When Gideon finished his labor, he opened the back door of the harness shop and carried the snow shovel through the building. Rebecca’s grandfather sat behind the counter on a tall stool tooling a length of harness. He looked up when he heard Gideon and nodded. “Danki, your help is appreciated.”
“I’m happy to do it.” Gideon’s voice was barely audible and the sensation of swallowing razor blades was back. He looked around but didn’t see Rebecca.
“My granddaughter decided to go back to the inn,” Reuben said before Gideon could ask.
Gideon tried to hide his disappointment. Reuben returned to his work without another word. Recognizing a dismissal when he saw it, Gideon walked out the front door. Had he made trouble for Rebecca? He knew a few Amish elders who would see her casual friendship with him as brazen behavior.
Standing on the sidewalk, he pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets. The day seemed colder without Rebecca’s company. He had worked up a sweat shoveling. Now a chill was setting in.
Traffic had picked up on the streets. Chances were good that the interstate would be open soon, if it wasn’t already. The narrow rural highway between Hope Springs and the interstate might be another story, but Gideon found he wasn’t eager to leave the quiet village.
Okay, he wasn’t eager to leave Rebecca. The connection was still there between them. He felt it. The question was—what should he do about it?
He shook his head at his foolishness. What was the point of resurrecting his emotions from their old relationship when Rebecca had no idea who he was? He wasn’t being fair to her or to himself. Suddenly he realized how tired he was. His illness had seriously sapped his energy. His good deed of shoveling aside four feet of packed snow had burned through what little he had left.
Or maybe it was his guilty conscience making him tired. Pretending to be someone he wasn’t was harder than he thought. With heavy steps, he started walking toward the inn.
By the time he reached the building he was ready to crawl under the covers and hide. He wasn’t in any shape to attempt the six-hour drive home. When he entered the lobby, he was relieved to see his cousin wasn’t on duty. The elderly man behind the desk was the same fellow that checked Gideon in. He wasn’t Amish.
“Did you enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Troyer?”
Gideon glanced around to see who might have overheard his name. There was no one about. He managed a smile and said, “Call me Booker. It’s a very comfortable place. I know I’m due to check out today, but is there any way I can stay another night?”
“Certainly. I can keep you in the same room for two more days if you like.”
“One more will be fine.” Relieved, Gideon climbed the stairs and walked slowly down the hall. At the door to Rebecca’s room he paused. He considered knocking to see if she had made it back okay but decided against it. It would be better all around if he let their budding relationship die a natural death. As far as she knew they were two strangers staying at the same inn. They had enjoyed a walk together and nothing more. He should let it go at that.
He needed to let go of her.
Unlocking his own door, he entered the cozy room where an old-fashioned four-poster bed with a blue-and-white quilted coverlet was calling his name. He tossed his coat over a chair, kicked off his shoes and lay down fully dressed on the bed. After a minute, he rolled to his side and dragged the corner of the bedspread across his shoulders.
The next time he opened his eyes the room was completely dark. Squinting at the clock on the bedside table, he saw it was nearly eleven-thirty at night and he was starving. Had he really slept for twelve hours?
It was too late to call Roseanne or Craig now. He’d have to try to catch them early in the morning to let them know he wouldn’t be back until the day after tomorrow. Although the company had three flights booked for the next two days, Craig would just have to pick up the slack.
Gideon sat up and rubbed his gritty eyes. His chin itched. He ran a hand over his bristly cheeks and scratched his face. He needed a shave. A few more days and he could pass for an Amish newlywed. He’d be glad when his halfhearted disguise wasn’t needed anymore.
Rising, he moved to the window and looked out. At least it wasn’t snowing. From his vantage point he could see the outline of the shops across the street highlighted by a red glow behind them. It took his sleep-stupid brain a full ten seconds to process what he was seeing.
There was a building on fire.
Dashing back to the bed, he grabbed the phone on the nightstand and dialed 911, praying this sleepy little town had an emergency dispatch. To his relief, a woman’s voice said, “911 operator. What is your emergency?”
He tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Apparently, getting chilled had set back his recovery.
“What is your emergency?” the woman asked, louder this time.
He tried harder, straining his vocal cords. “I can see a building on fire from my window.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you. Would you repeat that, please?”
He dropped the receiver beside the phone and headed out the door. He had to find someone with a voice. In the dark hallway, he saw a sliver of light coming from beneath Rebecca’s door. He pounded on the wooden panel.
When there was no response, he knocked again. This time, he heard her uncertain voice. “Who is it?”
“It’s Booker.” Great, he couldn’t identify himself beyond a harsh whisper he doubted she could hear through the thick door. He knocked again.
The door opened a crack. “Booker? Is that you?”
He drew his hand across his throat hoping she would understand he couldn’t talk and then realized she couldn’t see him, either. He swallowed hard and struggled to speak. “Rebecca, I need your help.”
The door opened wide. She stood with a soft blue robe pulled over her floor-length white nightgown. Her hair was in a long braid hanging over her shoulder. He had been right. It was past her waist now. She stared sightlessly past him.
He leaned forward, close to her ear and whispered, “I see a building on fire from my window.”
From inside the room, he heard her aunt call out. “Rebecca, what’s going on? It’s nearly midnight.”
“Booker says he sees a building on fire.”
“Where?”
They were wasting valuable time. Gideon took Rebecca’s hand and pulled her across the hall to his room. Picking up the phone, he placed it to her ear and said, “Tell them.”
Clearly, the 911 operator was still on the line. Rebecca said, “Hello, this is Rebecca Beachy. I want to report a fire.”
Gideon placed his ear on the outside of the receiver to hear the woman’s response.
“Can you give me your address?”
“I’m staying at the Wadler Inn in Hope Springs.”
“Is the fire at the inn?”
Gideon said no and Rebecca repeated the information.
“Can you give me the location of the fire?”
By this time Rebecca’s aunt had followed them into the room. Gideon led her to his window. Now that the women would be able to stay on the line with the dispatcher, he could go get more help. He pulled on his shoes and grabbed his coat.
Rebecca said, “They’re putting a call into the Hope Springs volunteer fire department. They will be on their way soon, but they need an address.”
Gideon pointed to himself then to the fire and retrieved his cell phone. Vera nodded in understanding. She said, “Rebecca, tell them Mr. Booker is heading toward the fire now. He’ll have someone call them on his cell phone. I’ll rouse the house.”
Gideon grabbed his coat and sprinted out the door. At the foot of the stairs, he looked back once and saw Vera coming down, too. She would raise the alarm and get help from the staff at the inn.
Outside, he raced across the street and followed the same path he and Rebecca had walked that morning. As he ran down the sidewalk a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure until he passed the fabric shop and reached the alley they had taken to her grandfather’s shop. Through the narrow walkway he saw the flames licking up the back wall of the harness shop. The snow-covered ground reflected the dancing orange glow. The stench of smoke fouled the night air.
Gideon hurried down the alley. Already the heat had broken out several windows at the rear of the building. No one was about yet. The windows of the homes on either side of the building were dark. It wasn’t going to take much for the fire to spread across the narrow spaces between the wooden structures. He had to wake people.
Looking around he spotted a metal trash can at the side of the alley. He picked up the lid and started banging it against the can for all he was worth. It seemed like an eternity before the back door of one house finally opened and an irate voice shouted, “Knock off that racket!”
From above, he heard a window open. This time a woman screeched, “Fire!”
Now that he was sure the alarm would be spread, Gideon dropped his noisemaker and raced around to the front of the building. The shop was adjacent to Reuben’s home. He had to make sure the elderly couple was safe.
Reuben’s home was dark, but Gideon saw someone standing in the street in front of it. It wasn’t Reuben. The bystander was a boy of about sixteen. He already had his cell phone to his ear. Trusting that the boy was calling 911, Gideon sprinted up the steps of Reuben’s house and began pounding on the door. The flames were clearly visible over the roof of the shop now.
