A Faithful Gathering

by Leslie Gould

  Books by Leslie Gould

  THE COURTSHIPS OF LANCASTER COUNTY

  Courting Cate

  Adoring Addie

  Minding Molly

  Becoming Bea

  NEIGHBORS OF LANCASTER COUNTY

  Amish Promises

  Amish Sweethearts

  Amish Weddings

  THE SISTERS OF LANCASTER COUNTY

  A Plain Leaving

  A Simple Singing

  A Faithful Gathering

  © 2018 by Leslie Gould

  Published by Bethany House Publishers

  11400 Hampshire Avenue South

  Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

  www.bethanyhouse.com

  Bethany House Publishers is a division of

  Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

  www.bakerpublishinggroup.com

  Ebook edition created 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1732-2

  Unless otherwise marked, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible. Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by LOOK Design Studio

  Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC

  Author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.

  To all those in health care.

  You aid, serve, and heal.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Cover

  Books by Leslie Gould

  Half Title Page

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.

  Matthew 18:20

  1

  Leisel Bachmann

  April 2017

  A crash yanked me out of my cleaning routine at the care facility. 4:32 a.m. I dropped the sponge on the kitchen counter and hurried down the hall.

  Earl Weber’s door was open a crack. I pushed into the room. A man wearing pajamas and a robe was sprawled across the floor.

  I flicked the light on. “Are you all right, Mr. Weber?” I crouched beside him, taking his wrist. He had a pulse, but his eyes were closed.

  As I reached for my phone in the pocket of my smock, he grabbed my wrist. “I’m all right.” His eyes flew open. “I felt light-headed, is all. I got myself on the floor before I fell.”

  “Did you lose consciousness?” I needed to call the nurse if he did.

  “No.” He rolled to his side.

  “I’ll help you up,” I said. He was my favorite resident in the entire center, although I tried not to let it show. He was ninety-two, mostly lucid, and always kind.

  Once I had him back in bed, I asked him why he’d gotten up in the first place.

  “I heard Betty call my name.”

  Betty was his wife. She’d passed away six years ago.

  When I didn’t respond, he reached for my hand. “I was sure she was at the door, waiting for me. That I’d just come home from the war, that she had our baby girl in her arms. I could hear both of them. It all seemed so real.”

  “That happens sometimes.” I’d felt my Dat’s presence a few times after he’d died.

  “Thank you,” he said, “for being such a good friend to me. You’re the best nurse I’ve ever had.”

  I didn’t remind him—again—that I wasn’t a nurse. Instead, I tucked him in, told him I’d check on him soon, and slipped out of the room.

  I wasn’t a nurse yet, but I would be soon. Graduation was tomorrow. And in less than a month, I’d take my state boards—the licensing exam all nursing graduates had to pass to practice nursing.

  Growing up Amish, I’d been warned about being prideful, and I took the warning seriously. But Mr. Weber was right. I was a good nurse. I had the problem-solving skills, emotional stability, and empathy needed to do the job.

  As I returned to my cleaning, I thought of Mr. Weber and the stories he’d told me about being a fighter pilot in Europe during the final months of World War II. “I had it easy,” he often said. “I couldn’t see the fine details of the destruction I caused.”

  That might have been true, but it was still a dangerous job, and I was grateful he’d survived. He’d be celebrating his ninety-third birthday in a week.

  Dat had told me once that my grandfather, who died before I was born, had served as a conscientious objector during World War II. Sadly, Dat passed before he told me more. Honestly, I wasn’t that interested at the time, but getting to know Mr. Weber had made me curious. I’d have to ask my Aenti Suz for the story.

  My phone dinged with an incoming text. It had to be Nick, since no one else texted me at such an early hour. He’d graduated the year before and was a nurse in the emergency department at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center—Mercy, located in Uptown. We’d been dating for nearly three years.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Looking forward to dinner.

  I smiled. He was taking me out tonight to celebrate my graduation—after we both got some sleep.

  Ditto, I texted back, sending a smiling emoji along with the word.

  A half hour later, I checked on Mr. Weber. He was sound asleep. Just as I started to do my charting for the night, a yell came from across the hall. Mrs. O’Sullivan was probably having a nightmare.

  I sat with her, speaking in a soothing voice until she drifted back to sleep. By then it was nearly six, and the early risers were beginning to wake. I started a pot of coffee and then began getting the residents ready for the day. I always tried to get as many dressed as possible before the day shift—and my supervisor, Rita—arrived. I’d do my charting before I left.

  At 7:15, the staff met for the shift change. Rita had a big mug of coffee in her hand and a bleary look in her eyes. I reported that the evening had been mostly calm, but Mrs. O’Sullivan had a nightmare and Mr. Weber had fallen.

