A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (33 page)

“
A
re you comfortable?” The familiar, steady voice on the phone comforted Dylan, closing the distance between him and his therapist of four years. “Because I can feel your anxiety, Dylan.”

“I’m pacing,” Dylan told Patrick. “I’m walking from one window to another, looking out over a frozen field that I’m told will contain some massive beets come the summer. Sweet beets and stinking fertilizer.” That had been what the upstairs tenants, the Dawsons, had told him the day he’d moved into this apartment just outside Halfway. Funny, but his landlady had failed to mention the free aromatherapy that came along with the spring thaw.

“You really are out in the sticks. So you’re kicking back in farm country. I take it all this pastoral scenery has brought you great peace.”

“Sometimes. Other times, I’m just the hermit of the beet fields.”

“So that’s why you haven’t checked in for a session since I saw you in December.”

“Honestly?”

“Honest is the only way to be in therapy,” Patrick said wryly.

“I’ve been busy, but good.” He told Patrick how his outreach program had barely been in place before crisis had swept through the community, bringing more than half a dozen traumatized Amish clients in for therapy sessions. The accident had brought him acceptance into Amish homes, and he was grateful for the chance to visit people who needed help but weren’t comfortable with group therapy. Fanny Lapp. Jacob Fisher. George and Cookie Dornbecker. John Beiler.

“You were right about the change of venue getting me out of that rut.” Dylan pressed one palm to the window glass; even through the double pane, the cold bruised his skin. “When I go to work, when I come home here, I’m not facing constant reminders of Kristin and Angela.” It felt strange to say their names after all these months of consciously keeping them hovering at the back of his consciousness, bringing them out only in occasional quiet moments of grief and reflection.

Like Ruben’s angels.

“Of course I was right,” Patrick said. “I’m glad you’re finally seeing it my way.” A pause. “But enough about me. You called to arrange this session, so I know something’s on your mind. Some distant memory rising to the surface?”

Dylan paused in front of the large picture window, staring at a magnificent sunrise. A swath of light cast a golden hue over the land. How could a barren field be so beautiful?

He’d thought of this apartment as a sort of hermitage, a place to hole up and escape most vestiges of civilization. Aside from the occasional wave to the tenants upstairs and the monthly rent check, nothing was expected of him in this residence. He’d taken this place to crash, to be alone, to escape from a life as cold, empty, and barren as the fields that stretched from here to the hills.

But suddenly, those fields were an intricate study in contrasts between darkness and light, color and negative space. Not so bleak, after all.

“Dylan? You need to talk, buddy. Tell me what’s going on and I’ll listen with the occasional brilliant guiding question.”

“It’s about a woman.”

“Go on.”

“A young woman I work with. She’s a student nurse at the hospital and, well, there’s always been chemistry between us.” Dylan raked back his hair as he paced to the kitchen. He poured another cup of coffee but left it on the counter as he shuffled back to the window still in sweats and a T-shirt. His first appointment this morning was two hours off, and that was with James Lapp.

James Lapp, and his sparkling nursing assistant, Haley Donovan.

“This student nurse,” Patrick said. “How old is she?”

“Just a kid. She’s twenty-two.”

“That’s old enough to be a contender.”

“But I’m not looking for a relationship. I came here to get away from the ghosts of trauma. I need to heal before I get involved with anyone.”

“You’ve been healing for more than four years, Dylan. And I gotta give you a lot of credit on that because you worked on it all that time. And as you know, there comes a point when a person is ready to be in a relationship again. I’m not pushing, and I’m not saying you’re there. I’m just saying it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.”

“I don’t know, Patrick.” Dylan perched on the arm of the sofa. “Sounds to me like you’re pushing.”

“Maybe I am. What’s this young woman’s name?”

“Haley.”

“Tell me about her.”

“She has eyes the color of warm honey and an impetuous manner that always sneaks up on me.”

“Nice. Sounds like poetry.”

“She’s a beautiful girl with true compassion for people. She’s not afraid to get involved with the Amish. In fact, I think she’s as intrigued by their culture as I am.”

“And you work with her at the hospital?”

“And in the field.” He explained how Haley was making house calls on James Lapp with him. “She was sort of my entrée into the local Amish community. Haley was the first person to come upon that accident. She has helped me connect with the passengers. Without her, I don’t know if I would have gotten any of them to agree to group therapy. But they come, every week. There’s a core group of four young Amish people who are there like clockwork.”

“So, essentially, Haley is a key factor in your practice there.”

“Well, no, but …” He thought about it a moment. “Yes. Maybe not at the hospital, but here in Halfway, yes. She’s the center of my universe.”

The realization hit him like a blow to the chest.

“Dylan? Was that a joke?”

“Sort of.”

Patrick whistled through his teeth. “You weren’t joking. So you realize she’s a special person. She’s important to you. And you’re holding back from involvement … why?”

“She’s too young, we work together, and I’m not ready.”

“She’s old enough, you work at the same hospital, and it’s been more than four years.”

Dylan pushed away from the sofa and went back to the window.

“You’re pacing again,” Patrick said.

Dylan paused and threw out one arm. “How do you know that from seventy miles away?”

The low rumble of Patrick’s laugh was somehow reassuring. “I
know you well, my friend. So what’s going on with this relationship? Is she pressuring you? Trying to get a commitment?”