He was ready to break down the door when Reuben finally appeared. He held a battery-powered lantern in his hand. Raising it high, he squinted at Gideon. “What is the meaning of this?”
The boy from the street ran up. “Mr. Beachy, your shop is on fire.”
Reuben’s eyes widened. “Gott, have mercy.”
He turned back into the house and Gideon heard him shouting for his wife. In the distance, he heard the faint wail of sirens. Help was on its way at last.
A moment later, Reuben came out of his house pulling his coat over his nightclothes. He hurried past Gideon to the front door of his shop, opened it and disappeared inside.
“Is the old man crazy?” the boy standing beside Gideon asked in astonishment.
The Amish didn’t believe in insurance. Reuben had to save as much of his merchandise as he could. Knowing that it was the stupidest thing he had ever done, Gideon followed Rebecca’s grandfather into the harness shop.
Rebecca learned it was her grandfather’s shop nearly thirty minutes after Booker left her. Having returned to their room and dressed, she and Vera were in the lobby of the inn when word reached them by way of Naomi Wadler.
Now, an hour later, the three women were in the kitchen preparing thermoses of coffee and sandwiches that would be taken to the volunteers working to contain the blaze.
The back door of the kitchen banged open. Naomi asked, “What news is there, Kyle?”
A young boy’s voice answered, “The roof just fell in. You should’ve seen the sparks fly.”
Rebecca didn’t share young Kyle’s sense of excitement. She wished the news had been better. “Are you sure my daadi is all right?”
“He’s fine, but Adrian says the shop can’t be saved. They’re still trying to keep it from spreading to Reuben’s house and some others.”
Adrian Lapp, Kyle’s stepfather, was one of the volunteer firefighters. Word had spread slowly since most Amish families lived without telephones, but within an hour men from miles around were pouring in to help. The street in front of the inn was lined with buggies and hastily saddled horses.
Vera said, “It’s a blessing there is so much snow on the roofs. It may help stop the fire from spreading.”
“Has anyone been hurt?” Naomi asked.
Kyle said, “I seen Dr. White and his nurse taking care of somebody. Don’t know who it was.”
Rebecca screwed the lid on the thermos she had just filled and handed it to Kyle. “Have you seen an Englisch fellow named Booker?”
“Maybe. There’s lots of Englisch there, too. I got to go.” The slamming of the back door told Rebecca he was gone.
“I’m sure Booker is fine.” Vera patted Rebecca’s hand.
A few moments later, the back door opened again. “Naomi, have you any more cups?” This time it was Faith Lapp, Kyle’s mother. Although she and her adopted son were new to the area, they had quickly become well-loved members of the Hope Springs community. Perhaps she had more information. Naomi said, “Ja, I have stacks of foam cups in the pantry. I’ll get them.”
Rebecca asked, “Faith, could you check on a man named Booker for us? He has been staying at the inn. He’s the one who spotted the fire and we haven’t heard from him since.”
“Of course. I’ll send Kyle with news when I have it. Is he the fellow that bought your quilt?”
“Ja.” Rebecca prayed he was safe. Why hadn’t he come back?
She heard Naomi return. “Faith, I have extra blankets and quilts if you need them. I have empty rooms, too, if someone needs a place to stay.”
“Danki, at least four families have had to evacuate their homes. I will see if they want to bring the children here. The men are busy trying to save what furnishing they can.”
“Has anyone been hurt?” Vera asked. Rebecca held her breath waiting for an answer.
“A few minor burns. Your father breathed in too much smoke, but the doctor says he will be fine. Someone pulled him out of the building in the nick of time.”
“Praise the Lord.” Vera’s voice broke and she started to cry. Rebecca slipped her arms around Vera’s shoulders to offer what comfort she could.
Faith’s voice softened. “His wife was busy scolding him for his foolishness when I left.”
