For Sure & Certain (24 page)

“I don’t know if it’s love, Marigold,” he said, knowing his words would hurt her more than he already had. He wasn’t ready for love. If he loved Marigold, some of his life choices would be made. He wasn’t ready to commit to anything, anyone. “I think it might be more about lust, or passion … but love?”

Marigold scratched the back of her neck, giving a humph to his words, as if she wasn’t the last bit surprised at his response.

“What?” he asked. “We don’t even have conversations without arguing. Even now, we’re arguing about being in love or just being horny.”

“Really, Abel? That’s how you’re going to boil this down?” she shook her head. “That’s so mature.”

“We’re going to talk maturity?” he scoffed. “How’s running away mature? Why don’t you figure stuff out at home, instead of bringing it here to my parents?”

“I could say the same thing to you, Abel.” She raised her voice, something he had never heard her do before, except for in the video clip, and he realized this was all too much.

Him. Her. Here.

“I’m not running away, I’m at Jamestown to figure out what I want from life,” he said. “There’s a huge difference.
I’m leaning into my potential
.” He knew how pretentious that sounded; quoting Trape that way, but it didn’t deter Marigold.

“I just wish you would believe. Believe my intentions to be pure and good and real. That you wouldn’t see me through the lens Lily has brainwashed you into believing. That business school wouldn’t cause you to question everything. I wish you trusted me. And I wish I trusted you.”

“See, it’s not love, Marigold. Love trusts, love believes.”

“Yeah, I guess I just--” She stopped, and bit her lip, looking at Abel. Her eyes so clear and true and it made him feel like an ass for questioning the girl before him, the girl who professed her love. The girl who withheld judgment for all the parts of life that he, in fact, did judge. His family, his faith, his heritage, his future here. She accepted it all, yet he was unwilling to accept her.

He knew all of this in his head. The hitch wasn’t the logic, it was the fear.

Truly loving Marigold would cement choices he wasn’t ready for.

“You
just
what, Marigold?” he asked, wanting so badly to know. To know her even though he couldn’t trust himself to be with her. She made all his ideas about life and commitment and purpose crumble. Her uncomplicated opinion of him messed everything up.

“I just love you. And I don’t know why and I know you can’t accept that from me right now, but I am here. For reasons I don’t at all pretend to understand, I am here.” She kissed his cheek, so softly it sent a ripple down his back, like he’d been up close with an angel, had her holy breath against his face, a creature he didn’t understand, wasn’t worthy of. A creature he had disappointed and let down.

A creature he wished he knew how to love.

***

Somehow his family reconvened after he’d broken Marigold’s heart. They packed a buggy full of hot dishes and baked pies and wiped away tears and withheld the comments they wanted to make, to him, mostly. They loaded up and descended upon Eli and Sarah’s home.

Eli’s son looked like a little old man, like all newborn babies do. Abel held him close, looking at his first nephew, his skin soft and wrinkled, bundled in a soft blanket Marigold had made as a gift.

Apparently she’d spent plenty of time here over the past month, helping get things ready for the baby, washing baseboards and pulling weeds. She did this after the yarn shop closed for the day. Everyone gushed over her industry, and he knew they did it for him. Like, somehow extolling her uncanny ability to blend seamlessly into a restrictive environment would win him over.

He knew why they did it; he could see things more objectively than Marigold wanted to. They truly thought she was going to stay, turn Amish, and she would be the way to woo him back to the community.

But after the fight with Marigold he didn’t think she’d ever even look him in the eyes again, let alone win him over to anything.

After the appropriate amount of oohing and ahhing, Abel went outside with Eli and his dad. The women stayed inside to coddle young Abe, as they were calling him to avoid confusion. The summer was coming to an end, the first week of August already passed. The crops were full and nearing harvest.

“Your vegetable gardens have done well, Eli. How’s the soy beans?” asked Abel, knowing it was the single most important crop on his brother’s farm, the one that yielded his family the profits they lived off of from year to year.

“Right good, this summer’s been a scorcher, and as long as we keep up with the watering, it only means good things for us.”

“That’s great to hear, and Sarah’s father, he’s here to help with that?”

Their dad huffed loudly as he listened to the conversation, leaning against a fence post, with something clearly on his mind.

“What is it?” Eli asked, concerned.

“Abel here has so many questions for you, for your farm, but he comes home and asks me nothing, worry’s not. My worst fears have come to fruition.”

“I helped you this morning, Dad, with the stalls. What do you want from me?” Abel had enough of this trope, not being a good enough son, boyfriend, brother. He should have stayed in the city and gotten schoolwork done, but no, he came here for them, only to be berated for what he wasn’t.

“I want you home. It’s too much, Eli here has been coming over, helping me out, but I know it’s asking too much of him.”

“You could always hire another hand, someone to take over the managerial duties,” Abel suggested.

“For how long? For the summer? Or forever?” His dad wiped his forehead with a cloth, sighing. “I should have taken heed of Bishop’s concerns.”

“His concerns?” Abel scoffed, genuinely angry at this condensed version of himself, as seen in his father’s point of view. “Since when was using Rumspringa to go to school the worst offense? There are plenty of Amish boys who commit serious treason against their families and communities. Even my best friend Joshua has done more evil in the eyes of God than I ever have.”

At that Eli stepped in, “Enough, Abel, don’t talk with Dad this way, it isn’t how speak to one another. Where has your love gone, have you dumped it along with the rest of your history?”

Love. The word sent a shock wave through Abel’s core. Love. The thing he seemed to lack, the thing he wished he had more of, the thing Marigold had for him, but he had apparently lost somewhere along the way. Maybe he had replaced love of family with pride, greed, the desire of earthy things.

