A Faithful Gathering

by Leslie Gould

  I tried again. “But we would be caring for and supporting soldiers—”

  Nick interrupted me. “In the Air Force they’re called airmen.”

  “—so they could kill if needed . . .” My voice trailed off.

  “But you already do support the military,” he said. “With your taxes. By simply being a US citizen.”

  “But we don’t have a choice when it comes to paying taxes. We do have a choice as far as joining the military.”

  Perhaps he was catching on because he nodded. “You’re right.”

  Many people didn’t understand Amish nonresistance ideology, how opposed we were to serving in the military. We. Even now, I still couldn’t stop identifying with the Anabaptist movement—which originated in the early 1500s and led to the Mennonite, Hutterite, Amish, Brethren, and Apostolic churches.

  Our ancestors fled Europe for America for freedom of religion. Freedom to follow our faith, based on Jesus’s Sermon on the Mount. Freedom to turn the other cheek instead of striking back. Freedom to pledge our allegiance to God alone. Because of that, we didn’t even have American flags in our schools.

  Nick leaned closer. “Would you be okay with me joining, though?”

  My head began to spin. What if I wasn’t?

  Before I could figure out what to say, the waiter approached with our appetizer. And then a speedboat racing down the Ohio River caught our attention. Perhaps Nick realized how uncomfortable the topic was for me because he shifted the conversation to my graduation ceremony the next afternoon. I was thankful my brother-in-law Gordon was willing to miss a day of work to come with my sister Marie and their fifteen-month-old son, Caden. Besides them, Nick would be the only other person there for me.

  Nick then told me a story about something that had happened at work the night before. Many people still viewed nursing as a woman’s profession because that was the way the media portrayed it. But more and more men were entering the profession, and many who did went into specialty fields, such as emergency, like Nick.

  Plus, many had no idea about the rigorous training and expectations. While a doctor can go in and out of a hospital room, nurses provide constant care—dressing wounds, administering medicine, and providing life-saving treatment hour after hour.

  “My supervisor said for you to come in and talk with her,” Nick said. “We could stop by tonight.”

  “Oh, I don’t want you to have to go into work, not on your night off.” I took the last bite of appetizer, realizing I’d hardly tasted it.

  “What better way to end the evening?” Nick smiled, but not as broadly as usual. “Each step forward is worth a little bit of a detour.” I couldn’t help but think he was talking about more than stopping by the hospital.

  An hour and a half later, Nick pulled into the parking garage of the medical center. After he parked, he quickly walked around to my door and opened it.

  As we walked toward the hospital, his earlier talk of joining the Air Force continued to nag at me, but I didn’t say anything. My sisters often accused me of avoiding conflict, and they were right. I did. Even as he was dying of cancer, Dat cautioned me not to keep so much inside. “Find someone in life you can talk with,” he’d said to me. “And talk things through with the Lord. He wants us to be honest—with Him, with ourselves, and with others.”

  It wasn’t that I was dishonest with myself. I knew what I was thinking. I just didn’t share it with others unless I absolutely had to. That typically led people to see me as calm and capable—and I was. Both characteristics helped me in caring for others.

  As we headed toward the emergency department, we were silent, which was one of the things I appreciated about Nick. We could be together and not feel as if we needed to talk, yet there were other times we talked nonstop.

  We’d met when we both took a certified nursing course back in Lancaster County. I was the Amish girl in class, wearing a cape dress, apron, and Kapp. He was the confident young man who drove an old Chevy pickup truck and never balked at holding a bedpan or cleaning a pressure sore. I’d noticed him right away.

  For two years we were strictly friends. He was the one who taught me how to drive. He was the one who told me about the University of Pittsburgh’s registered nurse program. He never encouraged me to leave the Amish, but told me—if I decided to—he’d do whatever he could to help.

