Ties That Bind (30 page)

He pressed the button on the garage door opener. After he pulled in, he turned off his car, and then he heard Lexi barking. He'd told Dan he was coming home for the night, so he must've brought her by. Did Quill smell food? He almost had the house key in the lock when the door swung open.

“Hey.” Frieda smiled.

Quill suppressed a sigh. “Hi.” Lexi wriggled excitedly, knocking into Quill as he patted her. He didn't need to ask Frieda how she got here. She either walked or one of his brothers or sisters-in-law drove her. “I was looking forward to downtime…without anyone visiting.” Quill didn't sugarcoat how he felt. In reality they were distant cousins, but they were as close and as comfortable with each other as brother and sister. Unfortunately for both of them, she often needed companionship when he needed to be alone.

“I know, but I cooked to make up for wanting some time.” She shrugged, a small smile lifting her lips. “Dan said you were coming in, and I…I just needed to tell you something in person before you headed out again.” She stepped back.

He closed the front door. This remodeled rental home was about fifty years old, and once inside he could see the entire two-bedroom home—all nine hundred square feet of it. The fenced backyard for Lexi was twice this size.

Quill moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Sprite. “Can't it wait?”

“I only need fifteen minutes.”

Quill popped the tab on his drink and moved to his recliner. Dealing with the emotional upheaval surrounding Lovina, Isaac, and Brandi was draining. Knowing what was ahead for Ariana and Skylar was digging holes inside him. Watching her and Rudy interact as a couple falling in love was no picnic, but at least Rudy seemed to be a great guy. The part that had Quill wiped out was being around Ariana and having to act as if he knew nothing about what was ahead for her, and all the while her trust in him grew.

He pressed a button on the side of the electronic recliner and waited for the footrest and headrest to move into position. “If it's heavy or something you need help with, don't tell me.” He didn't want to belabor a point, but he simply couldn't take on anything else right now.

She scratched Lexi's head. “It's neither of those…and I made one of your favorite dishes.”

The food did smell great. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“I should've gone to your Mamm's hospital room that day. You gave up years of your life to help me, and I couldn't even do as you asked and go with you into that hospital to see Berta? What kind of friend is that?”

“You're making progress. A year ago you wouldn't have crossed the state line to reenter Pennsylvania, let alone gone to the hospital.” After a year of being in and out of the hospital and more than four years of seeing a psychologist, Frieda seemed to be doing particularly well these days.

“And Eli—what would he think about now?”

Quill's Daed had been complex in his thinking, and yet he lived a simple life. Even his name, Eli, had several meanings: “high,” “ascended,” and “my God.” But Quill had thought of him only as a dad until he saw him stand up for Frieda. That's when Quill saw him as Eli, a man who understood that defending the victim was worth angering every church leader. “My Daed would say you're a survivor and cut yourself some slack.”

A timer on the stove went off. “That does sound like what Eli would say. But there's more on my mind. What I just said isn't even the main topic.” She held up an index finger. “Let me get the turkey pie out of the oven and turn the pretzels over. I'll be right back.”

“Turkey pie and homemade pretzels? Mmm.”

While she went to the kitchen, he let his mind rewind back in time.

The Englisch called what Frieda's dad had done to her “medical child abuse.” Some called it “Munchausen syndrome by proxy.” Her dad had poisoned her, deliberately causing her illness so he could get sympathy and attention.

She was one of seven children, and she lived with her family in Ohio until she was fifteen. That's where the poisoning had taken place. When Eli learned what was happening, he went to Ohio to confront the church leaders face to face. Those men said it was God's will that they keep the matter quiet. Eli called them hypocrites, saying the only thing they wanted to protect was the status of the Amish. He said they weren't willing to face the shame of what Frieda's dad had done, because they didn't want it splattered across the news, nor did they want the Englisch investigating their lives and ways.

While trying to go through the proper Amish channels to get justice for Frieda, Eli brought her to Pennsylvania to live with them. Although the ministers in Pennsylvania tried to get to the truth and do right by Frieda, she lived in fear that they would unite with the leaders in Ohio and would force her to return home to live. Her fears had merit. Her church leaders reached out to the church leaders in Quill's district, beseeching their help in controlling Eli. But Eli continued to stand his ground on Frieda's behalf. Her church leaders had wanted to rehabilitate Frieda's dad and do so in the Amish way—by a time-fixed shunning and by having him go to a rehabilitation house for the Amish and run by the Amish. That wasn't acceptable to Eli. He feared for the other children in Frieda's family, and what Frieda's dad had done was punishable by Englisch law. Eli believed church matters should belong to the church—living by faith, obeying the Ordnung, adultery, drinking, and such. But if the matter fell under the laws of society, he believed the civil authorities should be made aware. When Eli couldn't get satisfaction through the Amish channels, he took the matter to the police. Many Amish considered that an act of betrayal. And Frieda's Daed disappeared.

Frieda was desperate to get away. Too fragile to go alone, she'd needed someone she trusted to take her. Someone who would see to it that she was hidden from the Amish and that she got the needed medical help. Eli had planned to take her away and get really good medical treatment for her, but he died from the stress of the situation.

