The Loyal One

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  Praise for New York Times bestselling author Shelley Shepard Gray’s Walnut Creek series

  THE

  PATIENT ONE

  “Gray tells a beautiful story of friendship, love, and truth born out of pain and grief. This story reminds us to hold those we love close.”

  —Rachel Hauck, New York Times bestselling author of The Wedding Dress

  “A pleasing story about recovering from grief and a solid beginning for a new series.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Gray has created an endearing cast of characters . . . that both delights and surprises—and kept me thinking about the story long after I turned the last page. Bravo!”

  —Leslie Gould, #1 bestselling and Christy Award–winning author of more than thirty novels

  “Like sunshine breaking through clouds . . . Readers who love Amish stories and/or Christian fiction are sure to take pleasure in following the saga of this wonderful group of friends [who] learn to support each other and follow their hearts as they attempt to discern God’s will in their lives.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “This is a four-star book that everyone should read.”

  —Cover to Cover Cafe

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  To Heather, Hilda, and Cathy, three of the most loyal and lovely women I know

  Dear Readers,

  As I write this, I’m sitting in my new office, surrounded by boxes. Actually, much of our house is in disarray, and probably will remain that way for the next year while we do some major renovations in our new home in Colorado.

  A few hours ago, as I looked over the final version of The Loyal One, I had to smile. Though we did have our house on the market when I wrote the first draft of this book, my husband and I intended to buy a home in Colorado that was new, filled with bells and whistles, and about the same size as the home we were leaving in Ohio. I’m not sure what happened, but we ended up buying a house that was a little smaller, a whole lot older, and needed a lot of work. I can’t believe that I wrote a novel about remodeling months before finding myself doing the very same thing!

  Our recent move across the country encouraged me to think a lot about friends and family and the things that are important. I was reminded that so many “things” in our home were just “things.” Saying good-bye to longtime friends and neighbors was both heart-wrenching and affirming, too. I realized just how much I was going to miss the important people in my life . . . and how much I’ve been blessed to have them in the first place. I feel sure that God has been with me the entire time. Only He could remind me of all the blessings in my life—even when I was filled with doubt and worry.

  I’m glad that the characters in The Loyal One realized the same thing. Our Lord doesn’t waver, or turn His back on us, or declare us as unworthy. He really is a “loyal” God, and is with us through thick and thin, through good times and bad. I hope that you, too, have found this to be true.

  This letter would not be complete without offering my thanks to you for giving this book and this series a try. Thank you, too, for joining me on Facebook chats, for your letters and encouraging notes, and for telling your local librarians, friends, and family about my novels. I’m so grateful for your support—and your loyalty!

  Wishing you many blessings,

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.

  —Psalm 90:12

  Things turn out the best for those who make the best of the way things turn out.

  —Amish proverb

  PROLOGUE

  MARCH

  It was really too early in the season for a campfire near the Kurtzes’ old cabin in the woods, but not a one of them had wanted to be anywhere else. The remainder of the Eight, along with a couple of new additions, had arrived just before sundown, each prepared to spend the night. An outsider would probably think they’d brought way too much.

  Harley Lambright reckoned such a thing wasn’t possible.

  Though he was usually the first to arrive, Harley had gotten a late start. Therefore, he was still trying to shake off the stress of his workday. He remodeled homes and buildings around the area. It was a good job, and he often had more offers than he had time to do them—it wasn’t always easy, attempting to make something old look new again.

  Sometimes he just wanted to ask his customers to tear everything down and start from scratch. This had been one of those days. The house he was working on had been built in the 1930s and had already been through multiple remodels. Because of that, it was hard to make heads or tails of some of the plumbing and electrical work. His budget-conscious customers were having a difficult time understanding why he was insisting that everything needed to be brought up to code. After yet another contentious conversation, he’d actually considered walking off the worksite.

  While the driver he’d hired slowly turned around on the narrow dirt road and headed back to town, Harley gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts and watch the activity around him.

  Everyone was so busy, they would put a colony of bees to shame.

  Will Kurtz was pulling out old folding chairs from a rickety storage shed just behind the cabin. Marie and John B. were carting over a cooler of soft drinks and a large straw basket filled with snacks. Logan Clark had his arms full with all the fixings for s’mores. Katie Steury was sitting on a rock, untwisting wire hangers.

  The others? Well, the others did as they always did. They pitched in where they could and stacked wood. It was going to be a great night. A wonderful, gut one.

  But then again, when had they not had a good time when they were all together?

  With a bright smile on her face, Marie Hartman walked to his side. “So, what do you think, Harley? Are we ready?”

  “I’d say so.” Finally lifting the cooler he’d been carrying, he said, “I brought a mess of sandwiches.”

  She laughed. “While the rest of us brought soda, chips, and everything for s’mores, you are making sure we eat something healthy.” Looping a hand through his arm, she tugged him forward. “What would we do without you?”

