by Beth Wiseman
He was jolted back to the present when his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number at first, but then remembered the out-of-state area code Carley had called from earlier.
“I’m sorry to have to cancel so late,” she whispered when he answered. “I’m not going to be able to make it.”
“I’m almost there,” Noah responded, not bothering to hide his disappointment.
“I meant to call earlier, but the time got away from me.”
“Why are you whispering?” He was right. They’d gotten to her.
“I’m in the bathroom.”
“Hiding?”
“Sort of,” she responded. “Listen, there seems to be some major tension between you and Samuel. Maybe our meeting isn’t such a good idea. I don’t want to lie to Lillian about where I’m going, and I don’t think she or Samuel would be very happy about me meeting you.”
“It’s just coffee, Carley.”
“I know,” she said defensively. “Anyway, I’m sorry for the late notice.”
He sensed she might be about to end the call. “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up.” A lot was at stake, plus she was his only link to an inside glimpse at Samuel’s life. He didn’t have time for her fickle behavior. “What about your article? I think I could contribute a lot to that, and—”
“I can’t, Noah. Not tonight. I’m so sorry that you drove all this way.”
She’s going to hang up. “Wait,” he said again. “Did you convince Lillian to call me?” He needed to know that much, at least.
“I tried, Noah. But they’re going to take David to Dr. Reynolds. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
The connection clicked off.
Noah slammed his cell phone closed. He passed the Dutch Bakery on his left and kept going. Black Horse Road was only a few blocks up the highway.
Forget her. I’ll go straight to the source.
6
AFTER CALLING NOAH, CARLEY HELPED LILLIAN TAKE THE laundry off the line. “I hate to sound like a broken record,” Carley began, “but don’t you miss having a washer and dryer?”
“Nope.” Lillian gave one end of a bedsheet to Carley and backed away from her. They folded inward, meeting at the edges.
“It’s just such a huge change for you.” Carley was quite sure she couldn’t have made the transformation herself.
Lillian took the sheet and gave it a final fold. “It was a big change.” She held the sheet up toward Carley. “But smell this. All our clothes have this freshness after being hung outside.”
Carley smelled the clean sheet. “You’re right,” she conceded. “But still . . .”
As they continued unpinning sheets and towels from the line, they heard a car coming up the driveway.
“Ach, I wonder who’s here. I don’t recognize the car,” Lillian said.
“I do,” Carley mumbled.
“Really? Who is it?” Lillian left the basket and began walking across the yard.
Carley stayed by her side. “It’s Noah.”
Lillian halted. “Uh-oh. I don’t think Samuel wants him here.”
Knowing it was none of her business, Carley said, “At least hear what he has to say about David.” She paused. “Maybe it would be best if the two of them reconciled.”
Lillian shot her a surprised look. “It’s not that easy. Besides, we don’t know exactly what Noah has done. He left the district after he was baptized, which is bad enough. But remember, Samuel said there’s more.”
Carley decided not to comment on Samuel’s refusal to share information with his wife. Maybe he had his own good reasons. Either way, Noah was stepping out of the car. Carley wished she’d just met him for coffee. His coming here might be far worse than the upset her coffee date would have caused.
The doctor cleaned up well. He was freshly shaven, with starched blue jeans and a yellow golf shirt. His brown loafers looked brand new. Even his dark, unruly hair was neatly parted to one side.
“Hello, ladies.” He walked toward them in the yard, thumbs hooked in his back pockets.
Lillian forced a smile. “Hello.” Carley watched Lillian glance down the driveway before adding, “Samuel will be home any minute.”
Noah didn’t seem fazed by Lillian’s warning.
“I won’t be staying.” He faced Lillian and got straight to the point. “Lillian, when David was in the hospital, we drew blood and got a urine sample. Since David had fainted and looked so pale, I ran some tests.” He reached into his pocket and offered Lillian another business card. “You need to make an appointment right away for David to see Dr. Ken Bolton. Tell him I sent you. Otherwise, you’ll be waiting weeks for an appointment. Ken is a nephrologist.”
Lillian took a deep breath and then accepted the card. “What is a nephrologist?”
“A physician who specializes in kidney disorders.”
“Does David have a kidney infection?” Lillian asked. She looked confused.
Carley suspected that whatever was wrong with David was much worse than a kidney infection if Noah was suggesting a nephrologist.
“No, I don’t think so,” Noah responded. “David is very anemic, Lillian. He also said he’s been vomiting and—”
“Vomiting?” Lillian asked, surprised.
“Yes. Anyway, I ran some kidney function tests.” Noah rubbed his forehead. “Lillian, the test results were not good. David’s kidneys are having trouble functioning. It’s not my area of expertise, though. Dr. Bolton is the best nephrologist I know. It’s important you get David an appointment right away.”
“I will,” Lillian said. “Should we be scared?”
“Scared isn’t a good word. Concerned would be better. But you should get the appointment soon, Lillian.”
“Are you okay?” Carley asked her friend.
Lillian nodded.
