The attic yielded yet more treasures. Faith found an old ink drawing and intrigued brought it down to share with Jem.
"Is it just me or …"
Jem studied the picture intently, brow furrowed, "perhaps?"
Ordinarily Rachel would have come bustling up the lane long before, but as it turned out one of her children had the grippe and they had given to the next and so on, so that soon half the family had gone down like ninepins. Which meant that Mr Hoffer was long gone by the time she extricated herself from sneezing children to make her way up the lane to Green Gables. Nevertheless, she knew Marilla had received a visitor. "Well gracious me, Marilla. What a to do."
"Oh, it was nothing like that, Rachel. I took a little tumble in town, and he escorted me home. Since it was getting late, and he had nowhere else to go we offered him a bed for the night."
"But a Jew, Marilla. One hears such dreadful stories. And after all, remember your Bible, think what they did to our Lord."
"Yes, well I don't think I'll hold Mr Hoffer personally responsible for the crucifixion, Rachel."
"Humph."
"No," added Marilla after a reflexive sip. "He was a perfect gentleman. Matthew and I got a real education. It appears people of the Jewish faith are persecuted something terrible over in Europe. Least we can do is welcome them here. That's the Christian thing to do, isn't it?"
Rachel frowned before saying, "well tell me all about him then, as I expect you're bursting to."
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, he can iron."
"Iron?"
Marilla explained that she had helped him with some laundry, "and after he asked if he could iron them. Of course, I offered but he was happy to take care of it himself. I've never seen a man do such a fine job of it." She paused recalling the way he almost juggled the irons to keep them to the right temperature, she smiled at the memory. "Never really seen anything like it."
"Gracious, sounds intriguing."
"Yes, he was a real gentleman."
"You sound quite smitten," Rachel commented with a sly wink.
"For goodness' sake."
A few weeks later Marilla was surprised to hear a gentle knock at the rarely used front door and even more so when she opened it and found Mr Hoffer standing on her doorstep. "Forgive me, Miss Cuthbert but I was just in the area, and I had a sudden urge to visit again."
"In the area, hmm? Couldn't you have concluded your business the first time you were here?"
Gideon smiled shyly saying, "ach, but then I wouldn't have an excuse to see you."
Truth be told he had been in the vicinity a week earlier but had not been able to summon the courage to pay a call. This morning though he scolded himself for his cowardice, she's a nice woman, he told himself. Go visit.
"Yes, people buy my bigger wares on higher purchase, so I return now and again to give them the opportunity to pay them off."
Marilla opened the door to let him in and he followed her into the kitchen. "You chose a good time. I was just going to take a cup of coffee; will you join me?"
Gideon sat down at the now familiar kitchen table and watched Marilla lay out cookies and the coffee pot. It was a cool day and the hot drink was most welcome. For a moment no one spoke and then both at once they asked how the other had been faring. They stopped, started again, laughed and Marilla told him to go first. "My apologies, how have you been?"
"Passable, thank you for asking. Nothing much goes on here. My neighbour came up to enquire about your visit. No surprises there, she's a most inquisitive woman. And how are you?"
Gideon took another sip of coffee and told her what he had been doing, namely travelling around selling his wares. "I had a new shipment arrive so I've been busy."
"It sounds so interesting, here I am stuck in one place while you see all the sights."
"Ach, it's not a bad life, but I admit the thought of staying put for a few days does entice, especially when the weather is bad."
"How do you cope in the winter, then?"
"Usually, I hole up in a barn with the animals and that keeps me safe and dry."
"The barn? Do your customers not put you up?"
"No, not many are as generous or warm spirited as you Miss Cuthbert."
"They don't sound like good Christians to my way of thinking."
Privately Gideon thought they sounded precisely like most Christians he had encountered, suspicious and wary, but he did not say that out loud.
"Tell me about your friends."
"Well, we keep to ourselves mostly. There's my neighbour Rachel who I mentioned earlier, she lives down the road."
"A good Jewish name."
"Anything but, she's a devout presbyterian."
"I must admit I don't really understand the differences between all you Christians."
Marilla laughed, "I suppose it seems silly when you think about it."
"Ach, no. There are different Jewish sects as well."
