by Beth Wiseman
Such is my love for you—unconditional.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, miss you. I regret that we didn’t get to date like a regular couple. Instead, we were forced into circumstances beyond our control. It made me realize that life is short. My favorite quote: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.” You, Carley, take my breath away.
You think my life will be incomplete if I have no children of my own. I know in my heart that my life will be incomplete without you by my side. Let me take you in my arms and love you forever. Be my family, Carley. God will see to the rest.
I am opening the clinic for business on August 15. Dr. Bolton said I should be able to resume all activity by then. I’m a good doctor, but I’m somewhat lacking in organizational skills. I need a good person to act as my office manager. Know anyone who might be interested? Qualifications for the job are: They must be beautiful, like Carley Marek. They must be kind and put the needs of others first, like Carley Marek. They must be so unselfish that they would give up love based on what they think the other person needs, like Carley Marek.
If you know anyone who fits that description, I would welcome the opportunity to talk to that person.
Perhaps I imagined what you were feeling. I don’t think so, but I must consider the possibility. If I was right—that you love me the way I love you—then please call or write.
With all my love,
Noah
“No, my love. You weren’t imagining anything,” Carley said aloud. She pressed the letter firmly against her chest.
She was jarred from her thoughts by the unwelcome chirp of her cell phone. She reached over and, for the first time in a month, didn’t check the caller ID.
“Hello,” she said. Please be Noah.
“Everything okay? You doing all right?”
“Adam, why wouldn’t I be doing all right?” She rolled her eyes and then sighed loudly enough for him to hear.
“You just haven’t seemed the same since you got back from your trip. I was just checking on you.”
“I’m not the same!”
“I knew it. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, Adam. I just don’t need you checking on me constantly. You act like I’m incapable of taking care of myself.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, Adam. I know you love me, but I need to take care of myself.”
“You’re all I’ve got left of my family, Carley,” Adam said sadly. “And after Mom dying and everything you’ve been through . . .”
“I don’t need to keep being reminded of that. I live with it daily. I look around this house at all the pictures of our family—of Mom and Dad, of you and me. I miss Mom, Adam. I regret that I won’t have a family of my own. But please quit reminding me of everything I’ve been through. I’m trying to move on and—”
Suddenly it hit her. She wasn’t moving on. She was exactly where she was before she went to Lancaster County.
“Okay,” Adam said apologetically. “Point taken. I’ll try to do better.”
They chatted a moment longer, then they said good-bye.
Carley snuggled beneath the quilt again. She just wanted to read Noah’s letter one more time. But before that, she closed her eyes.
Dear God . . .
August fifteenth. Noah had advertised within the Amish community, hoping to draw in patients. He knew most of the Amish would seek the services of a natural doctor first. But he planned to be second in line. Offering free immunizations for the children would be an incentive for the community, along with a huge reduction in typical medical fees. And almost all members of the district could reach him via horse and buggy. Noah was well aware of the bishop’s rule about utilizing his services, but he planned to remain optimistic about the clinic.
In another optimistic gesture, he had ordered a desktop nameplate engraved with Carley’s name. But it had been over a month since he mailed her the letter. No return phone call. No letter. What a foolish man he was. And at this point, his pride was seriously at stake.
Not quite optimistic enough to actually place the nameplate on the desk, he kept the thing stashed in the drawer of the receptionist’s desk.
He heard Gloria come through the front door of the clinic.
“Good morning, Doctor,” the plump, gray-haired woman announced. She smiled broadly in her colorful blue scrubs with cartoon animals splattered about. “It’s our first day,” she said excitedly.
“Good morning to you,” he said, smiling.
Gloria Tice was close to retirement age and one of the friendliest nurses he had ever worked with. She had jumped at the chance to leave the hospital environment for something a little less fast paced. Although, looking at the scheduling book, he could see it was going to be more than just a little less fast-paced if they didn’t get some more patients scheduled.
“I see that while you were here answering the phones last week, you scheduled a few appointments.” Noah glanced down at the book. “Anything from the Amish?”
“No, Doctor. Only four appointments. And none of them were Plain. I know this because they all gave me insurance information.”
“Any patients for today?” He feared her answer.
“No. Not for today. But give it some time. I’m sure you’ll have a lot of new patients before you know it.” The woman smiled enthusiastically.
Noah nodded. “I’ll be in my office,” he said before he headed down the hallway.
Mid-August brought scorching temperatures to Houston, often over a hundred degrees during the day. Carley was watering the front yard when she felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. It was Lillian.
“Wow!” Carley exclaimed when Lillian announced that she was pregnant again.
“We are so thrilled, Carley. We both want lots of children.”
A quiet moment turned into awkward silence. Carley didn’t want Lillian to feel uncomfortable about the issue of children. This was a joyous occasion. “Lillian, I’m so happy for you. You Amish don’t waste any time, do you?”
“Haste is waste.” Lillian giggled.
“Where are you calling me from?”