  It was at the end of his first year of nursing school that he gave me a ride to Pittsburgh, got me settled in my apartment, and helped me find a job at the care facility. Nick was the one who took me to thrift shops to buy jeans and sweaters. He was the one who helped me through chemistry and anatomy. He was the one who took me to the nondenominational church he attended. Jah, it was very different from what I was used to, but I found God and community and fellowship there, just in a different form.

  A year after I’d moved to Pittsburgh, on a Sunday afternoon, he reached for my hand. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. Step by step, our relationship grew and progressed. Once he’d graduated and began working in the emergency department, our conversations shifted to the future. To places we’d both like to live and work. To master’s and maybe even doctorate degrees. To the idea of marriage. To the possibility of children.

  And yes, to that one time before tonight when he’d casually brought up the possibility of his joining the Air Force to quickly pay off his student loans. But then he’d made a joke out of it, comparing it to winning the lottery, and I hadn’t taken him seriously.

  As we stepped from the garage into the hospital, I let go of his arm. He patted his jacket pocket again as we both faced the hall. What if he had a ring in his pocket? I couldn’t imagine being married to a military man.

  I quickened my pace toward the emergency department. Although I’d done my emergency rotation at a smaller hospital, I had done several clinicals at the medical center and was familiar with the ED. I craned my neck as we passed each partition. A small boy getting his forehead stitched up. A teenage girl with a leg injury. An elderly man hooked up to an IV.

  I followed Nick to the nurses’ station. Several people greeted him. I could tell I wasn’t the only one who was fond of him. Nick nodded toward a middle-aged woman who stood at a computer, squinting at the screen.

  “Hi Sue,” he said.

  The woman looked up and beamed at Nick. “You sure look spiffy.”

  He grinned back. “This is Leisel. She’s the one I was telling you about. Leisel, this is Sue, my supervisor.”

  She shook my hand and then said, “And you’re looking for a job?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “I graduate tomorrow, and then I’m taking my boards in a couple of weeks.”

  “Sounds like you’re a go-getter, just like Nick.”

  I smiled and said I hoped so.

  “We don’t hire many new grads, but it does happen.” She pulled a card from her pocket. “Send me your résumé and then let me know when you pass your boards.”

  I took the card and thanked her profusely, wondering when exactly I should send my résumé. Not tonight. But tomorrow? Next week? The week after?

  On the way back to the car, I thanked Nick for introducing me to Sue.

  “Could we talk more soon?” he asked. “About the Air Force?”

  I nodded. “After I take my boards.” I didn’t want to face such a big decision before then. I wanted to marry Nick, but if I didn’t want to become a military wife, would he still want to marry me? I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. It was the last thing I needed to worry about before taking such a huge test.

  As we walked toward the elevator, he put his arm around me and pulled me close. I breathed in his cologne, and then the antiseptic smell of the hospital. Two of my favorite things—Nick and medicine.

  The graduation ceremony wasn’t until three the next afternoon. Marie and Gordon planned to drive straight there and sit with Nick.

  At one, I dressed in the white nursing uniform I’d purchased for graduation, not sure if I’d ev
er wear it again. It all depended on where I worked, but most hospital nurses wore scrubs.

  I stood in my tiny bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. Even though I usually pulled my hair back into a ponytail, I left it long. Not because I wanted to, but because I guessed most of the other girls would. My blue eyes seemed sad considering the happy occasion, and I realized how much I was missing Dat. He would have come to my graduation, but Mamm wouldn’t have come with him. No part of me fantasized she’d show up with Marie. And I wouldn’t want her to. She’d feel so uncomfortable, so out of place.

  But Dat would have loved it.

  It had been four years now since he’d passed, but it felt like yesterday.

  I turned away from the mirror, grabbed my bag, and headed for my 1999 Ford Focus.

  The day was overcast but fairly warm. A few drops of rain fell as I drove to Carnegie Music Hall, where the ceremony was being held, but it stopped by the time I arrived, which was, of course, early. Hopefully Marie and Gordon had arrived too, and we’d have a chance to chat.