“She asked me out for coffee or lunch a few times.”

“And you’re not willing to spring for a latte?”

Dylan took a sip of his coffee. Cold coffee. “Look, I’d love to have a glass of wine and some dinner with her. But it’s not that simple.”

“It never is. But you can move in baby steps. A coffee date is not a proposal of marriage.”

“Whose side are you on?”

“I’m here for you, buddy. I’m just looking out for your best interests, and I think it might be a good idea to pursue someone who you seem to think is worth pursuing. Here’s the best way to start. You should share your story with her. Tell her about Kris and Angela.”

“I can’t do that. I came here to get away from those memories.”

“And you’ve had a good break. A fresh start. But you know the drill. It’s time to face your fears.”

Dylan rubbed the bristle on his jaw, thinking it was time to shave and get going. He could face his fears in a few weeks … or a few years.

“I hear your hesitation,” Patrick said. “So just think about it, okay?”

“I will.” Dylan looked at the clock over the stove. “I have to go.”

“Just one more question. Do you feel guilty because of your attraction to Haley?”

Guilt: It was the monkey on his back. “I don’t know. I thought I’d worked through all that.”

“But saying that you don’t blame yourself is different from actually allowing yourself to have another romantic relationship.”

Dylan bristled. “I’ve got my hands full now, between the hospital
and the field work. I’m helping half a dozen patients through post-traumatic stress. That’s my focus right now. That’s why God brought me here.”

“The work you’re doing sounds great. But maybe God has a greater plan for you than even you can see right now. Maybe there is a relationship in your future. Just think about it,” Patrick insisted. “Be open to it. Everyone needs to love and be loved.”

I’ve already had my share of love
, Dylan thought as he got off the phone and headed to the shower. Kris had been his perfect match, something he’d known since the day they’d met in a class at Temple. English majors, both of them, they had debated the merits and myths of love at first sight and the way it had played out in literature.

Romeo and Juliet.

Antony and Cleopatra.

Dylan and Kristin.

Kris had been the one who’d argued that the most classic love affairs in history had ended tragically, while Dylan had insisted that millions of couples enjoyed fulfilled love but didn’t advertise it.

Now, if he were to debate the matter again, he would argue that Kris had been right: True love was destined to tangle itself into a tragic ending.

As he lathered up shampoo in his hair, he thought about his morning appointment with James Lapp, who still suffered from a depression that kept him from communicating much with anyone, including his longtime girlfriend, Rachel.

Talk about a romance on the rocks.

Dylan had counseled Rachel, too, without compromising his relationship with James. Truth be told, James had shared so little with him that there wasn’t much of a relationship to compromise, anyway.

At the moment, Rachel seemed determined to stick by James, but she was hurt by his withdrawal. As was his mother, Edna. But the family wasn’t interested in treating James’s depression through drug therapy, and James was not open to guided imagery. For the time being, they would stick to talk therapy.

37

“
H
ow’s that?” Edna Lapp asked, hovering over the table with pitcher in hand. “Can I get you more milk?”

Dylan waved her off. “I’m good, thanks.” When he arrived to find Haley already working with James, Edna had insisted that Dylan have a slice of fresh-baked chocolate chip pie while he was waiting. “And this is one amazing pie. It reminds me of my wife’s chocolate chip cookies.” The mention of Kris slipped out unfiltered, as if he talked about her every day.

“That’s what makes it popular for young and old.”

“You’re a fabulous cook, Edna.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The Fishers, now, there’s a family that knows how to bake. They’re donating bread and cookies for the auction.”

“That’s this week, right?” He took out his cell phone to check the date. “Let me make sure I have it on my calendar.”

“It’s the day after tomorrow, and Mary says that we’ve already
got more than six thousand dollars in donations.” Edna looked down, almost embarrassed as she folded a dish towel. “A few big checks came from your doctor friends at the hospital. They couldn’t come to the auction, but they sent the money anyway.”

“Good. I’m glad they did the right thing.”

“Please, tell them we’re ever so grateful.”

“I’ll spread the word.” He rose as Haley appeared, her backpack slung casually over one shoulder, her long blond hair cascading over the other shoulder. She really could be a model. One shot of that pose, and thousands of young people would buy that simple black backpack.

“We’re all finished,” she said with a slight smile. He noticed that she didn’t look him in the eye, and he wondered if there was going to be awkwardness over the date that could never be.

“Please, Haley. Sit.” Edna pulled out a chair and hurried to the counter. “You can’t go without having some pie.”

“Best chocolate chip pie I ever tasted,” Dylan said from the doorway, hesitating. “And if you don’t mind, I’m going to bring James out here to talk. We’re not digging into anything too personal, and I think a more social environment would oil the hinges a little.”

Haley hung her backpack on the kitchen chair. “Fine with me.”

“Oil away,” Edna said with an amused grin.

A minute later, James was wheeling himself out the wide bedroom door into the kitchen. Dylan moved the chair at the end so that James could roll up to the table.

“Do you want a piece of pie?” his mother offered.

He waved her off, but gruffly agreed to a cup of tea.

Keep things casual
, Dylan told himself. James seemed to close down when questioned directly, so it was worth trying a more relaxed atmosphere.