An Amish Proposal for Christmas, page 6
He supposed he could work with that.
Respect when you should. He was pretty sure that applied to his parents. He understood all too well what that meant. If you respected someone, then you followed their lead where possible. You certainly shouldn’t break a promise to someone you respected. You shouldn’t break a promise to anyone.
Always put first things first. Gideon had absolutely no idea what that meant.
He needed coffee.
He made his way over to the line at JoJo’s. The little eatery was a cheerful-looking place, with lots of wooden beams and red-painted walls. The booths sported black-and-white tabletops with red seats. It gave him the impression of stepping back in time to an old-fashioned drugstore. Some of the small towns in Texas still had those. He’d yet to come here when there weren’t half a dozen people in line—Amish and Englisch. The smell of the freshly made pretzels made his stomach grumble.
Where was Becca? He looked across the room and finally spied her in the adjacent coffee shop, trying to get his attention. He waved, then ordered his pretzel—a cinnamon sugar, which at this point was his absolute favorite.
He carried the basket over to where Becca sat—looking disturbingly perky, fresh, well rested.
“I ordered your coffee—no cream, two sugars.”
“How did you know that?”
“Seriously? You’ve drank coffee at every lunch we’ve had together, which has been every day you’ve worked at the market.” She raised her cup and took a long sip, closing her eyes in appreciation. “Coffee is the primary ingredient of every breakfast. In fact, some days, coffee is the sole ingredient of breakfast.”
“You’re awfully bright and sunny this morning.” It came out crabbier than he intended.
“I guess. There’s no sense in moping around.”
“You’re making me think the real Becca has been kidnapped and a kinder, gentler Becca put in her place.”
“Have I been that bad?”
Instead of answering, he broke off a piece of the warm pretzel and popped the treat into his mouth. It was impossible to be irritated at anyone with a bite of JoJo’s cinnamon-sugar pretzel in your mouth. As Becca watched him, he tried to remember what he was going to say to her, but all he could think about was how pretty she looked.
Her kapp was freshly starched and pinned back an inch or so from her hairline. Becca’s hair was a mystery to Gideon. Sometimes he thought it was blond, but other times, he was sure it was brown. It sort of changed according to the light. Was that even possible? She was wearing a light green dress that made him think of spring in Texas.
“You should see this place at Christmas.”
He didn’t even try to hold in the groan. “Not that again.”
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “They put green and red sprinkles on the whipped cream, there’s a Christmas tree over in that corner, and small white lights are strung all over the room. They even hire one of the high school students to paint a Christmas scene on the windows. It’s very special.”
Gideon stared at her. He had honestly never met anyone quite like Becca Yoder.
“Why are you looking at me that way? Do I have...” She reached for a napkin. “Is there whipped cream on my face?”
He dropped his gaze to his coffee, trying to make a coherent sentence out of the things he needed to tell her.
She blotted at her face, then cocked her head. “What? It’s plain you have something to say. Don’t keep me waiting over here. If you’re leaving today, I need to put an ad in the paper, though I’m not sure how much good that will do since the season has already begun and—”
“I’m not leaving today.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times. “That’s gut.”
Love. Respect. First things first.
Gideon’s mind was suddenly blank—as blank as a school chalkboard that had been recently cleaned.
“Whatever you’re about to say must be terrible. Is it terrible? I can take it. I gave myself a stern lecture last night.”
Gideon looked down at his basket. The pretzel was gone. He’d already eaten the entire thing? Pushing the basket away, he sipped the coffee. It was perfect—two sugars, no cream. He needed to get this conversation over with.
“I’m not leaving today,” he repeated. Then, at the look of excitement on her face, he quickly added, “But my parents agreed to a thirty-day trial period instead of ninety.”
“Thirty days?”
“Since I’ve already been here a week, that gives us about...”
“Twenty-three more days, but that’s only three weeks.”
“I realize it’s inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient? It’s a disaster.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at a spot over his left shoulder.
“Give me a little credit here. At least I’m willing to stay for thirty days. If you still want me to.”
“Of course I want you to. What good does it do me for you to leave now?” She slumped back into her chair.
