by Susan Wiggs
“We feel the same way, baby,” he said. “Let’s not do that anymore.”
As they worked together, she told him about her job—the changing array of patients she saw during each shift, the moments of success and the awful failures, the asthma study that was taking shape and being reviewed for special funding. Then she talked about her life—learning to embroider and to make jam, her volunteer work with migrant laborers at the Latino Living Center.
“So it’s good, then. This residency.”
She was quiet, smoothing the mulch over the soil. For the first time, she felt she was living life on her own terms and making choices for herself, not to please her parents or fulfill someone else’s expectations. It was a powerful, liberating feeling, but there were challenges. Without her parents advising her, she was on her own, and sometimes doubts crept in. “Another option came up—an opening for a med-ped program in California.”
He fell still, listening as she explained the situation. “Is this something you want?”
She smiled. “I was expecting you to say ‘you should’ or ‘of course you will,’ or—”
“Is that what I do?”
“Pretty much, yeah. Thank you for not doing that now.”
More moments of silence. Then her father asked, “And your friend Caleb?”
Her friend. She couldn’t talk about him without feeling a terrible ache. He wasn’t her friend. He wasn’t anything, and it felt so terribly wrong. Instead of moving past that chapter in her life, she missed him more and more each day. She remembered looking into his eyes and seeing her whole world in there, in him, in the deep, sweet connection they had.
A few weeks after they’d parted ways, her period had been late. For one soaring moment, she’d felt nothing but joy, imagining herself going to Middle Grove to tell him she was pregnant. That, of course, had created a tidal wave of panic, followed by a reality check. When the pregnancy test turned up negative, she’d been relieved. Sort of. But sort of not.
For a long time, she had been fighting against the new world Caleb had presented to her. A part of her was still entangled with her work and her parents. The incident with Hannah had brought Caleb’s world up sharply against hers, throwing off the safeness of the world she thought she inhabited. “I’m not quite ready to talk about that,” she said quietly.
He simply nodded and kept working. After spending her whole life planning and executing those plans, Reese was ready to do something different. Something spontaneous. Reconnecting with her father was an unexpected breath of fresh air.
In a curious way, both she and Caleb had been shaped—and perhaps damaged—by trying to live up to the expectations of their parents and the world around them. Now she was realizing her independence and faced with shaping her own future. She’d been doing right by her patients, and by everyone else, but not by herself. In the deepest part of her soul, she couldn’t imagine living without Caleb. Yet he had been firm in his conviction that he couldn’t see a way to be with her.
She had people around her—good people—but the relationships didn’t have the depth and authenticity she’d found with Caleb. Sometimes she didn’t actually know why she wanted to be with him. Yet her thoughts kept drifting to him. She couldn’t forget the expression on his face when he’d said goodbye. She couldn’t keep herself from believing it didn’t have to be that way. But every time she tried to imagine the compromises each would have to make, it seemed impossible. Time was running out to make a decision about the program in California. An amazing opportunity. A new beginning. And an ending to the incredible, messy, heartbreaking, life-altering time here.
After her father left, she went inside to clean up, scrubbing the garden soil from her hands and fingernails. In her room, her gaze fell on the sampler cloth from Rebecca Zook. Rebecca had embroidered a single letter—W—and then the thread trailed off to nothing.
Passing her hand over the soft cloth, she folded it up and placed it on the nightstand. Maybe one day she would finish it.
Caleb hung a clock in the kitchen and touched the pendulum. The quiet rhythm ticked into the silence. “How’s that, Jubilee?” he asked the dog, knowing she would thump her tail in approval.
They had settled into the new place on the premises of Grantham Farm, in the largest of the workers’ residences. It was plain, but not Amish Plain. He and the kids now lived in a cottage with electric lighting and running water, hot showers whenever they wanted, and music playing on the radio.
“Let’s get that layabout up and ready for school,” he said to the dog, opening the door to Jonah’s small room.
