Fraying at the Edge (6 page)

“Decision?” Skylar asked.

Lovina pursed her lips, looking uncomfortable. “I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet, Isaac.”

“Why?” Isaac took three pancakes off the stack and flopped them onto his plate.

“There hasn't been a good time.” Lovina flicked a thumbnail against her index finger, looking a bit nervous.

“Did you sleep in again, Skylar?” Isaac reached for the wooden bowl that had a weird, whitish butter in it.

“A little.” Skylar hated mealtime conversations. The siblings were usually noisy and boisterous, except when their parents pinpointed one of them for interrogation. Where was the privacy for adults?

Disbelief showed in Isaac's eyes before he nodded. “How many hours of sleep are typical for you?”

“Seven or eight, but I'm not sleeping well at night yet.” And by
yet
she meant she wouldn't sleep well until she was no longer living like a pioneer.

“Sure, I get it. Sometimes our bodies need us to take it easy. You've had a lot to adjust to, and that's fine for another day, but it's also important to work. Staying busy is good for the mind and body. It's also good for us when we pull our weight.”

“Pull my weight?”

“Every single thing you eat, wear, or need, someone had to work to pay for it. In this home we work together to make ends meet.”

“I'm supposed to work for food and the roof over my head?”

“Honey.” Lovina put her hand over Isaac's and patted it. “Are we supposed to get rain today or tomorrow?”

Skylar knew a distraction move when she saw it. Her birth mom didn't like the path of this conversation.

Isaac paused and smiled at his wife. “I don't think so. It'll be cloudy, and some wind may kick up.” He returned his focus to Skylar. “Doing your fair share may sound unusual to you. