bread.
Becca reached around her, snagged a piece and spread butter on it. Tearing off a chunk, she popped it into her mouth and shrugged at her schweschder’s denial. “If you say so, but local legend remembers it differently.”
“Don’t lower yourself to heeding gossip.”
“I remember it differently too.”
Sarah finished slicing the bread and covered it with a clean dish towel. Turning toward Becca, she rested her backside against the sink and crossed her arms. “We were talking about you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why did you ever agree to Dat’s deal?”
She studied the rest of her nabbed piece of bread, then popped it into her mouth. It was deliciously warm and yeasty. Bread was definitely one of her favorite things. She supposed they’d have to do with store-bought on mission trips. “It made sense at the time, and you know how he can be...”
“Persuasive.”
“I guess.” Becca lowered her voice. “I don’t want to be the one to disappoint him. I’d rather leave that to Ada.”
Their youngest schweschder had just walked into the house, carrying a basket filled with early tomatoes from their garden. “I am not a disappointment.” She tossed her kapp strings over her shoulders. Ada was the baby of the family, and they all adored her. Teasing her was fun, though—maybe because it never seemed to faze her in any way, which only made them try harder.
Becca picked out three of the tomatoes and washed them off in the sink. “Dat mentioned you quit your babysitting job today.”
“Those kids! They were so unruly. You both can shake your heads at me, but caring for two sets of twins is beyond my ability levels. Better to say that the first week, don’t you think?”
Ada went on to describe the antics of the four Schwartz children—the twin boys were six years old and the twin girls were four. Apparently, the boys had managed to lock the cat in the old outhouse, which set the dog to barking. By the time Thomas and Timothy had let the cat out, the dog was having such a fit that it set about chasing the tabby cat, who turned and landed a good swipe on the dog’s nose. “The girls were crying. The boys were laughing. The dog climbed under the outhouse and wouldn’t come out. And the cat sat on the adjacent fence, licking her paws and looking quite pleased with herself.”
Bethany walked in just as Ada was describing the events of the day at the Schwartz household. “You quit over a cat-and-dog fight?” She sat down at the table, pulled her current project out of her knitting bag and began working with lavender yarn. Bethany’s hands were always busy—knitting, quilting, even hand-stitching designs on pillowcases. The process of creating seemed to bring her immense satisfaction.
Becca envied that about her schweschder. Her main feeling these days was restlessness. If she could just train Gideon... If he’d agree to stay... If she could be somewhere else, perhaps she’d experience something like Bethany’s contentment.
“That was after the food fight but before the water fight.” Ada laughed along with the rest of them. “I’m telling you... I’d need to drink more coffee than Sarah if I was going to handle those children. Remind me to never have twins.”
“I’m not sure you’ll have any say in that.” Bethany glanced up and wiggled her eyebrows as she turned the small sweater she was working on and began to purl. It must be for one of the expectant moms in their church.
It seemed to Becca as if everyone her age and younger was pregnant or hoping to be. She couldn’t understand what their hurry was. Everyone was pairing up. Everyone except the Yoder girls—all five of them were happily single, much to their dat’s dismay. He was apparently ready for grandkinner.
Eunice hurried into the room and began washing her hands at the sink. Eunice was a unique blend of their father and mother—beautiful brown eyes like Dat’s but with gorgeous blond hair like Mamm had. She was also short like Becca. She’d apparently been working on the generator again, as there was a smudge of grease on her nose.
Eunice peered out the window over the sink. “Looks like your guy is here, Becca.”
“He is most certainly not my guy.” Becca hurried to the window, though, and she was quickly joined by Sarah, Bethany and Ada. The five of them stood there, staring out at Gideon. He’d apparently borrowed a horse and buggy. He directed the gelding to the hitching post in front of their house, exited the buggy and looked in surprise at the window.
Becca and her schweschdern scattered like birds startled by a cat. Before they carried dinner out, each winked at Becca and offered their first impression.
“He’s the right age, for once.” Sarah nudged Becca’s shoulder. “Remember when Dat tried to set me up with Widower Hochstetler? He was twenty years my senior.”
“Gideon looks nice,” Bethany said with a smile, stuffing her knitting back into her bag.
“Plus, he’s cute.” Ada giggled as she picked up the chicken casserole.
Eunice dried her hands and then slung her arm around Becca’s shoulder. “Another of Dat’s matchmaking schemes. You’d think that he’s in a hurry to be rid of us.”
“He’s not matching me to Gideon.” Becca felt her exasperation rising. “I’m leaving. I already have a position with MDS. I’m going to be spending Christmas in Tennessee or maybe Florida. I’ve read that in Florida, people decorate palm trees for the holidays. Can you imagine? I certainly won’t be here. They’re expecting me to show up in August.”
“That’s what you keep telling us.” Sarah handed her a large bowl of salad. At least she softened the teasing with a smile. “Now let’s see if you can convince Gideon to stay, because from what you’ve told us, he hasn’t quite taken to Shipshewana.”
That was the understatement of the week, but Becca wasn’t willing to throw in the towel yet. Perhaps Gideon would show an interest in one of her schweschdern. Stranger things had happened.
Unfortunately, dinner didn’t go as well as she might have hoped. The food was delicious—as usual. Sarah was a wunderbaar cook. They enjoyed chicken casserole, green beans, a very colorful salad and warm bread. Gideon devoured the food, but he didn’t tell any funny stories about Texas, and his only comment on the market was “It’s been a long week.”
He’d only worked four days. How did that equal a long week?
Having all of her schweschdern at the table ensured there weren’t too many awkward silences.
Ada rattled on about the Schwartz twins. “Gut kids, I’m sure, but my goodness. I feel sorry for their parents, for sure and certain I do. Naomi is needed at her parents’ home, what with their recent health issues, and John has his hands full trying to care for both farms. Still, I’m glad I figured out early that nannying is not for me.”
Becca’s dat reached for another piece of bread. “No worries, Ada. We’ll find the right job for you—or maybe you’ll marry and then you won’t need a job.”
Gideon choked on his bite of casserole, Ada colored a pretty pink and Sarah jumped up to fetch dessert.
Eunice described the latest project she was working on in the barn—an overhead fan that ran off a solar panel. “I plan to mount it on the ceiling of the back porch this weekend.”
No one seemed to know what to say to that. Gideon stared at her as if she’d spoken French. To be fair, Eunice’s projects tended to catch them all by surprise. About half of them actually worked the way they were supposed to, though only a quarter of them were practical enough to be of any use. Becca had certainly seen no need for a battery-powered miniature hand rake that Eunice had designed to scratch their old dog’s back. Gizmo had whined and trotted off to the field when she’d tried it on him.
By the time they’d eaten dessert and the dishes were cleared, Becca was exhausted. This was one reason she didn’t date. It wore a person out trying to figure out what to say or not say, or do or not do.
Gideon must have been thinking the same thing, because he cleared his throat and stood. “I should go. I promised Nathan I’d have his horse and buggy home early.”
Becca’s dat clapped him on the back. “Thanks for coming. We hope you’ll make a habit of eating with us.”
There was no one left in the room to argue with that except Becca, and she didn’t plan on saying a thing. Her schweschdern had all vanished: Eunice had excused herself and headed back to the barn; Sarah was in the kitchen, cleaning up; Bethany had gone upstairs to work on her knitting; and Ada had passed on dessert and taken off with a group of youngies that was headed to Howie’s for ice cream.
Her dat had said something to Gideon that she’d missed, but then he ended with “Becca will see you out.”
See him out? They were three feet from the front door. She smiled as if she had nothing better to do and walked out onto the front porch with Gideon. To her surprise, he didn’t hop into his buggy and leave. Instead, he stopped to scratch Gizmo behind the ears.
“What kind of dog is this?”
“No one seems to know. We think that he might have a little Labrador, beagle and possibly bulldog? Gizmo is a real mystery.”
Gideon sighed heavily, as if another mystery was something he did not need. He walked down the steps, then tilted his head back and stared up at the stars.
“The sky is bigger and brighter in Texas.”
Ugh. She wanted to scream. She’d heard enough about Texas in the last four days to literally cross the state off her travel map.
“I know that sounds silly...”
“It sounds impossible.”
“Yeah. I know.” Instead of being offended, Gideon looked at her, then tugged his hat down low. “It’s hard to explain how different the Amish community is there. Our homes aren’t nearly as nice as yours.”
“How so?”
“Most haven’t seen a fresh coat of paint in years. There’s simply not time or money for such things. It’s hard to make a living out of the land. We rarely pass thirty-two inches of rain a year, and five months of each year, our temps are in the nineties or higher.”