  I texted Marie and then climbed out of my car. As I passed through the front doors of the building, I marveled at the green marble and pillars in the foyer. I thought of the Carnegies in the late 1800s making their fortune in steel while my Anabaptist ancestors, the Bachmanns, continued to farm the land they’d owned since 1752. The families couldn’t have been more different.

  “Leisel!”

  Paisley and her best friend, Autumn, came running toward me. The two had grown up together in Philadelphia, been best friends all through school, gone off to nursing school together, and would no doubt find jobs in the same hospital too.

  “Your uniform looks so cute!” Autumn called out.

  Paisley swung the honors cord around her neck. “Where’s yours?”

  After they both hugged me, I pulled my cord out of my purse. Paisley took it out of my hands and tenderly draped it around my neck.

  The hardest thing for me in nursing school was figuring out how to interact with the other students. I felt so reserved and awkward and had no idea what to talk about. Studying with a group was what really forged friendships though. I had a gift for cementing facts to memory and being able to teach others.

  And thanks to Paisley and Autumn, over the years I’d grown a little more comfortable. They’d made it their mission to acclimate me to the real world. With their help, I’d trained myself to compliment someone’s purse or shoes. And then I’d listen when that person gave me details about brands and shops and costs even though I wasn’t interested.

  Over time, Paisley, Autumn, and the other students all learned about my past. Several said they thought I had an accent, although they couldn’t place it. Others asked why I wore jeans instead of dresses. Several asked if I’d return to Lancaster County and practice nursing there.

  I always patiently answered that I’d never go back to wearing dresses all the time and, no, I’d never return to Lancaster County to work or live, only to visit. And I tried as hard as I could not to speak with an accent.

  Through it all, Paisley and Autumn were the two who seemed to accept me for who I was. And I felt I could ask them about confusing slang, such as bae, which stood for “before anyone else,” which I found out when Autumn asked me, “So is Nick your bae?” She’d laughed at my confused expression and told me no one really used the term bae anymore, so not to worry about it. That left me even more baffled. I had to keep up with past slang, as well as current, and then remember not to use it? At least I thought that was what she meant.

  And then there was bye Felicia, which seemed to mean waving good-bye to someone or something unimportant. And throwing shade, which meant to talk poorly about someone. Jah, Englisch slang was like another language altogether.

  As I followed Paisley and Autumn toward our staging area, I checked my phone one more time. Nothing from Marie. I did have a text from Nick though. So proud of you! he wrote, adding three hearts after it.

  When we entered the auditorium, I scanned the crowd and found Nick, but couldn’t find Marie, Gordon, and Caden. I hoped they hadn’t had car trouble on the four-hour trip from Lancaster County.

  The ceremony went fairly quickly. To my surprise, I won the Compassionate Student Nurse Award. To my horror, I had to go up front to accept it, but I managed to remain composed, although my face must have been bright red.

  When I walked across the stage for my diploma, I could hear Nick shout. Others clapped too, and several of my classmates cheered and called out my name. My face grew warm again as I took my diploma. But inside I was thrilled. I’d just realized my biggest dream.

  I returned to my chair and searched the crowd again. Marie and her family definitely weren’t in the audience.

  I sat in a middle row of students and had to wait awhile to march out during the recessional. I called Marie as soon as I reached the marble floor of the lobby, surrounded by my classmates and their families hugging and snapping photos. But she didn’t answer.

  As I slipped my phone back into my pocket, Nick found me and gave me a hug. As he let go, he said, “I couldn’t find Marie and Gordon.”

  “They’re not here.” I pulled my phone from my pocket again. “I just called Marie, but she didn’t answer. I’ll call Gordon.” Just when I thought it was going to voicemail, my brother-in-law answered, sounding a little out of breath.

  “We’re in Lancaster,” he said. “Marie is in the hospital. She’s having stomach issues. They’re running tests.”