"I was telling her about you, and she expressed a comment about your faith. I told her I couldn't hold you personally responsible for the death of our Lord." Gideon smiled. "But what about you? Tell me about your family."
His face quite lit up as he talked. "My mother had the most infectious laugh. We would sit around the dinner table chatting when she laughed, we all joined in. Then there was my sister, Deborah she married a nice man and they had three beautiful children. My father was a bootmaker, so we weren't wealthy, but we were happy."
Marilla frowned, "forgive me for asking, you speak of them in the past tense?"
"Ach yes, well that is because while you are prepared to forgive me for the part my people played in the death of Yeshua, that is to say your Jesus, others are less so. My family were murdered in a pogrom before I came here. I was out with friends that night and came home…" he stopped, too overcome to continue.
"Oh Gideon," Marilla breathed placing her hand on his arm. "I am so terribly sorry, what an awful thing."
"If you'll excuse me," Gideon pushed his chair back with a squeak and rushed out. Marilla watched him leave, sorry that she had asked.
He returned a little while later. "My apologies," he started.
"No, it is I that should be sorry. I shouldn't be so nosy. I chide Rachel for that sort of behaviour all the time, yet here I am."
"There's nothing wrong with asking, a man usually has a family. You're within your rights to ask. I shouldn't let it get to me, after all this time."
"It sounds like an absolute tragedy; I can't imagine it. No wonder you're still affected."
"Ach, well as I said, it was a long while ago. I'm sorry if I upset you."
"Not at all. I'm er pleased you told me. I, um, it tells me something of your story. Thank you for sharing." He smiled at her sadly.
Matthew broke the silence walking in with the milk, "Mr Hoffer, I saw your carriage outside. What a pleasant surprise. Are you staying for dinner?" Marilla and Gideon startled, having been almost mesmerised by the stillness after his speech and after a brief pause Marilla recommenced the dinner preparations.
After that Gideon visited occasionally knowing that he would receive a warm welcome, delicious dinner, and a soft bed whenever he did so. That he also became better acquainted with Marilla was, he said to himself, an added bonus. Oftentimes he would find himself far away yet an image of the Green Gables hearth and the woman by it would come to mind and without much thought he would turn the horse towards Avonlea. It happened so frequently that the horse would turn that way, as if knowing that it too would receive a warm welcome.
One December day Gideon had completed his business in Avonlea and thought whether he might pay another call, despite it not being long since he had last enjoyed their company. Fat snowflakes started falling sealing the deal and he turned the horse towards Avonlea rather than the other direction. The blizzard came upon him more quickly than he could have imagined and by the time he made it to the lane by the farm he was driving in a near whiteout.
Thankfully by slowing the horse down they did not overshoot the gate, but he was pretty cold by the time they drove into the barn. Matthew was surprised to find him there and took hold of the reins and told him to go into the house. "I'll take care of this," he told Gideon. "You look froze to the bone. Marilla'll sort you out." Teeth chattering, his arms wrapped around himself, Gideon could only nod, very much relieved to have arrived as safely as he had.
Marilla received him with a cry of horror, "Mr Hoffer, you came through this!" But at his look of pure distress over his snow flecked moustache she soon sprang into action pouring him a cup of coffee and fetching him a blanket. When that did not appear to be enough, she stoked the fire and set a pan of water over it planning to draw him a warm bath.
Incrementally Gideon felt the sting of blood returning to his outer extremities and his befuddlement clear. His teeth were still chattering when he stammered his thanks for her hospitality and his sorrow for interrupting her chores.
"Fiddlesticks!" Marilla scoffed. "Nothing else I would have done. Couldn't have you freezing on my doorstep, could I? Terrible mess." Gideon grinned, feeling the warmth come from more than the cup of coffee he had downed. He felt at home as if she were his sister cracking jokes at his expense.
Marilla noticed but said nothing more. Having poured the last kettle into the bath she retreated to the parlour to allow Mr Hoffer some privacy. It would not do for her to see him in that state.
Matthew swapped places with Gideon when he returned. "Brr," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Mighty chilly out there."
"How cold do you think," Marilla called peering out the parlour window.
"Can't tell," Matthew replied. "Thermometer's bust. Cold is all I know."
