For Sure & Certain (30 page)

“And when you realize there are worse things in the world than a family who wants the best for you,” added her dad before walking out of the room, taking the energy that had been bouncing off everyone’s chest with him.

“I’m not doing this for Abel,” whispered Marigold, but Lily was the only one who heard her. Lily didn’t answer; she just twisted her lips, and looked away, tears in her eyes that Marigold didn’t understand.

After Cedar left for his apartment, and her mom went upstairs for the bed, Marigold was left in the living room with her sister.

“You’re different,” said Marigold.

“Am I?” Lily smirked. “You’re not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That what you just did in there is so typical. You say you’ve changed, but you did what you’ve always done. Shut everyone out.”

Marigold pressed her hand to her head, exhausted by the circles she found herself in. She wanted to get back to the Millers’; she wanted the peace they offered. “Regardless, you have changed, Lily.”

“Maybe you never knew me very well either.”

“No, I know you, Lily. You’ve always been the over achiever and definitely never joked about getting anything less than an A.”

“Well, I made some friends this summer who were more low key than the prep school girls. They rubbed off on me. And honestly, I’m just okay at all the business stuff. It might not be my thing.”

“And Mom and Dad are okay with that?”

“Mom and Dad aren’t the enemies you’ve made them out be. All that time you tried so hard to be different, making your videos or whatever, you never realized who always had your back.”

Marigold didn’t know how to answer, her family always
had
been her enemy, but maybe that was mostly her own doing.

“You have my back?”

“I do. And so do a lot of other people if you’d let them.”

“Mom and Dad are so angry with me, I can’t imagine them genuinely supporting me.”

“Dad is old school, Marigold … and this decision you’ve made is a big one. Like, a permanent one. Of course everyone’s going to freak out.”

“But you’re still here, with me.” Marigold looked around the empty room.

“Yeah, and mostly because Abel and I have become really good friends, he’s….”

“What? Are you like a thing?” Marigold asked, her chest suddenly tight. What if Abel and Lily were like, hooking up?

“Oh, no. God, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Abel has eyes for one girl. And it’s not me.” Lily’s words caused Marigolds shoulders drop in relief.

A smile crossed Marigold’s lips; she’d never in her life had a real heart-to-heart with Lily. And on the heels’ of the family fight tonight, she knew what a big step this was for the two of them. She wrapped Lily in an awkward hug and squeezed warmly.

“You’re back, awesome,” Lily said, pulling away from her sister as Lacey and Jenna returned. Marigold turned to see what Lily meant.

“Yeah, and we umm, we brought someone else.”

Abel.

“Marigold.” He walked towards her, not pausing for pleasantries. Zeroed in on her. She pushed her long, loose hair from her face, not wanting anything to blur her vision.

He was here. For her.

She could see that in his eyes. Her family had let her go, and that was okay, because she’d go back to the Millers’, with him.

“Abel,” she said breathless, suddenly the anger from the fight gone, drained from her body, the sight of him filled her up.

“You’re back.”

“I’m right here.”

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked, his eyebrows rose hopefully.

She took his hand and led him through the house to the back patio. The sky was dark and the air was warm, just hinting at fall. They sat on a bench, their knees not quite touching, but she was aware of his every movement. His shorter hair, his freshly shaven face, the absence of a straw hat.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.

“I have, actually, tonight wasn’t so great.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They just … my family? They think they know best.”

He nodded slowly and Marigold knew he understood what that felt like.

“I’m sorry for how I left things last month at the farm. I shouldn’t have left that way.” His voice was soft, and she knew whatever came next, Abel meant what he said. He never played with words.

“How should you have left things?” she asked. The air suddenly charged, the electricity of the two of them together again, caused friction that needed a response. He must have felt it too because he took her hands, rubbing her knuckles with his fingers. Her breath caught with the motion of his thumb circling her skin.

“I should have told you I was scared. Scared of how much I loved you. Scared that if you were the girl you said you were, I would have to change the boy I thought I was supposed to be.”

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“Yours.”

