Faithful Gathering (The Sisters of Lancaster County Book #3)

Leslie Gould

Description

Leisel Bachmann left her Amish roots and beloved sisters to pursue a career in medicine without a second thought. She has an Englisch boyfriend, Nick Jordan, and dreams of a new life--but those dreams come crashing down when her sister Marie is diagnosed with cancer.Soon nothing is going as she planned--not her state boards, not her first nursing job, and certainly not her relationship with Nick. As she becomes increasingly discouraged, her aunt shares the story of Leisel's grandfather during World War II and the struggle he faced between returning to Lancaster or being with the woman he loved.Peace and a vision for the future are difficult to find, and when Nick leaves Pennsylvania for a completely new life, Leisel is faced with impossible choices. Will she stay in Lancaster, close to her family and the traditions of her past? Or learn from her grandfather's story and embrace a life of love and service in an uncertain future?

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 05 février 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781493417322
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Cover
Books by Leslie Gould
T HE C OURTSHIPS OF L ANCASTER C OUNTY
Courting Cate
Adoring Addie
Minding Molly
Becoming Bea
N EIGHBORS OF L ANCASTER C OUNTY
Amish Promises
Amish Sweethearts
Amish Weddings
T HE S ISTERS OF L ANCASTER C OUNTY
A Plain Leaving
A Simple Singing
A Faithful Gathering
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2018 by Leslie Gould
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1732-2
Unless otherwise marked, Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible. Scripture quotations marked NIV are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by LOOK Design Studio
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC
Author is represented by MacGregor Literary, Inc.
Dedication
To all those in health care. You aid, serve, and heal. Thank you.
Contents
Cover
Books by Leslie Gould
Half Title Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Epigraph

