Ties That Bind (21 page)

He took a seat and got out his sandwich and fries. “I've cared about the same girl my whole life. It began with me just thinking she wasn't so bad. Then I favored her, as if she was a favorite cousin or something. By the time she was eleven or so, I considered her a friend, and that kept growing until at some point when I wasn't looking it turned into love.”

“Oh, you were looking. That much I know. I'd say that love part happened about the time she went from being a flat-chested girl to a curvy woman.”

That was probably more true than he wanted to admit. “She changed from being a half-grown kid to a whole person.”

“Sure. I get that.” Skylar took a sip of her water. “So how did she feel about you?”

“For lots of reasons we never discussed it, but I know she cared about me too…for a while.”

“What happened?” She opened her container of fresh fruit.

“It's complicated. I had to do certain things to protect someone, and she thinks I committed sins to do what I did. I wanted her to think that for a while in order to protect her, and—”

“Geez, Quill.” Ignoring the plastic fork, she used her fingers to pick up a piece of pineapple. “Who died and left you protector of the universe?”

“What do you mean?”

“Crap happens. You can't stop it or keep people from being hit with it.”

Considering what might be facing Ariana soon, Skylar had a valid point, but he had spared Ariana the one thing that could have destroyed her outlook, her sense of security, and her natural buoyant hope in a troubled world.

Skylar ate a section of a mandarin orange before licking her fingers. “And it's just wrong to assume she's too weak to cope. You survived it, didn't you?”

He wasn't so sure he had, but that would be too much to explain. “Anyway, sometimes I think I'll die still in love with her.”

“What?” Skylar wiped the white pith and yellow juice onto a napkin. “No way. You're just a really good liar, right? There are no men in the history of the world who loved anyone that much, except maybe their mothers.”

So why was he telling her all this? “I don't believe how I feel either. I've spent years wanting to get her out from under my skin, and if I could figure a way, I would.” It had been hard enough to shake that desire before he'd returned to Summer Grove.

“So convince her you didn't do what she thinks you did.”

“Even if I managed that, we have a hundred other obstacles in line behind that, and they are as unmovable as this mall. But I actually knew all of that five years ago.”

“Five years…” Her whisper was haunting as her brown eyes bore into him. “Man, that whole story gives me shivers. I hope the guy I'm dating lasts one year, and you…wow.”

“If you think he won't last, why put yourself through a year of waiting to find out?”

“You know how almost every kid goes through a phase of fearing monsters are lurking under the bed or in their closet at night?”

“Yeah.”

“I think children are intuitive, and the word
monster
is the only way they can express what they know to be true—that parents leave and there is a monster in the empty spaces. It screeches out from under the bed, threatening to swallow us, and if you ask, you'll learn its name—loneliness. When I got older, I figured out how to keep it at bay. All I need is someone special in my heart who is waiting to hear from me each day when I wake up. Like the others before him, he won't be here next year, but all I need is someone for tomorrow.”

On one hand Quill could relate to the sense of loneliness she expressed, but how she dealt with it was sad and unhealthy. “But—”

“Sky Blue!” Several voices chanted at once.

Smiling, she looked around and then pointed to the second-story walkway that overlooked the food court. They were waving tickets. “They've got them back.” She waved. The group disappeared, and he was sure they would be at their table soon.

“I like your nickname.” Quill thought it seemed fitting because she seemed to sail high and hopeful, like a child's balloon that'd been set free, and yet she seemed quite blue deep within.

“My stepdad made it up years ago.”

“Your stepdad did?” Where was her…or Ariana's…biological dad?

“Yeah. Mostly he uses it and a few nutty friends who were at my house one time and overheard him.” She rose, leaving her drink and a nearly empty bowl of fruit on the table. “I need to go. If you come to the play, stay afterward, and the cast will come out and mingle. I can't afford a detour of intros right now, but after I tell my friends what you did today, they'll want to meet you.”

“I need to buy two more tickets.”

“Sure.” She slid two tickets across the table.

He handed her thirty dollars. “Before I would consider meeting your friends after the play, I would need a glimpse of your driver's license. You know, to prove your age.”

“You've earned your request.” She dug her billfold out of her purse. “But I'm in college. How many underage girls attend college? Although I participated in college drama while in high school, so I'll cut you some slack.” She held up her license.

Skylar's birth date was the same as Ariana's. The information hit like a thief in the night, one that had the power to strip everything from Ariana.

“Satisfied?” She tucked her license into her billfold and jammed it into her purse.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I gotta go.” Skylar waved at him and hurried toward her oncoming friends.

A lot of contradictions seemed to describe her. He'd looked into her eyes, and despite her outward confidence she held herself together by nothing more than ragged bailing twine.

What would this kind of news do to her?

A
riana thrust the bottom ridge of her palm into a huge wad of dough over and over again. Time was running out, and rather than making a decision, she continued to wallow in uncertainty. A week ago today she'd thought that all her decisions in life were cut-and-dried. Then as she and Quill tended to his Mamm, he had shared a list of ways to earn the money to go to closing.

