The Patient One Read online

  Dear Reader,

  About ten years ago, right when I first started writing Amish fiction, my friend Celesta told me about Clara, her two daughters’ first babysitter. Clara is Old Order Amish. The details are a little hazy now, but I do recall Celesta sharing how Clara sat for her in Sugarcreek, and the arrangement worked out great because both she and Clara had daughters about the same age and they could play together. Over time, Clara and Celesta became very good friends and their daughters did, too. Much more recently, Clara’s family attended Tracie’s wedding and everyone had a great time.

  These ladies’ long friendship made a true impression for me. I’ve always loved visiting Holmes County because whether I’m in the local library, the markets, or a neighborhood restaurant, everyone just goes about their business. Buggies share the road with cars, everyone shops at the same stores, lives near each other, and helps each other out. It doesn’t matter if they are Mennonite, Amish, or English.

  All that—together with a fondness for two movies from the 80s, The Big Chill and St. Elmo’s Fire—inspired this series.

  I hope you enjoy getting to know The Eight and that one or two of the members connect with you. I especially love the romance in The Patient One—but then, who could resist a former homecoming queen falling in love (at last!) with her secret crush, the very admirable, very Amish John B.?

  Thank you for taking this journey with me, and thank you for giving this book—which is dedicated to Celesta, Clara, and their daughters—a try. I hope you like it!

  With my blessings,

  Shelley Shepard Gray

  Thank you for downloading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

  * * *

  Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.

  For Celesta and Clara and their daughters: Stephanie, Tracie, Miriam, and Mary. Your lifelong friendship inspired me long before I wrote this series. I hope I did y’all proud.

  Some friends may ruin you, but a real friend will be more loyal than a brother.

  —Proverbs 18:24

  Our eyes are placed in front because it is more important to look forward than to look back.

  —Amish Proverb

  PROLOGUE

  WALNUT CREEK, OHIO

  JULY

  “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad you could make it,” Mrs. Warner said as she clasped Katie Steury’s hand between her own. “Andy . . . well, Andy would have been pleased to see you here.”

  “Jah,” Katie mumbled as she tried not to cry or yank her hand from Andy’s mamm’s grasp. There were times when Englischer’s customs felt so strange and awkward that she never knew how to respond. This funeral reception was one of those instances.

  She didn’t want to be thanked for attending Andy’s funeral. She didn’t understand why Mrs. Warner acted so surprised that she’d dropped everything to go. But most of all, Katie didn’t ever want to think of Andy looking down from Heaven and being pleased to see her standing in his dining room after watching him get laid to rest in the ground.

  Nee, she didn’t want to think about that at all.

  Mrs. Warner tried again. “It was a beautiful service, don’t you think? Pastor Douglas did a nice job describing Andy.”

  Somehow she found the words to reply. “It was a beautiful service, Mrs. Warner. Jah.”

  She didn’t lie. But had the pastor described the Andy Warner she’d known?

  As far as she was concerned, he hadn’t even come close.

  Obviously out of words as well, Mrs. Warner ran her hands down her tailored black wool skirt.

  Smiling awkwardly again, Katie scanned the room. The crowded room felt stifling. Drops of sweat trickled down her back, making the heavy black fabric of her dress and apron feel like it weighed twice as much. Even the black kapp covering her head made her uncomfortable. She needed some fresh air.

  When she spied five familiar faces standing on the lawn just outside the front door, she started to take a step away.

  Mrs. Warner noticed. Dismay appeared in her eyes before she regained her composure again. “Well . . .”

  Ack, but this was so hard! Steeling her shoulders, Katie forced herself to do the right thing, which was staying put. “Mrs. Warner, I’m mighty sorry for your loss. I . . . I loved Andy. I will miss him always.” Though those words were heartfelt, they didn’t begin to convey the depth of her grief. She opened her mouth to finish her speech, to pull something out of her to try to comfort Andy’s mother, but she couldn’t seem to form any more words.

  After the briefest of pauses, Mrs. Warner nodded, her expression tight. “Yes, of course.” She smiled wanly before turning away.

  Shame burned a path down Katie’s throat. Mrs. Warner was hurting. She’d lost her son. Katie should’ve said more. Should’ve said something comforting and meaningful right at that moment.

  It felt like she’d failed Andy once again.

  The air conditioner clicked on, sending a frosty blast that didn’t do much to cool down the crowded room. Standing next to the vent, Katie shivered as goose bumps prickled her arms. Yet, perversely, the heat in her body reached a new height. She was sure her cheeks were burning bright red.

  It was too much.

  Feeling dizzy, Katie turned and awkwardly weaved through the throng of mourners. Most were holding clear plastic plates heaped high with croissant sandwiches and heavy-looking potato and macaroni salads. Someone had four or five meatballs rolling around on a plate, each one stuck with a bright blue plastic toothpick. Andy, who’d become a vegetarian when he was twelve, would’ve hated this meal.

  The front door loomed like an invitation. Katie kept her head down as she rushed toward it, then pulled it open with too much force. It snapped back and caused the terrier resting on the stairs to bark in annoyance.