He waited.
Finally, she said, “Okay. Fine. I can work with that.”
“Work with what?”
“Thirty days. I always did think a ninety-day trial period was too long.”
“You did?”
“It was Dat’s idea. Once his mind is made up, you might as well try to give a cat a bath.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“I’m just saying it would be easier than changing his mind. By the way, you’re the one telling him of the adjustment in your plans. Make sure I’m on the other side of the market or something.”
“You’re taking this awfully well.”
“Not really.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the table, then abruptly sat up straight. “Actually, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have let finding my replacement be a condition for my leaving. That’s between me and Dat, and I will be speaking to him about it. In the meantime, who knows, maybe our little market will grow on you.”
“Huh.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
They collected their trash and dropped it into a receptacle, then stepped out into a beautiful May morning. Horses clip-clopped down the road next to Englisch cars. Shop owners swept the front of their sidewalks and turned Closed signs to Open.
“I have to admit, the cool mornings here are nice.”
Becca stumbled back in mock surprise.
“What?”
“You said something nice about Indiana. Maybe I misheard you. Say it again.”
Instead of indulging her, he asked, “Did you walk here from the market?”
“Of course.”
“Then come on. I’ll give you a ride back to work.”
“Only if you let me drive.”
“Let you drive?”
“I know how to drive a horse and buggy. We have an old mare named Oreo, who I’m quite good with, and a young mare named Peanut, who is the sweetest thing you could ask for in a buggy horse.”
“Didn’t realize a horse could be sweet.”
“Plus, Samson and I just happen to be old friends.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” She smirked back over her shoulder as she hurried toward Nathan’s buggy. He didn’t try to match her pace, and he only pretended to be afraid when she climbed up into the driver’s seat.
He had a feeling that little Becca Yoder could do anything she put her mind to—drive a horse and buggy, manage an outdoor market, hang drywall in a stranger’s home. The only question he had was why she’d given in to his shortened trial period so easily.
It seemed to him that Becca was up to something, and he was pretty sure that he would find out soon enough what that something was.
* * *
Becca dropped into a rocker on the back porch and stared up at Eunice, who was perched on top of a ladder, installing the solar ceiling fan. It looked like an ordinary fan to Becca, much like those on the porch of their Englisch neighbors.
“Do you need help with that?”
Eunice was holding the fan up with one hand and reaching for an electrical wire with the other. The wire ran across the ceiling of the porch to the edge of the roof overhang, where a small solar panel was mounted. As Eunice reached for the wire, the ladder began to tip. Becca popped out of her chair just in time to hold it steady.
“Danki,” Eunice said. “That was close.”
“You shouldn’t be doing these things alone.” That was what Becca said, but what she thought was that her schweschder shouldn’t be doing these things at all.
“Thought I could reach it.” Eunice was mumbling because she was holding a screwdriver in her mouth. “One more second.”
Something clicked into something else, and then Eunice grinned down at her. “That should do it.” She scampered down the ladder and walked over to a switch she’d screwed into the wall of the porch.
“Ready?”
“I guess.” But Becca took several big steps back and away from the contraption, in case it fell or sent down showers of sparks when Eunice hit the button.
She hit the button.
No falling parts.
No sparks.
Just the soft whir of a fan.
“It works.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“Why would you be? I actually know what I’m doing.”
“Now you do, apparently. But you didn’t know what you were doing the time you tried to hook a solar pump to the horses’ water trough.”
“I was younger then.”
“It was last fall.”
“And I learned from my mistake. You have to admit, the fan is nice.”
“It is at that.”
They both sat in the rockers, smiling at one another. Simultaneously, they reached for a glass of iced tea that Becca had brought out earlier. Laughing, they clinked the glasses together. It felt silly and young and carefree.
Becca wanted to be silly and young and carefree.
She sighed heavily, the sigh of a much older person—a serious, responsible, mature person.
“Problems at the market?”
“How did you guess?”
“You always make that face when there’s problems at the market.”
“What face?”
“The one you’re... never mind. So, what’s the problem?”
“In a word—Gideon.”
“Hmm. Wish I could help, sis, but I know nothing about guys.”
