by Beth Wiseman
“It looks like you’re doing a great job raising Jenna,” Carley said. “That’s bound to be hard for someone your age.”
Carley didn’t mean anything by it, but Dana’s eyes narrowed. “My age? I doubt I’m much younger than you are.”
In Carley’s mind, nine years was quite a bit younger. “I’m twenty-eight.”
“And I’m five,” Jenna said from the backseat.
Carley twisted around and smiled. “I know. You’re a big girl!”
It grew quiet again.
“My mother died recently too. In a car accident,” Carley said. Maybe she could get on some common ground with Dana. “My father died years before that. It’s hard not to have parents.”
Dana kept staring out the window.
Carley kept her eyes forward.
“Noah told me you’re a friend of Lillian’s.” Dana twisted beneath her seat belt to face Carley. “When I first saw you with Noah at the café, I thought maybe you liked him.”
“I do like him.”
“You know what I mean. I thought you guys were on a date or something, but he told me that wasn’t the case, that you’re just a friend of Lillian’s who’s helping him get things straight with Samuel.”
Carley nodded.
“That’s it,” Dana said, pointing to a small brown house on the left.
Carley pulled into the narrow driveway. The car was barely stopped when Dana swung the passenger door open and stepped out. She opened the back door and helped Jenna get out of her seat belt.
“Bye, Carley.” Jenna waved cheerfully.
What a lovely child, Carley thought as she returned the wave. Her sister, on the other hand, was another story.
As Dana was about to slam the car door, she hesitated and stared at Carley. She didn’t say anything at first.
Carley waited.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” Dana said. “It is hard not having parents.”
“Thank you, Dana.” Carley smiled warmly.
Jenna was skipping up the sidewalk toward the front door.
Dana evidently had more on her mind. With one hand holding the car door open, she tapped the roof of Carley’s car with the other. “Noah’s going through some really intense stuff.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And I just know he doesn’t need any more complications in his life.” She paused and bit her bottom lip before she went on. “Anyway, I just don’t want to see him get hurt. His girlfriend will be back in town soon. She’s out of the country. I feel better knowing you guys are just friends. Thanks again for the ride.”
And she closed the car door.
Girlfriend?
14
SADIE WAS SITTING ON THE FRONT PORCH HOLDING ANNA when Carley pulled into the driveway.
She had missed little Anna. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be for Lillian to be away from the baby. It would be an early start tomorrow morning, but she would make sure to get there early enough for Lillian to spend a little time with Anna before the surgery.
“Sorry I’m so late getting home,” Carley said to Sadie as she walked up the porch steps.
“It’s no problem. I love to spend time with the boppli.”
Carley scooped Anna into her arms and took a seat in the rocker next to Sadie. “Well, tomorrow is the surgery.”
“Ya.” Sadie shook her head. “This is all happenin’ so fast.”
“And it’s the strangest situation. I mean, with Noah being the donor and everything.”
Sadie just nodded. Carley had hoped a conversation would ensue. She was curious about Sadie’s thoughts on the matter since she knew her to be the most outspoken of the Amish women she had met.
“Of course, I would think things might change after this,” Carley pressed on. “After all, Noah will have saved David’s life. Surely members of the community will be forgiving of the past.”
Sadie said nothing.
Carley hesitated to continue, but if Sadie, of all people, didn’t have it in her heart to lighten up on the shunning, she didn’t see much hope that the rest of the community would.
“I wouldn’t think Noah’s family and the people in the district would continue shunning him after he gives a vital organ to save David’s life.” Carley turned toward Sadie.
Sadie shrugged before she stood up. “I guess I’ll be headin’ home, Carley. Everything’s in gut order in the haus. Do you need me to be here in the early hours to watch Anna tomorrow?”
“No. I’m going to take her with me so the family can spend some time with her before David goes into surgery. I’m sure there will be lots of people there to help with Anna.”
“To be sure,” Sadie agreed. She headed down the steps.
Carley rose from the rocker and walked toward the kitchen door before saying, “I’m sure someone will get word to you tomorrow.” She pulled the screen door open.
“Carley?”
She turned around to see Sadie facing her at the bottom of the porch steps. “Yes?”
Sadie’s eyes widened with optimism. “Maybe Noah will seek forgiveness and choose to be rebaptized in our faith. Bishop Ebersol and the elders surely would think ’bout letting him renounce his ways and come back, ’specially after this.”
Carley could hear the hope in Sadie’s voice, an emotion other members of the community were bound to be experiencing about Noah.
“He’s not sorry for becoming a doctor, Sadie, but he is sorry for writing the book. I’m assuming you know about the book?”
“Ya. But he can’t be accepted unless he gives up all worldly ways and is rebaptized. That would include his doctoring.”