  “He didn’t lose consciousness,” I quickly added.

  “You charted what happened?” Rita asked.

  “Not yet. I didn’t have time.”

  “You said it was a calm night.”

  “It was, mostly. It got busy though, and I started my charting later than usual.”

  Rita pursed her lips. “That’s not like you, Leisel.”

  My face grew warm, but there was no need to react—I hadn’t done anything wrong.


  After the shift change, I headed to the nursing station to chart. Just as I finished documenting Mr. Weber’s fall, I heard another aide call out Rita’s name, and then say, “He’s not breathing.”

  I stepped into the hall. Mr. Weber’s door was wide open. I rushed into his room.

  The man was just as I last saw him, except his mouth was slightly open. I took his wrist in my hand. No pulse. I knew he had a Do Not Resuscitate order in his file, and by the temperature of his skin, it was too late anyway.

  As Rita hurried back into the room, I raised my head. “He’s gone.”

  She crossed her arms. “Well, I certainly hope this wasn’t caused by his fall.”

  “It wasn’t,” I said. “He didn’t lose consciousness or have a bump on his head or anything like that.” More likely, he’d dreamt about hearing his wife’s voice because his time was near. I was sure he was ready to go and was thankful he hadn’t suffered.

  Rita made a throaty noise, and then said, “I’ll call the undertaker and his daughter. You’d better get the fall charted.”

  “I already did.” I turned toward her. “I’d like to stay and see his daughter.” I wanted to tell her about what he’d said.

  Rita shook her head. “There’s no need for that. Go on home.”

  “I’d rather stay.”

  “No,” she said. “Go home. We can talk more about all of this tomorrow.”

  “I graduate tomorrow,” I said. “I’m taking a few days off, remember?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t remember. Are you going out of town?”

  “No.” I didn’t give her any details, but I was going to spend those few days looking for a new apartment. I’d already given notice on mine.

  Not wanting to clash with Rita anymore, I placed my hand on Mr. Weber’s forehead and said a silent thank-you for his life and then a final good-bye. At least for now. He’d had a quiet faith that played out in the way he treated people and the way he spoke about God. Mr. Weber certainly wasn’t the first resident who’d died on my watch, but he was the one I’d miss the most.

  By the time I turned to leave the room, Rita was gone. I grabbed my things and headed down the hall. Rita was on the phone in her office, so I gave her a quick wave and headed out the door.

  I contemplated calling Nick to tell him about Mr. Weber but decided not to. It could wait until dinner. He’d mourn with me, I knew. Growing to truly care about your patients was both the blessing and the heartbreak of working in health care.

  The morning was cold and overcast, and I quickened my pace through the neighborhood. I’d lived in what Nick called “the dive” for the last four years, as long as I’d been in Pittsburgh. It was a furnished studio basement apartment. Could there be anything worse?

  Of course, when I signed the lease, I was thrilled. It wasn’t far from the University of Pittsburgh, and there was a grocery store and café within walking distance. Then I’d found the job at the care facility, which was in the neighborhood too.

  The apartment was the first step in my Englisch life. But now I was ready for the second step: graduation. And then a bigger apartment with some natural light that I’d be able to afford because I’d soon secure my first nursing job. I figured I’d only sign a six-month lease on a new place though—I didn’t want to commit to anything long-term. Just in case.

  I hadn’t given notice to Rita about quitting my job yet, but surely she knew it was coming. If she could actually remember that I was graduating from nursing school.

  My phone dinged again as I started down the stairs to my apartment. See you tonight!

  I answered Nick with a thumbs-up and a heart. After a moment of thought, I added, Can you talk? Why wait until tonight to tell him about Mr. Weber? Within a split second my phone rang. I sat down on the bottom step as I answered it.

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  Once I’d relayed the whole story, he said, “I’m sorry that he’s gone, but it sounds like it was his time. What a great way to go.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  Nick’s voice grew even more tender. “I know you’ll miss him though.”

  “I will.” But death was part of life. I’d never been shielded from that as a child, and then as an eighteen-year-old I’d nursed my father as he died from cancer.

  Nick reassured me that I’d handled the situation correctly. Already I felt better. After we said good-bye, I dug my keys out of my backpack and unlocked my front door. A musty smell greeted me, one that lingered no matter how much I cleaned and persisted even though the apartment was icy cold. I’d spent my entire childhood in a freezing bedroom—I didn’t need to give in to anything as luxurious as heat now. I kicked off my shoes, bumping against my waist-high stack of nursing textbooks as I did.

