For Sure & Certain (26 page)

“Ja, let me just put this up.” Marigold stood from the table where she worked and stretched her arms over her head, her back aching from being hunched over the loom for the last few hours.

“Did you sell anything today? I saw a few of mom’s friends come in.”

“A few customers, but I think they’re just being nice to your mom by coming here. I have a hunch this quality wool isn’t what they normally purchase.”

“Ja, I know. I think most ladies go to Wal-Mart for synthetic stuff.”

“This is too high-end for a backyard shop like this.”

Turning off the lights and shutting the door behind them, Bekah took Marigold’s hand.

“After dinner, will you come with me to a volleyball game?”

“On a Thursday night?” Marigold scrunched up her nose, the weekly game was always held on Sunday nights before the Singing. She’d gone to a few more, but they weren’t really her scene. The morning at church was long enough, and without the lure of a boy to drive home with, she honestly preferred staying home with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, letting Bekah have her time alone with Joshua.

“It’s one of Joshua’s friend’s birthday, and it’s sort of a last minute thing.  I don’t really know the guy, but it would be a chance to get out.”

“Sure,” Marigold said. “Of course I’ll come.”

***

A few hours later, once the house was tidy, the girls went to Joshua’s open buggy waiting for them. Climbing in, Marigold was reminded how lucky she was that the Millers were a more open-minded Amish family, granting the girls permission to go out on a weeknight like this. She’d heard stories from Bekah about other sects where things were much more strict, and if Bekah really wanted to see Joshua besides Sunday she’d need to sneak out to do so.

“You look nice today,” Joshua said as Bekah squeezed in next to him on the bench seat, leaving the outside space for Marigold. Marigold folded her hands in her lap, not really liking being the third wheel, but knowing the Millers wouldn’t have let Bekah go out alone tonight. No matter how liberal they were, that would be pushing the limits of respectability.

“Thank you, Joshua,” Bekah said, blushing. Marigold was always impressed with her friend’s restraint. If she was courting a guy, she wouldn’t be able to resist planting a kiss on his lips. Another thing to remember when she was trying to make plans for her future. Could she really hack it here? If Abel never came back for her, could she stay here and find another Amish man? The question made her queasy.

“Hey, Marigold, I heard from Abel today,” Joshua said pulling her out of her internal debate.

“Really?” She shared a surprised look with Bekah, they hadn’t heard from him once in three weeks. The entire Miller house had been given silent treatment. Marigold firmly believed it was for the best until he decided what he wanted.

“Yeah, he wrote a letter.” He pulled the reigns tightly, bringing the horses to a stop as they pulled up at his friend’s birthday party.

“And?” Bekah asked for her.

“He sounded well, school’s going great. He asked about you,” he told Marigold with a raised eyebrow.

Marigold wasn’t sure she wanted to know what his inquiry entailed.

“And?” Bekah asked again, not giving Marigold room for avoidance.

“And he wondered if the quilt shop was still running, if you had started wearing a kapp yet, if you’d met anyone. It sort of seemed like he hoped you had, you know, moved on—”

Her eyes filled with the tears she’d refused to shed. Somewhere in her heart she believed this was all temporary. Him leaving like he did, without the promise of the future. The simple, yet intentional omission of the L-word when he left in the taxi. She hoped he would come to his senses, that he would trust in whatever it was the two of them had when they were together.

“Stop,” Bekah said, placing her hand on Joshua’s sleeve.

“Sorry, Marigold. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

As the buggy pulled to a stop in the row lined up at the house, people she knew from church and Singings were watching their arrival. She suddenly wished Joshua had invested in a closed buggy so the dozens of eyes standing around wouldn’t see the tears she shed.

“I can take you back home, Marigold,” Joshua said patiently. He treated her with such consideration, and it made her angry Abel ever doubted his friend. “It isn’t a bother, is it, Bekah?”

“Of course not,” Bekah answered, rubbing Marigold’s back as soft sobs were released. She was letting go of her hopes for getting back together with Abel. If it were ever to happen, it wouldn’t be in the way she imagined. There would be no handwritten love letter read under the willow tree or romantic gestures of leaving school and running to her open armed.