"You were lucky you weren't farther away, Mr Hoffer. I wouldn't fancy your chances out on the road," Matthew commented as their guest dried himself by the fire.
"Or in someone's barn," added Marilla with a shudder.
"No, indeed," Gideon replied. "Thank you. The bath made all the difference. I feel almost human again now."
"Almost," said Marilla and both men could practically hear her eyebrows rising.
It was a merry dinner, the sort that comes from near escapes. Not that they spoke of it. The sturdy house kept the blizzard at bay and the kitchen was toasty warm. Over a hearty dinner Gideon filled them in on world events. His profession brought him into contact with all sorts and Marilla found him a far superior correspondent than Rachel would ever be. For starters he did not editorialise which Marilla always found so tiresome. It was as if Rachel felt she had to direct Marilla's reaction whereas Mr Hoffer left her to draw her own conclusions. This led to some interesting speculation about the state of the world and where they felt it was going. Naturally Gideon privy to more opinions from being out on the road was more broadminded, but he found the Cuthberts not as closed as some he had met along the way. They're prepared to have their minds changed, he said to himself later, which makes all the difference.
His stay was longer than usual. After the blizzard stopped the temperature really dropped. It was a slippery trek out to the barn three times a day as the fallen snow turned to ice, but the stock had to be provisioned and the cows still needed milking. Gideon offered to help, but Matthew told him to stay inside, "just come fetch me if I'm not back in half an hour," he told them as he piled on an extra layer. He made it back in time but even after just that short walk ice was forming on the milk. Marilla made sure the fire was stoked when he returned, and she rotated him around it to thaw wishing she could stop him from going out again even as she realised the necessity.
To save candles and wood they hunkered down in the kitchen, closing the parlour door to preserve heat and wore their coats over their clothes at all times as even the sturdy Green Gables struggled to protect them from the weather. "Reckon a few folks will be suffering," Matthew remarked one morning. "Hope they'll get through."
"Don't you go finding out, Matthew Cuthbert," Marilla said. "It's all very well being a good Christian," she added. "But I don't want you catching your death. Leave it to our younger neighbours." Matthew nodded; rather glad she had taken such a firm stance. He would have gone if she told him to, but he had to admit he preferred this plan.
Gideon watched this interaction with a smile. "What are you grinning about?" Marilla enquired.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied. Then at her questioning look he added, "ach, you two just make me laugh is all. You mother him."
"Yes, well, so what if I do? Someone has to."
"No, no it's rather lovely. Don't take it the wrong way. You are lucky to have Marilla care for you Matthew."
"That I am, Gideon, that I am."
Matthew had taken up a warm brick and retired to his bed leaving Marilla and Gideon sitting by the fireside. They chatted now and then but were mostly sitting in companionable silence. Marilla staring into the embers and Gideon staring at her. She glanced up and saw him, "what?"
He did not redirect his gaze nor look particularly guilty for his behaviour, "you."
"Me?"
Gideon edged his chair closer, "you."
There was a pause then as if the world were taking a big breath. Marilla watched as Gideon's face came closer. She did not feel as if she were under attack but rather as if her whole life had been leading towards this very moment. Her face upturned she felt rather than saw him close in and then the feeling of his warm lips upon hers, his moustache somewhat tickly, but not unpleasant.
After a time, afterwards she could never tell quite how long, he took her hand in his and fingers intertwined they made their way upstairs.
"So ketzele, tell me?" he said the next morning. "What was the first thing you noticed about me?" She mentioned his dusty boots and asked the same question of him answering on his behalf, "I suppose it was my bloomers?"
"Well," he replied, "they were on show for all the world to see," Caressing the curve of her back as he spoke, he said, "I wouldn't say it was the first thing I noticed about you as such, but I'll tell you when I walked down to breakfast that first morning fully expecting to smell bacon…"
"You distinctly told me no pig. Why would I serve you bacon?"
"I did, I know. But you have no idea how often it's the first thing I notice. You Canadians really love it."
Marilla smiled, "it is delicious."
"It smells it. It's a kind of torture."
"Poor you."
"Ach, poor me. Never mind," he said kissing her shoulder lightly. "I resist."