A week ago, Ariana!

Yet she continued to waver, letting fear grip her as if the world might end if she did something that looked self-serving to her community. She hadn't realized this scaredy-cat trait was a part of who she was. At least she'd cleaned houses a lot of this past week and had earned some money. Not nearly enough, but some. Susie staying Amish depended on her getting the café, but organizing a benefit would be costly. What if she lost more than she made?

What should I do, God?

She worked the bread dough, unable to connect with any of the conversations going on around her. The whole day had been sucked into a vortex of uncertainty and indecision. Now as the sun began to set, she was in the same room she'd been in since before sunrise—the kitchen. Three of her four sisters were with her, along with Salome's daughters. The menfolk had eaten dinner and dispersed to do evening chores.

The built-in bookshelves lining the dining room walls held no books. She used the shelves to hold baked goods, and currently they were filled with rolls, croissants, and an array of breakfast breads. Right now the strongest aroma filling the home was that of raspberry, white-chocolate scones.

What was she going to do with all this food? Money was tight, and here she was baking as if she had a plan to earn money. If it were any time of the week except Saturday evening, she could package it to sell at the local dry-goods store. She'd done that before when she'd baked too much while working through an issue. But she'd been too busy all day trying to decide about the benefit to consider what to do with all the food she was making. The store would close soon, and everything would be stale by the time it reopened Monday.

Her well-established method of decision making hadn't worked—not today and not all week.

It would help if her Mamm were here to talk to, but her parents had been gone more than they were home the last two weekends. When Mamm was here, she was…different. Distracted and distant. Clearly, Ariana wasn't the only one with things on her mind.

“Would you look at this?” Fifteen-year-old Martha stood in front of an ironing board, moving a hot pressing iron over a prayer Kapp. She set the iron upright and removed the prayer Kapp from the board, frowning. “Never mind. I almost have the hang of tending to these.” She put the Kapp on the board again, pressing the iron against it.

Prayer Kapps were easy to rip, hard to keep clean, and difficult to iron correctly.

“I think it looks great,” Ariana said. “I would wear it to church.”

“Really?” Martha seemed unsure and hopeful at the same time.

All the sisters nodded while making encouraging comments.

Martha grinned. “If you say so…” She took it upstairs, and Ariana was sure she'd put it away until time to dress for a meeting.

“Aenti Ari.” Esther clutched her little fingers around the spindles of a kitchen chair and started shoving it toward the island. The sweet innocence of her spirit was easily seen in her eyes, but the angry scar on her face was her most prominent feature.
“Kann Ich helfe?”

Her niece wanted to help, and once again today Ariana would let her. Even if anxiety had her heart shriveled and quaking, she wouldn't turn down Esther. With the exception of a short nap, Esther had been Ariana's shadow since sunrise almost twelve hours ago. But Salome had been up to tending to the baby during most of the day.
“Ya. Ich lieb sell.”
It was honest. Ariana loved for Esther to help, but it made hiding her mood a tougher job. She pinched off a small handful of dough and placed it on the counter in front of Esther.

Esther grinned.
“Lieb du.”

Ariana kissed the top of her bare head. “I love you too.” Even though she was too distracted to feel much warm and fuzzy love for anyone right now, love's virtue remained intact, with its thriving desire to be kind, encouraging, and protective. Moods changed as drastically as the seasons—summertime sunshine on good days and bitter cold winds on bad days. Thankfully, virtue held its ground no matter what.

Martha bounded down the stairs. “I finally got tending to a prayer Kapp right, and Mamm isn't even here to see it. Doesn't it feel odd for her and Daed to be gone so much lately? What are they up to?”

Susie rinsed another dinner dish and set it on the drying rack. “Mamm said they needed uninterrupted time to talk, days of it. Since that's the case, we should be glad they're going off by themselves to do it and not dragging us into the boring stuff.”

“I think it's about time they got away by themselves some,” Salome said.

“Ya, I guess you're right.” Martha picked up a wrinkled white shirt belonging to one of their brothers and put it on the pressing board. “They've had thirty-something years of young children. Now we are all finally in double digits.”

Susie put a hand on her hip. “Some are more of an idjit than others.”

“Huh?” Martha asked.

As Susie explained her quip exchanging the word
idjit
for
digit,
Salome poured a glass of lemonade while holding Katie Ann in one arm.

She walked over to Ariana and leaned her backside against the counter. “You and Rudy aren't going out tonight?”

Ariana shook her head. Rudy was busy building things for her to sell at either a yard sale or a benefit. A very profitable yard sale might clear a thousand dollars, maybe two. A successful benefit, even one thrown together quickly, should be closer to four or five thousand—unless the Amish boycotted it.

“You okay?” Salome set the drink on the counter.

“Ya.” Ariana wasn't willing to tell anyone else about the decision she needed to make. She had enough opinions already. Now it was between her and God. She hoped she would hear Him clearly on the matter
before
October first. Was she waiting on God, as the Word said, or was she simply wavering in indecision? “A better question is, how are you?”