“I want to stay. My history with Abel can’t hold me back from my future.”

“And your future is here, playing volleyball?” Bekah asked.

“Something like that.” Marigold wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath, and stepped out of the black buggy. She had a game to play. Friends to meet. A life to begin.

Abel

He’d been gone a short weekend, but it felt so much longer. Arriving in the city, with August underway, the humid air matched his fuzzy brain. As much as he wasn’t sure about a future with Marigold, he still missed her. Missed the idea of what they could be.  Maybe missed wasn’t even the right word.

Ached. Longed. Craved.

His mind was in a constant tug-of-war. He didn’t like this, he was used to being decisive, sure. This was stupid, all these competing emotions constantly pulling him of kilter.

He’d left her without any sort of promise of a future and took a taxi home only to realize he was a complete ass-hat. Not knowing what to do about it, he did the only thing he could: pretend none of it had happened. He burrowed down in the library with a stack of books and dove into what was comfortable to him.

Each day after class he did just that. He trekked to the campus library, shrugging off his friends, not wanting to talk about his weekend. The weekend they all thought he should have avoided in the first place.

On Friday night Lily found him in the library half asleep under the spine of a book and called in back up.

Lacey and Jenna arrived holding hands.
Perfect,
Abel thought.
Of all the times to see people falling for one another.
In all honesty it made him jealous how easy Jenna and Lacey fit in one another’s lives. Both were on an academic track with college on the horizon, both from the mid-west, both here in the city. Neither of them complicating things by living with the other person’s parents.

“You’ve been avoiding us like the plague,” Jenna said, sitting across from him, pulling the books away so he could see her face. “You missed group this week. Which we all took offense to, by the way.”

Abel didn’t answer, or acknowledge the inquisition; he’d been doing enough studying on his own. And the way he saw it, he would be the one getting the group through the final, not that he minded.

“Dude, you’ve got to get a grip, you’re kind of freaking us out,” Lacey said.

“Tell us about the weekend,” Lily said.

He moaned and shook his head.

“I didn’t take you for a drama queen.” Lily laughed and messed with his hair.  “Maybe you are a good fit for one another.

“I’m not a drama queen, Lily.” He continued to bury his head in his arms crossed on the table. “I’m just confused.”

“Seriously, you’re head’s not in the game,” Lacey said. “What happened?”

He sighed and raised his eyes at the people attempting to rescue him from himself. A month ago he didn’t think it was possible to fit in here, but somehow over study guides and coffee breaks, these people had become
his people
. Pushing himself into an upright position he tried to explain. “She loves me.”

“Marigold?” Lily asked scrunching up her nose at him, as if his words smelled putrid.

“Yep.” Abel blew air to of his cheeks, knowing he needed to say something, process this with other human beings and not hide in his books. “And I just left her. I didn’t say it back. I didn’t know what to do so I did nothing.”

Lily shook her head.  “Girls say things like this to get guys to stay around.”

“That’s kind of cruel to say about your gender,” Jenna disagreed. “Abel, do you think it’s like, for reals or like, a power play?”

“A power play?” Abel asked.

“Yeah, did she say it to get you to stay there?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, she’s not like that. I know her past is complicated, but she’s genuine. She’s really, really … I know this sounds dumb … but she’s a good person.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

“What?” Abel asked, not liking the way Lily automatically assumed the worst about her sister, even though he’d been doing the same thing. . “She says she’s changed. That she isn’t the girl she was. That she’s finally herself. She said regardless of what I choose, she loves me and wants the best for me. It wasn’t intense. It was like, real.”

“Sorry, Lily,” Jenna said. “I know you want us to think she’s a bitch or whatever, but everything Abel says sounds really nice.”

“Yeah, nice and fucked up,” Lacey said. “What are you supposed to do with that information? You’re here, working your ass off. Falling in love or whatever that bullshit is doesn’t fit. Especially when the girl is becoming prairie Dawn.”

“Harsh much,” Jenna said, pulling away from him. “Are you and I a waste of time then?”