“Half the time, you have your head stuck inside a piece of machinery you’re working on with guys.”
“Well, sure, but that’s different because we’re working.”
“You spend more time with Zeb Mast than you do with your own family.”
“I guess, but Zeb is like a bruder. I don’t think whatever problem you’re having with Gideon is like that.”
“It isn’t. My problem with Gideon is that he’s stubborn and homesick, and he’s a constant worrier. It’s enough to drive you a little narrisch.”
“So it isn’t his work ethic?”
“Nein.” She explained about eavesdropping on his phone call, about his decision to stay thirty days but not the agreed-upon ninety.
“He can do the work?”
“Ya, sure. Doesn’t take a genius.” Becca stared up at the whirring fan. “He works hard. If he’d relax around the vendors, he’d get along better with them. He’s a bit tense, you know?”
“Like a fish out of water.”
“Exactly.”
“A horse in the city.”
“I guess.”
“An Amish girl on a cruise ship.”
They both laughed, and then Becca said, “Okay. Enough with the analogies.” She did feel better, though. Eunice always made her feel better because Eunice saw things simply.
Becca supposed if you were adept at working with machines, then life might seem less complicated. She didn’t understand mechanical things at all. If anything broke at the market, she called maintenance. If anything broke at home, she called Eunice. Becca supposed if you learned how to rig up one solar ceiling fan, you could rig up a dozen. Machines didn’t complicate things with feelings. “Tell me how you would fix this if it were a solar panel.”
“Solar panel?”
“Or whatever. Logically, how would you fix this? Because it’s looking more and more like I won’t get out of here until next year, and that’s sort of breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry, sis.”
“Not your fault.”
“True.” Eunice pressed her fingertips together and studied something in the distance. Finally, she turned to Becca. “Okay. So you have two problems.”
“Only two?”
Eunice retrieved a tape measure from the pocket of her apron and pulled out the tab, stretching the tape. She let it go—thwack—then pulled it out and let it go again. Thwack.
Becca snatched it out of her hands and sat back with a smile. “You were saying?”
“Goodness, you’re jumpy. I think better when I have something in my hands.”
“And I’ll return this when you solve my problems.” Becca wiggled the tape measure back and forth. “You know you want it.”
Eunice rolled her eyes.
“You were saying I have two problems.”
“Right. One is Gideon—obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“And the other is Dat.”
“True enough.”
“Start with Dat. Tell him you’d like to renegotiate.”
“Okay.” Becca turned the tape measure over and over in her hand. Finally, she admitted, “I don’t know how to do that.”
“Meet him halfway. Agree to stay in your current position until spring, but insist that your leaving not be contingent on finding a replacement. Let’s be honest. There are a dozen guys here in Shipshe who could do that job and do it well.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“So Dat was procrastinating. He was putting off your leaving because he was worried about you.”
“Hmm.” Could it be that simple? Maybe she had been overthinking this.
“Tell him you appreciate his worry but that you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Meet him halfway. Stay until spring, but no longer.”
Becca sighed. Eunice was right. This wasn’t an either/or situation. It wasn’t a matter of her having the things she wanted in life right this minute or never having them. She wasn’t a child, and she could handle change with maturity. So what if she wanted to kick a buggy tire? She didn’t have to respond that way.
“I don’t want to stay until spring, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” She rather liked the idea of spending one last Christmas at home. Yes, she had envisioned what it would be like in Florida or Tennessee or even California, but she wouldn’t mind one more Indiana Christmas. “I suppose spring would be the worst case. There’s still a possibility—albeit a slim one—that Gideon will serve his thirty days and decide to stay.”
Eunice shrugged as if to say maybe that could happen, but don’t count on it.
Becca would have to find a way to convince Gideon that he could make a home and be happy in Shipshe. She’d have to change his mind that Texas was the only place he could truly be content.
“Problem number two is a bit trickier.” Eunice took another sip of tea.
“Gideon.”
“What are some things he likes?”
“Texas. He likes everything about Texas. He goes on and on and on about the Lone Star state.”
“Such as what?”
“Crops, wildflowers, droughts...”
