For Sure & Certain (10 page)

Abel looked at him confused, since when did the pot-head become Buddha?

“I intend to take Marigold, a friend I care about, to visit my family.”

***

Abel smiled as the taxi stopped at Marigold’s front door. The fears Lacey planted in his head dissolved as he stuck his head out the window, gulping the fresh air, as he took her in. Marigold stood on the sidewalk, her long hair blowing in the breeze, her head looking up at the clouds.

“Good afternoon, Marigold,” he said, stepping out of the car to greet her. She stood clutching a canvas bag and another sat at her feet.

“You came,” she said it like it was a relief, like she wondered if he’d really be here. He was.

“You’re all set then?” he asked. She nodded and slipped in beside him as the driver shut their door. The taxi delivered them to the bus station, and they were quickly settled into their seats for the ride to Lancaster.

“I brought sustenance,” she said pulling out a paper sack from her purse. “My very best peanut butter cookies and a thermos of coffee.”

“You’re so prepared.”

“I bake when I’m nervous,” she admitted biting her lip.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Did you tell them I’m coming at least?”

“The whole no phone thing kind of zeroed out that plan.”

“Right.” Her face fell slightly.

“Don’t worry. Seriously, girls always over think these things.”

“Do you bring a lot of girls home?” she asked as the bus pulled out of the city and onto the highway. They had a two-hour ride ahead of them and Abel wasn’t all too keen on spending it rehashing past relationships.

“Bringing girls home isn’t really an Amish thing, everything is discreet. I only courted one girl, Esther.”

“And when did you guys break up?” Marigold asked. Even though Abel was bright, he hadn’t exactly thought through how all of this would sound.

“Two weeks ago, on my way out of town,” he admitted sheepishly.

“No!” She buried her hands in her face. “So I’m a rebound girl?”

“I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good.  And you, Marigold, you are good. You are only good.”

“Who was she?”

“Esther?”

Marigold nodded so Abel explained, “She’s my sister Bekah’s best friend. Which I know doesn’t sound great, but she already moved to Ohio. You won’t even see her.”

A groan escaped her lips. “This is going to so be bad, you know that, right?”

“What part especially?”

“Oh my goodness, Abel, you are such a guy!”

“Well, tell me about the guys you’ve brought home.”

“I didn’t bring anyone home either. I mean, I went out with a guy last year for a few months, Drake, but he was ridiculous, and anyways he left for Stanford. I mean it was nothing serious-serious. And then this guy who works at the Jamestown library took me out a few times last summer.”

“What happened with him?”

“He wanted to get in my dad’s pants that’s what.” She grimaced. “Sorry, that’s probably totally inappropriate. You need to tell me what’s okay to talk about. I mean, I’m pretty sure my father’s trousers aren’t PC, but what is?”

“We can talk about that in a minute, what I want to know is, why only two guys? Why wouldn’t a girl like you have dated more?”

She stood to lower the window and let her hand feel the wind, then turned back to him, her hair flying out the opened pane. He wanted to capture her with a camera, even though photographs were forbidden.  He wanted to see that girl, the one so free, always.

“I went through lots of phases, Abel. And it kind of kept people at a distance, like they didn’t know what to make of me. I was a mystery, and not so interested in anyone I saw. I went to this crazy fancy prep school and everyone was just like my sister and brother, so cookie-cutter. So not me.”

“You were like the Zelda girl in my group.”

“Is that a video game reference?”

“I think so.”

“Right good, Abel you’re so culturally relevant.” She pushed her hand against his chest, and kept it there.

“The Zelda girl though, she wears this outfit everyday, and I didn’t even now it was a costume until my roommate Lacey explained it. I thought she was really into family crests, because she wears one on her back, but apparently it is Hyrule’s, the city she lives in.”

“The kingdom you mean, she’s the Hyrule Princess,” Marigold clarified.

“Right, so I may have a few gaps in my Hyrulian education. Anyways, she wears this outfit everyday and is kind of an outsider, which says a lot coming from me.”

Marigold licked her lips before answering, “Yeah, I was the Zelda girl.”

Then he kissed her, grateful there was a bus full of people, because the additional set of eyes forced him to lean away from the girl next to him. He knew he needed to explain a few things before they arrived at home. Most importantly the fact that there would be zero touching allowed once they got to Lancaster County.

Marigold

            
 
They passed another horse and buggy, big black wheels with a small carriage perched on top. Abel rested with his eyes closed, their knees touching just barely, just enough to keep Marigold’s heart fluttering.

