A Simple Faith: A Lancaster Crossroads Novel

A Simple Faith
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Rosalind Lauer
Excerpt from
A Simple Hope
by Rosalind Lauer
copyright © 2013 by Rosalind Lauer

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company.

B
ALLANTINE
and the H
OUSE
colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.

All scripture taken from
The Zondervan KJV Study Bible
.
Copyright © 2002 by Zondervan. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House.

This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book
A Simple Hope
by Rosalind Lauer. The excerpt has been set for this edition only, and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Lauer, Rosalind.
A Simple Faith : A Lancaster Crossroads Novel / Rosalind Lauer.
pages cm. — (A Lancaster Crossroads Novel)
ISBN 978-0-345-54326-4 (paperback) —
ISBN 978-0-345-54327-1 (eBook)
1. Amish—Fiction. 2. Accidents—Fiction.
3. Lancaster County (Pa.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3612.A94276S535 2013
813’.6—dc23
2013023867

www.ballantinebooks.com

Cover design: Lynn Andreozzi
Cover illustration: Melody Cassen

v3.1

Contents
PART ONE
The
Good Samaritan

Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart
,
And with all thy soul
,
And with all thy strength
,
And with all thy mind;
And thy neighbour as thyself
.
—L
UKE 10:27

1

J
ANUARY


D
on’t leave me.” The woman lifted a withered hand from the white bedsheets, reaching for Haley. “You’re the only one who listens.”

Haley Donovan held the patient’s hand yet again, gently stroking the mottled skin on her wrist. “Mrs. Pendergrass, I would love to stay, but you know I have other patients to take care of.”

“I know that, but you can’t say no to an old woman who needs you. Now, be a doll and get me my handbag from the closet.”

As Haley reached for the purse, her nail caught on a sharp edge of the small cubby, snagging it. She winced as she handed over the bag, her supervisor’s voice haunting her.

Keep your nails trimmed and short. Don’t let your vanity get in the way of patient care
.

“What’s the matter, princess?” the old woman asked.

“Nothing.” Haley looked away quickly, not sure what bothered her more—tearing her nail or being called a princess. Was it because of her blond hair? Her long legs? Too much makeup?

People were so quick to stereotype her as a dumb blonde, and the princess thing … that just rubbed her the wrong way. Graham had called her princess, and he’d fully intended to take care of her as if she were a queen.

A queen trapped in a castle.

If she had stayed with him, she wouldn’t have to be here now, emptying bedpans, breaking nails, and ducking her supervisor. She would be well rested, well dressed, and well manicured. A fair princess, destined to follow her husband’s decisions and dream his dreams.

No … that wasn’t the life Haley wanted. But sometimes she wondered if she was really cut out for hospital work. Patients like Mrs. Pendergrass made Haley wonder if she was doing the right thing, trying to be a nurse. She didn’t mind giving the woman a sponge bath and brushing her hair and listening to her stories of how things used to be. But the woman, who seemed fit as a fiddle, was monopolizing her time. Haley couldn’t do anything to help Mrs. Pendergrass, and with two other patients waiting for care, Haley felt tension mounting.

She wasn’t cut out for this. Already she was a failure in her profession, and she wasn’t even out of nursing school yet.

It seemed to be a pattern in her life now. Failure in love. Failure in school. Failure in life.

No, that wasn’t entirely fair. She was giving it all another try, with some major changes. She’d returned to school and she was trying to make a positive difference in the world.

She tuned in to what her patient was saying, another story about her daughter and grandchildren who had moved to Pittsburgh. Her
heart ached for this woman’s loneliness, but if Dr. Swanson found out that Haley had already spent so much time with one patient, she would be in big trouble.

“You won’t want me chattering in here when your show is on. It starts in ten minutes.” Haley showed Mrs. Pendergrass the TV remote and the call button, and then reminded her to drink some water.

“But you’ll come back?” the woman asked, her face awash with worry.

“Definitely.”

Haley sank her teeth into her lower lip as she noticed the clock over the nurses’ station. Two hours of her shift had already passed, and they’d been monopolized by Mrs. Pendergrass. It wasn’t fair to the other patients who legitimately needed care, and Haley knew she was going to be in a pickle if she didn’t get started on her clinical assessments. She hadn’t taken any notes, and if she didn’t get something down soon she would be lost when it came time to start her reports. “It’s clear that, as a nursing student, writing is your weakness,” Dr. Swanson, her clinical advisor, had told her. “You need to work on time management, and your patient notes need to be more concise.”

It was true—Haley knew it—but these were issues she had wrestled with all her life. A simple report became a challenge when letters jumped around the page and turned sideways.

“Stop biting your lip; it’s not a good look for you.” Aeesha didn’t even look up from the computer, where she was updating charts. Aeesha Wilkins, a fellow nursing student, always managed to keep her sense of humor, even during tense moments. “What’s stressing you, sweet pea?”

“Mrs. Pendergrass in 312.”

“The whiner?”

Haley blew back her bangs, nodding. “She’s sweet, but nothing I
do satisfies her, and she just doesn’t understand that I can’t spend my entire shift doting on her. I have two other patients.”

“And charts to do. And Swanson breathing down our necks.” Aeesha clicked the mouse, then typed in some notes. “How about I trade you my Amish man for your whiner?”

Haley looked up at the board. “Mr. Yoder in 320? I wish.” Yoder had mangled a hand in a farming accident—a dramatic injury that had made the local news. Although she was still a nursing student, Haley knew she was drawn to patients who required more intensive care. “At least Mr. Yoder has a real injury,” Haley said. “He needs medical attention. Unlike Mrs. Pendergrass, who complains of phantom pain that comes and goes.”

“The old phantom pain story.” Aeesha shook her head. “So many of them just come in for drugs. It’s sad, but I don’t mind doting. I figure TLC is nonaddicting, and I’m good with the old ones. The Amish—that’s another story. Did you see all the visitors he has? His room is packed with Amish men. All those men, talking a mile a minute with their long beards and black fedoras. It’s way out of my comfort zone to march in and start a sponge bath. Telling an Amish man to get naked, that just seems wrong.”

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