She kissed him. His lips pressed against hers, and neither of them wanted to let go. They wanted everything. They believed they had it.

“Why did you wait for me to come around?” he asked her, pulling her up by her hands.

“We’re meant to be.”

He wrapped his hands around her waist, his forehead touching hers. She couldn’t contain the smile growing across her face. She knew he’d come around, and he had. It wasn’t exactly as she had thought her life would unfold, but in an instant, she could see it all so clearly. Working with the Millers, raising a family at the farm. Sure, she’d give up city life and her family, but she’d gain an entire community.

“We can be together now, the summer’s over,” she whispered in his ear.

“Lily told you?” he pulled back, smiling too. “I made her promise to stay quiet.”

“Lily?” Marigold shook her head confused. “Tell me what?”

“That I’m staying at Jamestown. I got accepted to the University for this fall.”

“No.” she stepped away, confused. Her chest ached as she absorbed his words. “No, no, I meant that summer’s over and you’re moving back home and I am too. I’m taking the vows. I’m going Amish.”

chapter seventeen

Abel

The call home was quiet.

              “I’m staying here.”

              His dad breathed hard into the line, and Abel knew he was a coward for doing this over the phone. His family deserved more than that from him.

“And that is final?” asked his dad. “You’re leaving us, ja?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but ja. I’m not coming back to take my vows.” His words were even, but his hands shook. The reality of not seeing Bekah announce her wedding, Ruthie learn to read.

Marigold.

“I’ll let the bishop know, son. Give us space, please don’t try and contact us for awhile, your mother is going to be broken up.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was. Sorry to let them down, but not sorry for what he’d chosen.

The phone clicked off and Abel sat with his hands in his head. The Intensive was over. Lacey and Jeanna had flown home. School was starting for Lily.

And Marigold had gone back to his parents’ home.

He held her hands a few night before, kissed her fingers, swept the wispy hair from her face. He’d been ready for forever with her. “Stay, with me,” he’d pleaded.

But Marigold was not weak in the knees like Esther. She wasn’t out to find a husband at any cost. She was looking for one single, solitary thing. Herself. And she’d found that in Lancaster.

She’d found that without him.

When he stood at her front door, ready to leave, he watched as the pool of tears gathered in her eyes and he wanted to be the one to wipe them away, but she wouldn’t let him. She wrapped her arms around her chest, shocked at his announcement, disappointment clouding her delicate face.

They weren’t meant to be.

Marigold

She got out of the taxi, trying so hard to be strong. To be brave. To be the person she’d worked so hard to become. Falling apart now wasn’t an option. Closing her eyes, she put the goodbye out of her mind.

“I’m sorry,” her father had said. “For the things I said in the interview. It wasn’t what I meant, and when it was published I was angry and I took it out on you. That wasn’t right. I never apologized to you directly. I’m sorry.”

Marigold had never heard her dad speak to her that way, with sincerity. She accepted his words, but thought it was a ruse. An attempt to get her to change her mind, a last ditch effort.

It had been hard enough to say goodbye to Abel. Her hopes had reached so high, believing they were really going to be together.

And then he dropped the bomb, and her heart exploded. He was staying. She wouldn’t be back in Lancaster with him.

“Oh, Marigold,” Mrs. Miller met her at the back door of the farmhouse. Marigold could tell from the inflection of her voice that she’d already heard the news. Heartbreak. Her son was not coming back. “Welcome home.”

Mrs. Miller wrapped her in a warm embrace, one Marigold needed, but all she could think of when the arms held her, was she didn’t even know what shampoo Mrs. Miller used. This was the closest thing to a mother she would ever have again, and yet there was so much she didn’t know.

For the first time since she’d made this choice she feared she didn’t know enough.

But now, her past was her past. She would forge ahead in new territory. She could do this.

The summer had been lighthearted compared to the weight that covered her now. This was real; she was no longer connected to the world outside of the Amish community. This was her whole world now.