Lexi tried to push her nose into his hand, and he shook free of his thoughts. Frieda had returned from the kitchen, and she stood near him, wringing her hands.

He lowered his recliner. “What's the subject, Frieda?” He gestured to the chair beside him.

“Ariana.” She sat.

“You have my attention.”

“Imagine that.” She chuckled. “You've been gone a lot lately, and when you didn't say much about why, I pestered Dan about it. He said you're sticking close to Ariana for more reasons than helping her get the café. Is she okay?”

How was he supposed to answer that—
yeah, for now
? Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

Frieda glanced at the clock, perhaps timing the pretzels or the fifteen minutes he'd given her. “Whatever is going on, I want to help.”

“I appreciate that, but—”

“You're probably asking yourself what I could possibly do, but I've been thinking and praying a lot since I realized something's up with Ariana, and I'm ready to find my backbone and face her, to tell her the whole gut-wrenching, health-stealing, embarrassing mess that caused us to leave so suddenly five years ago.” She waited for his response.

This was surprising. She meant her words, and he was pleased to see she was taking another step in the right direction. Whether she could follow through was another matter. Her dad poisoning her while pretending to care about her health mortified Frieda beyond her ability to cope. Quill didn't understand that part, but he didn't have to. It was enough simply to accept her limits in dealing with the aftermath.

“I think it's great you're strong enough to want to share that with her.” He interlaced his fingers and leaned forward. “Maybe one day there will be the right time, but some very difficult things are waiting on the horizon for her, and if she knew that anyone Amish or any dad was capable of what your dad did, it might be too much for her.”

Lovina kept saying that Ariana's faith would carry her through. But Ariana's worldview came from inside a bubble. And faith wouldn't stop the tsunami of reality that was heading for her.

A
bram drove the wagon toward the Yoder house. He was making rounds today, gathering donated items. Susie had called each family earlier in the week, and she gave him the list of places. This stop had him more nervous than all the rest combined.

After spending the last two weeks watching Quill give up comfort and sleep as he patiently helped Ariana reach her dream, Abram was encouraged to be patient concerning Barbie. After all, whatever Barbie had against him couldn't compare to what Ariana had held against Quill. And Quill's actions had made a significant positive difference for Ariana. With Salome staying and Ariana on the verge of getting her café, his twin was happy, confident, and peaceful. Who would've thought that Quill could make that kind of difference in any Amish person's life?

He drove the rig to the hitching post. While he was looping the reins over the post, Barbie came out of the house, carrying a pot.

She glanced up, and surprise filled her face. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

She looked back at the house, as if checking to see if anyone else knew he was there. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up goods for tomorrow's benefit.”

“Oh, ya, that's right. It slipped my mind.”

Irritation worked its way through him, and he wasn't sure what to say. Did that mean no one in her household had prepared anything? Tomorrow was really important for Ariana. For him too, because he'd invested years in helping his sister save money, and if tomorrow went well, all of those years of work would accomplish their goal.

“I'm not sure why I forgot. At our last church meeting, the preachers asked us to donate items and attend the function.” Barbie walked past him and toward the overgrown garden patch.

He followed her. “Should I check with anyone inside about donations or just head out?”

“Mamm and Cilla have been sewing for a week. I'm sure some of it is for the cause.” Barbie dumped the scraps of food onto what looked to be a composting pile. “Just knock on the door.”

Despite being a fairly mellow guy, Abram was offended by her lack of interest. Was she rude, or was he too sensitive about his sister's big day?

“Thanks.” Abram left the garden area and climbed the porch steps. Through the screen door he saw Barbie's Mamm, Emma, at the kitchen sink. Cilla's wheelchair sat empty, and he hoped that meant she was still feeling well. Sometimes she went months without needing it. He tapped on the door.

Emma shut off the faucet, grabbed a towel, and turned. “Hi, Abram.” She motioned. “Kumm.” She angled her head toward an open doorway. “Cilla, Abram's here.”

A moment later Cilla walked into the room, carrying a large box. “Perfect timing.”

Abram closed the distance between them and took the box from her. “Is this for the benefit?”

“It is.”

He set the box on the table. “Can I take a look?”

“Cilla made everything in that box herself.” Emma grinned at her daughter.

“Even so,” Cilla said, “you won't be impressed.”

He opened the box. It was filled with various kinds of cloth dolls, each one Amish—boys and girls—in perfect Amish attire. “Authentic clothes handsewn by an authentic Amish girl. These will fetch a great price, Cilla. Denki.”

Cilla walked to the corner of the room and picked up a much smaller box. “Are you telling me you like dolls, Abram?”

He laughed. “In this case, ya, I am.”

She handed him the smaller box. “Mamm sewed five small quilted wall hangings. I wish we'd had more time to make things.”

Emma moved closer to her daughter. “She had a couple of bad days, or you'd have a lot more.”

Barbie forgot about Ariana needing donations and didn't seem to care, yet Cilla had clearly sacrificed several days to make items. “Ariana and I really appreciate this.”

Cilla beamed. “Oh, and Daed and my brothers made two beautiful birdhouses on stands. That's the really good stuff. They're in the barn, just inside the doorway to your right. Is there anything we can do to help tomorrow?”