“Who likes a drought?”
“Scorching heat, cattle, hard work, rodeos...”
“Too bad our rodeo isn’t until November.” Eunice snapped her fingers, then leaned forward and grabbed her tape measure out of Becca’s hands. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Take him to the buggy races this weekend. It’s not a rodeo, but it’s close enough.”
“I don’t want to take him to the buggy races. I spend all week with him. The last thing I want to do is spend Saturday with him too.”
“Then find another girl to do it.” Eunice grinned at her as if she’d dropped a Christmas package into her lap. “Maybe he just needs to see the fun side of our little community.”
“He thinks our community is huge.”
“Convince him otherwise.” Eunice stood and stretched, sending a satisfied glance toward the ceiling fan. “I better go wash up. Wouldn’t want to arrive at the dinner table with grease on my hands.”
“You always show up with grease on your hands...” But Becca was talking to herself. Eunice had already gone inside.
Actually, her schweschder’s idea made sense.
Gideon was homesick because he hadn’t met anyone here, and he hadn’t met anyone because he was too homesick to be sociable. If she invited him to the buggy races, he’d get out of his own head for a few minutes. He also might meet some people...some friends—a girlfriend, even.
If Gideon had a girlfriend, he’d stay.
Eunice was a genius!
Now all Becca had to do was convince Gideon to go with her Saturday and then make sure the right girls were also in attendance. She’d start a list. Then she’d go down to the phone shack and place a few calls. Let the Amish grapevine do the work for her.
And she’d have that talk with her dat. Because if a day at the buggy races didn’t work—and she fully realized it was a long shot—then she would rather not stay another nine months. There had to be a quicker way to end her servitude. Maybe she could go on a new year’s mission. That was only six months away.
But she didn’t want to go in March or even in January. Her mind—and her heart—kept wavering back and forth. On the one hand, she knew that having to wait wouldn’t be the end of her dreams. On the other hand, she was terribly impatient to go. She wanted to leave in August like she’d planned. If she played her cards right, that still might be possible.
Respect when you should. He was pretty sure that applied to his parents. He understood all too well what that meant. If you respected someone, then you followed their lead where possible. You certainly shouldn’t break a promise to someone you respected. You shouldn’t break a promise to anyone.
Always put first things first. Gideon had absolutely no idea what that meant.
He needed coffee.
He made his way over to the line at JoJo’s. The little eatery was a cheerful-looking place, with lots of wooden beams and red-painted walls. The booths sported black-and-white tabletops with red seats. It gave him the impression of stepping back in time to an old-fashioned drugstore. Some of the small towns in Texas still had those. He’d yet to come here when there weren’t half a dozen people in line—Amish and Englisch. The smell of the freshly made pretzels made his stomach grumble.
Where was Becca? He looked across the room and finally spied her in the adjacent coffee shop, trying to get his attention. He waved, then ordered his pretzel—a cinnamon sugar, which at this point was his absolute favorite.
He carried the basket over to where Becca sat—looking disturbingly perky, fresh, well rested.
“I ordered your coffee—no cream, two sugars.”
“How did you know that?”
“Seriously? You’ve drank coffee at every lunch we’ve had together, which has been every day you’ve worked at the market.” She raised her cup and took a long sip, closing her eyes in appreciation. “Coffee is the primary ingredient of every breakfast. In fact, some days, coffee is the sole ingredient of breakfast.”
“You’re awfully bright and sunny this morning.” It came out crabbier than he intended.
“I guess. There’s no sense in moping around.”
“You’re making me think the real Becca has been kidnapped and a kinder, gentler Becca put in her place.”
“Have I been that bad?”
Instead of answering, he broke off a piece of the warm pretzel and popped the treat into his mouth. It was impossible to be irritated at anyone with a bite of JoJo’s cinnamon-sugar pretzel in your mouth. As Becca watched him, he tried to remember what he was going to say to her, but all he could think about was how pretty she looked.
Her kapp was freshly starched and pinned back an inch or so from her hairline. Becca’s hair was a mystery to Gideon. Sometimes he thought it was blond, but other times, he was sure it was brown. It sort of changed according to the light. Was that even possible? She was wearing a light green dress that made him think of spring in Texas.
