River of Mercy (15 page)

The liveliness left her face. Surprised, Gant saw an almost petulant expression come over her features.

“Yes,” she said. “And I'm exceedingly thankful for her. But that doesn't mean I don't need the company of an adult every now and then.”

“I suppose we all do,” Gant said quietly. “I just don't like my company in the form of a crowd.”

He cringed the instant the words were out, thinking he sounded harsh when he didn't mean to at all. Ellie Sawyer was young, newly widowed, and living a kind of life that was no doubt far different from anything she might have imagined. She probably
was
lonely. But he sensed that in trying to be tactful in his refusal, he'd managed to hurt her feelings.

He had never been any good with the social niceties. And not much good with women either, when it came down to it.

“Ellie…”

Her smile quickly returned, or at least a semblance of it. “It's all right, Captain. I think I understand. It seems if I'm going to have supper with you some night, it will have to be a quiet affair, just the two of us. I'll work on that. For now, I need to go and get Naomi Fay settled in so I can get back to work. It's almost lunchtime. Marabeth will be wondering where I've gone off to.”

She left in a bit of a sweep. Gant stood staring out the door after her, wondering what had just happened.

Surely he'd misread her. Ellie Sawyer was little more than a girl. Well, all right—she was a widow with a baby. But she seemed like a girl. She'd always struck him as young and a little naive. And yet there probably weren't all that many years between her and Rachel. Unlike Rachel, however, Ellie always made him feel…well, if not old, at least older. Brotherly. Even paternal.

That stung.

Not that it mattered. At least it shouldn't matter. She couldn't be interested in him, not that way.

But what if she was? What kind of big
amadan
wouldn't return the interest of a pretty young thing like Ellie Sawyer?

An
amadan
indeed. A fool. The kind of fool who was getting older all the time while he waited for a miracle to happen. A fool who continued to hope when no reason for hope seemed to exist. A fool who sat waiting for a locked door to open. A door without a key.

Waiting for Rachel. Was that to be his life then? A hopeless waiting that might never know an end?

But was the waiting entirely without hope? After all, the new bishop, whoever he turned out to be, could make a difference.

Couldn't he?

No. Gant couldn't…wouldn't go down that path. Not yet, not when Isaac Graber wasn't even in his grave. Besides, Rachel had said they must pray only for God's will for them, and he had promised her he would. So far, he had kept his word.

But it was hard. So hard…to pray with no real hope. Was that even praying?

He shook his head as if to shake off his own impatience with himself. Finally, he pulled a long breath, turned away from the door, and went back to work.

14

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out.

R
OBERT
F
ROST

G
ant could have shouted for joy when both Asa and Gideon showed up at the shop three days later.

Gideon came through the back door bright and early, grinning as if he knew something Gant would like to know. But if that was the case, the boy was keeping it to himself. He offered nothing except a greeting and his thanks to Gant for giving him an extra few days off in addition to what he'd requested.

Gant had a hunch the boy's good mood might have something to do with Emma Knepp. He'd noticed his young apprentice tended to wear that same smitten smile after even the briefest encounter with Levi Knepp's only daughter.

By the time Asa arrived, Gant had already sent Gideon off with a few deliveries and was checking his measurements for a cupboard John Coblentz had ordered. The Amish dairy farmer had been a good customer and always an appreciative one. He also paid on time. For all those reasons, Gant liked working for him.

Asa came in through the front door for a change. Gant noted the fatigue lining his strong features and the dust embedded in his hat and coat. As always, he took off his hat as he entered and rubbed a hand over it.

“So you're back.” It was an inane thing to say, but Asa didn't like a fuss. If Gant had told him how happy he really was to see him, his friend would have ignored it anyway. Still, he couldn't resist adding, “I'm glad.”

Asa's face creased into a wry expression. “Does that mean you've been busy?”

“No, it means I'm glad to see your cynical self back in town. But I have been busy.” He studied the other for a second or two. “You look tired.”

“I stayed on the road last night. Didn't stop.”

“So you got no sleep?”

“Felt no need for sleep until later this morning. I'm all right.”