“I’m not professing my love.”

“Neither is Abel,” Jenna answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“This is all jacked up,” Lacey said. “I’m sorry, Jenna. Obviously. But they’ve known one another a month. You can’t fall in love in a month.”

“Especially with a girl like Marigold. She’s a flight risk.” Lily continued to pick at Marigold’s weak spots, not recognizing any of her strengths.

Abel listened to the argument, and the thing was, with each syllable he realized that he didn’t agree with their assessment of Marigold. Maybe throwing yourself, heart over head, wasn’t a weakness at all.

Maybe it was the strongest, bravest thing.

You
could
fall in love that fast. He knew, because he had, as terrifying as it was to admit. He loved Marigold and somehow he’d walked away.

Lacey was right, it was all jacked up.

“Do you guys want to go get drunk or something because, like, this is messing with my head,” Lily said, standing up from the table.

“You’re telling me,” said Abel, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, ready to lighten the mood. Nothing would be solved tonight, or maybe even this summer. Love or not, he was here and she was there and he had no intention of leaving Jamestown. He’d found his people, and now all he needed to figure out was if he could find a way to make that work with her, too.

chapter fifteen

Marigold

Would you like me to wrap that up for you?” Marigold asked as she laid the weaving on a piece of tissue paper.

“I’d love that. It is just so pretty, the colors, everything … it’s perfect for my apartment.” The customer and the friend she was with had been gushing since they walked in the shed.

“Well, I’m glad I had what you wanted. Honestly, no one really comes to shop. It’s pretty dead.”

“It’s hard to imagine. I mean, there are so many colors,” the other woman said, her arms filled with bright spools of yarn. “I’m Tracy by the way, and this is my friend Julie.”

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Marigold.”

Marigold liked to see people appreciate the yarn Mrs. Miller had spent so much time on. The shelves holding the vibrant yarn were still full, and the unpurchased spools weighed on her. Marigold had made a half dozen weavings on the loom Mr. Miller had made for her and somehow, someone was actually buying one of them now.

“Is this yarn dyed in a factory?” Tracy asked, thumbing a skein.

“No, it’s all hand-dyed on site,” she answered.  Looking at Tracy in her linen shorts, wedge sandals, and a simple tank top, caused a small surge of jealousy to jolt through her. The August heat made the heavy cotton dress Marigold wore unbearable.

“And it’s all natural?”

“Absolutely, the wool we sell is from the sheep raised on this very farm.” Marigold smiled, feeling satisfied with the answers she gave. This shop made her proud. Though simple and much plainer than she’d make a shop, the sparse pine walls actually accentuated her colorful creations. “How did you happen to find the place? We don’t advertise.” Marigold knew the few customers who’d come thus far were Mrs. Miller’s friends.

“We were at the general store and asked about a yarn shop, we both love to knit. Anyways, the lady at the cash register directed us here.” Tracy smiled. “We’re here for a little bed and breakfast getaway from the city. It’s so lovely …though a little hot without AC.”

“Right.” Marigold agreed, fanning herself with an accordion folded piece of paper.

“Have you eve thought to sell these on Etsy?” Julie asked. When Marigold frowned the woman apologized. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t know what that is. It’s like a craft shop on the Internet. Which is on the compute—“

Marigold cut her off. “I know what Etsy is. I’m not Amish,” she ran her hand over her dress as if to accentuate that fact. Marigold could easily see the differences from Amish women and herself … she didn’t wear a kapp, she had buttons on her clothes, she still slipped on Birkenstocks in the morning, when all the Amish kids she’d met were barefoot all summer. The differences were not so obvious to an
Englisher
, and Marigold wasn’t sure what she thought of a regular customer thinking she was an Amish woman.

It didn’t feel so strange.

“You’re not?” Julie asked.

“No, I just work here, I’m friends with the Millers.”

“Oh, where do you live?” Tracy placed a dozen skeins on the counter, all beautiful colors Marigold would have chosen herself.

“I’m staying here this summer, but my family is in D.C.:”

“Oh, we’re from D.C. too. Investment bankers. Totally intense … which is why we knit. To decompress.”