With a final nod, Noah turned his attention to Carley, sizing her up. “Reconsider our coffee date.”
How dare he? “I told you—” Carley stopped when she heard the clippity-clop of hooves. Samuel rounded the corner and headed up the driveway. Carley’s eyes shot to Lillian—who looked both worried about a confrontation between the brothers and confused that Carley may have considered a date with the wayward brother.
“He asked me for coffee, but I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea,” Carley confessed to Lillian, shaking her head.
“No, no,” Lillian quickly responded. “Please go. It would be good for you to go.” Her eyes pleaded with Carley to do whatever it took to get Noah to leave.
“But, Lillian, I don’t think—”
Noah inched forward. “It’s just coffee.”
I don’t care what it is. I said no. “Maybe another time.” Carley stood firm, her eyes locked with his in defiance.
Samuel’s buggy neared the car. Lillian placed her hand on Carley’s arm. “You two go and have coffee,” she instructed. “It’ll be fine.”
She pulled Carley in the direction of Noah’s car. Noah strode ahead and opened the front passenger door.
“I’d rather not,” Carley whispered to Lillian, keeping her eyes on Noah.
Samuel was pulling the buggy to a stop alongside the car. “Please,” Lillian begged. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She gently nudged Carley until it became impossible for her to do anything other than take a seat in the car.
“Okay, fine,” she conceded a tad ungraciously as she plopped down on the seat.
Once she was settled, Noah closed the door and walked around toward the driver’s side. Samuel met him at the back bumper, and Carley watched in the side mirror as words were exchanged. Neither man looked too happy. Less than a minute later, Noah lowered himself into the driver’s seat, started the car, and headed down the driveway. He looked at Carley.
“I told you I couldn’t go,” she huffed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Samuel. And I don’t understand how the whole shunning thing works, but you put me in an awkward situation with Lillian.” She paused, her tone softening. “But at least you go
t to talk to Lillian about David.”
“I’m going to meet with Dr. Bolton about David’s test results. But be sure Lillian gets David to his office soon.”
Carley nodded, realizing he’d ignored the first part of her statement.
“So Samuel mentioned the shunning?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence.
“Not to me. He talked to Lillian and David.”
His expression soured. “What did he tell them?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Lillian just told me that you were shunned and . . .” She paused, hesitant to go on but too curious not to. “And that you did something else too.”
“Did he say what that was?”
“No, I don’t think Samuel told her.” She crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. “So—what did you do?”
“Do you mind if we go to the café up the road instead of the bakery? I know you probably already ate supper, but I’m starving. Not much in the way of supper selections at the bakery.”
“That’s fine.” She waited for an answer to her question. And waited. “You’re avoiding my question. You must have done something really bad.”
Carley could see from Noah’s expression that she’d gone too far.
“I’m sorry,” she offered softly. “I . . . didn’t mean to make light of your situation.”
He didn’t acknowledge her apology and instead steered the car into a parking lot on the right. “This café isn’t anything fancy, but the food is good. So is the pie if you’re interested.”
Inside, the hostess motioned them to a table for two in the corner. She handed them each a menu and promised to return shortly. Carley scanned the pie selections but allowed her eyes to drift up and over the edge of the menu to discreetly observe her dinner partner.
Noah caught her off guard when he slapped his menu closed. “How’s your story coming?”
“There’s been so much going on, I haven’t started. Actually, Lillian said we would spend some time tonight going over parts of the Ordnung.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ll see, though. They all go to bed early.”
“Ah, yes. Early to bed, early to rise.” He sighed and seemed lost in his thoughts.
After an awkward minute of silence, Carley got down to business. “So you said you’d give me info for my article. What can you tell me about some of the Amish practices?” She couldn’t figure out why he’d pushed the coffee date since he’d already told Lillian about David.
“Do you know much about the Amish faith?”
“A little.” She glanced around at the women waiting on the tables, clothed in Plain dresses and white aprons, with white caps on their heads.
“Besides the obvious.”
“Of course I know the Amish people ride in buggies, dress like that . . .” She nodded toward the approaching waitress. “And that they have a very strong faith.”
After Noah ordered the chicken special and she the shoofly pie, she went on. “I know the Amish adhere to the rules of the Ordnung, the order of conduct. Oh, and I know you get shunned if you’re baptized and then leave the community.” Leaning back against her chair, she sipped her coffee. There. She had given him an opening to discuss the shunning.
At first she didn’t think he was going to bite, but after a few seconds, he said, “I left because I was called by God to do something else.”
“I see.” She set her cup on the table and began tapping the rim with her finger. “And I suppose this calling was to become a doctor.”
“You say the word calling as if you might not believe such a thing exists.”
“I guess I’ve just never gotten the call.” She eyed him cautiously, knowing her comment might spark a debate.
Noah studied her. “Maybe you will.”
“Maybe.” She shrugged, then waited for the waitress to place their food on the table before going on. “I don’t expect to ‘get the call.’ I’m already doing what I’m meant to do.” Except for the family I’ll never have.