His chest rose and fell steadily, completely calm even though they were nearly to his parents’ home, she knew because she’d Google mapped it after her mother required an address to where she was off to all weekend. When Eileen asked questions, Marigold didn’t have answers for, Lily shocked them all and stepped in to vouch for Abel’s character.

Now, so close to their destination, she was freaking out. And she wasn’t a freak-outer by nature. Her hands were sweaty, and she rubbed them together, only making it worse.

“Abel, do I look alright?” she asked, biting her lip.

“You look great,” he beamed. She nodded her head, wanting to believe him, and smoothed the skirt of her soft purple pinafore. It was her favorite smock, with hand-embroidered pink flowers trailing the bodice and large pockets at the side. Underneath it she wore a pale pink calf-length dress, with three layers of soft ruffles at the hem, ones she’d added herself. She’d put light blue leggings underneath and wore black ballet flats, hoping her simple clothing choices wouldn’t stand out.

He looked so pleased with her, unaware of the nuances mothers had for the girls their sons brought home. She could distinctly recall the conversations her own mom had after her brother Cedar brought a girlfriend home; she’d hold the phone to her ear talking to a friend, recounting all the minuscule flaws of such-and-such girl. It was a role she’d avoided thus far in life, yet here she was, showing up unannounced at the most conservative house she’d ever set foot in.

She wished he’d be more direct, tell her how exactly to wear her hair or what not to say, but he gave only a few simple directives: don’t pull out your cellphone, and don’t speak at dinner unless invited too. He didn’t ask her to alter a thing about the way she dressed or spoke. He was the first person she’d ever known who didn’t want to change her.

The house had a long sweeping driveway and a large red barn with several white outbuildings. The home itself was bigger than she expected, two stories with shuttered windows everywhere. Green grass rolled over the small hill leading up to the homestead and a well-maintained flower border edged the road leading to the house.

“You’re house is really fancy,” she said accusingly.

“Fancy?” he shook his head and laughed. “No, your house is fancy. I know the price of real estate in your neighborhood. And you have a cook, and a housekeeper and what else?”

“A gardener.”

“I bet you have a gardener too, no way does your mother and sisters do all of this upkeep.”

“Ja, Dad does hire help, lots actually.”

“So, you’re an aristocratic Amish family and didn’t tell me?” Marigold sighed as the driver pulled to a stop. “What other secrets should I know?”

“Well, I suppose the last thing I should mention is no touching. Not while we’re here.”

Marigold laughed, but she wasn’t surprised or concerned. She had no intention of being within five feet of Abel, already knowing this entire family would be scrutinizing her, the English girl who stole their golden boy.

The taxi left, leaving the pair on the gravel driveway. A small child stood, bare feet and bonneted, squinting her face in confusion.

“Who is she, Abel?” the girl asked.

“This is Marigold, a friend of mine.” Abel walked to her and swung her in the air. “How was my Ruthie?”

She giggled as her blue dress waved in the air like a flag.

“I caught three frogs yesterday at the back pond and Dad said I could keep them, just not in the house.”

“That makes sense,” he said setting her down. “Don’t want croaking to keep you up all night.”

“Come, let’s tell Mom you’re home. She’s been expecting you all day, says she hopes you never leave.”

Marigold caught Abel clenching his jaw, but he just patted his sister on the head.

Walking in the front door, Marigold was hit with the smell of warm bread just pulled from the oven. The front room was simple and sparse and fine wood furniture wrapped around a large fireplace.

As bad as she felt for thinking it, she’d expected something dingy or grey, but sunlight shone through the large front windows, and the plank floors gleamed, as if well oiled. A row of hooks were at the front door and Abel hung his straw hat then smoothed his hair down, over his forehead, not the way he wore it at school, pushed away from his face. She walked to the far end of the room to look closely at beautiful doilies laid on the backs and arms of a few well-placed couches.

“Abel.” A woman her mother’s age came from where the baked bread wafted in the room. She had a small white kapp on her head, two strings hanging behind her, and she pulled Abel into a hug, not noticing Marigold. “You’re home. Eli said you’d come, your dad will be so pleased you’ve returned.”

“ Ja, I’m here for the shearing, just the weekend, Mom.”

A smirk crossed her face, “Ja, well, we’ll see won’t we?”

“I brought a friend, Mom, this is Marigold.”

A flash of confusion crossed his mother’s face, as if she surely believed this visit was a forever one, that he’d gotten the idea of English life out of his system after a few weeks at school.

