Next thing he knew, all of them were laughing. Minutes later, Harley was passing around sodas and Will was adding wood to the fire.
Marie got up and moved next to John. She relaxed against him as they all started sharing stories about things that had happened back when they were just kids.
As the sky got darker and filled with stars, John wrapped an arm around Marie’s shoulders. Held her close.
And simply gave thanks for the moment. Even in the darkest of times, there was always a glimmer of light.
THIRTY–FOUR
John stood up and joined Marie. Then Logan, Elizabeth Anne, and Harley. Will walked right to Katie’s side and threw an arm over her shoulders.
“Andy was a lot of things,” he said quietly. “But what I can promise each of you is that Andy will never be just a memory to us. He’ll always be our leader and our friend. Because of Andy, we’ll never really be a group of seven. No matter what happens in our futures, we will always be Eight.”
Thanks to the recent rain, the ground was soft. Too soft for her heels. Every time she stopped, the tips of her heels sank in, and then she’d kind of have to pull them out before taking another step.
Shaking her head at herself, Marie walked down the line of headstones on the balls of her feet, hoping that she didn’t look ridiculous.
When they were about halfway to Andy’s marker, John looked down at her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying not to sink my heels into the ground.”
“Oh.”
It was another one of those moments when their different cultures showed loud and bright. Of course, John didn’t have any experience dealing with women navigating surfaces in high heels. Well, not until they had become a couple. “I wish I would have thought about how soft the ground was. I would’ve worn flats.”
“Why don’t you take them off?”
“John, I can’t.”
“Why not? Andy wouldn’t care.” She hesitated another couple of steps before an image of Andy, one from long ago, ran in her mind. The two of them had been juniors in high school, looking for all the world like two stars of the place. Andy, with his classic good looks and easy smile, she with her mother’s ambitions and polish. Both living the consequences of their parents’ hard work.
So they’d looked like every other teenager in the building, though maybe a little better off socially than some of the others. They’d still been close, too, but not as much.
Not as close as they used to be.
The day she was thinking of she’d been coming out of some class—chemistry maybe—and he’d been coming out of speech, and he’d grabbed her hand.
“Let’s skip,” he’d said, with a gleam in his eye that she hadn’t seen in years.
“Andy.” She’d pretended she was scandalized, but the truth was that it was the end of the day and near the end of the school year. Nothing was going to happen to them, nothing that really mattered anyway.
He’d played along, though it had been obvious from the start that he’d been onto her game. “The blueberries are out in Will’s farm.”
“Blueberries?” Warm from the sun. Growing wild near the woods. “Your car or mine?”
“Mine. It was my idea.”
Less than an hour later, they’d changed clothes. Andy had grabbed a pair of shorts from his ball bag. She had on one of his worn baseball tees and another pair of his shorts, cinched tight at her waist.
And, just like in the past, they’d pulled off their shoes and were walking along the thickets barefoot.
She still remembered the feel of the weeds underfoot, the sun on her shoulders, the smell of dirt and decayed leaves, and the taste of warm blueberries on her lips.
But most of all, she remembered Andy’s smile when he’d held out his hands and they’d been stained blue. It had been a little wicked, a little mischievous. Genuinely happy. He’d loved that day.
She had, too.
Before John could say another word, she pulled off her shoes. Her toes curled against the closely mowed grass underfoot. Whereas before the grass had felt like only an inconvenience, now it felt perfect. Cold and soft. Almost familiar.
“Better?” John asked.
“Much.”
“Want me to hold your shoes?”
“I’ve got it.” She opened her purse and slipped her black patent sling backs inside. They vanished into the black hole that was otherwise known as her blue and tan Coach purse. She’d had it for years. It had proved to be both durable and perfect for holding just about anything and everything she’d needed to have with her over the years.
“Some things never change, hmm?”
Thinking about the two of them and the things they’d promised to each other the night before, she looked up at him and smiled. “Some things don’t, but some things do.”
He grinned, just as they met up with Will, Harley, Elizabeth Anne, Logan, Tricia, and Katie.
“Going barefoot, Marie?” E.A. asked.
“My heels were sticking in the dirt.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t going to take them off, but then John reminded me that Andy wouldn’t have cared.”
Logan held up a cooler. “He would have told us to get a move on.”
“No, he would have already started walking,” Tricia said. “He hated standing around and waiting.”
Marie knew Andy’s sister wasn’t wrong.
Maybe because the reality of what they were doing was hitting them hard, or maybe it was simply because there was nothing left to say, they walked in silence the rest of the way. Beyond the statue of the lamb, to the left of a fountain, and finally to a space at the end of a row, right next to a wide open space that hadn’t been claimed yet.
Looking at Andy’s headstone, with ANDREW BEST WARNER carved in solemn, perfectly formed letters, Marie swallowed hard. She hadn’t been here since she’d eaten Twizzlers next to his headstone.
