Plain Pursuit (9 page)

Samuel’s buggy neared the car. Lillian placed her hand on Carley’s arm. “You two go and have coffee,” she instructed. “It’ll be fine.”

She pulled Carley in the direction of Noah’s car. Noah strode ahead and opened the front passenger door.

“I’d rather not,” Carley whispered to Lillian, keeping her eyes on Noah.

Samuel was pulling the buggy to a stop alongside the car. “Please,” Lillian begged. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She gently nudged Carley until it became impossible for her to do anything other than take a seat in the car.

“Okay, fine,” she conceded a tad ungraciously as she plopped down on the seat.

Once she was settled, Noah closed the door and walked around toward the driver’s side. Samuel met him at the back bumper, and Carley watched in the side mirror as words were exchanged. Neither man looked too happy. Less than a minute later, Noah lowered himself into the driver’s seat, started the car, and headed down the driveway. He looked at Carley.

“I told you I couldn’t go,” she huffed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Samuel. And I don’t understand how the whole shunning thing works, but you put me in an awkward situation with Lillian.” She paused, her tone softening. “But at least you got to talk to Lillian about David.”

“I’m going to meet with Dr. Bolton about David’s test results. But be sure Lillian gets David to his office soon.”

Carley nodded, realizing he’d ignored the first part of her statement.

“So Samuel mentioned the shunning?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence.

“Not to me. He talked to Lillian and David.”

His expression soured. “What did he tell them?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there. Lillian just told me that you were shunned and . . .” She paused, hesitant to go on but too curious not to. “And that you did something else too.”

“Did he say what that was?”

“No, I don’t think Samuel told her.” She crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. “So—what did you do?”

“Do you mind if we go to the café up the road instead of the bakery? I know you probably already ate supper, but I’m starving. Not
much in the way of supper selections at the bakery.”

“That’s fine.” She waited for an answer to her question. And waited. “You’re avoiding my question. You must have done something really
bad
.”

Carley could see from Noah’s expression that she’d gone too far.

“I’m sorry,” she offered softly. “I . . . didn’t mean to make light of your situation.”

He didn’t acknowledge her apology and instead steered the car into a parking lot on the right. “This café isn’t anything fancy, but the food is good. So is the pie if you’re interested.”

Inside, the hostess motioned them to a table for two in the corner. She handed them each a menu and promised to return shortly. Carley scanned the pie selections but allowed her eyes to drift up and over the edge of the menu to discreetly observe her dinner partner.

Noah caught her off guard when he slapped his menu closed. “How’s your story coming?”

“There’s been so much going on, I haven’t started. Actually, Lillian said we would spend some time tonight going over parts of the
Ordnung
.” She glanced at her watch. “We’ll see, though. They all go to bed early.”

“Ah, yes. Early to bed, early to rise.” He sighed and seemed lost in his thoughts.

After an awkward minute of silence, Carley got down to business. “So you said you’d give me info for my article. What can you tell me about some of the Amish practices?” She couldn’t figure out why he’d pushed the coffee date since he’d already told Lillian about David.

“Do you know much about the Amish faith?”

“A little.” She glanced around at the women waiting on the tables, clothed in Plain dresses and white aprons, with white caps on their heads.

“Besides the obvious.”

“Of course I know the Amish people ride in buggies, dress like that . . .” She nodded toward the approaching waitress. “And that they have a very strong faith.”

After Noah ordered the chicken special and she the shoofly pie, she went on. “I know the Amish adhere to the rules of the
Ordnung
, the order of conduct. Oh, and I know you get shunned if you’re baptized and then leave the community.” Leaning back against her chair, she sipped her coffee. There. She had given him an opening to discuss the shunning.

At first she didn’t think he was going to bite, but after a few seconds, he said, “I left because I was called by God to do something else.”

“I see.” She set her cup on the table and began tapping the rim with her finger. “And I suppose this calling was to become a doctor.”

“You say the word
calling
as if you might not believe such a thing exists.”

“I guess I’ve just never gotten the call.” She eyed him cautiously, knowing her comment might spark a debate.

Noah studied her. “Maybe you will.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, then waited for the waitress to place their food on the table before going on. “I don’t expect to ‘get the call.’ I’m already doing what I’m meant to do.”
Except for the family
I’ll never have.

“Is that what you think you’re meant to do—just be a reporter?”

“There are worse professions. I like my job.” She took a bite of pie. “What do you mean ‘
just
a reporter’? What’s wrong with that?”

He lifted his shoulders, dropped them, and said, “Nothing’s wrong with it. I just thought maybe you utilized your talent to serve Him in some way.”

“Who?”

His fork halted halfway to his mouth. “God.” He seemed surprised at the question.

Carley thought about his answer. “Reporting is a service to God. I report the truth to people.” Maybe her voice was a little defensive, but who was Noah to judge her?

“I guess it depends on what you’re reporting.” His eyes held hers. She looked away.

“Back to my original question. Do you have anything to contribute to my article?”

“Shunning is supposed to keep others in the district from following in brazen footsteps and to keep the church pure. However, it’s not necessarily issued with the type of resentment my brother has displayed over the years.” He paused. “Is that what you had in mind?”