“The shanty at the Lapp farm.” Lillian sighed. “I don’t know why Samuel won’t just install a phone in the barn. Years ago, that would have been unheard of, but now lots of Amish families have a phone in the barn. It’s supposed to be used just for business and emergencies, but I know that’s not always the case. But Samuel believes in following the rules.”
“Has Samuel grown any closer to Noah?” Carley asked with hope in her heart.
“I’m afraid not. As a matter of fact, Bishop Ebersol held another meeting recently reminding the community that no one is to visit Noah’s clinic unless it is a dire emergency. So everyone has pretty much steered clear of Noah.”
“Even Mary Ellen and Rebecca?” Carley worried things were reverting back to the way they were before the transplant. “And what about you, Lillian? I’m sure the baby needs vaccinations. Are you using the clinic? Have you been to see Noah?”
Another sigh from Lillian. “Carley, try to understand. I might not always agree with everything Amish, but I have professed my commitment to live by the Ordnung. I try to abide by the rules the bishop sets forth.”
“Has everyone forgotten what Noah did for David? What about what he is trying to do for the community?”
Lillian sidestepped the question. “Have you forgotten him?”
“No! Never,” she answered. “I’ll never forget Noah.”
“But yet you don’t talk to him either. What’s the difference? I will never forget Noah or what he did for David. Explain the difference to me.”
“I can’t believe you have to ask me to explain it to you,” Carley said. “Your son has Noah’s kidney.”
“And you have his heart,” Lillian quickly responded.
“It’s not the same, Lillian. You know that.”
“All right, Carley,�
�� Lillian said in a defeated tone. “The truth is I lose sleep about this issue. I’d like nothing more than to have Noah at the house every Sunday for supper, to take Anna to his clinic or help him with whatever else he needs. I’m well aware of what he did for David. I just don’t know what to do. I’m trying to do what I’m supposed to do.”
“Well, don’t add ‘in the eyes of God’ to that, because I don’t see God approving of this type of behavior.”
“What do you suggest I do? We all fear being shunned if we go against the rules, Carley. It would be devastating for any of us to face that kind of consequence.”
“I just feel bad for Noah. That’s all.”
“I’m so sorry that things didn’t work out between the two of you. I think you’re making a mistake, Carley.”
Carley glanced down the street. Pam Higgins was pulling her toddler in a bright red wagon. Leslie Hall’s children were playing in the sprinkler. Donald Livingston was mowing the yard while his teenage son operated the weed eater. Families everywhere. And Carley had never felt more alone.
As if reading her mind, Lillian said, “Come home, Carley.”
Cindy had called later that afternoon and asked Carley to come down the street to eat dinner with her and Adam that night. She wasn’t hungry and didn’t feel like going. Her head was abuzz with thoughts of Noah and Lancaster County, and she would have rather just curled up on the couch with a frozen dinner, lost in her memories. But she was unable to come up with an excuse on the spot, so she told her sister-in-law she would be there.
She knocked on the front door before she pushed it open. “It’s me,” she yelled.
“Hey.” Cindy met her in the entryway with a guilty look on her face. “Now don’t be mad,” she whispered. “There’s someone here I want you to meet.”
“No, Cindy. You didn’t,” Carley groaned. This would be Cindy’s second attempt to fix Carley up with someone since Dalton left. Looking down at her tattered blue jeans, worn flip-flops, and ragged blue T-shirt, Carley added, “I don’t want to meet anyone.”
“He works with me at the insurance agency. He’s a great guy. Very handsome and just a couple of years older than you,” Cindy said. “It’s just a casual thing. This is not a setup.”
“That’s exactly what it is.” Carley shook her head.
“Come on, everyone’s already at the table.” Cindy nudged Carley toward the dining room.
Adam was at one end of the table. Four-year-old Jeremy and eleven-year-old Justin were sitting on one side, impatiently waiting to dive into food that was already on the table. And a blond-headed fellow was sitting across from the kids. He smiled in Carley’s direction and stood up when she entered the room.
“Carley, this is Ronald Mason,” Cindy said proudly. Then she smiled at Carley, as if she expected some grand reaction from her.
Whatever.
Ronald walked around to shake Carley’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Carley.”
Carley took his extended hand and forced a smile before taking the seat next to him. Cindy pulled out her own chair across from Adam at the other end of the table.
Carley bowed her head to pray before the meal, something she had continued to do after arriving home from Lancaster County. As she heard spoons clicking against china, she remembered where she was and looked up to see the boys diving into meatloaf, mashed potatoes, greens beans, and store-bought rolls.
Lillian had made the best meatloaf Carley ever tasted, and no one baked homemade bread the way Lillian did. Mouthwatering. She sure was missing the butter bread, along with the variety of homemade jellies, jams, and applesauce so plentiful at each meal. Even with all the time they spent at the hospital, someone in the community always made the extra effort to keep Lillian’s pantry stocked and their meals prepared daily. All the women were fabulous cooks.
