Eliza Zook woke up before the rest of the household and faced the day as she always did—with no-nonsense determination. She fumbled for the big, round glasses on the bedside table, and as she slid them on, the world came into focus. Beyond the quiet bedroom lay the village of Bluebird Hills, nestled in the green fields of Lancaster County. Eliza slipped out from under the handmade quilt and dropped her bare feet onto the hardwood floor with a quiet thump, shivered in the chill morning air, and lit the kerosene lantern. As the flame flickered to life, she suppressed a yawn and glanced at the battery-powered clock. One hour and forty-five minutes until she dropped off her niece and foster daughter, Priss, at the one-room schoolhouse.
Eliza dressed quickly, smoothed her brown hair into a neat bun and pinned on her prayer kapp, taking an extra minute to ensure everything was neatly in place. She made the bed, smoothing out every wrinkle and fluffing the pillow, before marching into the kitchen. Her mother, Lovina, stood at the sink, filling the kettle with water. “Running late, I see,” she murmured. “School starts in an hour and a half.”
Pulling back the yellow gingham curtain that covered the kitchen window, Eliza frowned. Darkness hung over the tidy front yard. An engine rumbled as a truck lumbered past the redbrick ranch house, headed toward Bluebird Hills’ quaint little downtown a few blocks away. Eliza could barely make out the vehicle in the faint glow of moonlight. “The sun isn’t up yet. I can’t be that late.”
Lovina shrugged and set the kettle onto the gas stove. “The early bird gets the worm, ain’t so?”
Eliza’s expression tightened as she nodded. Her mother had a gift for finding faults. Even so, Eliza made a mental note to wake up fifteen minutes earlier tomorrow. Surely her mother wouldn’t find reason to criticize her then.
The rest of the morning continued in its usual orderly and predictable way. Eliza and Lovina sipped mugs of hot tea while preparing a breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash brown casserole, sourdough toast and sliced peaches. Six-year-old Priss trotted into the room, already dressed for school, as Eliza pulled the casserole from the oven. The room lit up with Priss’s bright smile as she grabbed a slice of bacon with a pudgy hand and stuffed it into her mouth. “Sit down to eat,” Eliza reminded her as she pinched a pink cheek and nodded toward the table. “And don’t dawdle—you’re running late again.”
Priss’s face fell as she dropped into a chair. “But I’m all ready. See, I even got my payer kapp on straight this time.” Eliza saw the look on Priss’s face and cringed inside. She had not meant to be critical. Somehow, in her rush to make everything go smoothly, she had hurt Priss’s feelings. Again.
Like mother, like daughter.
Except Eliza wasn’t anything like her mother. She glanced at the sixty-six-year-old woman standing at the stove, her apron and kapp perfectly starched and ironed, and not a hair out of place. While her petite frame and frown lines made her appear frail and elderly, she moved like a young woman, full of energy and vigor. Lovina Zook was a force to be reckoned with. She had a knack for getting things done—or as some people described it, bossing people around—and an air of confidence that Eliza simply didn’t possess. She had tried. She’d tried so hard that it made her head ache. But somehow, she could never quite fill her mother’s shoes.
Most of the time, Eliza felt that all she did was make things worse, even though she was trying to do the right thing. All she wanted was a well-run household that would satisfy her mother.
Or, if she was willing to admit it, maybe she actually wanted something much more than that: to be free from the pressure to be perfect.
Eliza sighed. “I’m sorry, Priss. I didn’t mean...” Eliza frowned and cut her eyes to Lovina, then back to Priss. “I didn’t mean to criticize you. You’ve done a great job getting ready this morning. I just don’t want us to be late.”
“You’re always worried about being late, and we never are,” Priss said between two big bites of hash brown casserole.
“Because I worry about it, I take action to make sure it doesn’t happen,” Eliza said.
Priss furrowed her brow as she chewed, then swallowed. “Seems like there’re better things to worry about.” Priss considered this for another moment, then straightened in her seat as her face lit up with an idea. “Or you could just stop worrying at all. I don’t like it.”
Eliza’s chest constricted. It seemed like the harder she tried, the harder she failed. Worrying was just one more strike against her parenting. When her sister, Rebekah, had abandoned the Amish faith, she’d left her daughter, Priss, behind, and Eliza had raised the child as her own ever since. The entire community considered Eliza to be Priss’ mother and the little girl always called her Mamm, instead of Aenti. Eliza knew Priss needed tenderness and understanding after suffering rejection from her biological mother, and Eliza tried hard to give her that. But Priss also needed a firm hand, or she might end up going astray just like Rebekah had. At least, that’s what Lovina had warned. And Eliza was afraid Lovina had a point.
But one look at Priss’s expression melted Eliza’s heart. “You’re right, Priss. I shouldn’t worry. I should leave everything in Gott’s hands.”
Priss gave a satisfied nod as she picked up her last strip of bacon. “So you won’t mind if we take the long way to school so we can pet the llamas behind the Yoder farm?”