Vera sniffed once and chuckled. “My stepmother is a wise woman. Better than Papa deserves. God is goot.”
“Ja. He has been merciful tonight,” Faith added.
The sound of the back door closing told Rebecca Faith was gone.
“I should gather those blankets together in case they are needed,” Naomi announced.
“Let me get them,” Rebecca offered. She needed to keep busy.
“The linen room is the last door on the left at the end of the hall upstairs. Any of them will do.”
“I’ll find them.” Rebecca made her way upstairs and located the room without difficulty. The linens were stored on open shelves, making it easy for her to find blankets by feel. Gathering a large armload, she started back down the hall. Suddenly, she caught the sharp smell of smoke and soot.
She stopped in her tracks. A second later, she heard muffled footsteps. “Is someone there?”
“Just me.”
His harsh whisper sent joy leaping through her chest. “Booker, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You smell terrible.”
“Like charred barbecue?” His laugh turned into a cough.
“Are you truly okay?” She tried to tell herself she was worried about everyone who was battling the fire, but the truth was she cared about Booker more than she should.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
She was thankful for the load of blankets in her arms. They kept her from reaching out and “seeing” for herself with her hands that he was unharmed. Gripping the stack tighter, she asked, “Is the blaze out?”
“Not out but under control. A second fire company arrived from Sugarcreek. They sent a lot of us home.”
“My grandfather?”
“He’s one tough old bird. His house was damaged, but it won’t take much to repair. He and his wife are downstairs. I think they plan to stay here tonight.”
“I heard his shop is completely gone.”
“Ja.”
She smiled. “Ja? You’ve been hanging around us Amish too long.”
“Maybe so.”
An awkward silence stretched between them. She shifted the load in her arms. “Are you leaving tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Back to soaring with the birds?”
“Something like that.”
She nodded. He had to leave sooner or later. She had to stay. Drawing a deep breath, she said, “I need to get these downstairs. Come down when you’ve cleaned up and I’ll fix you a sandwich and some tea.”
“I’m not hungry. I just want to turn in.”
“Of course. We owe you a debt of gratitude, Booker. Had you not seen the fire when you did, lives may have been lost.”
“It was nothing.”
“God brought you here for a reason. I think this was it.”
She heard him sigh. Quietly, he whispered, “Good night, Rebecca.”
“Guten nacht, Booker. Sleep well.”
She heard the door to his room open and close. She stood in the hall for another minute to compose herself, then she went downstairs to join her family.
“I owe you much, Booker.” Reuben Beachy stroked his beard and then pushed the brim of his dark hat up with one finger.
“Next time run out of a burning building instead of into it.” Gideon’s voice was making a comeback. He sounded almost like himself this afternoon. He would have to be careful if he spoke to Rebecca again.
He could see her working along the women who were helping sort and clean the merchandise he and Reuben had carried out before the roof fell in. The memory of the smoke burning his lungs and eyes as he dragged out tools and materials was one he’d rather forget. He glanced down at the bandage on his left arm. He would always have a scar to remind him of his visit to Hope Springs.
All morning long teams of horses and wagons had hauled away loads of charred debris. By noon the old foundation stones of the building had been washed down and made ready to bear a new structure. After that, wagonloads of lumber and building materials began to arrive along with several truckloads donated by the local lumberyard. The sounds of hammers and saws echoed off the surrounding buildings. Everyone, Amish and English townspeople alike, were pitching in to help one of their own recover from a disaster.
Well over fifty men continued working in the cold afternoon air while the women supplied them with hot drinks and food of every sort from roast pork sandwiches to chocolate chip cookies and whoopie pies. The army of denim-clad Amish farmers and carpenters in black hats and tool belts swarmed over the site like bees over a honeycomb. By four o’clock the skeleton of a new building was rising against the blue sky.
As Gideon stood beside Reuben, two dozen of Reuben’s Amish neighbors prepared to lift a twenty-five-foot beam into the building they were raising where only ashes lay the night before.