He couldn’t help it. He was no angel. He was human. Flawed entirely, yet still standing. Not floating in the clouds, he stood on solid ground. How did his family not see him as he saw himself?

“People change.” His dad’s hands pressed down on Abel’s shoulders, keeping him in place as he said his piece. “Marigold has changed, and even your old friend Joshua, he has changed. You’ve changed too. But we don’t all change the way others wished. And maybe that is something I need to come to terms with, the fact you are choosing to change into a man I don’t recognize.” Tears pooled in the corners of his father’s eyes, and Abel felt that flush of shame course through him once more.

Abel swallowed, not wanting to apologize, not seeing the point in saying
I’m sorry
for a thing he wasn’t. Sorry for what? Figuring out who he wanted to be? Wasn’t that the entire point of Rumspringa, to discover who you were before you made a vow before God?

“Enough, for now,” Eli said, trying to bring peace between the two men in his family. “My son has just been brought in the world, let us rejoice in the new life, instead of argue over choices already made?”

“You’re right, son,” his dad replied. “We shall celebrate the blessing of Abe, forgive me for bringing our problems to your land, your home.”

“Tis fine, we’re family.”

Abel didn’t reply, instead he gave them a short nod, and began walking home. He didn’t feel like he was with family, he felt alone.

Marigold

When the family returned home from visiting the newest addition to the Miller family, Marigold found Abel in the barn, sorting through his father’s disaster zone of an office. She walked in, saw him going through a pile of bills and didn’t bring up the morning, didn’t mention the fact that he’d walked out on his family. Walked out on her. She had no interest in trying to push him into something he wasn’t, but she wore her heart on her sleeve, and she meant what she said. She loved him.

The realization had come to her all at once. It wasn’t practical, but it was true.

“Abel,” she said, standing in the doorway. “This evening Bekah was wondering if you’d join us in town. We wanted to go out to dinner.”

“The three of us?” Abel set the papers in his hand down on the messy desk. “I think I’m leaving. I should get back home. I mean, back to school. You don’t want me here.”

“I didn’t say that.” She didn’t want him to leave, not in the least. He could stay and remember all the reasons this was his home. Remember all the reasons this is where he really belonged. She’d be lying if she also wanted more of him for herself. He didn’t have to love her, not now, maybe not ever, but she felt her best when they shared the same air.

“It’s been a disastrous twenty-four hours, Marigold. I don’t think we can salvage it. Besides, Bekah’s barely spoken to me since the start of summer.”

“Do you know why that is?” She twisted her lips, wondering how much was her place to say, she wanted to help bridge the broken bits between these two people she cared deeply for, but after this morning she didn’t know if she had the ability to repair anything for Abel. Maybe he had to do all the hard work on his own, maybe he was determined too. Maybe that was okay.

Abel exhaled, signaling his annoyance.

“Are you mad at me, for coming out here to the barn? I just wanted to ask you about tonight, for Bekah. I swear, I wasn’t looking for another fight,” Marigold said, thinking his frustration was at her.

“I know you weren’t, Marigold, obviously.” His words were so clipped, and Marigold wished, in that moment, that she’d never stayed here at the Millers’. If she’d stayed home this summer her and Abel would have never experienced these missteps.

Their relationship would be all dinners at funky bistros and movies at the Cineplex and strolls on campus eating gelato. Not this. This was complicated, and she didn’t know if it was complicated because of who they were, or because of where they were. She wished she knew.

Tiptoes and half-truths wouldn’t get her and Abel anywhere. She needed to be straight with him about Bekah’s plans for tonight.

“It wouldn’t just be the three of us,” she admitted. “Joshua is coming too. Like a double date.”

“You’re kidding right?” Abel asked, deadpanned.

She shook her head.

“Talk about beating me when I’m down.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Have they been courting?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re telling me because?”

“Because Bekah wanted to spring it on you tonight, at dinner, when Joshua showed up, but I didn’t think that would be the way to your heart.”

“And what did you think would be the way to my heart, Marigold?”

“Being honest. Everyone here keeps talking about you like you do whatever you want, without considering other people. And maybe I’m crazy for falling for a guy like that, but I think I know you. I don’t think you’d never make amends with your best friend and sister if someone didn’t tell you that you’re being a jackass.”

At that, Abel cracked a smile. “A jackass, huh? And here I thought you turned all Amish on me.”

“I didn’t turn anything. I am who I am.” She didn’t want to go through this with him again, proving herself.

“Sorry,” Abel said, pushing back. “But I don’t think you know the whole story. Joshua is not the guy for Bekah. She needs a good Amish boy.”

At that Marigold scoffed. “You know what, Abel, maybe you shouldn’t come tonight. You think you know everything, and maybe Jamestown is the perfect place for you. Because honestly, you’ve somehow managed to live your entire life here and be more judgmental than anyone else I’ve met since I’ve arrived.”

“I’m just trying to protect my sister.”

“I believe you, but you’re still misguided. He really likes her and she really likes him.”

“You don’t know the whole story.”

“Yes, I do. I know a lot more than you give me credit for. You’re the one who doesn’t know the whole story, who’s bent on holding one year of your best friend’s life against him forever. Abel, people change.”

Marigold didn’t realize until then how parallel her and Joshua’s journeys were. One year gone awry, or maybe for her it had been a lot longer than a year, but then they had changed. It was Abel who was hell-bent on staying the same.

“So you know about his partying?” Abel asked. “The drinking at the shack?”

Marigold nodded. “Yes, in fact I’ve been invited there.” To Abel’s bulging eyes she quickly added, “By Katie, but I didn’t go, and neither did Bekah or Joshua.”