John noticed and held out his hand. “You all right?”
She nodded as she took his hand and gripped it. “I’m good enough.”
“I think here’s a good spot,” Katie said as she tossed her backpack on the ground and unzipped it. Then, with little fanfare, she pulled out a thin blue blanket and shook it out.
Will grabbed an end and helped pull it tight, then spread it out neatly on the ground. “This thing is massive, Katie,” he said.
Katie looked pleased. “It was the biggest blanket I could find at the Walmart. It’s soft, too. Everybody take off your shoes and get settled,” she said as she tossed her flats off to the side.
There was a little bit of good-natured grumbling, but all of them did as she asked. Then, when Will opened the cooler, Logan started passing out brown sacks, each with a name on it.
“Your mother is wunderbaar,” Katie said.
“She is,” Logan agreed. “She liked the idea of us eating all together again. She liked the idea of that a lot.”
Taking the sack with MARIE neatly labeled across its front, Marie held it on her lap.
“Want a soda?” John asked.
She nodded and took the Sprite he handed her before grabbing one for himself.
At last, they all were situated. Armed with food and drinks, each of them sitting haphazardly on the fabric, almost like a litter of puppies, it was almost perfect.
Almost.
She bit her lip. Again, the tears threatened to fall but she didn’t want to spoil the moment. She took a drink of her soda instead.
Looking around, she realized the rest of them were all feeling the same sense of awkward loss that she did. Deciding that this time, at least, she could be the person to break the silence and say something meaningful, she opened her mouth to speak, to volunteer to lead everyone in prayer.
But Katie spoke first. “So, what do you think, Andy?” A new silence stretched out among them. Awkward and tense.
She continued. “I’ve got a turkey and Swiss on rye, which was never your favorite, I know. But I couldn’t bring myself to make a peanut butter a
nd jelly.”
“I still can’t eat them,” E.A. whispered.
“None of us can except for Logan,” Will teased.
“That’s okay.” Logan stared at Andy’s stone. “I’ve got your back, buddy. Even though you left to begin your own adventure, you’ve still got us doing what we did best . . . following you.”
“We’ve even brought the party to you,” Marie said as she raised her can of Sprite.
“Andy, I hope you are sitting up in Heaven watching this, because yet again, you got your way. We’re all together again,” Harley murmured. “Just like we used to be. We’re older and different and maybe even a little wiser.”
E.A. wrinkled her nose. “Or stupider.”
Katie laughed. “Or stupider. But no matter what, I’d like to think we’re better.”
“I’d like to think I am,” Will said quietly as he reached out and pressed a palm on the side of the headstone. “Andy, all you had to do was be patient. If you would have given us a little bit longer, we would have come around. We just weren’t quite ready yet.”
“It doesn’t really matter anymore,” Katie said. “All that does is that we’re all together now. Danke, Andy,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Marie swallowed hard but didn’t say a word. Neither did anyone else. Because really, nothing more needed to be said. They were all together, and they had Andy to thank for it. Andy and God.
And that, Marie realized, was why sitting on a blanket next to his grave didn’t feel wrong at all.
For the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly right. Almost like they’d finally all come home. At long last.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The publication of this novel is quite a celebration for me, and I have many people to thank for helping The Patient One come to life. First, I owe a great deal of thanks to both my friends Clara and Celesta, for graciously allowing me to use their long friendship as the backbone for this series. I’m also very grateful for their smiles and patience with me as I continually ask questions for my books.
I am also forever grateful for my amazing agent, Nicole Resciniti, who agreed that I had an idea for a series that needed telling and navigated the tricky process of finding a home for it. Every writer should have an agent who cares so much.
Along those same lines, I’m indebted to my editor, Marla Daniels, and the whole Gallery team for taking a chance on me and my Amish novels. From the moment I joined Gallery Books, Marla and her team made me feel like a member of their extended family. That’s been such a gift that I don’t take for granted.
I’d also like to take this time to thank my readers, my Buggy Bunch, both current and “alumni,” and for the many librarians and booksellers who’ve shared my novels. It’s because of y’all that I can still write full-time, and I’m very grateful for that.
Finally, this note wouldn’t be complete without acknowledging that I, like so many other people, have lost someone I loved to suicide. Making the choice to include this loss in a book did not come lightly or easily. I am grateful for my family and my faith for gifting me with the ability to now write about some of the pain that I experienced. If you, too, have lost someone you loved, I hope you will one day find a measure of peace as well.
More from this Series
The Loyal One
Book 2
Friends to the End
Don’t miss the next heartwarming installment in The Walnut Creek Series
The
LOYAL
ONE
Coming Summer 2019 from Gallery Books!
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 day. 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 one such 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 commemorat
ed 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 he’d 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.
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