Plain Pursuit (37 page)

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 anyone 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.

Lillian had been thrilled when Carley left a message at the shanty. She’d immediately called back and offered their home as a place to stay until Carley found a place of her own. Carley made Lillian promise not to tell Noah she was coming.

Surprising him, though, suddenly seemed a bold and scary move. The phone calls from him had stopped after the first week, and she had never responded to his letter. It had been six weeks since she left Lancaster County. What if Noah had changed his mind?

She had played things out in her head a million times. With or without Noah, a change was in order.

She wasn’t Amish, and although she’d tossed around the possibility, she had no plans to ever be Amish. She knew Lillian had adapted to the strict code of conduct the Amish practiced, and she wondered if her friend’s lack of a religious background had made it easier for her to make the transition. Carley, however, could feel her Catholic roots reestablishing themselves as her relationship with God grew, and she wanted to nurture the beliefs she’d been raised with. Going to church since she returned had aided in that effort.

But the faith and the strength of the women in Paradise had shed light on the person she wanted to be—a woman of faith. A hardworking woman with a purpose. Helping at Noah’s clinic would provide her with an opportunity to help make a difference—if the job was still available.

Matt said he understood but that he wished she would reconsider and stay longer at the newspaper until he could find a replacement, and until she was absolutely sure this move was the right thing. In the end, she gave a week’s notice. An intern at her office bought her car when Carley offered him too sweet a deal to pass up. Driving the car from Texas would have been a long haul. She’d use the money to buy herself another car when she arrived in Lancaster County.

The whole thing was crazy, but she had never felt more optimistic about the future. She just hoped Noah’s feelings ran as deeply as hers. She had done him wrong by leaving the way she did, not returning his phone calls, and not answering his letter. But at the time, she’d thought she was doing the right thing. She had certainly miscalculated when she assumed the miles between them would put distance in her heart.

As the cabdriver walked up the sidewalk, Carley began hauling her luggage toward the door—three overstuffed black suitcases and a small red one that she planned to carry on the plane with her. When the last suitcase was stowed in the car, she thanked the driver and headed back to the house to lock up for the last time.

She scanned the living room again then locked the door before venturing down the sidewalk to the cab . . . and to her new life.