“I don’t understand.” She shook her head, looking for an explanation.

While she waited, a girl Marigold’s age came around the corner holding a baby, and an older man, followed behind her. Another man, nearly identical to Abel walked in with a pregnant women at his heels. Suddenly the room felt very full. Marigold took a deep breath, not wanting to overwhelm them with information, but it was clear Abel didn’t see the frustration that flashed on everyone else’s faces.

“Hello, we just got in,” Abel said, greeting his family.  “Let me introduce my right good friend, Marigold.” He smiled, calling her towards the family gathered around. “This is my brother Eli and his wife Sarah. My sister Bekah, with my baby brother Jacob, and you’ve already met Ruthie. Of course, this is Dad and Mom, or Mr. and Mrs. Miller to you, I suppose.”

No one spoke; they just stared at Marigold, as if still unclear on why this English girl was before them. And Abel seemed disinclined to offer an explanation. Not wanting the awkward silence to cover them any longer, Marigold spoke.

“Hello, I’m Marigold. Marigold Archer.” She walked over to Mr. and Mrs. Miller, offering her hand. “So pleased to meet you both. Thank you for your hospitality. Abel assured me it would be no inconvenience to host me this weekend, I hope that’s true.” Marigold smiled brightly, her sincerity impossible to deny.

“How are you two acquainted, exactly?” Mr. Miller asked, accepting her handshake.

“Oh, we met at a coffee shop, I’d dropped my papers, and he helped. You’ve raised such a thoughtful son, Mr. Miller.”

The group didn’t respond, they seemed to not know what to make of the situation. The son, they hoped was the prodigal, returning home with a girl undeterred by their differences, their silence. They didn’t realize Marigold had spent her entire life being the outsider, being misunderstood. She didn’t have an eye bent on judgment.

“What is that delicious bread I smell?” she asked breaking the silence. “It’s much sweeter than the loaves I usually bake.”

Eli’s wife Sarah’s smile broke first, her eyes danced between her brother-in-law and this girl he brought home. “It’s Friendship Bread, would you like a piece? Dinner’s nearly ready, but surely you’re hungry after such long travels, ja?”

Marigold nodded, following Sarah out of the room, leaving Abel to deal with the wrath of his parents and siblings. She’d done her part to smooth things over, now it was his turn.

chapter six

Abel

“What is the meaning of this?” his dad asked, having pulled him out to the wide front porch. “Bringing an English girl home uninvited?”

“Ja, well she’s my friend and needed to get away for a few days, I was trying to be a true friend. Isn’t that what you’ve taught me?”

“Surely, kindness, but what sort of trouble is this girl in? Serious?”

“Oh no, she had a row with her parents, she needed to clear her head. The fresh farm air can do that, isn’t that so?”

“But you’re here to work, right? Not drive that girl around in your buggy? You’re here to help?”

“Ja, of course, tomorrow I’ll do all I can to serve you, Dad.”

“It’s too hard with you gone, son. I need you here.” His dad’s eyes were weathered, tired from his life of backbreaking work. It would have been easier if Eli had taken over the farm, but Abel couldn’t rely on his brother to solve his problems.

“I’m here now, let that be enough for one day.”

Abel walked back into the house with his dad, already anxious to get the weekend over with and head back to campus.

***

His mom prepared Abel’s favorite dinner of roast beef, green beans with bacon, mashed potatoes and giblet gravy, with chow-chow on the side. After bowing their heads while his dad offered grace, everyone dished up platefuls, hungry after a long day of work. It felt good to sit at the large family table again, especially having Eli and Sarah join them; he hadn’t expected to see anyone for a few months yet.

He watched as Marigold politely passed platters around the table and helped Ruthie, who sat beside her, butter a roll. Bekah eyed him from across the table, tilting her head at Marigold, clearly wanting details on the girl he brought home, but she quickly looked away the moment their eyes connected. She was still angry with him.

“The food smells delicious, Mom,” Abel said, ignoring his sister’s insistent looks. “I’ve missed your home cooked meals.”

“Well, that’s nice of you to say, son. Perhaps I could write down a few simpler recipes for you to take back, maybe the cook at school would like to try one?”

“That would be nice, thank you, Mom,” he answered, not wanting to explain how big the dining hall was, how hired cooks didn’t make things to order. “Since I’ve been gone, I’ve realized I can hardly make anything besides boiled water.”

“That is because you belong on the farm, outdoors. Working,” Abel’s father said gruffly. “Not in the kitchen making coffee in a fancy pot.”