“Is that what you think you’re meant to do—just be a reporter?”
“There are worse professions. I like my job.” She took a bite of pie. “What do you mean ‘ just a reporter’? What’s wrong with that?”
He lifted his shoulders, dropped them, and said, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just thought maybe you utilized your talent to serve Him in some way.”
“Who?”
His fork halted halfway to his mouth. “God.” He seemed surprised at the question.
Carley thought about his answer. “Reporting is a service to God. I report the truth to people.” Maybe her voice was a little defensive, but who was Noah to judge her?
“I guess it depends on what you’re reporting.” His eyes held hers. She looked away.
“Back to my original question. Do you have anything to contribute to my article?”
“Shunning is supposed to keep others in the district from following in brazen footsteps and to keep the church pure. However, it’s not necessarily issued with the type of resentment my brother has displayed over the years.” He paused. “Is that what you had in mind?”
“Yes, I’d like to include information about shunning. I don’t think people really understand it—at least the why of it. So whatever you’d like to tell me would be great.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small pad and pen.
“Granted, the Lutheran religion I’m part of now is a far cry from my Amish upbringing, but I’ve never regretted my calling.” Now it was Noah who sounded defensive. “I’ve saved dozens, if not hundreds, of lives over the years. And I’ve made mistakes.” A sigh escaped, but regret was quickly replaced with resentment. “But why can’t Samuel see past the rigid ways of the Amish and try to understand and forgive me?”
She scribbled information on the small pad, hoping he would continue.
“Samuel was the most distraught about my decision to leave the district,” he went on. “He and I are the youngest out of the five of us and the closest in age. When I left at eighteen, Samuel took it the hardest. He was seventeen at the time.”
Carley sensed it was difficult for Noah to talk about this, but her reporter instincts prevented her from offering a way out of the conversation. She continued, “And . . .”
“Ivan, Mary Ellen, Rebecca, and even Mamm sent letters while I was living in the city of Lancaster. Even after I moved to Minnesota to do my residency, they kept me apprised of events in Lancaster County—the births of my nieces and nephews and deaths of those I cared about. The bishop allows letters to be written to those who are shunned, so Samuel could have written, but he practiced the shunning to the fullest extent, refusing to answer even one of the letters I mailed him over the years.”
It was a few seconds before Carley realized she had stopped writing. Her reporter zeal had momentarily shifted into neutral as she listened with empathy to Noah’s story—a story laced with heartache. She couldn’t imagine not having her family. Not by choice, anyway. It would be unnatural for him not to harbor resentment at the way the Old Order operated, she surmised.
“Most of the time, I’m able to put them all out of my mind. But seeing Samuel and his family brought everything back to the forefront.”
The depth of his loss was mapped across his face. His heart was laid out before her, his usual arrogance gone.
“But you said it yourself,” she consoled, leaning in. “You’ve saved so many lives. How can that be wrong?”
His eyes lightened, but she sensed his heart was heavy, in spite of his attempt to mask his emotions. “I don’t think it’s wrong. I just have a difficult time accepting a practice that excludes me from the love of my family.” He shrugged. “But I knew the rules when I got baptized.”
“Well, I think the rules are cruel and uncalled-for. And I just might put that in my article.”
I must be crazy, Noah thought. Airing his bitterness to her would only further alienate him from his family. If she printed it. Of course, if she did, he’d have no
one to blame but himself. He’d bribed her, more or less. Come have coffee with me and I’ll tell you about my Amish upbringing. No matter that the real reason for the meeting was his desire to hear about his family.
He’d missed so much. Samuel, his kid brother—now a father. Noah recalled his and Samuel’s relationship with their own father, long deceased now. He hoped to have that kind of father-son bond someday—the kind he’d had with his father and the kind Samuel seemed to have with David.
The thought warmed his heart, but then he recalled the harsh words Samuel had used earlier, outside of his car. “You are not my brother.” The sting remained.
Noah wouldn’t turn back this time without a fight. Somehow he’d make things right.
“Carley, I hope you won’t use my name in the article. I’m just trying to give you some insight into what shunning is all about.”
She looked disappointed. “But your name would give the article credibility.”
“And it would cause even more discord with Samuel and our family if he knew I discussed our situation with you—and you printed it.” He pushed his plate to one side and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, I don’t want to print anything that might hurt Lillian and her family,” Carley said, chagrined. “But I’m getting mixed signals from you. You’re bitter about the shunning but admit it’s an accepted practice that you understood before you left the community. What are you hoping for—a renewed relationship with your brother?”
He should have just given her the facts and not gotten so caught up in his own pool of self-pity. He knew God didn’t approve of this attitude.
He mulled it over for a few seconds and chose his words carefully. “I understand the practice of shunning. And yes—I am bitter about it. But to answer your question, it’s important to me that my family understand my calling and somehow still be a part of my life.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “So are you hoping I’ll talk to Lillian and soften the way for you to make peace with Samuel?”
She was intuitive. “Would you? Soften the way, that is?”