“You should see this place at Christmas.”
He didn’t even try to hold in the groan. “Not that again.”
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “They put green and red sprinkles on the whipped cream, there’s a Christmas tree over in that corner, and small white lights are strung all over the room. They even hire one of the high school students to paint a Christmas scene on the windows. It’s very special.”
Gideon stared at her. He had honestly never met anyone quite like Becca Yoder.
“Why are you looking at me that way? Do I have...” She reached for a napkin. “Is there whipped cream on my face?”
He dropped his gaze to his coffee, trying to make a coherent sentence out of the things he needed to tell her.
She blotted at her face, then cocked her head. “What? It’s plain you have something to say. Don’t keep me waiting over here. If you’re leaving today, I need to put an ad in the paper, though I’m not sure how much good that will do since the season has already begun and—”
“I’m not leaving today.”
“Oh.” She blinked several times. “That’s gut.”
Love. Respect. First things first.
Gideon’s mind was suddenly blank—as blank as a school chalkboard that had been recently cleaned.
“Whatever you’re about to say must be terrible. Is it terrible? I can take it. I gave myself a stern lecture last night.”
Gideon looked down at his basket. The pretzel was gone. He’d already eaten the entire thing? Pushing the basket away, he sipped the coffee. It was perfect—two sugars, no cream. He needed to get this conversation over with.
“I’m not leaving today,” he repeated. Then, at the look of excitement on her face, he quickly added, “But my parents agreed to a thirty-day trial period instead of ninety.”
“Thirty days?”
“Since I’ve already been here a week, that gives us about...”
“Twenty-three more days, but that’s only three weeks.”
“I realize it’s inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient? It’s a disaster.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at a spot over his left shoulder.
“Give me a little credit here. At least I’m willing to stay for thirty days. If you still want me to.”
“Of course I want you to. What good does it do me for you to leave now?” She slumped back into her chair.
He waited.
Finally, she said, “Okay. Fine. I can work with that.”
“Work with what?”
“Thirty days. I always did think a ninety-day trial period was too long.”
“You did?”
“It was Dat’s idea. Once his mind is made up, you might as well try to give a cat a bath.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
“I’m just saying it would be easier than changing his mind. By the way, you’re the one telling him of the adjustment in your plans. Make sure I’m on the other side of the market or something.”
“You’re taking this awfully well.”
“Not really.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead against the table, then abruptly sat up straight. “Actually, this is my fault. I shouldn’t have let finding my replacement be a condition for my leaving. That’s between me and Dat, and I will be speaking to him about it. In the meantime, who knows, maybe our little market will grow on you.”
“Huh.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
They collected their trash and dropped it into a receptacle, then stepped out into a beautiful May morning. Horses clip-clopped down the road next to Englisch cars. Shop owners swept the front of their sidewalks and turned Closed signs to Open.
“I have to admit, the cool mornings here are nice.”
Becca stumbled back in mock surprise.
“What?”
“You said something nice about Indiana. Maybe I misheard you. Say it again.”
Instead of indulging her, he asked, “Did you walk here from the market?”
“Of course.”
“Then come on. I’ll give you a ride back to work.”
“Only if you let me drive.”
“Let you drive?”
“I know how to drive a horse and buggy. We have an old mare named Oreo, who I’m quite good with, and a young mare named Peanut, who is the sweetest thing you could ask for in a buggy horse.”
“Didn’t realize a horse could be sweet.”
“Plus, Samson and I just happen to be old friends.”
“Is that so?”
“It is.” She smirked back over her shoulder as she hurried toward Nathan’s buggy. He didn’t try to match her pace, and he only pretended to be afraid when she climbed up into the driver’s seat.
He had a feeling that little Becca Yoder could do anything she put her mind to—drive a horse and buggy, manage an outdoor market, hang drywall in a stranger’s home. The only question he had was why she’d given in to his shortened trial period so easily.
It seemed to him that Becca was up to something, and he was pretty sure that he would find out soon enough what that something was.