Abel coughed nervously, then turned to his brother. “Is the soy bean crop coming along well, Eli?” Abel wanted to look somewhere besides his sister’s condescending glances.

“Pretty good, I got a new tractor last weekend at an auction. It was a good deal, and it’ll sure help loads come harvest.”

Their dad chewed his food without engaging with his oldest boys, and Abel knew this was his doing. Having spoken with him on the porch before the meal was unexpected, he didn’t expect to hear much else from him unless he moved back home.

“Marigold, do you have any siblings?” Sarah asked.

“Yes, one brother who’s twenty and a sister who’s seventeen. We’re Irish twins, just a year a part. She’s in Abel’s Honor Intensive this summer.”

“But not you?” Mom asked, suddenly interested.

“No.” Marigold flushed and Abel knew she didn’t want anyone to ask the questions she disliked most, about what her plans for the fall were. That was the question all English kids cared about.
What’s next?

But Marigold kept talking, surprising him. She always shut down when he’d tried having this conversation, she was an expert at steering things off her. But here, while she stabbed a green bean, she seemed comfortable answering. “I’m not very scholarly, I even finished high school early so I could be done with it once and for all.”

“What do you do all day then?” Bekah asked, interested for the first time in the girl she must consider the enemy, after all Esther was her best friend and she’d had her heart set on the two of them hitching up come spring.

“Umm, lots of baking and cooking. I knit and crochet a lot too, blankets or scarves. In fact there’s this group of people in the city that meet once a month and we go to parks and yarn bomb. Have you heard of that?”

“What in the world is that?” asked Sarah, smiling.

“We knit scarves and blankets and all sorts of things ahead of time, and then we meet at a city park or a bus stop or whatever and we knit our pieces together around tree trunks and park benches.”

“Truly? You put them on park benches?” Dad asked her, curious at the story she told.

“Yes, like an underground knitting club. It’s silly, I know, but it makes people happy. Or at least it makes me happy.”

Abel watched her, realizing he’d never seen her around other people before. They had only spent time together in their own bubble. He was surprised at her ease with his stoic family, who genuinely lit up in her presence.

He hadn’t expected this, though he should have, so many of the qualities he was drawn to about her, were the things that reminded him of home. The baking, the knitting, the quiet nature. Watching her with his family, a small smile broke over his lips. In essence, being with Marigold in the city was like being home.

Ruthie laughed, covering her giggles with her pudgy hands. “You put scarves on the trees so they don’t get cold?” she asked in wonder.

“Yes, trees might get cold, especially in the winter,” Marigold answered seriously, causing Ruthie to erupt in more laughter.

“Well, that isn’t necessarily the most practical hobby, but I suppose in your free time it’s a nice way to brighten peoples’ day. Just imagine walking to the bishop’s house and seeing his big Elm tree wrapped in yarn,” Mom said, laughing heartily.

By the time dinner was finished everyone had relaxed, save for Bekah, but their conversation could wait. Mom asked Bekah to prepare the guest room for Marigold, and Abel carried her bags upstairs before meeting her outside to talk a bit before bed.

They stood on the wide front porch, awkward together for the first time.

“Want to sit?” he asked, pointing to the porch swing. Marigold nodded and sat, and he pushed his feet to propel them into the night sky. It was so much quieter here than the city, almost too still for him. Returning, he immediately found himself antsy, like he’d always been. His dreams stretched wider than this farm.

“You didn’t tell me a lot of things, Abel.”

“Neither did you.”

“What, you wanted to know about yarn bombs? That offends you, in a week of knowing me, that I haven’t revealed a random hobby to you?”

“Well, I don’t know, you just seemed so cheery tonight.”

“I’m cheery with you.” Marigold pointed out the truth, but not the full breadth of it.

“That’s true, but each time I’ve come to see you, I’ve shown up and you’ve been sad or lost or both.”

“But I am sad and lost. You are meeting me at a very uncertain time in my life. I’m trying to get away from the life laid out for me, and it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be.”

“I can hardly tell if you are talking about yourself or me.”

“I know. I just wish I’d understood a little more before I came, like how much your family needs you here.”

“Why? What would it matter to you?”

“I suppose it’s because I want to know you, better. More realized. I want to see the scope of you, not just pieces.”

“That takes time, Marigold.”

“Do we have that? Because I got the impression that your sister Bekah wishes I never came.”

“Bekah has just lost her best friend and is mad at me for things that happened even before all that. It’s not about you, it’s about me not wanting what she wanted for me.”