  “I don’t ever want to know.” He smiled so she wouldn’t realize how serious he was. This wasn’t the night for that.

  When they reached the fire pit, he spent the next ten minutes saying hello and finishing the final preparations.

  And then, with a feeling of accomplishment, Harley pulled out a match, scraped it against one of the rocks surrounding the fire pit, and lit the kindling. Seconds later, a fire roared to life.

  Logan clapped. “Look at that! We did it. And in spite of our jobs and family obligations, we all got here.”

  Elizabeth Anne raised her can of Sprite. “Amen to that.”

  “My boss asked me to stay late tonight, but I told him I had plans I couldn’t miss,” John B. said. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for weeks.”

  “Me, too,” Harley said. Looking around at all of his best friends, some Amish, some Mennonite, some English—most of whom he’d known for almost his entire life—he felt his body relax at last.

  By the time the sun had completely slid down the sky and the first of the stars had begun to appear, the fire was crackling merrily and flavoring the air with the scents of fresh pine, old memories, and
anticipation.

  Looking at the flames, feeling the comfort and sense of contentment among all of them, Harley knew this was the perfect place to have a celebration. The evening was cool and crisp, the fire bright, the blankets surrounding them all were cozy . . . and the company even better.

  But that was always how it had been. From the first summer the Eight had met, they’d felt an instant connection. Even though they all led very different lives, some firmly entrenched in the modern world, others steadfastly following the traditions and rules that so many generations had before, they’d stayed connected.

  Over the years, they’d grown up together. They’d suffered hardships by one another’s sides, and had commemorated everything from new kittens to first kisses to graduations in one another’s company.

  All that was why they’d come together to celebrate their group’s first engagement. Logan had recently proposed to Tricia Warner, Andy’s little sister, and few things had ever seemed like such a blessing.

  But even though they all loved Logan and Tricia, it didn’t mean that they couldn’t resist doing a little bit of teasing and good-natured ribbing.

  Or maybe even a lot of it.

  “Come on, Logan!” Will Kurtz called out. “Kiss your bride-to-be one more time.”

  “All right. If I have to,” Logan joked before pulling Tricia into his arms. Just as she placed her hands on his arms with a gasp, Logan gently kissed her cheek.

  Groans abounded, along with someone tossing a paper cup at Logan.

  “What kind of kiss is that?” John B. teased. “I kissed my first girl in the back of our barn with more enthusiasm than that.”

  “You probably kissed your aunt with more enthusiasm than that,” Will quipped.

  “Only on New Year’s,” John countered, quick as lightning.

  Laughter filled the air as Tricia slapped a hand over her face in embarrassment. As for Logan? Well, he simply rested an arm around her shoulders and grinned. “It’s the only kind of kiss you’re gonna see, buddy. Now stop before you go and embarrass Trish.”

  “Too late!” Tricia called out, her face still covered.

  As laughter erupted again, Kendra Troyer smiled at them all. “Isn’t tonight perfectly perfect?”

  Looking as contented as a cat at a dairy farm, E.A. nodded. “It’s better than that.”

  Harley reckoned it was. Well, almost. Sometimes seeing Tricia Warner reminded him of the hole that Andy’s death had created in their lives. Even though it had been almost a year since Andy had taken his life, Harley still missed him tremendously. Andy had been brash, loud, and a little spoiled. He’d also been loyal, kind, and sensitive.

  Andy had been everything Harley had never been. And, in his worst, most insecure moments, everything that Harley wished he could have been.

  With force, he pushed the first tinges of depression he’d been battling away. He wasn’t going to go there tonight. Not when there were so many other things to concentrate on.

  As everyone around him started talking quietly, Harley allowed himself to glance at each one. Next to him were Logan and Tricia. On Tricia’s other side was Will Kurtz. Will was Amish and worked at the trailer factory with John B., who was on Will’s other side. Will’s mother used to watch them all from time to time when they were young.

  Sitting next to John B. was his sweetheart, Marie. John had grown up Amish but had recently jumped the fence for a variety of reasons, the main one being that he and Marie had fallen in love, and she was as English as a girl could be. Next in the circle sat Elizabeth Anne, all red hair, properness, and smiles. She was Mennonite and was best friends with Katie Steury, who was Amish like him.

  Against his will, Harley let his gaze settle on Katie, thinking of how she looked so like the heroine in one of the more recent Star Wars movies. Back during his rumspringa, they’d all gone to the movies and thought Katie looked so much like a blond version of the actress Natalie Portman that they’d called her that for days.

  Last but not least was Kendra Troyer, who was sitting on his left. Kendra was shy and a little awkward, and all of them were protective of her. He’d been glad that she’d become part of their extended group when they were teenagers.

  “Harley?” Will called out. “You okay?”

  “Hmm? Oh, jah. Just sitting here thinking.”