“I get it,” Marigold said. “I always have needles in my hands. Although lately, I’ve been doing these weavings.”

“It’s really gorgeous. You could totally commission these pieces, or even have a show at a gallery in the city.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I just like working here. Mrs. Miller is so generous with letting me mess around while on the job.”

“This is not messing around. This is art.” Tracy shook her head slightly. “Honestly, here’s my card,” she said reaching in her bag. “If you ever think about doing a show, maybe growing your collection, and want to put something together, I’d love to help. Let me know. The price you’re selling this for is crazy. I feel like I’m stealing from you.”

“I’m just glad someone likes it.” Marigold blushed as she took the card. “I had so much fun making it … so thank you, for getting what I was trying to do.”

“Did you go to art school?” Julie asked.

“Um, no.” Marigold threw them a crooked eye glance as she finished ringing them up. “Thank you for being so nice, I feel like I’m about to be punked or something.”

Tracy and Julie smiled, taking their bags from Marigold’s outstretched arms.

“So you just work here just because?” Julie asked.

“Maybe not just because. I kind of feel like I was meant to be here. Crazy as it sounds.”

“Not crazy … peaceful. I’d love to escape like this. Well done, you.”

Marigold smiled as the women left, not liking the insinuation that she was running. But she was grateful to have finally made a substantial sale.

Once the workday was done, she organized the receipts and counted the money she needed to turn in to Mr. Miller. Stopping in his office, she saw his head buried in his hands, as they often were as of late. The stress had accumulated, she knew that much.

“Mr. Miller?” Marigold called out, tucking a strand of her wispy blond hair behind her ear. “I have a drop off for you, it’s larger than usual and I didn’t want to keep the money in the shed overnight.”

“That was wise.” He lifted his eyes to her, giving her a small smile. “You doing alright, Marigold, with this project? I know you were hoping for a few more customers.”

“I’m having a good time. I’d say something if I weren’t.” She bit her lip, knowing in truth she’d do no such thing. Adding to his load was not something she would do; he’d already given her so much in the two months she’d been here. He’d given her a sense of home.

“Your summer here is coming to a close, is that right?”

“Yes,” Marigold answered, knowing she was supposed to be packing her bags and handing back the keys to the shed by the end of the week. Her family expected her, and she assumed they had ideas of what she should do now that fall was upon them.

“It came rather fast didn’t it? The summer just slipped away.”

“I know. I’m not ready for it.”

“No?” he asked her, taking the moneybag from her and setting it the safe behind his desk.

“No. And….” She hesitated, not sure where to begin.

“What is it?”

“Do you think you and Mrs. Miller would spare some time this evening after dinner? There’s something I need to speak with you about.”

“Of course, Marigold,” he said. “Not something I should be worried about is it?”

“No, nothing to worry about, I promise.”

Smiling, Mr. Miller saw her to the door. ”After dinner we’ll talk. The three of us.”

Abel

            
 
When Abel had stopped by Professor Trape’s office the first week of school he’d been overwhelmed and desperate to find his place. But he’d found it. Now whenever he stopped by during office hours, it was never with apprehension or desperation, it was always about genuine interest in a recent lecture.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the Intensive so much,” Trape said, as Abel stood at the door ready to leave. “I honestly wasn’t sure how you’d do, never having experienced life on a school campus before. I’m glad we bent our rules slightly, and made this work. The Dean was right about you.”

“Me too, and now that I’ve finished my GED and am officially a high school graduate, I have lots of options.”

“Are you taking your options seriously?” Trape asked, adjusting his tortoise shell glasses.

“Ja, I’m not entirely sure what I want, but I know it’s more than life at my family farm.”

“Those are big decisions, Abel.”

“I know, but I don’t do anything lightly.” Abel hated defending himself, it seemed every adult around him didn’t quite believe it when he mentioned wanting to stay put, to not take his vows. It was only his friends who took him seriously when he explained what he really wanted.

“That’s good to know, Abel, I wasn’t sure what you were thinking, but it’s no secret that you’ve flourished this summer.” Trape paused, putting his hand on Abel’s shoulder.