* * *
Becca dropped into a rocker on the back porch and stared up at Eunice, who was perched on top of a ladder, installing the solar ceiling fan. It looked like an ordinary fan to Becca, much like those on the porch of their Englisch neighbors.
“Do you need help with that?”
Eunice was holding the fan up with one hand and reaching for an electrical wire with the other. The wire ran across the ceiling of the porch to the edge of the roof overhang, where a small solar panel was mounted. As Eunice reached for the wire, the ladder began to tip. Becca popped out of her chair just in time to hold it steady.
“Danki,” Eunice said. “That was close.”
“You shouldn’t be doing these things alone.” That was what Becca said, but what she thought was that her schweschder shouldn’t be doing these things at all.
“Thought I could reach it.” Eunice was mumbling because she was holding a screwdriver in her mouth. “One more second.”
Something clicked into something else, and then Eunice grinned down at her. “That should do it.” She scampered down the ladder and walked over to a switch she’d screwed into the wall of the porch.
“Ready?”
“I guess.” But Becca took several big steps back and away from the contraption, in case it fell or sent down showers of sparks when Eunice hit the button.
She hit the button.
No falling parts.
No sparks.
Just the soft whir of a fan.
“It works.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“Why would you be? I actually know what I’m doing.”
“Now you do, apparently. But you didn’t know what you were doing the time you tried to hook a solar pump to the horses’ water trough.”
“I was younger then.”
“It was last fall.”
“And I learned from my mistake. You have to admit, the fan is nice.”
“It is at that.”
They both sat in the rockers, smiling at one another. Simultaneously, they reached for a glass of iced tea that Becca had brought out earlier. Laughing, they clinked the glasses together. It felt silly and young and carefree.
Becca wanted to be silly and young and carefree.
She sighed heavily, the sigh of a much older person—a serious, responsible, mature person.
“Problems at the market?”
“How did you guess?”
“You always make that face when there’s problems at the market.”
“What face?”
“The one you’re... never mind. So, what’s the problem?”
“In a word—Gideon.”
“Hmm. Wish I could help, sis, but I know nothing about guys.”
“Half the time, you have your head stuck inside a piece of machinery you’re working on with guys.”
“Well, sure, but that’s different because we’re working.”
“You spend more time with Zeb Mast than you do with your own family.”
“I guess, but Zeb is like a bruder. I don’t think whatever problem you’re having with Gideon is like that.”
“It isn’t. My problem with Gideon is that he’s stubborn and homesick, and he’s a constant worrier. It’s enough to drive you a little narrisch.”
“So it isn’t his work ethic?”
“Nein.” She explained about eavesdropping on his phone call, about his decision to stay thirty days but not the agreed-upon ninety.
“He can do the work?”
“Ya, sure. Doesn’t take a genius.” Becca stared up at the whirring fan. “He works hard. If he’d relax around the vendors, he’d get along better with them. He’s a bit tense, you know?”
“Like a fish out of water.”
“Exactly.”
“A horse in the city.”
“I guess.”
“An Amish girl on a cruise ship.”
They both laughed, and then Becca said, “Okay. Enough with the analogies.” She did feel better, though. Eunice always made her feel better because Eunice saw things simply.
Becca supposed if you were adept at working with machines, then life might seem less complicated. She didn’t understand mechanical things at all. If anything broke at the market, she called maintenance. If anything broke at home, she called Eunice. Becca supposed if you learned how to rig up one solar ceiling fan, you could rig up a dozen. Machines didn’t complicate things with feelings. “Tell me how you would fix this if it were a solar panel.”
“Solar panel?”
“Or whatever. Logically, how would you fix this? Because it’s looking more and more like I won’t get out of here until next year, and that’s sort of breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry, sis.”
“Not your fault.”
“True.” Eunice pressed her fingertips together and studied something in the distance. Finally, she turned to Becca. “Okay. So you have two problems.”
“Only two?”
Eunice retrieved a tape measure from the pocket of her apron and pulled out the tab, stretching the tape. She let it go—thwack—then pulled it out and let it go again. Thwack.
Becca snatched it out of her hands and sat back with a smile. “You were saying?”
