A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel (46 page)

D
ylan couldn’t stop smiling.

It had been a long time since he’d felt this way, but a silly, goofy grin had risen from his soul, and he didn’t even try to suppress it.

The glacier inside was melting, easing, shifting, and it felt good to be able to take in a full breath after years of being crushed by memories.

When Haley had asked if she could bring a handful of guests to the session, he had consented, but the transplant recipients had been a surprise to him, too. Their words had been a renewal of life and faith, a reminder that life went on and that the Lord wanted every person on the planet to celebrate it … not muddle through as he had been doing.

After the session, when the guests had congregated with Haley and Graciana out in the parking lot, Dylan had gotten a distinct sense that they were doing that female bonding ritual of endless gab. Really, he hadn’t been able to get a single word in, and ultimately
he realized that they did not need his presence or expect him to stay.

That had been oddly liberating, to know his group could survive without him. Just like the session during which Haley had stepped up and acted as the mediator. And she’d done a good job. A great job. Once again, she had proven herself to be the Good Samaritan.

She was an amazing woman, and he’d been a fool to push her away.

His grin held as he braked at the stop sign by Zook’s barn. Ruben had missed today’s meeting. What was going on with him?

It was worth checking out.

Besides, in a mood this good, he had no desire to return to his apartment and reclaim his throne as hermit of the beet fields. He pulled into the lot beside a large bakery truck, and headed over to the wide double doors.

A horse-drawn cart was backed up to the entrance, and Bishop Samuel reached into it to slide a crate full of jars closer to the edge.

“Samuel.” Dylan nodded. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

The bishop straightened. “Ya. Spring is in today. Everyone is ready for longer days and warmer weather. Time to turn the soil.”

Dylan smiled, thinking of the sight from his apartment. “I’ve been watching the Amish farmers near my place. The plowshare is so silent as it cuts through the soil. It’s a peaceful sight to watch.”

“Something about working the soil soothes the soul.”

“Can I help you haul this stuff inside?” Dylan offered.

“James is taking care of that.” He looked toward the barn, where James came, wheeling his chair over. “We’re restocking the Lapps’ stand. I’m just the buggy driver.”

Dylan greeted James and observed the way the bishop stacked the case of jars atop James’s wheelchair. The young man had developed massively strong arms during his rehabilitation. As James propelled the chair back into the barn, laden with a heavy case of pie
filling, Dylan hoped that the chair would hold up under the wear and tear of farm life.

“So you’re the helper today,” Dylan asked.

“I am.”

It was surprising that a man of status like the bishop would give up an afternoon to do such menial work, but then, the Amish didn’t really look down on any sort of work, as long as it was in keeping with their rules, their Ordnung.

“A helper, just like you.” Samuel’s gray eyes glinted with interest behind his glasses. “I hear you have a way of talking folks into a calm mood during your meetings.”

“Guided imagery. It’s an effective form of counseling.” Dylan nodded toward the barn. “James hasn’t been willing to try it yet, but I’ve found that most Amish are very open to it. People find it soothing.”

“Because they trust you.”

“And I’m grateful for that.” He turned back to Samuel, whose piercing gray eyes weren’t as cold as he’d remembered. “Would you like to try it sometime?”

“Nay. When I need soothing, I turn to the Almighty Father. You can’t stumble when you’re already on your knees.”

Dylan nodded. “Prayer is a great counselor.”

“I keep reminding young James of that. We need to remember that it’s the Almighty who heals.” The bishop dragged another case to the edge of the cart and turned back to Dylan. “Sometimes the healing doesn’t match our plans. It’s hard to understand what Gott has in mind for us. I don’t know. James doesn’t, and neither do you.”

Dylan slid his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans as he let the bishop’s words wash over him. He’d had so many plans foiled and ruined. A major change, of course. A crossroads. “I hear you, Bishop.”

“I’m sorry about your wife and daughter.” The glint of compassion in the bishop’s silvery eyes touched a chord deep inside Dylan.
“These things break our hearts, and we can never understand why they happen.”

“I spent a lot of time looking for a reason,” Dylan admitted, “but it’s a waste of time.”

The bishop nodded. “That’s right. It’s fruitless to try and understand Gott’s plan for us. But He put us on this earth to live a Christlike life. Not to sit around trying to figure out why this and that happened. I keep saying this to James, but I’m not sure he hears me.”

“It’s one thing to hear words of wisdom. It’s another thing to take them to heart,” Dylan said.

“Ach!” The bishop smiled, clapping Dylan on the back. “You do get it. Gut.”

He got it all right. It had taken more than four years, but now he got it, and the message was a kick in the pants. It was time to move on.

After James and the bishop left in the cart, Dylan bought a bottle of Reading Draft sarsaparilla soda and straddled the bench of a picnic table outside as the sun cut through two clouds. The shafts of light streaming through the clouds were pretty as a postcard. God’s touch—that was what Kris had called the sight.

The soda was sweet on his tongue. It reminded him of happier days. Carefree bike rides with the kids in the neighborhood. Swimming pools and Battleship games and airsoft gun wars. Sunny mornings when he’d had the courage to bite into life as if it were a crisp, sweet apple.