Abel left Trape’s office with a heart surging with hope. He’d worked hard all summer in hopes of getting that recommendation, and with only a few days left of the Intensive, time was running out.

He walked to Lily’s house, eager to study for the final. The Final … it had come out of nowhere, and yet their little study group was committed to doing their best. Knowing where Abel’s heart was, that he really wanted to stay, caused them to acknowledge how much was at stake with the test. They’ been cramming all week.

Settling on the couch in Lily’s rec room, the four of them pulled out little stacks of flash cards and spread their review packets out on the floor, having grown comfortable in the Archer home.

“Don’t you wish we could just completely bypass senior year?” Jenna asked, her head in Lacey’s lap. The two of them were a full on couple now, and the fact that they lived three states apart would put a kink in their relationship.

“I know, after a summer here, how can I even go back to high school?” Lily moaned. “I wish we could all just be here, at Jamestown. Like this was our freshman year.”

“It might be for Abel,” Lacey said. “We’ll just have to come back and visit him.”

“We’ll see. I mean, it’s all a long shot.”

“Whatever. You got your application in, the only thing you have to worry about now is us not fucking up the final,” said Lily.

“Which we’ll do, right?” asked Abel, panicky. He thought they’d dotted every I and crossed every T.

“Of course. Even without us, you’re a shoo-in. So stop being a weirdo and ask another question,” said Jenna.

“Remember when we started group, and we had to do the questionnaire thingy?” asked Lily.

“Yeah, and you said your weakness was how you’d eff with the grading curve?” Lacey joked; everyone knew Lily struggled with the content more than anyone else in their group this summer.

“Yeah, clearly you were in denial about how smart everyone here was.”

“Obviously. I can’t believe how stuck up I was at the beginning of the summer.” Lily buried her head in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. Who would have thought by the end of the summer I’d no longer want to be in business school? And, gasp, that I am considering going to college undecided.” Everyone smiled at that.

They’d watched Lily transform over the summer, she started as a girl overly sure of herself and somewhere along the way, her B-average taught her that maybe her path wasn’t as black and white as she thought.

“Hey, it’s not so bad. Remember when Abel was in love with your sister?” Lacey asked.

“Too soon,” Abel said, cutting him off. He’d never admitted to the group that he was still hoping, somehow things would work out for him and Marigold. In their minds, it was impossible. They appeared too different, but Abel saw things differently.

He held out hope that maybe their differences would bring them back together. After a summer at his parents’ house, Marigold would return to D.C., and she’d be able to relate to him in a way no one else here could. It could be perfect. It
would
be perfect.

Just one more week and she’d come back. For good. And he’d stay, and they could finally return to the place they were when they first met at the beginning of summer, when they walked around the Smithsonian and got pizza and drank chai tea lattes. They could finish their game of twenty questions.

They could be Marigold and Abel … not Amish, not anything. Just themselves. Isn’t that what Marigold had explained she wanted? And now they could be that, together.

“Earth to Abel,” Lily said.

“What?” he asked, shaking himself out of his head. “Did I miss something?”

“I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us to Comicon this weekend, before we head home?” Jenna asked.

“Won’t Marigold be home this weekend?” he asked Lily.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It doesn’t,” he said, covering his tracks. “I just thought you might be busy.”

“Um, busy hanging out with my friends. I thought you’d moved past that?”

“I have. I swear.”

“No one swears unless they’re hiding something,” said Lacey.

“Whatever.” Abel shook his head, annoyed. He should just come clean with his friends, explain that he still was into Marigold and had these fantasies that when she came back home everything would be better. They would be better. “I’ll come with you, Jenna,
I swear,
” he said, exaggeratedly.

“Are you kidding me?” Jenna threw popcorn at his head. “You are so still into her. Shit.”

“I’ve got it under control, okay?” He tried to reassure everyone, but it wasn’t working. Their eyes were squinty and half rolled and overall unimpressed. “In other areas of upmost importance,” he said gravely. “Do I have to dress up?” 

“No, I promise,” Jenna assumed him. “I just want my friends there.”