When the beam settled safely into place, Reuben turned to Gideon. He cleared his throat. “I misjudged you, English. I warned my granddaughter against you. I would do so again, but I would not mistrust your motives in being kind to her. I owe you my life.”
Reuben’s unconscious body was the last thing Gideon had carried out of the burning shop. It had been a close call. “You are concerned about Rebecca. I understand and respect that. I’m just sorry you lost your business.”
“So ist das Leben. Such is life!” Reuben declared. “I am a man blessed.”
“How can you say that when all you worked for is gone?”
“Look about you. Why should I feel sorrow? My children and grandchildren, my friends and my neighbors are here to help. I could not survive without them or without my faith in God. The things I lost are merely…things. I do not worry about tomorrow—too much. That is in God’s hands.”
Someone called Reuben away. Gideon knew that within a week Reuben would be open for business again. It might take him a while to replace his large inventory and machinery, but he wasn’t the kind of man to quit because things were hard.
Gideon took his time getting back to the inn. When he stepped inside, he saw Adam carrying a pair of suitcases. Approaching his cousin, Gideon said, “Adam, I need you to do something for me.”
“I go out of town for two days and look what happens. I understand we have you to thank for spotting the fire before it had a chance to spread. God was with you. How is Reuben?”
“He’s tough. He’ll get through this.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I want to give Rebecca’s quilt to you. I want you to sell it again and give the money to Reuben to help him rebuild.”
“That is a generous thing, Gideon.”
“It’s the least I can do.”
“My wife and I are leaving this evening to visit your folks for a few days and share our good news.”
“What news?”
“We are expecting our first child.”
“Wow. Congratulations. That’s wonderful.”
“I would be happy to take a letter to your mother, if you’d like to write one.”
Gideon met Adam’s gaze. Maybe it was time he tried making amends. A letter to his family would be a good place to start. “I would appreciate that.”
Adam’s eyes brightened. “You mean it? You will write?”
“I’m not sure what I will say.”
“Say what is in your heart, cousin.”
“I’ll try.”
Thirty minutes later, Gideon met Adam in the lobby again. He laid an envelope on the front desk and shoved his hands in his pockets. “It’s a long overdue apology. I expect my mother will cry.”
“This is a good thing, Gideon.”
“If I went for a visit, do you think I could meet my nephews and nieces?”
“I will ask. Those that have not been baptized are free to speak with you.”
“Only if their parents let them.”
“As I said, I will ask. And I will tell them the good you have done here.”
The letter wasn’t much, but it was a start. Gideon tried not to get his hopes up, but the thought of seeing his family again suddenly made him as homesick as he’d been the first week after he left.
Rebecca was right. He’d been hanging around the Amish too long. Their focus on God, family and community had him realizing how shallow his life was. He heard the front door of the inn open. He looked over as Rebecca walked in. The sight of her lifted his spirits.
She carried a large woven hamper with one arm. Gideon rushed toward her. “Let me give you a hand with that.”
“Danki, Booker.” She smiled at him as if she could see him.
His heart turned over in his chest. If he told her the truth, confessed his sins and begged her forgiveness, could he have the life he once turned his back on? Could he find happiness living among the Amish? Was this what God wanted for him?
To return to the Amish would mean giving up flying. How could he do that? If Rebecca knew the truth could he convince her to leave this life behind? What did she have? A close family, yes, but not children, not a husband. She deserved more.
Tell her. Tell her who you are.
Before he could open his mouth, his cell phone rang. Annoyed at the interruption, he pulled it out intending to silence it. When he saw the number was Roseanne’s home phone, he frowned. He snapped open the phone. “What’s going on, Roseanne?”
“Gideon, how soon can you get back here?”
“I was thinking about staying a few more days.”
“No. You have to come back now.”
A pit of fear formed in his midsection. “You’re scaring me, Roseanne. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Craig. His plane is missing. He left here five hours ago and never reached his destination. He hasn’t been heard from since he took off.”