  Feeling like she was almost out of breath, she stepped onto the stoop and then firmly closed the door behind her, panting in relief as the warm July breeze fanned her face.

  “Katie, there you are,” John B. said as he waved her over. “We were wondering if you were ever going to come out here. Come join us.”

  “I only just now looked out the window and saw you all,” she replied. Though she’d seen them during the service and had stood by their sides when Andy had been lowered into the ground, she’d been in too much of a cloud of grief to look at them closely.

  Now, in the bright light in the space of the Warner’s front yard, she was able to study them. In spite of the circumstances, they looked good. Familiar and comforting, like her favorite terry cloth bathrobe at home. “Hiya.”

  “Hi to you, too,” Marie returned with a watery smile.

  Somehow, even though she was dressed in black, Marie still managed to look beautiful. Perhaps it had something to do with her long golden hair, perfect skin, and luminescent green eyes.

  “Katie, I was going to ask if you wanted to sit with me during the funeral,” Marie continued, “but the church was so crowded I wasn’t sure if I could hold you a spot. Then, I wasn’t sure if you would have wanted to sit with me and my parents.”

  Katie knew why she’d said that. Marie was English, and Katie was Old Order Amish. Though it didn’t used to, for some reason that mattered now. “Don’t worry about it. I came a little late and was glad to find a pew in the back.” She smiled, then scanned their group. The remains of the Eight.

  She, Marie, and John B. Then there was Logan, Harley, Elizab
eth Anne, and Will Kurtz, whose mother used to watch over them in the summers while some of their mothers worked.

  “I just spoke with Mrs. Warner. She thanked me for coming here today.” Only this group would understand how that affected her.

  Marie winced. “She thanked me, too. I didn’t know how to respond.”

  “I don’t think there is a right way,” John murmured. “The majority of me feels so bad and empty, it’s all I can do to stand here in Andy’s front yard.”

  “I don’t feel good about things, either,” Elizabeth Anne said. “But it isn’t all our fault. I mean, we didn’t know Andy was depressed.” She looked each of them in the eye. “At least, I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t, either,” Will said. “But does that even matter? Andy used to be one of our best friends, and he hanged himself four days ago.”

  Harley, always the quietest of the group, sighed. “To my shame, I even have excuses. I’ve been working on the farm and Andy worked for some computer company. It wasn’t like we had much opportunity to see each other anymore.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I stayed in Walnut Creek and am seeing Andy’s sister, Trish, but that didn’t mean I was privy to all of Andy’s thoughts,” Logan murmured.

  “How is Tricia?” Marie asked. “I thought she might have been out here with us.”

  Logan eyed the front door like it was more of a barrier rather than the entrance to a home he was once so familiar with. “I don’t know. She’s devastated, of course. I think she’s pretty confused, too. She’s been trying to find a way to tell her parents that she wants to become Amish but hasn’t gotten up the nerve yet.”

  “I think she was hoping Andy would clear the way for her,” Elizabeth Anne said.

  Logan nodded. “I think you’re right.” Glancing at the closed door again, he murmured, “Sometimes I wish I could simply pull her out of that house. There’s a lot of pressure on her inside. And now with Andy gone?” His voice lowered. “I just don’t know.”

  “I still can’t believe he’s gone.” Katie shook her head. “I feel like I let Andy down. Back when we were little, he was our ringleader.”

  “Even in our twenties, he still was our leader,” Will said. “Remember last year, how he tried to get us all together at Christmas? No one could agree on a date.”

  Marie wiped her eyes. “I told him I was much too busy at work to drive here from Cleveland. Why did I act like seeing my best friends in the world was too much trouble?”

  “You can’t do that to yourself, Marie,” Logan said. “I didn’t take the time either.”

  Looking at each member, Katie knew they were all suffering from guilt and regret. But she was enough of a realist to admit that it wasn’t as much of a surprise that they weren’t still friends. The surprise was that they’d ever become so close in the first place. Three of them were Amish, three—including Andy—were English, and two were Mennonite.

  On paper, they should have had their own circle of friends with their own kind. Instead, they’d found deep friendships based on things outside of their religions. Each of them had believed in loyalty and friendship. They’d each possessed a small amount of rebelliousness, too. That rebelliousness had cemented a bond among them and had allowed friendships to grow, even when other people had said their group was odd.

  John B. exhaled. “It won’t bring Andy back, but I’d like us to make an effort to see each other more often. Does anyone want to do that?”

  “Of course,” Marie said.

  Her sweet, instant response triggered a memory. Without thinking, Katie met Elizabeth Anne’s gaze and smiled. John B. had always been shy, and Marie, their very own homecoming queen, had always been sweet on him. Andy used to joke that the two of them were going to have to be stuck somewhere in a blizzard for them to finally get together.

  But maybe it wasn’t going to take a blizzard. Maybe it was a funeral.

  Mr. Warner poked his head out, and his expression softened when he saw the group of them before it hardened into grief again. “A couple of people wanted to share a few stories about Andy,” he said slowly. “I thought maybe one of you would like to share, too?”

