The Promise Box by Tricia Goyer Read Free Book Online Page B

She then lifted her head again toward the sky and smiled
     sadly. Lydia wasn’t sure iffolks got a chance to talk to God when they got to heaven. If so, she imagined Mem
     bending God’s ear, telling Him with persistence her daughter, Lydia, needed a
gut
man in her life—an Amish man to bring her happiness.
    Yet it wasn’t Gideon’s Amishness that made him so appealing. It was his nature, his
     temperament. Lydia had gone on numerous dates in Seattle with guys who had something
     to prove. Gideon wasn’t like that. He was gentle enough to calm a stubborn horse,
     yet bold enough to stride across a pasture and tell an
Englisch
woman to stop taking photos. For the first time she understood why Bonnie asked folks
     about their life stories. Gideon was a protector, yet his gaze could be wary at times,
     and it made her want to ask what had happened to make him like that.
    If she’d been looking for someone to draw her interest, Lydia would have come up with
     a different list of qualities in a man. Now she wasn’t looking, yet in Gideon she
     saw qualities that wouldn’t have made her list but would be there from now on.
    And as Lydia watched Gideon return with slow, deliberate steps, she imagined folks
did
get to talk to God. She also guessed He listened. Or at least He listened to Mem.
     How else could one explain a man like this walking into her life when she felt her
     weakest? How else could one explain that with Gideon she didn’t mind being weak—didn’t
     mind him seeing the tears that refused to be dammed any longer with missing Mem?

CHAPTER
6
    T hey walked side by side, and Gideon pondered the look on Lydia’s face and the knowledge
     that she’d wasted the last years of her mem’s life living an
Englisch
lifestyle. The thought saddened him.
    “It was a lovely service.”
    “The people here seem nice.” She glanced over at him. “Have you made many friends?”
    “A few. I wish more than I have. I tend to shy away from folks. I sometimes find horses
     easier to communicate with.”
    The path before them transformed from light to dark, light to dark as the shadows
     of the trees made a pattern on the dirt roadway.
    “Why is that?” she asked.
    He glanced over at her, not expecting the question. “Huh?”
    “What you said. Why is it that you can communicate with horses better than people
     at times?”
    Gideon tucked his hands into his pockets. He was quiet for a moment, trying to figure
     it out, but he couldn’t think back to a defining moment.
    “I jest suppose it’s the way the Lord made me. He madesome who are
gut
with woodworking, and my dat could make a crop grow in the desert. I was always drawn
     to horses. Maybe because they’re misunderstood at times. People think horses are naughty
     on purpose when really they just have a small need that no one’s paying attention
     to.”
    Most of the troubled horses he’d worked with were eager to please under the right
     circumstances. With people that wasn’t always the case. They could turn around and
     hurt or disappoint you even if you did everything right.
    Lydia shifted on her feet. Gideon eyed her, and she looked away. Did he see a wounded,
     misunderstood creature who ached from her mother’s loss? Did it matter if he did?
    “Well,
ja
, that makes sense,” she finally answered. “I feel honored…that you are willing to
     risk my friendship.”
    “You make it sound as if yer a horrible risk.”
    She glanced down at her garment and touched her
kapp
less hair. “Aren’t I?”
    “I have to say that my mem wouldn’t be smiling if she saw this—me with an
Englisch
woman—but if I’ve learned anything about living in West Kootenai for the last few
     months, it’s to consider what’s inside more than what’s out.”
    She nodded. “‘Don’t judge a book by its cover.’”
    “What?”
    “It’s an
Englisch
phrase.”
    “I know the phrase, but yer not a book.”
    Humor crinkled his eyes, and the tension in her neck