“Go get yourself some breakfast and take a nap. Gideon's back too, so I'll have help this afternoon.”

“Where's he been?”

“Off for a few days helping out at his mother's place.”

“Don't you want to know how the trip went?”

“You'd have told me by now if there'd been trouble. We can talk later.”

Asa gave a nod, wasting no time before heading out again. “I'll pull the wagon in back first.”

Gant turned back to his papers and then remembered. “There's some cornbread and bacon left over from supper last night,” he said. “Help yourself.”

“Now that sounds good, Captain. I'm ready for a decent meal.”

With a close look at his friend's tall frame, Gant saw that he looked leaner than usual, and Asa had no extra flesh to begin with.

“Some fresh eggs in the icebox too,” he added.

Gideon Kanagy drove the wagon back toward town after his last delivery to Aaron Lapp's farm. Halfway down the road, he caught himself grinning again.

He'd been doing that all morning, ever since meeting up with Emma and her
dat
going in the opposite direction as he left Mose Bender's place. Levi Knepp hadn't stopped the buggy, of course. Not even for a minute. To the contrary, Gideon thought the man had actually urged his team faster just to make sure he and Emma would have no time for even a civil hello.

Even so, Emma had managed a brief but warm smile for Gideon, which he returned.

What Levi didn't know was that his daughter had favored Gideon with more than one smile lately. While helping out at his mother's farm, Gideon had taken to riding past the Knepp place in the afternoon, hoping to catch Emma outside. He knew it wasn't likely, given the miserable weather they'd been having, but he'd made a daily attempt anyway. And twice his effort had been rewarded.

Yesterday had been one of those times. Emma was coming out the gate with some kind of a covered dish in her hands when he pulled up beside her. He wasn't surprised that she glanced back at the house as if to see if anyone was watching before turning to him. It seemed that she was taking a dish of chicken and noodles across the road to the Mast farm. “Lovina sprained her ankle last week, so Mamm and I have been helping with extra food,” she told Gideon.

She gave him her usual small smile, though he noted it no longer seemed quite as shy as it once had. Ever since the day he'd taken her home in his wagon after finding her stranded alongside the road with a broken wheel, she had seemed a little more comfortable with him, a little more open in her speech and actions.

Gideon was glad for the difference. There was something about Emma Knepp that drew him. Something more than her pretty face, although she was an extremely pretty girl. Maybe it was a lot of things. Out-of-the-ordinary things, such as the fact that she seemed so…untainted. Pure. But not in a prudish, stuffy way. No, it was more a clean freshness about her that set her apart from most girls he'd gone out with.

It was more than her appearance, though. Somehow Gideon knew that Emma was unusual. Different. He could tell she was a good, gentle person but with a strength and kindness that made folks naturally respect and like her.

Young as she was, she was already someone special. At least she was becoming special to Gideon. And he found that surprising. Even a little scary.

For example, yesterday he'd actually asked her if she went to the singings—the Sunday evening gatherings for the Amish young people, where couples often started courting. A good number of those couples eventually married.

The look she'd given him had been one of obvious surprise and puzzlement. “Oh…well, sometimes I do. When one of my brothers is free to take me and bring me home.”

So she wasn't seeing anyone in particular. At least not yet.

Then she'd added, “I've…I've never seen you there though.”

Gideon had almost choked on his reply. “Well, you just might soon.”

At first he'd thought she wasn't going to say anything. But after a few seconds, she looked directly at him with a long, searching look that was unusual for Emma and said in a quiet but steady voice, “That would be nice, Gideon.”

She paused, and a faint blush stained her face as she added, “The next singing is this Sunday at the Springers'.” Again she hesitated. “In case you wanted to know.”

Gideon had gone on his way feeling a little light-headed and with his mind already set to show up at the Sunday night singing. He wondered only briefly if he would be welcome, absent as he'd been from the church services and the singings for months now. But he didn't fret about it long. It wasn't as if he were under the
Bann,
after all. He was still Amish, even if he hadn't joined the church. He was still in his
rumspringa
and was allowed to have his running-around time before joining the church—if he ever did join.

Welcome or not, he was going to that singing.