“If you're up to it, that would be great. The café will be in full swing, serving people, and Ariana needs to divide her time between helping at the café and making appearances at the auction block.”

That's what Quill said needed to happen. The auctioneers they'd hired verified the plan, saying that people would respond better if they saw Ariana and if she interacted with them, because this wasn't just about them purchasing items. It was a charity of sorts, and people were more apt to buy when they had a face to go with the cause. Abram stacked the two boxes. “I wish I had time to visit, but I need to go. Denki, again. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Cilla looked at her Mamm, and she nodded. Cilla bit her bottom lip, smiling. “We'll be there.”

Emma followed Abram onto the front porch. “Barbie, show Abram where the bird—”

As Abram went down the steps, a young man in a courting buggy drove up. A moment later Abram saw it was Saul Kurtz. Girls flocked to him. If Abram had realized Saul was his competition, he never would've asked Barbie out. Then again, she'd said yes, so maybe Saul asked after Abram had.

“Mamm,” Barbie whispered, elongating the word, “I can't right now. I told you earlier I needed to stop the chores and freshen up.” She glanced at Abram, looking a bit sheepish. “I hope the benefit is a huge success.” She went up the stairs and into the house.

Emma sighed. “Kumm. That girl's got other things on her mind.” She glanced back at Saul. “Arriving for a courting visit during the middle of a workday. I guess that's how it is for those with money.”

Abram slid the boxes into the wagon. Was his family's lack of money the one thing Barbie didn't like about him? He followed Emma into the barn. She pointed out the birdhouses, and he loaded them into the wagon. “Denki for everything, Emma.”

“You're very welcome. See you tomorrow.”

As Abram pulled out of the driveway, he decided to prove to Barbie that he could make good money too. Once Ariana went to closing, he would be part owner of the café, and he would put every effort into getting promotions at his construction job.

Saul Kurtz wasn't winning Barbie without a fight.

Then another thought came to him. Abram had felt encouraged to be patient about Barbie because of how Quill had been so accommodating of Ariana. But if asked, Quill could quickly list a hundred reasons why Ariana was worth his effort. Even when Ariana felt the most betrayed by Quill, she continued to look out for his best interest, protecting him by destroying the letter and diligently helping his Mamm.

But Barbie broke off their date, could not care any less about tomorrow's auction, and had plans with Saul, so was a relationship with her even worth fighting for?

Quill meandered on the outer edge of the green space, watching the people, Englisch and Amish, as they bid on items on the auction block. Shafts of sunlight peered through thin, broken clouds. A light breeze stirred the air, carrying the aromas of coffee and fresh baked goods. It was barely past noon, and Summer Grove buzzed with relaxed, happy people shopping on the square and participating in the benefit.

The hired Englisch auctioneer stood on the stage, microphone in hand, auctioning off one of the last pieces. He had been an auctioneer at other Amish events, and he was doing a great job of engaging the audience. Right now he was taking bids on another item Rudy had made. Clearly, Rudy was a skilled craftsman, and his pieces had sold for high prices.

Quill's Mamm was the guardian of the donation jar, which meant all the money went through her—whether people were paying for what they'd bought or were making a true donation. Quill had emptied his accounts and sold everything he could. He'd placed the cash in envelopes for his Mamm to sporadically add to the money till. If collections went as usual and Ariana remained her unsuspecting self, she would never realize how they'd managed to make so much money from the sales through the auction and the café.

Abram stood on the lawn next to Cilla in her wheelchair. She had been here since early morning, and she'd spent most of the time on her feet. Quill could only assume she was now too tired or maybe struggling to breathe. Cystic fibrosis was a difficult disease, but from what he understood of it, Cilla seemed to do well with it. So where was Barbie? Quill hadn't seen her all day. Abram moved beside the wheelchair and crouched, seemingly in a conversation with Cilla.

Ariana was on the platform next to the auctioneer, as she had been off and on throughout the morning. She talked to the crowd at times, making jokes and laughing with people. Quill hadn't realized she could be so comfortable with a microphone in her hand.

Suddenly a surprised look covered her face, and she hurried off the platform. He wondered what she had forgotten. While hurrying down the steps, she tripped, and Rudy, who was rarely far from her side, caught her. He looked serious as he checked to see if she was okay, but she laughed. Quill could only imagine what she was saying as she grinned at him and grasped his arm with one hand and slid the other into his. They strode toward the lively café. She had spent the largest part of her time there, baking and serving. But her sisters took over for her whenever she was needed on the platform.

Whatever would happen with Ariana over the upcoming weeks and months, she was thrilled with the support she was receiving today. When the money was counted, and she realized she could close on the café, she would have that to buoy her, no matter what else happened. But the fruit of today wasn't the only thing she had going for her. Rudy also made her happy. He was good for her, no doubt. He had her on a pedestal as if she were royalty, but they interacted like old, trustworthy friends, and the two had that certain spark couples needed. He'd caught glimpses of their interactions when they didn't realize he was around, and they played as well as they worked together. As crazy as it seemed, on a good day Quill found some comfort in seeing Ariana with what felt like his replacement.