Bekah held Marigold’s hand as they went to the bishop’s house Sunday after dinner to meet with the church elder’s. Joshua drove them in his buggy, as the three of them were preparing for their baptism together.

“Are you nervous? You seem nervous.” Bekah patted her friend’s arm as they stood waiting for the bishop to answer the door. This was the first of the twelve classes they needed to take before they would be allowed to kneel before the church and commit themselves.

“I’m fine.” Marigold bit her lip nervously as she tugged on the white strings on her kapp. She’d worn the head covering all week, but somehow it never felt right. She expected a sense of calm when she placed it on her head, but it still hadn’t arrived.

“I’m right nervous,” Joshua admitted. “I’ve read the prayer book, and yet I’m flustered that the elders will bring up my past.”

“You’ve renounced your ways, Joshua,” Bekah reassured him. “In the eyes of the community all is forgiven.”

Marigold listened to the couple; all the while her heart beat faster and faster. Before she could figure out where the acceleration came from, the bishop opened the door. He led them inside to a wooden bench where they were to adhere to traditions Marigold didn’t entirely understand.

She took a deep breath, intent on following through. Intent on not being a flake, a fool, a fraud. After all, intention is everything.

Abel

A week later his new roommate arrived. “I’m Jordan,” the guy announced. “This is my crew.” Jordan walked into the dorm with five of his closest friends, all looking like they grew up on yachts and had just spent their summer in Greece, tan, blond, and blue blazers.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” Jordan pointed to Abel’s stack of books and flipped the cover shut. “Shit, school doesn’t start for a few days, it’s time to get laid.” The
crew
high-fived Jordan as they began texting girls they referred to as ‘hotties.’

Instantly Abel missed the laid-back, nonjudgmental presence of Lacey.

Jordan didn’t even ask Abel’s name.

Two weeks later he still hadn’t asked, and Abel tried not to care. Jordan had ten different girls already spend the night. Abel listened to the squeaking of the twin bed for five minutes that first night before switching on the light and taking his pillow to the couch in the common room.

He texted Jenna, Lacey, and Lily for advice. Since school started, he’d gotten a phone and learned the convenience of emoji’s. They suggested leaving a pile of shit in Jordan’s bed until Abel pointed out that it was his room too and he didn’t really want to smell that. No one had any better suggestions.

A month later nothing had improved between him and Jordan. Every time Abel attempted to address it, Jordan called him a pussy. The last thing Abel wanted to do was complain to the RA or a school counselor and cause trouble. He’d been raised to keep his head down and with his full ride, the last thing he wanted to cause was drama.

So he spent his evenings in the campus library, working on course materials. Abel wondered why a full load was four courses, he was used to working long days on a farm and managing a staff, and the freshman level courses weren’t challenging enough.

He didn’t have any classes with Trape, which had been a let down. Apparently freshmen had a bunch of pre-req’s to get out of the way and courses with Trape would be waiting for him sophomore year. He felt like he time warped back to the beginning of the summer.

Unsettled, he wrote Eli a letter, letting him know he was sorry he wouldn’t be around like they’d planned, but that he would visit as soon as his mom and dad gave him the go ahead. He knew it wouldn’t be soon and maybe that was okay. He needed to get used to life here.

After writing the letter, bored, he texted Lily and asked if she’d like to get frozen yogurt. They could reminisce about Jenna and Lacey and she could coach him through how to fit in.

Not a Marigold replacement exactly, but definitely the next best thing.

Marigold

            
 
Sarah sat in a rocking chair in the yarn shop with two-month-old Abe, patting his back while Marigold explained her business plan.

“I was thinking I could sell them online to people who would really appreciate how special this yarn is.” Marigold added the new skeins Mrs. Miller had spun to the shelves.  “You know, because this shop isn’t working. No one comes here and I need to earn my keep.”

“Amish women don’t need to
earn their keep
by earning a wage. At least not in this family. The Millers aren’t expecting you to contribute financially.” Sarah sighed, kissing Abe’s head. He now slept soundly on his mother’s shoulder. “Besides, this talk of
online
won’t do. It’s not our way, Marigold.”