  “When were you going to tell me?” I couldn’t hide the hurt in my voice.

  “I thought Jessica or your Mamm would have called last night.”

  “Last night? Marie’s been in the hospital since then?”

  “Actually since yesterday morning.” He paused a moment and then said, “I’m sorry. Things have been a little crazy.”

  “Do you need me to come home? To help?”

  “I’ll talk to Marie,” Gordon said.

  “Where’s Caden?” I asked.

  “With my mom. She took the day off from school, but tomorrow she’s playing piano in a wedding. . . .” His voice trailed off. “Sorry. I’m having a hard time keeping track of everything. I’ll figure it out and call you back.”

  “All right.” Once I ended the call, I told Nick what was going on.

  “When will you leave?”

  “I’ll wait until Gordon calls me back.”

  “Are you sure?” I knew Nick would be halfway down the interstate by now if anyone in his family was in the hospital.

  “Do you think I should go?” I did have a few days off after all.

  He put his arm around me. “What do you want to do?”

  I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure.

  My phone rang again. It was Jessica. “Sorry I didn’t call you last night. I thought Marie would.” She must have just talked to Gordon. “We were hoping it wasn’t a big deal, but now I’m not so sure. Can you come home? We need you.”

  2

  Before I could slip out the front doors of the Carnegie Music Hall, Paisley and Autumn found me.

  I always felt awkward in these Englisch group-hug situations, but I did my best to act as normal as possible and hug them back.

  Paisley asked, “Are you coming to my graduation party tonight?”

  I shook my head. “I need to go home. My sister is in the hospital.”

  “Uh-oh,” Paisley said. “What’s wrong?”

  I quickly shared the information I had and added, “She was supposed to be here today. I just found out why she didn’t come.”

  “Keep us posted,” Autumn said. “And let us know when you get back. We’ll get together and celebrate then.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure what the two of them saw in me, but they always seemed sincere. “I’ll be in touch,” I said. “For sure.” I hugged each of them again and told them good-bye. As I turned to go, Nick moved to my side.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked as we jogged down the steps.
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  My mind spun in a million different directions.

  “I could fill up your car with gas while you pack.”

  “That would be great,” I said. “Would you check the air in the tires too?”

  He nodded. “I can take your car right now—you take my pickup. I’ll meet you back at your apartment. And then we should get something to eat before you leave.”

  “All right.” I’d planned to make a couple of peanut butter sandwiches for the road, but maybe we could go to the little café near my place. That would be quick.

  I drove Nick’s pickup back to my apartment, and then, as soon as I was in the front door, changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. The first thing I threw into my bag was my state board study book. I’d done well on all of the practice tests and felt sure I’d pass but planned to review everything. I zipped up my bag just as Nick knocked on the door.

  A half hour later, after doing my best to eat half a sandwich and a cup of soup, I told Nick good-bye on the sidewalk beside my car. “Let me know how Marie is,” he said.

  “I will.”

  He smiled, leaned down, and kissed me. I kissed him back. As we pulled away, Nick said, “Think about rescheduling your state boards.”

  I shook my head. “I won’t need to. They’re still over two weeks away. I’ll be back long before then,” I said. “Marie is young. This can’t be anything too serious, right?” Marie had always been healthy. Hopefully the doctor who ordered the tests was simply being proactive.

  He smiled at me, but we both knew there were no certainties, no matter one’s age. We’d both seen horrible, unpredictable tragedies in our training and work.

  I climbed into my car and waved. As I headed for the interstate and began the four-hour drive home, I thought of Marie’s phone calls from about a month ago. She hadn’t been feeling well. At first I suspected she was pregnant again, but she assured me she wasn’t. I asked if she was having indigestion. Then I wondered if she had a food allergy. Or perhaps even an ulcer. I passively suggested she go to the doctor. I’d been so absorbed in finishing up my classes and clinicals and work that I hadn’t followed up to see if she had.