  For the first time in four years I didn’t need to study. All I had to do today was sleep a little, look online for a new apartment, research nursing jobs in the area, and then get ready for my celebratory date with Nick.

  I knelt beside my bed as I always did before I slept, another practice I hadn’t given up from my childhood. I prayed for my family, about my upcoming boards, for Nick, and then for the two of us. “Please guide us, Lord,” I prayed. “And thank you for how you’ve led us so far.”

  The restaurant, located on Mount Washington, was the most upscale I’d ever been to—linen tablecloths and napkins, crystal glasses, and fresh flowers. I was both enchanted and alarmed, which pretty much summed up the last four years of my life. The Englisch ways enticed me, but at the same time, I believed them to be extravagant.

  Fine dining wasn’t part of my Amish upbringing. Neither was the picturesque view outside the window. Below us was Point State Park, where the Ohio, Allegheny, and Monongahela Rivers joined together.

  Nick took my hand from across the table. “What are you going to order?” he asked.

  “The chicken.”

  He shook his head. “That’s the cheapest thing on the menu. You should order something else.”

  What was Nick thinking? The chicken entrée was still thirty bucks. We both had student loans to pay back and old vehicles that broke down every other month.

  “I like chicken.” I gave him a sassy look, which made him smile. His dark wavy hair was newly trimmed, and his brown eyes shone. He wore a suit and tie and looked as handsome as ever. I glanced down at my lap and the dress I’d borrowed from my friend Paisley for the occasion. I had no idea what the fabric was called, but it was flimsy and flowing, and I felt fancy wearing it.

  Nick patted the pocket of his jacket absentmindedly as he said, “I talked with a recruiter yesterday.”

  A job recruiter? Hospitals were so desperate to hire nurses that many contracted with companies to find the personnel they needed. My stomach lurched. “Are you leaving the medical center?” I managed to sputter, wondering if I’d misread our plans for the future.

  “Eventually.” His hand felt warm. I was afraid mine was icy cold. “It’s the best way to get my student loans paid off.”

  I’d heard some hospitals helped pay off student loans, which would be great for him. “Where will you go?”

  “It depends on what happens after officer training school—what assignment I get.”

  “Assignment?” Slowly, it dawned on me. He’d brought up joining the Air Force in passing, but I thought he’d dropped the idea. Apparently he hadn’t.

  “Leisel?” His voice was so low I hardly heard it.

  I lifted my head and met his eyes. “I didn’t know you were still thinking about joining the Air Force.”

  An unsettled look fell across his face. “I never stopped thinking about it. I don’t want to struggle financially the way my parents did for years. I don’t want student loan debt hanging over us.”

  Us.

  “We could concentrate on paying off your loans first,” Nick said. “Or you could join up too, and—”

  “Join the military?” I choked out, interrupting him.

  He nodded,
but then our waiter appeared before he could say more.

  I ordered the chicken breast. Nick ordered the lump crab and Asian pear appetizer for us to share and the salmon for his dinner.

  “How about a glass of our house sauvignon blanc or chardonnay to go with the chicken and salmon?” the waiter asked.

  “I’ll just have water,” I quickly answered.

  “Me too,” Nick added.

  After the waiter left, I hoped the conversation wouldn’t go back to the Air Force. But it did.

  “I’ve done my research. Joining the Air Force would pay off our student loans. And there are a lot of training opportunities for our master’s degrees or even doctorates. Nurse practitioner programs. Nurse anesthetist programs.” He smiled. “They’d need a commitment for more training. Probably six years is all.”

  My stomach fell. Six years? I hoped we might be married within a year, or at least a couple of years.

  But maybe we wouldn’t marry at all now.

  The scent of coffee mixed with the scent of grilled meat and fish and freshly laundered linens. It all distracted me for half a second. Until Nick cleared his throat. “You don’t seem very enthused.”

  I blinked. “I’m not interested in joining the military.”

  Still holding on to my hand, he quickly responded, “That’s cool.”

  “I may have left the Amish church, but I still agree with the nonresistance ideology. I can’t support war.”

  “But you’d be caring for the medical needs of people—not just soldiers. You’d be taking care of their families too. Not supporting war.”

  “Indirectly I would be.” And he would be too. And if I married him, I’d be supporting him, and therefore supporting war. I’d given up a lot in leaving my Amish family and community, but I wasn’t willing to give up everything.

  He cocked his head. “I don’t understand.”

  I slipped my hand from his. “I can’t support the military,” I said. “It goes against my principles.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Principles of homeland security? Of protecting our citizens?”

  I shook my head. “Of killing other people.”

  His eyebrows arched. “Right. But we wouldn’t be killing people.”