“I know.” And she did. She’d gone to four baptism classes so far, she knew the rules of the
Ordung,
the governing rules of the community
.
She understood the expectations she would shoulder once she knelt and made her vow. “Maybe I could find a girl in town, who wasn’t Amish, and explain to her what I mean and she could sell it for us, and we could give her a cut.”

“Marigold, this needs to stop. Don’t speak of it at meal time either, the Millers have enough on their plate.”

“What do you mean? Is it about Abel?” She tried to appear strong in front of the Millers, she put her broken heart behind her … resolved to be a capable Amish woman. But her mind was always on him. Always on the idea of him. The idea of
them
.

“Ja, Mr. Miller is exhausted, you see that, dontcha?”

“I do, he needs more help here, not farm hands, he has those.”

“Exactly, he needs his son who was supposed to run the business. It’s too much stress on him alone.”

Marigold just nodded her head, knowing she wouldn’t mention the foolish plan of selling yarn on the Internet. It was stupid. She needed to stop being stupid. Thinking of before. Thinking about the life she was giving up. This is what she wanted. There was no going back.

“I’ll make him his favorite dessert tomorrow. Apple pie, ja?” Marigold asked.

“You’re so cute when you speak Dutch. But ja, it is apple, and that would be right good, Marigold.”

That night, when she closed her eyes she imagined her old friend Tabby, the one who spent the summer hiking Machu Picchu, who was now in Boston starting school.

Marigold wondered if she would wear the scarf she’d knitted for her. She bit her lip hard enough to push away the tears. She wouldn’t cry.

But she did cry. Because as strong of an Amish woman she tried to be, she felt so very far from home. A real Amish woman would never feel that way, not when tucked under a heavy quilt in her farmhouse.

Marigold wondered if it mattered where she lived, because she had already found herself. And if she’d found herself, why did she suddenly feel so far from home?

Abel

Abel aced the mid-semester tests in Chemistry, Spanish, and Psych 201. His English professor had just handed him back his essay on The Iliad, which earned a three point nine, confirming his need to meet with the guidance counselor and find out about a heavier load next semester. Walking through the leaf-covered sidewalk of Jamestown towards his dorm, his shoulders were straight and his head up. The day was good.

Opening his dorm room door, he instantly let out a groan as Jordan and another girl were going at it. It wasn’t unusual … it was most afternoons. This pair didn’t even have the decency to have sex under the covers in the bed, the girl was against the cold cinderblock wall and all he could see was Jordan’s bare ass.

Leaving them to it, Abel slammed the door. Texting Lily as he walked, he made plans to meet for coffee. Outside in the brisk fall air once again, he pulled a wool cap from his messenger bag. He rarely wore his Amish hat anymore, but for some reason with the change in weather he wanted a heavy hat on his head.

There had never been a fall in his life where he didn’t wear something over his hair. Over the last few months as a college a freshman he’d slowly weeded out many of his Amish trappings and traded them for a look that wasn’t out of place with the other undergrads. Now, in his dark denim jeans, slim, buttoned-down shirt and suspenders he looked exactly as the hair stylist warned.

Girls had been asking if he wanted to grab coffee, or study after class, or if they could borrow his notes. He usually blushed and turned his head embarrassed, before declining. Even if Marigold wasn’t here, he wasn’t ready to move on.

Walking down the leaf-covered sidewalk, Abel stuffed his hands in his pockets, scanning the streets for Lily.

“Abel,” she called out, crossing the street toward him. They met up on lots of afternoons after they were both done with classes for the day. In the two months since class started, Lily was the only person he knew that could get him out of viewing the Jordan-Sex-A-Thon. He hadn’t exactly made any friends.

Snagging a table, latte’s in hand, he asked the question he’d been prepping himself to brave. They didn’t exactly avoid the conversation of Marigold, but they made a point to talk about everything else. School, books, new movies. The touchy topic of family was avoided, but Abel couldn’t keep it in anymore. He needed to know.

“Have you heard from her?”