Salome studied Esther's scar. “I'm fine.”

But she wasn't. Ariana saw grief and lostness in Salome's eyes. Resentment had been shored up in her sister's heart, and Ariana had no idea how to help her release it. Time and again Ariana had tried to find the right words, but none had penetrated Salome's anger and hurt.

When the accident happened, the church leaders and community had pressured Salome to stick to the Old Ways of using a tried-and-true home remedy specifically for burns on Esther. Emanuel had sided with the community, and Salome had considered disobeying her husband and doing as the Englisch doctors wanted. They had recommended skin grafts for the sake of faster, less painful healing and minimal scarring. Part of Salome had wanted to take Esther to the hospital and follow the Englisch ways. But she had tempered her mother's intuition, obeyed her husband's wishes, and followed the Old Ways.

Ariana gestured toward Esther. “Don't let her get too close to the edge of the chair, please.”

Salome moved into Ariana's spot while she went to the oven and removed the lightly browned scones and then put a second batch into the oven.

Ariana returned to her dough, and Salome moved to the side. She had been assured that Esther would heal by using the poultices, but her daughter's suffering had been unbearable, and the scarring was much worse than expected. Now, more than two years later, Salome had yet to forgive herself or those in the community who'd pressured her. She had confided in Ariana that Emanuel had asked for her forgiveness for siding with the community. It had taken months of effort, but Salome had forgiven him.

When the rest of the Amish sided with the church leaders in not doing skin grafts, Ariana had made herself stay neutral, aiming to encourage Salome in whatever her final decision was. Now Salome was working her way through anger and depression, and all Ariana knew to do was be a good sister.

The way Salome hovered, looking hesitant but needy, Ariana was sure something was bothering her. “What's on your mind?” Ariana got a clean bowl out of the cabinet beneath her.

Salome shifted the newborn. “I hate to ask, but would you be willing to baby-sit for me and Emanuel tomorrow?”

She set the bowl on the counter. “Sure.”

“You would miss the singing tomorrow night.”

“Okay.” Ariana knew Rudy wouldn't mind. He would be fine spending an evening here even if it meant playing with her nieces and nephews more than visiting with her.

Salome took another sip of her drink. “We had one of Emanuel's sisters lined up to watch them, but that fell through. We'll take Katie Ann with us, because there's a possibility we'll stay overnight. You know, maybe get a quiet visit with his aunt and uncle in Lancaster.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” How would she feel if she didn't at least try to hold a benefit? There was no way to earn enough money without it, and then Susie would leave. At least if she tried to have one, she would know she did her absolute best. Maybe that would be more consoling than any efforts she made to keep the community from getting its feathers ruffled.

Salome nudged her shoulder. “You're agreeing to things, and I'm not the least bit sure you've heard anything I've said.” With eyebrows raised at Ariana, Salome took a sip of her lemonade.

“I heard.” She flipped the dough over and pounded it. “Would you trust a suggestion made by Quill?”

Salome choked on the lemonade. “What? Why would you ask that?”

Ariana quickly filled in her sister about crossing paths with Quill again last Saturday and his opinions on how to earn the closing money.

“Oh.” Relief was evident in her voice.

“Surely you know better than to fear I would leave.”

Salome played with the condensation on the glass. “Ya, I know how you feel. You have more judgment than grace for those who leave…and I fear we will both live to regret that.”

The words stung. “Do I?”

Salome's facial expression held an apology as she barely nodded. “Anyway, my alarm was only because I thought Quill might have confided things he shouldn't have. Rumors have it that he's always cared about you.”

Ariana paused. “He and Frieda ran off together, so why would anyone say he cared for me?” It was easy to believe that people had whispered for years about how much Ariana had cared for Quill, but she'd never imagined anyone thinking he had feelings for her.

“Because”—Salome put the baby on her shoulder and patted her back—“when he meets with those who are thinking about leaving the Amish, he asks about you.”

“How would you know that?”

Salome's eyes widened. “I…I…heard that's what he—”

“Look.” Susie pointed out the kitchen window. “Maybe you and Rudy have a date and you just don't know it.”

“He's here?” Ariana's heart immediately felt lighter, and she looked through the window. “It is him.”

“You think I could be wrong?” Susie laughed. “What's the matter with you, girl?”

Ariana removed the kitchen towel from her shoulder and looped it around the back of Susie's neck. “Watch the scones and don't let them burn. Can you manage it?”

Susie clutched her shoulders, a wry smile making her faint dimple show itself. “No.”

Ariana tugged on each end of the towel. “Do it anyway.” She hurried out the door and ran toward the hitching post near the barn. Out of breath, she rounded the carriage to the driver's side and ran into Rudy.

He caught her, laughing. “Whoa.” He backed up, glancing at the house before he slid his hands around her waist and tugged her to the blind spot behind the rig. “Hey.” His soft, gentle voice was welcoming.