Those days would come again, if he would let them.

He had made the break from Philadelphia. He’d given up his practice there and moved to Lancaster County—all a good effort on his part. But when it came to moving on, all progress had stopped.

All for Kris and Angela.

He loved them, he always would, but today’s revelation had brought home the fact that they were gone from his life. And when he got honest with himself, he knew that Kris would have smacked his shoulder if she knew that he was carrying a torch for her. With her frank disposition, Kris wasn’t one for drawn-out ceremonies or long good-byes.

And yet, he had drawn out his farewell to her over the past four years.

His bad.

Meeting Aubrey and Maria had reminded him of the letter in his wallet. He shifted to remove the leather billfold from his back pocket. There, behind a photo of Kris holding the baby, the light of love in her eyes, was the worn letter, folded into small segments.

Milo would be seven years old by now. Seven and in school and probably reading on his own. Dylan raked back his hair and smiled at the image of a kid that age, probably riding bikes and playing Battleship himself.

Life went on. God willing, life would go on.

50

H
aley had been saying good-bye to Graciana when the text came from Dylan.

Meet me at Zook’s barn for a sarsaparilla?

She had grinned and responded:
Sarsaparilla? Are you a cowboy?

Reviving my youth
, he’d answered, with uncharacteristic levity.

Well, this is going to be interesting
, she thought as she put her car in gear and headed toward Zook’s barn.

She found him sitting on a table outside, the only patron daring enough to brave the spring chill. Hands on her hips, she paused beside the table. “Cozy?”

“Hey, the sun was just out a minute ago. Have a seat and I’ll get you a soda.” His smile brought a light to his eyes, a glimmer she’d never seen there before. Hope? Joy? Whatever it was, it made something ticklish bubble up inside her.

“How about a cup of tea? I’m not quite as warm-blooded as you.”
“Got it.”

While he ducked inside, she sat and studied the red wall of the old barn. How many years had it been standing? How many stories had it witnessed as people passed through here? So many lives coming to a crossroads in Halfway.

Haley felt like she had navigated a turning point herself earlier today. By inviting Maria and Aubrey to the meeting, she had pushed strangers together in the interest of healing. Fortunately, her move had been successful, and it had solidified something in her heart.

She was in the right place now. God wanted her here, working with the Amish and the English alike. She still didn’t know how that would look in five years, but for now, she was happy to finish her nursing training at LanCo General.

Dylan returned, smiling, with a steaming cup in hand. That smile … dazzling and effervescent and so unusual. Dylan almost never smiled.

“Tea with milk and one sugar,” he said, putting the cup on the table before her.

“How did you know how I take my tea?”

“Uh, we’ve only had tea and pie in the Lapps’ kitchen a dozen or so times.”

“Thank you.” She wrapped her palms around the paper cup, grateful for the warmth. “I thought that went well today, right?”

“It was off the charts. That was brilliant, bringing in Maria and Aubrey. I don’t know how you managed to cut through the red tape and find them and coerce them to come to the meeting all in one week, but you did it. It bonded all of us together in a very natural way. I’m utterly impressed and a little jealous that I didn’t think of it myself.”

Haley blinked. “Well, thanks. You were so quiet during the session, I wasn’t really sure what you were thinking.”

“I was swept up in it all. To be honest, it was a moment of personal healing for me.”

“Oh.” Haley took a sip of tea and tried to quiet the pulse that was thrumming in her ears. The women had reached Dylan, too. It really had been a blessed moment. And right now it took every ounce of restraint to keep from reaching out and squeezing him in a big hug. “That’s good.”

He laughed, a low, sexy rumble. “Are you underwhelmed?”

She let out a nervous breath. “I’m not sure whether I should do a happy dance on the table or throw myself into your arms and beg you to reconsider being my boyfriend.”

“Let’s spare the table and make a date.” The air froze in her lungs as he reached over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her hips against his on the weathered bench. Her last impression was of strong arms and a warm solid chest and sunshine glazing the tips of his hair before his lips descended on hers in a kiss.

He smelled of soap and tasted of mint and salt and, yes … sarsaparilla. Her fingers clutched the edges of his down vest as the kiss deepened and her heart soared. No happy dance on the table, but her pulse was making up for that. She was kissing the man she loved, wrapped in his arms!

When he ended the kiss and leaned back, she blinked up at him in wonder. “That was nice.”

“That was great. I should have gotten back into dating years ago.”

She gave him a tap on the shoulder. “You didn’t know me years ago.”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t have packed such a wallop without you.”

“What’s happened, Dylan? What’s changed since you told me you’d be a hermit the rest of your life?”

“I know you were aiming today’s meeting to be therapeutic for the clients, but you were treating the therapist, too.
I
had an epiphany today.” He explained that his wife and daughter had been organ donors, too. He had signed the papers and hadn’t thought much about it until today.

“Today you made me realize that life goes on. It has to go on, or else we’re wasting it.”

“Such a wise man.” Haley rubbed the warm flannel of his sleeves, knowing that she’d come to the same conclusion sometime over the past few months. She was ready to try another kiss when two figures moved into her peripheral vision.