“He saves lives!” Carley realized immediately her tone was entirely too sharp. She lowered her voice. “It’s just that . . . that’s who Noah is. He’s a doctor. It’s his calling from God. How can anyone deny him that? It’s terribly unfair, Sadie. He should be forgiven for writing the book, and he should be accepted by his family for who he is. He’s saving David’s life. If exceptions can’t be made for that, then . . .” She sighed, deflated. “It’s just wrong.”
Sadie walked toward Carley. “You really care for him, no?”
Carley turned toward the outstretched fields and watched the sun descending on the horizon. She hadn’t realized how much she cared for Noah until Dana clued her in that he was off-limits. Carley was surprised at how jealous she felt. She knew she’d have to explore her feelings more once she had time to get used to this new information.
Including her frustration at him for not mentioning his girlfriend. That was a pretty crummy thing to do, Noah. And why the flowers?
Still, this new knowledge didn’t change who Noah was. “I think what he’s doing for David is amazing. And I find it incredible that David will be able to walk among you with one of Noah’s kidneys inside him . . . while Noah continues to be shunned.”
“God will guide our paths, Carley. Sometimes we can’t understand His will. I know the entire community is praying—for David and for Noah.”
“Well, I’m going to pray that the community accepts Noah back into their lives after this. His clinic is so important to him. It’s a way to give back to the community by providing low-cost healthcare in a quiet environment, close enough for the Amish to drive there in horse and buggy. And, Sadie, he’s a good man.”
Sadie watched Carley’s face, most likely wondering what she was thinking. “Ach, I hope to find a gut man someday,” she said.
“Me too,” Carley responded. She didn’t make much effort to mask her disappointment.
Sadie didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes twinkled and her voice took on a hint of mischief. “I’ve been writing letters to an Amish man in Texas.”
“Really?” Carley tried to be interested. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Noah had looked at her, on more than one occasion—looks she clearly misread.
“Ya. He’s coming here to meet me soon, all the way from Texas!”
Carley smiled. “That’s great. W
hen?” Noah, you’re a jerk.
Sadie smoothed the sides of her brown dress and looked at the ground. “I’m not sure.” She kicked at a blade of grass with her black shoe. “He’s been sayin’ he’s coming for a long time.”
“Texas is a long way.”
“He’ll be comin’ on the bus.” She looked up at Carley and smiled. “Whenever he does come.”
Maybe he never will.
Men certainly have a way of toying with women’s minds.
Noah fumbled through bank documents, credit card statements, unpaid bills, and the assortment of other papers stacked up on his desk and wondered how anyone would ever find anything in the event of his death. Even as a single man, he should have been more organized with his affairs. At his age, he rarely thought about death. On this night, he couldn’t help but ponder the what-ifs of the situation. He eyed the mess before him and decided that organization at the eleventh hour wasn’t going to happen. He sighed and walked away from it all.
Since waking up this morning, he hadn’t been able to get last night’s dream out of his mind. They say you never die in your own dreams, but he was living proof that was not the case. He was certain that his apprehension about being cut open had been at the root of the dream, but he still couldn’t shake the vision of Carley standing over his hospital bed, crying. Was she begging him for something? He couldn’t remember.
Noah did remember being cold in the dream and unable to move or speak. He could recall overhead lights that shone brightly above him. There was no fanfare, no tunnel, no angels, no God. His kidney lived on in his nephew, but he had died—and Carley was by his bedside, crying softly, pleading with him . . .
Pleading with him to do what?
He shook his head, walked to the kitchen, and poured himself a glass of water. The transplant had been scheduled so quickly. He wished he had more time. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t survive the surgery and lead a perfectly normal life. Still, he couldn’t seem to shake the vision of Carley’s tear-streaked face bending over him.
Carley.
A cheerier picture came to mind—him sharing something more than just friendship with her.
Time seemed to be pressing down on him all of a sudden.
The odds were in his favor that everything would go well tomorrow. And as a doctor who had been involved in his share of surgeries, he had talked to enough patients to know that his own anxiety about going under the knife was to be expected. It was only normal to worry what sort of legacy he might be leaving behind if the unthinkable happened.
After two hours of wailing, Anna was finally asleep in her playpen. Poor baby could sense all the tension around her, and Carley knew she was a weak substitute for Lillian. She had found herself crying along with Anna earlier—for reasons she wasn’t sure of. Frustration. Exhaustion. Noah.
She was curled up on the couch, two lanterns lit, reading the Bible. Something else she was doing for reasons she wasn’t sure of, but right now it was providing her with much-needed comfort. It had been a long time since she’d read the Good Book.
“‘And God blessed Noah and his sons, and said unto them, Be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth.’”
The Scripture reading brought a gush of emotion. “There’ll be no multiplying for me,” she whispered. “And Noah can go on to replenish the earth with his girlfriend.” She waved her hand in the air.
Instantly she regretted her flippant attitude.
She closed the book, closed her eyes, and tried to open her heart. “Please, God . . .”