  “About what?” E.A. asked. “You look so serious.”

  Not wanting to admit that he’d been silently struggling with Andy’s loss, Harley thought quickly. “Nothing much. I was only thinking about the night Marie and Andy graduated high school and we all went out together.”

  “Boy, I haven’t thought about that night in ages,” Marie said with a grin. “Hey, did any of your parents ever find out everything that we did?”

  Will shuddered. “No way. Mei daed would have tanned my backside.”

  “You were lucky. My brothers found out,” John B. said. “I had to do both James’s and Anton’s chores for a month in order for them to keep the secret.”

  Kendra waved a hand. “What actually did happen that night? I remember hearing that something had occurred, but I never heard the details.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Marie said.

  “I do,” Tricia called out. “Come on, you Eight, don’t be a tease. Andy never whispered a word to me about his graduation night.”

  “I ain’t sure tonight’s the best time to share it,” Harley hedged. “I mean, it’s a long story.”

  “Go ahead and tell it, Harley,” Katie prodded. “It’s Friday night, and none of us have anywhere else to be.”

  “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya. It for sure doesn’t show any of us in the best light.”

  “I’ll try not to be too shocked,” Kendra murmured, sarcasm thick in her voice.

  Tricia reached for Logan’s hand. “I am getting a little worried about what I’m about to find out.”

  “Don’t get too worried,” John B. said. “We didn’t do anything that bad. I mean, we could have been a whole lot worse.” Chuckling, he added, “As much as the story embarrasses me, I wouldn’t change a bit of it.”

  “It ain’t like we could ever change the past anyway,” Will said.

  Harley guffawed. “I do love it when you try to act all pious and perfect, William.”

  Looking sheepish, Will picked up his can of soda and sipped. “You’re right. We were all once young and stupid. And for the record, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Start talking, Harley. And don’t leave anything out.”

  Feeling some of the pressure that had been weighing on him lighten at last, Harley stood up.

  And, after mentally raising a toast to Andy, he began.

  ONE

  “I should start by saying that I always thought that everything would have gone a whole lot better if John had just let Andy or Marie drive us in one of their cars. Or, say, John and Logan hadn’t suggested that we all go swimming in the lake on Mr. Schlabach’s farm.”

  APRIL

  Katie hadn’t believed it was possible to both love and hate something at the same time. But that was how she felt about her house. Standing outside the front of it, attempting to look at the front door as a newcomer would, she supposed it didn’t look much different from any of the other houses dotting Plum Lane.

  A tourist leisurely driving down the narrow, winding roads of Walnut Creek might have even called the fifty-year-old house charming, with its shiny black door, wraparound porch, and carefully kept-up whitewashed siding. Many had told her that it looked like the perfect Amish farmhouse.

  Unfortunately, every time Katie looked at the siding, all she saw was the long hours she’d spent scraping and sanding the old siding in the hot sun.

  Boy, she’d hated scraping off old paint. For some reason, her older sister and brother had always gotten to be the painters.

  Her sister, June, had said that Katie always had to sand and scrape because their parents didn’t think she was a careful painter. Though the criticism had
stung, Katie couldn’t really disagree. She hated working on the outside of the house. It was hot, sticky, and bugs got in her face.

  She’d always secretly suspected that the reason she never got to paint was because she was younger than her siblings and therefore always got the jobs neither June nor Caleb had wanted to do.

  As she slowly walked along the porch, glancing in one of the many windows facing the road, Katie knew there was a third reason.

  It was because her parents had carefully worked on the outside of the old house but never on the inside. It perpetuated the illusion that everything was lovely and well cared for on the other side of the walls, too.

  But that had never really been the case.

  Hating the memories that were forming in her mind, matching the dark and cluttered interior she could spy from the windows, Katie turned away.

  Just in time to see Harley Lambright park his bike against the black iron hitching post her great-grandparents had placed on the front walkway the week they’d moved into their new home.

  Obviously seeing her watching him, he raised a hand. “Hiya, Katie. Gut matin.”

  “Hello, Harley,” she called out. “Good morning to you.” She kept the smile on her face even though she was starting to wonder if they were ever going to become completely at ease around each other again. “Thanks for coming over.”

  “Thanks for talking to me about the job.” After grabbing a pencil and notepad out of the backpack he’d just pulled off his shoulders, he paused. “So, how do you want to do this?”

  Though she knew he was referring to the remodeling job, Katie couldn’t help but think of the other thing that they needed to work on—their awkward, stilted relationship.

  While it might not be evident to the rest of the Eight, whenever she was around Harley for any length of time, the terrible tension between them buzzed loud and clear. Their relationship did encompass many wonderful-gut memories of the Eight. But it also included their argument about his old sweetheart Melody. Katie had never liked the girl, and once had even made the mistake of sharing her opinion to E.A.