Seeing Kathleen sitting in the usually empty place always set for her seemed strange. She was finally here to fill the void she’d left. He’d never known this table with her physically here. Her presence had always been felt, even when she wasn’t mentioned, by the fact of the vacant chair and unused place setting.
After David said grace, each person filled their plates. Everyone chattered easily except Kathleen. She quietly ate while appearing to enjoy the conversations around her. He tried to listen as she did, a person who had been away for nearly a decade and a half.
Partway through the meal, Samuel asked, “Do we have to call you Doctor now?”
The room became silent. This was what Kathleen had likely feared. Noah wanted to speak up to save Kathleen from having to answer. But why? She was more or less a stranger to him. There was something about her that drew him in. Made him want to protect her.
But her vater spoke up. “We’ll discuss that another time.”
Smoothly avoided, but obviously a tender subject.
Kathleen set her fork down. “I don’t mind answering. You are my family. I’m still Kathleen.”
Samuel turned back to his plate. One by one, everyone else did the same. Except Kathleen. She looked at each person around the table, then settled her gaze on Noah. He couldn’t read her expression, but it flickered between hope and discouragement. He could almost read her thoughts. If her family couldn’t accept her being a doctor, how would the rest of the community?
Kathleen averted her gaze first, picking up her fork again and stacking several green beans on it. Nothing but the soft clinking of silverware on plates, swallowing of milk and breathing. The silence in the room resounded as loud as hail pelting the roof.
How much opposition could she take before she gave up? Though not overt opposition, it was opposition nonetheless. How could such a small slip of a woman stand against the whole community? They would wear her down even though what she was offering could help the community greatly. He ached to help her. But what could he say? It wasn’t his place. But still he longed to.
After a couple of minutes of the painful silence, and Kathleen shifting in her seat, she spoke up. “How’s the garden faring this year?”
Pamela’s shoulders relaxed. “It’s doing very well. We’ve planted several new fruit trees since you—in the past few years.”
So that was how it was going to be. Would everyone in the community pretend Kathleen had never left? Pretend she hadn’t gone to college? Pretend she wasn’t a licensed doctor?
He sighed. Too bad Kathleen had caved under the pressure of silence. What would she do if the leadership decided to shun her for her actions? She would give up for sure. But the table conversation relaxed back into typical Amish discussions about farms and gardens, horses and canning, and barn raisings and quilting. She had put order back into the meal.
Later at home, Noah stared into the mirror. He should have shaved off his beard years ago, but since he never planned to marry again, he didn’t see the need. The Lord had been niggling him for months to do it, but he’d ignored the prodding.
The image of Kathleen sprang to his mind. She’d mistakenly thought he had a wife.
It was time. He opened the mirror cabinet over the sink and retrieved scissors, a disposable razor and shaving cream. He pinched his two-inch brown chin whiskers between his thumb and index finger and poised the scissors to snip.
Several breaths passed.
Releasing his beard, he lowered the shears. Was he ready to completely let go of Rachel and their child?
Lord, I know I need to let them go. I should be ready, but I’m not. Please heal my heart.
How many times had he asked that of Gott? Enough times to fill his barn.
He leaned his hands on the cold porcelain of the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. What was wrong with him that he was still hurting after all this time? Gott should be all sufficient for him, so why this empty place still inside? He’d given over his anguish and disappointment each day many, many times, yet every morning they were back like old friends to keep him company.
Too bad Kathleen didn’t have something in her medicine bag to fix his heart. What ailed him couldn’t be remedied by human efforts. Only by Gott.
But somehow, Kathleen’s return had helped. Strange.
It was time. Raising the shears once again, he snipped one clump of whiskers after another.
* * *
After helping to clean up the kitchen, Kathleen sat with her family in the living room for the evening devotional. The hymns rattled around in her brain. She stumbled over the once-familiar words. They would come back to her.
She had missed this time of day to connect with her family. The last fourteen years of evenings had been spent either poring over medical texts, working in a hospital, or sleeping after coming off a double or triple shift. Exhaustion had been her constant companion. The slower pace of life would be a welcome change as well as the routine of a regular schedule, knowing what to expect from one day to the next.
After the Bible reading, discussion and closing prayer, Dat said, “Time for bed.”
Her younger siblings all stood, as did Kathleen. “Where will I be sleeping?”
Ruby put her arm around Kathleen’s shoulder. “Your bed’s still in our room.”
Mum tucked her sewing into her basket. “Benjamin took your things up earlier.”
Kathleen patted her sister’s hand. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Her brothers and sisters tromped up the stairs, and Kathleen sat back down. She wanted to remain standing but didn’t want her parents to feel as though she were lording over them.
Dat leaned forward with a warm expression. “We can’t tell you how pleased we are to have you back. We prayed for you every day while you were gone.”
“I felt them. Knowing you were praying helped me make it through.”
Mum leaned forward. “We wanted to write more.”
“I know.” Kathleen had received letters the first year or so, then came the letter that said it would be the last. The bishop had requested that they not write her anymore because it would encourage her wayward behavior. Though she hadn’t understood the bishop’s reasoning, the letter hadn’t been a surprise. He would be the toughest of all to convince of the worthiness of her plan.
Dat continued. “We always respected that you needed to make your own decisions.”
The point of Rumspringa. But she had taken it to an extreme by staying away for fourteen years, just short of half her life, though it felt like more. She wished it hadn’t had to be so long, but it had been a necessity to earn her medical degree.
“We appreciate you telling Samuel to call you Kathleen. We must ask you not to refer to yourself as Doctor around the younger ones. They might get the idea we condone your actions and wish it for them as well.”
She knew that was a concern and made what she was about to ask all that much harder for them to agree to.
Mum spoke up. “We’re proud of you and don’t want to tell you what to do. You must make your own choices, but we don’t want the others encouraged to do the same. You were always strong-minded and strong in your faith. I always believed that you would return home.”
Her dat cautioned her further about the church leadership being displeased with her actions. Was Noah disapproving of her actions as well? She hoped not.
She