What she wanted to say to God and what she was thinking were not coming together as one. Feelings laced with bitterness overshadowed feelings of love and peace, emotions she’d had a glimpse of lately. She wanted more of them. She needed more of them. And she suspected God was the answer. But in the end, she felt unworthy to address Him about anything related to her personally.
Anna’s tiny body shifted in the playpen. Carley darted her gaze in that direction, fearful she might wake up. She knew Anna’s entire schedule had been disrupted, but having to go through another crying spell would put Carley under. That she was sure of. She was exhausted. With Lillian and Samuel at the hospital, she’d been guilty on more than one occasion of sleeping later than the customary four thirty. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the demands on their day.
The chirp of her cell phone sent her jumping off the couch. She didn’t dare take the time to see who it was for fear another ring would wake up Anna. “Hello,” she whispered.
“Did I wake you?”
She had mixed feelings about hearing Noah’s voice.
“No, I wasn’t sleeping.” Carley tiptoed through the den to the kitchen and quietly slipped onto the front porch.
Noah covered routine niceties for a couple of minutes, but she knew what was on his mind. And despite what Dana had shared with her, she felt the need to reach out to him.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.
“No, not really.”
You sound nervous, Carley thought.
“I’m nervous for David. He’s just a kid,” he added. “They moved David to the hospital in Philadelphia this evening. It’s too bad Lancaster General isn’t set up to do the transplant. The move was a tedious process, and I could tell David was uptight and uncomfortable.”
“What time do you have to be at the hospital?”
“Six o’clock tomorrow morning. A mere nine hours away.”
“I’ll be there. I’m going to bring Anna with me. I think Lillian, Samuel, and David will be glad to see her before the surgery.”
“Oh, I meant to thank you for taking Dana and Jenna home.” Before she could say anything, he went on. “And I have another favor to ask you.”
“What’s that?” She was hoping it didn’t involve Dana. She didn’t need to hear any more about Noah’s girlfriend.
“I know you have your hands full, and I hate to even ask this, but a guy from Finley’s Glass Company is supposed to be at the clinic tomorrow to replace the glass in the front. Obviously, I’m going to be in the hospital. Would you be able to go over there and let him in? The timing of all this is really bad—not that there’s ever a good time for something like this. I had all kinds of people lined up to deliver equipment in the next couple of weeks too. I can cancel all that and reschedule, but . . .”
“Why? You don’t have to cancel, Noah. I can go let them in or whatever you need me to do. It’s on my way to the hospital. Just tell me what to do.”
Seemed like a job the girlfriend should handle. But of course, she was out of the country.
And at a time like this.
But the clinic was Noah’s passion, and she hated to see things fall apart while he was doing something so amazing for David.
“Are you sure, Carley? I mean, it’s important for me to keep things rolling, but I know you’ll be taking care of Lillian’s family, especially Anna. She’s really lucky you’re here right now.”
“Well, I’m glad to be able to help, though it’s great the way the entire community has pitched in.”
“I’d ask Dana to do it, and I know she would, but she has a new job and her hours vary from day to day. Plus she’s taking a couple of classes at the community college.”
“No, no. I’ll do it. I don’t mind. I know it’s important to you.”
“I’ll get you a key to the place in the morning.”
Carley sensed the conversation was coming to a close, and she strained to come up with a way to question Noah about his love life. The words weren’t materializing.
“Hey,” he said hesitantly. “I had a dream about you last night.”
“Really?” Interesting. “What about?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really remember.” He paused, sighed. “I mean, I do remember, but I don’t. It was about you and me and . . . Oh, never mind. I guess I don’t really remember.”
Carley had a strange feeling he did remember, but he quickly ended t
he conversation by wishing her a good night’s sleep. P
The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia was quiet at five thirty in the morning. Lillian and Samuel were sitting in chairs on each side of David, watching him sleep, when Carley walked in. She suspected neither of them had gotten much sleep.
“There’s my baby girl,” Lillian whispered. She took Anna from Carley and coddled her.
Carley noticed David’s breathing was labored, and his complexion paler than the day before. The fear in Samuel’s eyes was immeasurable.
“Thank you for coming so early and bringing Anna.” Lillian continued to smother Anna with kisses. Facing the baby toward Samuel, she added, “There’s your daed.”
Samuel smiled at his little one but quickly turned his attention back toward David after nodding a thank-you in Carley’s direction.
“Good morning.” Dr. Lukeman entered the room with Dr. Bolton alongside him. Since David was their patient at Lancaster General, they were joining the team here for the surgery. “I see our boy is still sleeping. We just came by to let you know everything is moving along according to schedule. Someone will come to get David about seven this morning and take him to the operating room. One of you will be able to go into the operating room with him.”
“Samuel is going to go with David,” Lillian said, glancing at her husband, who nodded.
Dr. Lukeman turned toward Carley. “One person can go in with Noah.”
“Oh, I’m not a family member.” Carley couldn’t think of anything more horrific than walking into an operating room. She was still struggling to adjust to these back-and-forth visits.