For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.
Matthew 18:20
1
Leisel Bachmann
April 2017
A crash yanked me out of my cleaning routine at the care facility. 4:32 a . m . I dropped the sponge on the kitchen counter and hurried down the hall.
Earl Weber’s door was open a crack. I pushed into the room. A man wearing pajamas and a robe was sprawled across the floor.
I flicked the light on. “Are you all right, Mr. Weber?” I crouched beside him, taking his wrist. He had a pulse, but his eyes were closed.
As I reached for my phone in the pocket of my smock, he grabbed my wrist. “I’m all right.” His eyes flew open. “I felt light-headed, is all. I got myself on the floor before I fell.”
“Did you lose consciousness?” I needed to call the nurse if he did.
“No.” He rolled to his side.
“I’ll help you up,” I said. He was my favorite resident in the entire center, although I tried not to let it show. He was ninety-two, mostly lucid, and always kind.
Once I had him back in bed, I asked him why he’d gotten up in the first place.
“I heard Betty call my name.”
Betty was his wife. She’d passed away six years ago.
When I didn’t respond, he reached for my hand. “I was sure she was at the door, waiting for me. That I’d just come home from the war, that she had our baby girl in her arms. I could hear both of them. It all seemed so real.”
“That happens sometimes.” I’d felt my Dat’s presence a few times after he’d died.
“Thank you,” he said, “for being such a good friend to me. You’re the best nurse I’ve ever had.”
I didn’t remind him—again—that I wasn’t a nurse. Instead, I tucked him in, told him I’d check on him soon, and slipped out of the room.
I wasn’t a nurse yet, but I would be soon. Graduation was tomorrow. And in less than a month, I’d take my state boards—the licensing exam all nursing graduates had to pass to practice nursing.
Growing up Amish, I’d been warned about being prideful, and I took the warning seriously. But Mr. Weber was right. I was a good nurse. I had the problem-solving skills, emotional stability, and empathy needed to do the job.
As I returned to my cleaning, I thought of Mr. Weber and the stories he’d told me about being a fighter pilot in Europe during the final months of World War II. “I had it easy,” he often said. “I couldn’t see the fine details of the destruction I caused.”
That might have been true, but it was still a dangerous job, and I was grateful he’d survived. He’d be celebrating his ninety-third birthday in a week.
Dat had told me once that my grandfather, who died before I was born, had served as a conscientious objector during World War II. Sadly, Dat passed before he told me more. Honestly, I wasn’t that interested at the time, but getting to know Mr. Weber had made me curious. I’d have to ask my Aenti Suz for the story.
My phone dinged with an incoming text. It had to be Nick, since no one else texted me at such an early hour. He’d graduated the year before and was a nurse in the emergency department at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center—Mercy, located in Uptown. We’d been dating for nearly three years.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Looking forward to dinner.
I smiled. He was taking me out tonight to celebrate my graduation—after we both got some sleep.
Ditto , I texted back, sending a smiling emoji along with the word.
A half hour later, I checked on Mr. Weber. He was sound asleep. Just as I started to do my charting for the night, a yell came from across the hall. Mrs. O’Sullivan was probably having a nightmare.
I sat with her, speaking in a soothing voice until she drifted back to sleep. By then it was nearly six, and the early risers were beginning to wake. I started a pot of coffee and then began getting the residents ready for the day. I always tried to get as many dressed as possible before the day shift—and my supervisor, Rita—arrived. I’d do my charting before I left.
At 7:15, the staff met for the shift change. Rita had a big mug of coffee in her hand and a bleary look in her eyes. I reported that the evening had been mostly calm, but Mrs. O’Sullivan had a nightmare and Mr. Weber had fallen.
“He didn’t lose consciousness,” I quickly added.
“You charted what happened?” Rita asked.
“Not yet. I didn’t have time.”
“You said it was a calm night.”
“It was, mostly. It got busy though, and I started my charting later than usual.”
Rita pursed her lips. “That’s not like you, Leisel.”
My face grew warm, but there was no need to react—I hadn’t done anything wrong.
After the shift change, I headed to the nursing station to chart. Just as I finished documenting Mr. Weber’s fall, I heard another aide call out Rita’s name, and then say, “He’s not breathing.”
I stepped into the hall. Mr. Weber’s door was wide open. I rushed into his room.
The man was just as I last saw him, except his mouth was slightly open. I took his wrist in my hand. No pulse. I knew he had a Do Not Resuscitate order in his file, and by the temperature of his skin, it was too late anyway.
As Rita hurried back into the room, I raised my head. “He’s gone.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, I certainly hope this wasn’t caused by his fall.”
“It wasn’t,” I said. “He didn’t lose consciousness or have a bump on his head or anything like that.” More likely, he’d dreamt about hearing his wife’s voice because his time was near. I was sure he was ready to go and was thankful he hadn’t suffered.
Rita made a throaty noise, and then said, “I’ll call the undertaker and his daughter. You’d better get the fall charted.”
“I already did.” I turned toward her. “I’d like to stay and see his daughter.” I wanted to tell her about what he’d said.
Rita shook her head. “There’s no need for that. Go on home.”
“I’d rather stay.”
“No,” she said. “Go home. We can talk more about all of this tomorrow.”
“I graduate tomorrow,” I said. “I’m taking a few days off, remember?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No, I don’t remember. Are you going out of town?”
“No.” I didn’t give her any details, but I was going to spend those few days looking for a new apartment. I’d already given notice on mine.
Not wanting to clash with Rita anymore, I placed my hand on Mr. Weber’s forehead and said a silent thank-you for his life and then a final good-bye. At least for now. He’d had a quiet faith that played out in the way he treated people and the way he spoke about God. Mr. Weber certainly wasn’t the first resident who’d died on my watch, but he was the one I’d miss the most.
By the time I turned to leave the room, Rita was gone. I grabbed my things and headed down the hall. Rita was on the phone in her office, so I gave her a quick wave and headed out the door.
I contemplated calling Nick to tell him about Mr. Weber but decided not to. It could wait until dinner. He’d mourn with me, I knew. Growing to truly care about your patients was both the blessing and the heartbreak of working in health care.
The morning was cold and overcast, and I quickened my pace through the neighborhood. I’d lived in what Nick called “the dive” for the last four years, as long as I’d been in Pittsburgh. It was a furnished studio basement apartment. Could there be anything worse?
Of course, when I signed the lease, I was thrilled. It wasn’t far from the University of Pittsburgh, and there was a grocery store and café within walking distance. Then I’d found the job at the care facility, which was in the neighborhood too.
The apartment was the first step in my Englisch life. But now I was ready for the second step: graduation. And then a bigger apartment with some natural light that I’d be able to afford because I’d soon secure my first nursing job. I figured I’d only sign a six-month lease on a new place though—I didn’t want to commit to anything long-term. Just in case.
I hadn’t given