Lovina shook her head as she began to clear the table.
Eliza sighed. “Nee. We still have to stay on schedule.”
Priss groaned dramatically. “Schedules are so boring.”
“Maybe,” Eliza said. “But they keep everything running smoothly. A predictable life is a good life.”
After a fifteen-minute buggy ride to the one-room schoolhouse, Eliza dropped Priss off according to schedule, then drove the buggy past a half-mile stretch of pastureland to the gift shop and farm stand where she worked. The little pink-and-white building with gingerbread trim looked like a Victorian dollhouse alongside the highway. Eliza passed the big hand-painted sign that read “Aunt Fannie’s Amish Gifts” as she pulled into the gravel parking lot. Morning sunlight shone across the acres of green and brown fields beyond the farmyard and sparkled across a small pond. A windmill overlooking the water creaked as its metal blades turned lazily in the breeze.
Emerald, ruby and purple dresses hung on a clothesline behind a rambling white farmhouse where Levi and Katie Miller, the owners of the farm and gift shop, lived. A massive red barn stood in the background, surrounded by split rail fences, bales of hay and hens pecking at the dirt. Inside, Eliza could hear the low, muffled mooing of the dairy cows. A rooster crowed and a dog barked in the distance.
Eliza’s stomach tightened when she caught sight of Gabriel King in the south pasture beyond the barn. From any distance, she knew that silhouette anywhere. He was tall and boyishly handsome, with well-developed muscles from working as a farmhand for the Millers. Her heart fluttered every time she looked at him. Especially when he flashed his signature mischievous grin.
Gabriel King was Eliza’s one great weakness, and had been since the third grade when he’d first turned that roguish smile on her. Eliza knew he was bad news—it was common knowledge that he had a rebellious spirit and was taking too many liberties on his rumspringa, which he kept extending. People whispered that he didn’t fit in on the Miller farm—or anywhere in Bluebird Hills. There was even talk that he might jump the fence and go Englisch one day. Not to mention that Gabriel would never be interested in Eliza. He barely even noticed she existed. And why would he when he had plenty of pretty, popular girls running after him? Eliza was too plain and predictable to ever attract a fun-loving, good-looking boy like Gabriel.
Eliza watched Gabriel lead a large black horse named Thunder through the high grass, then turned away. She unhitched and stabled her buggy horse, Bunny, and hurried toward the shop’s entrance to ensure everything was neat and tidy before it was time to open to customers.
A high-pitched whinny followed by a strangled shout grabbed Eliza’s attention before she opened the gift shop door. She jerked around to face the noise, then squinted through the thick lenses of her glasses.
A jolt of panic raced through her.
Thunder ran wild through the south pasture, the rope trailing behind. Dust billowed up from the powerful hooves, but Eliza could still make out the shape of a man tangled in the rope, dragging behind the horse.
Eliza did not think or plan. She acted on instinct. Her heart crashed into her throat as her feet pounded across the farmyard, chickens scattering in her wake. She flew into the south pasture, gasping for breath as the enormous horse wheeled around and headed in her direction. Gabriel shouted a warning. The world shifted into slow motion as the panicked animal bore down on her, foaming with sweat, eyes wild and flashing white. Hoofbeats thundered across the packed earth like drumbeats that echoed in Eliza’s chest. Her mouth went dry, and her body froze. Another few seconds and those sharp black hooves would trample her.
The world whizzed past in a blur as Gabriel made out a solitary figure planted in front of Thunder. He twisted his body, but the rope held fast around his leg. “Eliza!” he shouted. “Get out of the way! You’re going to get yourself killed!” What was she thinking? Gabriel grimaced in pain as his body bounced and slammed against the earth. He yanked at the rope tangled around him, but the force of the running horse pulled it taut. It was hopeless.
Gabriel never thought very far ahead. He lived for the day, for the moment. At twenty-one years old, he was young enough for that luxury. He had all the time in the world to relax and enjoy a few wild years.
Until now. He could not believe it might end this way. What a stupid, careless way to go. And now Eliza was going down with him, for no reason. He wished that guilt wouldn’t be the last thing on his conscience. He had enough of it to wrestle with as it was.
“Eliza!” Gabriel shouted again. Dust filled his mouth as his shoulder skidded over a clump of dirt. “Get out of the way!”
She didn’t move.
“Eliza!”
Eliza put out a hand and stared at the horse. Gabriel knew that everything was happening as quick as a heartbeat, but his senses had slowed, and he felt as though he were being dragged through water. The moment seemed to last forever as he watched Eliza hold that position, shoulders back, mouth set in a determined line.
“And just where do you think you’re going?” she asked in her usual no-nonsense way, her tone firm but reassuring. “You can’t keep running forever, so you may as well stop now.” She stared the animal down with the same look she gave whispering children during church services. The horse snorted, jerked his head and slowed to an agitated prance. “That’s right,” Eliza said. “Go on and stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt.”