  “Of course, Mr. Warner,” Marie said with a polite smile. When he closed the door and they were alone again, she turned to Katie. “You were always the best at telling stories. Would you do that for us?”

  Would she mind sharing a story about the Andy she’d known? For the first time since Katie woke up that day, a sense of calm filled her. “I’ve got a story in mind and would be happy to share it . . . if everyone is sure they want me to do the talking?”

  “I do,” Logan said.

  “Jah. Tell us all a gut one,” John B. said. “Something to make us remember what we used to be like when we were all together.”

  Katie knew what John B. meant. He wanted a story about back when they used to be closer and had shared every hope and dream together.

  Back when they used to think anything was possible.

  Back when instead of just seven, they’d been a group of eight.

  ONE

  “The first thing you all should remember about Andy was that he was afraid of snakes,” Katie said with a grin, her voice cracking slightly. “He was also really embarrassed by that. Which, of course, is why one afternoon, back when we were fourteen, all eight of us decided to go for a walk in the woods.”

  THREE MONTHS LATER—OCTOBER

  “This little house isn’t much, and I can’t say I’m real thrilled about its location, but I suppose it has a certain amount of charm,” Marie’s mother said as she ran one manicured nail along the granite kitchen countertops. “These are sure pretty.”

  Marie smiled with pride. “Thanks, Mom. The kitchen is the reason I snapped the place up. That, and the amazing amount of closet space.”

  “It really does look better on the inside than on the outside.” Mom looked out the window, frowning at the chain-link fence surrounding the yard. “Are you sure this area is perfectly safe?”

  “Mom, it’s Walnut Creek. Of course it’s safe. This place is going to be just fine. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, you’re right, I suppose. Most of Walnut Creek is perfectly safe, almost like something out of Mayberry.” Still staring out the window, she added, “This street doesn’t have a real good look to it, though. Be sure you lock your doors at night.”

  “I’ll do that.” Like she didn’t already.

  After giving the weed-filled yard one last glance, her mother turned back to her. “I hate to bring it up again, but I still don’t understand why you transferred over to that branch out in New Philly and elected to drive there from Walnut Creek. You had a nice life in Cleveland.”

  “You’re right. I did.” Her mother wasn’t wrong. After going to college and majoring in English, she’d had a hard time finding work. She’d finally landed a job as a teller at Champion Banks and discovered she loved it. One thing led to another, and by the end of her first year, she’d been promoted and was actually making pretty good money.

  Good enough that she’d leased a lovely loft in picturesque Chagrin Falls, a well-to-do suburb east of Cleveland. She’d decorated it pretty and met a nice group of girlfriends. Just a couple of months ago, she’d started dating. Many of her customers were single, eligible men who her parents would have been thrilled to meet.

  It was all good. All things she knew she should be happy about. Her parents were proud of her, too. Not only was she living on her own and supporting herself, but they were also sure she was eventually going to bring home a nice man who was a lot like them, i.e., wealthy and good-mannered. Then, in no time, she would settle down, get married, have her two children, and eventually raise her own homecoming queen.

  Though all of that hadn’t been exactly her goals in life, Marie knew it was a possibility. Maybe she would have done all that, too, if she hadn’t begun to realize that everything she had wasn’t actually everything she’d ever wanted.

  After Andy died, she’d decided to stop
contemplating change and actually make one.

  Three months ago, when John B. had asked them all to make a promise to reconnect, she had agreed immediately, knowing that both her heart and her soul needed these friends of hers. Needed them more than a fancy future or even making her mother’s dreams a reality.

  And then, of course, there was John B.

  After living most of her life in his periphery, wanting to be more than just his friend, but feeling sure that he would never want the same thing, she’d decided to give things between them one more try.

  It might be a pipe dream. John might never look beyond their differences or want to put her in front of his family’s wishes. But Marie knew that if she didn’t finally make her desire known to him, to simply lay it all out there and hope for the best, she would always regret it.

  Treating her to the intense look Marie was oh so familiar with, Mom said, “Are you ready to tell me the truth about why you moved back to Walnut Creek?” She suddenly frowned. “You aren’t having bad dreams again, are you?”

  Her mother was referring to the same reoccurring dream she’d had since childhood. She used to wake her parents up at least once a week with her cries. “Some, but they haven’t been too bad.”

  “Are you sure? I bet I could call around and see if Miss Flemming is still in practice.”

  Miss Flemming had been her therapist for two years back when she’d been in middle school. She was a nice lady, but she’d been old even then. “I hope she’s still not practicing, Mom. I saw her years ago. She needs to be sitting on a beach somewhere instead of listening to everyone else’s problems, don’t you think?” she joked.

  Her mother didn’t crack a smile. “She helped you learn to relax, Marie.”

  No, Miss Flemming had helped her learn how to cope when things happened that were out of her control. “I’ve been doing my breathing exercises. I’ll get better. It’s just been a really difficult time, Mom.”