Watching the boy greet his dog with a sleepy smile, Caleb had no regrets about leaving the community. He had to believe John would understand. Asa would always be Asa; he would never change. In Middle Grove, the brotherhood to which he was so loyal would observe Plain ways, practice humility, be stewards of the land, and reject anything that got in the way of faith.
Caleb had been born and raised Amish, but his faith was not automatic. He couldn’t force it. Instead, he needed to find it. Or not. Could be he just needed to live his life. Could be he had found his own kind of faith right here, right now. It was real and tangible, made of the things he could see and touch and feel deep in his heart—the peace and contentment that came from seeing the brush of sunshine on a little boy’s cheek just before he awakened in the morning. The sound of a young mother singing a lullaby. The laughter of a growing baby as the dog frisked around her. These were the things the world was made of—everyday blessings, delivered in moments, not homilies.
You can’t save everybody. Sometimes, Reese’s words came back to haunt him. Sometimes, he thought about the vast emptiness in his life that only she could fill. During one of Jonah’s arm appointments, the boy had asked Mose about her, voicing the question Caleb couldn’t bring himself to ask.
“She’s going to California,” Mose had said. “Got an invitation to a special program that’ll make her an even better doctor than she already is.”
Caleb knew she’d suffered a crisis of confidence after the Hannah incident. Reese had questioned her own actions and judgment. Maybe she’d decided life here wasn’t for her after all.
You can’t save everybody.
He felt terrible about having flung the bitter words at her. And the words weren’t merely bitter, but wrong. He wished Reese could see Hannah now. Then she’d know. She’d realize that her actions the morning Sarah Jane was born had saved everyone.
He sang along with the radio while he fixed breakfast. What a luxury to use a toaster. The charred shingles of the past were a distant memory.
Jubilee gave a sharp bark—an alert. Caleb stepped outside. Visitors to Grantham were rare.
To his astonishment, Reese’s car was parked on the gravel drive. She got out and came toward him, looking to his eyes like the risen sun. “Hey, stranger,” she said.
“I thought you were going to California,” he said.
“I thought you were staying in Middle Grove,” she said.
“It appears we were both mistaken.” His heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. He couldn’t hold off another second. He hauled her into his arms, stunned by how much he wanted her. He held her so close, there was no room for doubt, none at all. She nestled there and then lifted her face and kissed him, so softly.
“I was going to say we need to talk,” she said, giving him a smile he’d never seen before, her eyes filled with hope. Gently extricating herself from his embrace, she added, “But maybe I’ll just give you this instead. It’s a sampler cloth. I’ve been practicing my embroidery.”
Mystified, he took the wispy cloth from her. In the few seconds it took to unfold the cloth, he thought about how deeply he loved her, with every beat of his heart. It was a breathless, heartaching love, a feeling he had carried around practically from the first moment they’d met. Reese was a leap into the unknown, and he’d realized that from the very start. He couldn’t say how or when it had happened, this b
ond between them. It transcended both their worlds, pulling their hearts together, powerful and undeniable.
He looked down at the sampler she’d handed him. There was a message, painstakingly stitched into the cloth: Will you marry me?
Epilogue
We don’t realize how wonderful today is until tomorrow.
—Amish proverb
The day I left you at the safe haven, I had no way of seeing the life before me. That came later. It came from watching and listening, having lots of big thinks, as your mama would say. It came from knowing I had the love of Caleb and Reese, from observing their commitment to each other, and seeing the respect they have for each other’s beliefs.
They married in a civil ceremony attended by the few friends who had not taken sides in the drama. We all moved to a town deeper in the Poconos, close to the hospital where Reese worked. I attended public school for the first time. Hannah sold her quilts to collectors and took classes at community college. That’s where she met Wesley, the man you call your dad.
Reese built a busy practice amid farmers and townspeople and published papers on asthma research. And had two babies of her own.
As a family, we had adventures those in the Amish community might only dream about—flying in planes, going to the seashore, skiing in the mountains. But the greatest adventure, I can tell you, is simply life itself.