The horse snorted again, then shuddered to a stop, sides heaving. He lowered his head and breathed heavily, foamy sweat glistening along his flank. Eliza reached forward and cautiously grabbed hold of the rope. She patted his neck with her other hand and clucked her tongue. “Acting the fool like that. Could have gotten somebody killed.”
“He doesn’t understand, you know,” Gabriel said from where he lay sprawled in the dirt. He pushed himself up, groaned and collapsed back to the ground.
“Ach, he understands well enough,” Eliza said. “And he knows he ought to be ashamed of himself for running wild.” As if on cue, the horse looked away and gave a mournful whinny.
“One of your looks is enough to scare anybody, Eliza.”
“You’re welcome,” she said.
“Danki. Didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just... I’ve never seen anybody do that before.”
“Stop a horse? It really isn’t that big a deal.”
“I mean I’ve never seen anyone stop a horse with a look before.”
“Nonsense. He had already worn himself out. He was ready to stop.”
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stared down at him.
“You’re mighty calm right now to have just put yourself in the path of a runaway horse,” Gabriel said after a few beats. “Maybe a little too calm. Shouldn’t you be crying or fainting or something?”
“It would pretty inconvenient if I collapsed, too, ain’t so? I think one person laid out in the dirt is enough for today.”
Gabriel flashed a weak smile. “You got me there. I guess this makes you a hero. What do you think of that?”
“Nonsense. I just did what anyone would do.”
“You and I both know that’s not true.”
Eliza looked away as her cheeks flushed red.
“Why, Eliza Zook, did I just make you blush?”
Eliza’s face swung back toward Gabriel. “You seem pretty calm yourself. Maybe you took a hit on the head. You probably shouldn’t be smiling so much.”
“Can’t smile at the woman who rescued me?”
Eliza’s expression of perplexed shock made Gabriel chuckle. “I’ve never seen that look on your face before, Eliza. Was it something I said?”
She blinked rapidly.
“Left you speechless, huh? I do have that effect on women, you know.”
Eliza’s shocked expression snapped into a frown. “That’s quite enough out of you, Gabriel King. You must have a concussion to be carrying on so.”
Gabriel shrugged and flashed a playful grin.
“Are you hurt, or are you just wallowing in the dirt for fun while you tease me?” Eliza asked.
Gabriel realized he was still lying on the ground while Eliza peered down at him, hands firmly planted on her hips. He lifted himself onto his elbows and glanced over his body. “Too much adrenaline to tell at the moment.” He gave himself a quick pat down. “Everything seems intact.” But when he touched his ankle, pain shot up his leg and he winced.
Eliza shook her head. “Best get you to a doctor.”
Gabriel frowned. “Hate to make a fuss.”
Eliza raised an eyebrow.
“Oll recht,” Gabriel muttered before dropping his head back to the ground and closing his eyes. “You win.”
Eliza watched the ambulance back out of the gravel driveway and onto the highway. The lights flashed blue and red, but the siren remained silent as the vehicle zipped away. Thankfully, Gabriel was not so badly injured that the paramedics had to rush him to the hospital. In fact, he had been well enough to make fun of her. She had always suspected that he smiled and joked to cover up how he really felt. He had probably been hurting badly. He probably still was.
The thought made her chest tighten. She kept her eyes on the back of the ambulance until it disappeared beyond a distant hill and she was left alone in the empty farmyard. Eliza wanted to be in the ambulance with Gabriel. She wanted it so badly it made her feel sick and hollow inside.
Eliza let out a long, shuddering breath. She looked down at her clasped hands and realized she was shaking. In that terrible moment, when the horse had charged toward her, her entire focus had been on saving Gabriel. Nothing else had mattered. But now that Gabriel was safe, all the emotion she had pushed aside was rushing back.
Gabriel could have been killed. They both could have been killed.
“Thank you, Gott, for protecting us and using me to help Gabriel,” Eliza whispered. She closed her eyes, let the relief sweep through her; then she opened her eyes and forced herself to walk toward the gift shop. There was no use standing in the driveway, feeling upset. That wouldn’t do anybody any good. No, she may as well get back to work. That was why the Millers had left her behind. Someone had to mind the shop, and it made sense that it should be her. Levi wasn’t just Gabriel’s boss; he was a longtime family friend. And even though Katie had only known Gabriel’s family since she moved to Bluebird Hills the previous year, she would still feel responsible. She and Levi were only in their late twenties, but took their work seriously and played an important role in the lives of their employees and neighbors.
Eliza, on the other hand, was nobody to Gabriel. Just an awkward woman with bony knees and elbows, mousy brown hair, and big round glasses. He wouldn’t even notice that she had been left behind. He would probably forget that he had called her a hero.
But she would never, ever forget. That was certain sure. And she would never let go of the wild hope that someday she could win his heart—no matter how impossible that seemed, and no matter how often she had been warned against his rebellious ways.
Copyright © 2023 by Virginia Wise