“You can’t have me either though, Abel. I know you’re a guy, and not the most aware one at that, but I’m not Amish.”

“I’m on my Rumspringa, I can do what I please,” he looked at her solemnly. They both knew that what passed between them was more than a fling. What was happening here felt real, and that made everything more complicated, their different world’s all the more prominent.

“Not forever.”

Abel didn’t answer, not wanting to fight with Marigold, not while she didn’t understand what being Amish required of him. Requirements he didn’t really want to obligate to, now or ever. He wasn’t ready to say that aloud.

“It’s been a long day, we should go to bed. Tomorrow I will be busy and it’s not that I don’t want to visit with you, but I’m here for my dad. You’ll be okay with my mom and sisters?”

Marigold nodded and they walked in the house quietly, knowing his parents were in the living room relaxing.

“Night, Mom and Dad. Thanks for welcoming me back this weekend.”

“Of course, son, tomorrow will be a right good day, get lots of rest.”

They padded up the stairs, parting ways at the landing.

“Abel,” Marigold whispered, before turning into the guest room. “Can we be more-than-friends for as long as your Rumspringa lasts?”

“Of course,” he answered quietly. “We still have a game of twenty questions to finish.”

“We have six questions left.”

“Then we must be frugal.”

That made her smile and he was glad the night ended on that note. His head pounded with too many demands and pressures put on him. He needed to be understood by the people around him, and he never considered that Marigold might not.

Marigold

            
 
The stress of the day before had dissipated, and although Marigold knew the family dynamics were rocky, they didn’t scare her. She was nothing if not familiar with unmet parental expectation.

Smelling fresh coffee, she got out of bed smiling, and dressed for the day. She buttoned the front of her white linen dress, pulling a pair of ruffled calf-length bloomers underneath, and then fastened a soft pink velvet vest over the top. She added a pair of well-worn leather boots, and completed the ensemble with milkmaid braids wrapped around her head.

She considered a string of vintage pearls but decided against it, remembering the unadorned hands and necks of the women last night. Following the smell of breakfast she found a bustling kitchen with pancakes being flipped by Bekah. Mrs. Miller set out jams, syrup, and a pitcher of milk on the kitchen table where Abel and Mr. Miller sat discussing the day’s work, crunching on bacon. A few men in Amish clothes came in the kitchen asking for a word with the men, and Marigold stood at the doorway for a moment, taking in the scene before her.

“Marigold, you’re up!” Ruthie said tugging at her hand. “I saved you a place between me and baby Jakey. Come eat.”

Marigold sat down, and Abel offered her a smile reaching his eyes.

“Good morning, Marigold,” he said, standing to pull out her chair. She saw Mr. and Mrs. Miller exchange a quick look before turning back to their tasks. She blushed, knowing they saw the attentiveness of their son towards her.

“Did you sleep well?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“So well, it’s very quiet here, peaceful too.”

“Not to be nosy, but do you plan to stay on another night?”

Marigold looked at Abel for an answer.

“Ja, Mom, we will stay on until after tomorrow’s church service and lunch.”

“Well, I don’t know if you should come,” Mrs. Miller said. “The services are at the Yoder’s house tomorrow, and then you showing up with an Englisher, it just seems like a bit much.”

“Are outsiders not welcome at your church?” Marigold asked, holding her coffee up to her lip.

“It’s not that exactly, it’s not typical, but it isn’t unheard of. Just like you coming last night, we wouldn’t turn you away if you behaved and showed respect to our ways.”

“Then what is it?” she asked again, looking to Mr. Miller.

“We best get out to the barn, Abel,” he said, not answering Marigold’s question. “A crew of forty is here to help today. We should be there.”

“Right. Okay,” he said standing, neither men answering the question Marigold asked. “I’ll see you at the noonday meal, Marigold.”

After they walked out the back door Marigold looked to Mrs. Miller, confused.

“The Yoder’s are the family of his … of Esther,” she explained, clearing the men’s plates.

Marigold sighed, knowing coming here made things messier than Abel wanted to realize.

“He said it was fine if I came, I meant no harm,” she said.

“I know you didn’t, but Abel does what he wants, not always thinking how his actions might affect other people. We know that about him, and show him grace in that, but we don’t need to rub his Rumspringa dilly dallies in the church’s face.”

Marigold bit her lip, not wanting to disrespect Abel’s mother, but she certainly was not some
dilly-dally
. At least she hoped not. The word
rebound
sprung back in her mind.