“So Cindy tells me you’re a reporter,” Ronald said.
Great. Here we go with the small talk. “Yes,” she answered as she accepted a bowl of mashed potatoes from Ronald.
“Carley just did a great story about the Amish,” Adam added. “Her editor ran it when she returned from a visit to Lancaster County.”
“I read it,” Ronald said and then smiled. “It was a really good story. Sounds like you learned a lot about their way of life while you were there.” He shook his head. “They are different, no doubt.”
Maybe it was the way he said different. A protective mechanism kicked in, something Carley didn’t even realize she possessed. “What do you mean, different?”
Ronald swallowed. “No electricity, the funky clothes, and those buggies.” He turned to Adam and grinned. “Can you imagine living like that in this day and age?”
“It’s a great way to live.” Carley glared in Ronald’s direction. “And you’d be surprised how well they do without all the modern conveniences we have. They use propane for their stoves and refrigerators, and they have lanterns. And the horse and buggies are a great way to see the beautiful countryside, and—”
Ronald chuckled. “I think I’ll hold on to my BMW and just keep paying my ever-growing electric bill. This heat is almost unbearable.”
“Our bill is outrageous.” Adam spooned potatoes onto his plate and shook his head.
The subject quickly changed.
“The Amish don’t believe in any connection to the outside world,” Carley went on. “Their way of life is so simple. It’s peaceful there, and all the members of the community help each other. They’re kind and—”
“You wrote about how they shun members of their community.” He raised his brows. “That doesn’t seem kind to me.”
Carley’s article hadn’t included anything about Noah’s shunning. In fact, she’d barely mentioned the subject in general. Carley was sure Ronald knew what most outsiders knew about it—not much.
“Shunning is complicated,” Carley said. “It’s very hard for the Amish when someone is shunned. It’s difficult for the person being shunned and for those doing the shunning as well.”
“And yet they call themselves Christian.” Ronald shook his head. “Doesn’t seem very Christian to me.”
“They are very Christian.” Carley wished he would shut up about things he didn’t know about. “As a matter of fact, they’re the most Christian people I have ever met. They have unquestionable faith and believe that all things are the will of God.”
“Guess it was the will of God when all those Amish kids got shot not too long ago?”
“Tragedy happens. Bad things happen to good people.” Carley rested her fork on the edge of her plate and waited for a response from this jerk.
“True. I’ll give you that.” He paused. “But their kids are allowed to go wild when they turn sixteen. There was a documentary about that not too long ago. And you even had something about it in your story. That whatchamacallit you wrote about.”
“Rumschpringe,” Carley finished. “And their kids do not go wild. They are just allowed to experience some of the activities of the Englisch prior to their baptism into the faith, just to make sure that’s the life they want.”
“I bet half of them get out into the world and never return to that crazy life of no electricity and riding in buggies.” Ronald chuckled, glancing toward Adam, who smiled and nodded.
“As a matter of fact, only about 10 percent choose to leave the Old Order district,” Carley corrected. So there, you jerk.
“Oh, I’m sure more than that leave,” Ronald said. “They probably try to keep it quiet, though.”
Cindy looked uncomfortable and tried to change the subject. “So, Ronald, I hear you’re building a new house on Burton Street?”
Ronald nodded. “Yes, it’s going to be a—”
Carley wasn’t finished. “No, really. It is a wonderful community. There’s a peacefulness I’ve never known anywhere else. I was blessed to be able to live among them for so long. They had so many challenges while I was there. Medical issues. But the way they all helped each other was amazing. Why would anyon
e want to leave all that?”
Cindy shrugged. “I don’t know.” She made another attempt at redirecting the conversation. “So tell us about your new house,” she said to Ronald.
“It’s going to have four bedrooms, three and a half baths. It’s two stories, and it will—”
“I’m going back,” Carley interrupted, raising her voice above Ronald’s.
This got everyone’s attention.
“Back where?” Adam lowered his fork.
“To Lancaster County,” Carley stated.
Adam’s face expressed his surprise. “For another visit? When?”
Resting her elbows on the table, Carley folded her hands under her chin and smiled. “No, I’m going there to live.”
21
AMAZING HOW QUICKLY A PERSON CAN OVERHAUL THEIR LIFE when they make up their mind, Carley thought, taking one last look around the big house she’d grown up in. Putting the house on the market had been tough. Even more challenging had been dealing with Adam over the past two weeks. Since her announcement that she was leaving, he had been trying constantly to convince her to stay in Houston. After a glimpse at life in Lancaster County, she knew it was where she was meant to be. In Paradise—with Noah, Lillian, and her new friends.
Back in her old, familiar surroundings, old patterns were resurfacing. When she was in Pennsylvania, she felt different. Alive. And she couldn’t deny that Noah was largely responsible for that. She had given him every out she could think of. And still he had pleaded with her to come back. She still worried that her inability to give him children would cause problems down the road, but she was going to put her faith in God that she was doing the right thing.