“Yes, I’d like to include information about shunning. I don’t think people really understand it—at least the
why
of it. So whatever you’d like to tell me would be great.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a small pad and pen.

“Granted, the Lutheran religion I’m part of now is a far cry from my Amish upbringing, but I’ve never regretted my calling.” Now it was Noah who sounded defensive. “I’ve saved dozens, if not hundreds, of lives over the years. And I’ve made mistakes.” A sigh escaped, but regret was quickly replaced with resentment. “But why can’t Samuel see past the rigid ways of the Amish and try to understand and forgive me?”

She scribbled information on the small pad, hoping he would continue.

“Samuel was the most distraught about my decision to leave the district,” he went on. “He and I are the youngest out of the five of us and the closest in age. When I left at eighteen, Samuel took it the hardest. He was seventeen at the time.”

Carley sensed it was difficult for Noah to talk about this, but her reporter instincts prevented her from offering a way out of the conversation. She continued, “And . . .”

“Ivan, Mary Ellen, Rebecca, and even
Mamm
sent letters while I was living in the city of Lancaster. Even after I moved to Minnesota to do my residency, they kept me apprised of events in Lancaster County—the births of my nieces and nephews and deaths of those I cared about. The bishop allows letters to be written to those who are shunned, so Samuel could have written, but he practiced the shunning to the fullest extent, refusing to answer even one of the letters I mailed him over the years.”

It was a few seconds before Carley realized she had stopped writing. Her reporter zeal had momentarily shifted into neutral as she listened with empathy to Noah’s story—a story laced with heartache. She couldn’t imagine not having her family. Not by choice, anyway. It would be unnatural for him not to harbor resentment at the way the Old Order operated, she surmised.

“Most of the time, I’m able to put them all out of my mind. But seeing Samuel and his family brought everything back to the forefront.”

The depth of his loss was mapped across his face. His heart was laid out before her, his usual arrogance gone.

“But you said it yourself,” she consoled, leaning in. “You’ve saved so many lives. How can that be wrong?”

His eyes lightened, but she sensed his heart was heavy, in spite of his attempt to mask his emotions. “I don’t think it’s wrong. I just have a difficult time accepting a practice that excludes me from the love of my family.” He shrugged. “But I knew the rules when I got baptized.”

“Well, I think the rules are cruel and uncalled-for. And I just might put that in my article.”

I must be crazy
, Noah thought. Airing his bitterness to her would only further alienate him from his family. If she printed it. Of course, if she did, he’d have no one to blame but himself. He’d bribed her, more or less.
Come have coffee with me and I’ll tell you about
my Amish upbringing.
No matter that the real reason for the meeting was his desire to hear about his family.

He’d missed so much. Samuel, his kid brother—now a father. Noah recalled his and Samuel’s relationship with their own father, long deceased now. He hoped to have that kind of father-son bond someday—the kind he’d had with his father and the kind Samuel seemed to have with David.

The thought warmed his heart, but then he recalled the harsh words Samuel had used earlier, outside of his car.
“You are not my
brother.”
The sting remained.

Noah wouldn’t turn back this time without a fight. Somehow he’d make things right.

“Carley, I hope you won’t use my name in the article. I’m just trying to give you some insight into what shunning is all about.”

She looked disappointed. “But your name would give the article credibility.”

“And it would cause even more discord with Samuel and our family if he knew I discussed our situation with you—and you printed it.” He pushed his plate to one side and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I don’t want to print anything that might hurt Lillian and her family,” Carley said, chagrined. “But I’m getting mixed signals from you. You’re bitter about the shunning but admit it’s an accepted practice that you understood before you left the community. What are you hoping for—a renewed relationship with your brother?”

He should have just given her the facts and not gotten so caught up in his own pool of self-pity. He knew God didn’t approve of this attitude.

He mulled it over for a few seconds and chose his words carefully. “I understand the practice of shunning. And yes—I am bitter about it. But to answer your question, it’s important to me that my family understand my calling and somehow still be a part of my life.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “So are you hoping I’ll talk to Lillian and soften the way for you to make peace with Samuel?”

She was intuitive. “Would you? Soften the way, that is?”

“I don’t know Samuel at all,” she was quick to say. “Lillian and I were good friends before she moved here. She’s completely changed her life and seems really happy, and I’m glad for her. But honestly, Samuel doesn’t seem to want to talk about you or have you around his family.”

“Ouch.” She was blunt. And it stung.

“I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.” She sat up a little straighter, her look challenging him. “And I see the purpose of the coffee date. I’ve been wondering why you were so insistent after you had already told Lillian about David. Now I see. You want me to play go-between for you and Samuel.”

“Well, I was hoping for that, but it’s not like you haven’t gotten anything out of the deal. I’ve shared a lot of personal details.”
Way more than I intended.
“Spend the day with me tomorrow. I’ll show you around. I can fill you in more about the Amish lifestyle. And maybe you’ll see that I’m not such a bad guy.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy. But aside from that, I’m just not sure that I can help you smooth things over with Samuel. I’d hate for you to waste your time.”

“Somehow I don’t think getting to know you would be a waste of my time.” She was beautiful. And interesting. Not to mention a potential key to unlocking Samuel’s heart. Even if the latter didn’t pan out, the thought of spending more time with her appealed to him.