It was years before I learned the truth about the guardianship issue. Caleb knew his father. He knew Asa would not pursue us beyond Middle Grove. But I always knew I was the reason for us leaving. Or if not the reason, then the catalyst.
In the Amish community, the focus was on all the things I couldn’t do because of the accident. But it’s a funny thing about loss. It can be balanced by gain. I gained connections from the love and support I found after the accident. When we left Middle Grove, I focused instead on the things I could do—hold you in my lap and read you a story. Run a four-minute mile. Play chess with my uncle. Go to law school. Become a child advocacy lawyer.
You were the start of that, Sarah Jane. Leaving you on the night you were born was an act of desperation, one that gives me chills to this day when I realize what I put at risk. I’ll always remember that night, and the place where it all happened. It will always be a place in my heart, a place in the middle. Middle Grove. And one day, I’ll take you there. One day.
I’ll always be grateful we were given a second chance with you. There are those in the Amish community who regard us even now as a fallen family, but I don’t see anyone falling. Reclaiming you and moving on was an affirmation, and an acknowledgment that the world is waiting. Just waiting to be found.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to Dan Mallory for being there at the beginning, and to Rachel Kahan for being there at the end. The remarkable team of professionals at William Morrow Books—Lynn Grady, Liate Stehlik, Tavia Kowalchuk, Lauren Truskowski, Kathy Gordon—for their dedication, creativity, energy, and spirit. Meg Ruley and Annelise Robey of the Jane Rotrosen Agency are, as always, pillars of strength, humor, and professionalism. For guiding me and my readers through the social media labyrinth, I am eternally grateful for Cindy Peters.
I’m grateful to my fellow writers—Elsa Watson, Sheila Roberts, Lois Faye Dyer, Kate Breslin, and Anjali Banerjee—for reading and discussing early drafts. I’m also grateful to Ed Aleks, a law enforcement professional, for helpful technical advice.
Thanks to Laura Cherkas and Laurie McGee for thorough and thoughtful copy editing and to Marilyn Rowe for proofreading.
My husband, Jerry Gundersen, will see his name on this page, and he will know exactly why I’m so grateful to him.
About the Author
SUSAN WIGGS is the number one New York Times bestselling author of more than fifty novels, including the beloved Lakeshore Chronicles series and the instant New York Times bestsellers Family Tree and Map of the Heart. Her award-winning books have been translated into two dozen languages. A native of a small town in upstate New York, she now lives with her husband at the water’s edge on an island in Puget Sound and in good weather can commute to her writers’ group in a twenty-one-foot motorboat. A former teacher and graduate of the University of Texas and Harvard, Susan is also an avid hiker, an amateur photographer, a good skier, and a cautious mountain biker—yet her favorite form of exercise is curling up with a good book.
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Also by Susan Wiggs
Contemporary Novels
Map of the Heart
Family Tree
Home Before Dark
The Ocean Between Us
Summer by the Sea
Table for Five
Lakeside Cottage
Just Breathe
The Goodbye Quilt
The Bella Vista Chronicles
The Apple Orchard
The Beekeeper’s Ball
The Lakeshore Chronicles
Summer at Willow Lake
The Winter Lodge
Dockside
Snowfall at Willow Lake
Fireside
Lakeshore Christmas
The Summer Hideaway
Marrying Daisy Bellamy
Return to Willow Lake
Candlelight Christmas
Starlight on Willow Lake
Historical Novels
The Lightkeeper
The Drifter
The Mistress of Normandy
The Maiden of Ireland
The Tudor Rose Trilogy
At the King’s Command
The Maiden’s Hand
At the Queen’s Summons
Chicago Fire Trilogy
The Hostage
The Mistress
The Firebrand
Calhoun Chronicles
The Charm School
The Horsemaster’s Daughter
Halfway to Heaven
Enchanted Afternoon
A Summer Affair
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
between you & me. Copyright © 2018 by Susan Wiggs. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
first edition
Cover design by Alan Dingman
Cover photograph © Anne Krämer/Arcangel
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.
Digital Edition JUNE 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-242557-7
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-242553-9
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