“Goodness, you’re jumpy. I think better when I have something in my hands.”
“And I’ll return this when you solve my problems.” Becca wiggled the tape measure back and forth. “You know you want it.”
Eunice rolled her eyes.
“You were saying I have two problems.”
“Right. One is Gideon—obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“And the other is Dat.”
“True enough.”
“Start with Dat. Tell him you’d like to renegotiate.”
“Okay.” Becca turned the tape measure over and over in her hand. Finally, she admitted, “I don’t know how to do that.”
“Meet him halfway. Agree to stay in your current position until spring, but insist that your leaving not be contingent on finding a replacement. Let’s be honest. There are a dozen guys here in Shipshe who could do that job and do it well.”
“I was thinking the same thing.”
“So Dat was procrastinating. He was putting off your leaving because he was worried about you.”
“Hmm.” Could it be that simple? Maybe she had been overthinking this.
“Tell him you appreciate his worry but that you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Meet him halfway. Stay until spring, but no longer.”
Becca sighed. Eunice was right. This wasn’t an either/or situation. It wasn’t a matter of her having the things she wanted in life right this minute or never having them. She wasn’t a child, and she could handle change with maturity. So what if she wanted to kick a buggy tire? She didn’t have to respond that way.
“I don’t want to stay until spring, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world.” She rather liked the idea of spending one last Christmas at home. Yes, she had envisioned what it would be like in Florida or Tennessee or even California, but she wouldn’t mind one more Indiana Christmas. “I suppose spring would be the worst case. There’s still a possibility—albeit a slim one—that Gideon will serve his thirty days and decide to stay.”
Eunice shrugged as if to say maybe that could happen, but don’t count on it.
Becca would have to find a way to convince Gideon that he could make a home and be happy in Shipshe. She’d have to change his mind that Texas was the only place he could truly be content.
“Problem number two is a bit trickier.” Eunice took another sip of tea.
“Gideon.”
“What are some things he likes?”
“Texas. He likes everything about Texas. He goes on and on and on about the Lone Star state.”
“Such as what?”
“Crops, wildflowers, droughts...”
“Who likes a drought?”
“Scorching heat, cattle, hard work, rodeos...”
“Too bad our rodeo isn’t until November.” Eunice snapped her fingers, then leaned forward and grabbed her tape measure out of Becca’s hands. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“Take him to the buggy races this weekend. It’s not a rodeo, but it’s close enough.”
“I don’t want to take him to the buggy races. I spend all week with him. The last thing I want to do is spend Saturday with him too.”
“Then find another girl to do it.” Eunice grinned at her as if she’d dropped a Christmas package into her lap. “Maybe he just needs to see the fun side of our little community.”
“He thinks our community is huge.”
“Convince him otherwise.” Eunice stood and stretched, sending a satisfied glance toward the ceiling fan. “I better go wash up. Wouldn’t want to arrive at the dinner table with grease on my hands.”
“You always show up with grease on your hands...” But Becca was talking to herself. Eunice had already gone inside.
Actually, her schweschder’s idea made sense.
Gideon was homesick because he hadn’t met anyone here, and he hadn’t met anyone because he was too homesick to be sociable. If she invited him to the buggy races, he’d get out of his own head for a few minutes. He also might meet some people...some friends—a girlfriend, even.
If Gideon had a girlfriend, he’d stay.
Eunice was a genius!
Now all Becca had to do was convince Gideon to go with her Saturday and then make sure the right girls were also in attendance. She’d start a list. Then she’d go down to the phone shack and place a few calls. Let the Amish grapevine do the work for her.
And she’d have that talk with her dat. Because if a day at the buggy races didn’t work—and she fully realized it was a long shot—then she would rather not stay another nine months. There had to be a quicker way to end her servitude. Maybe she could go on a new year’s mission. That was only six months away.
But she didn’t want to go in March or even in January. Her mind—and her heart—kept wavering back and forth. On the one hand, she knew that having to wait wouldn’t be the end of her dreams. On the other hand, she was terribly impatient to go. She wanted to leave in August like she’d planned. If she played her cards right, that still might be possible.
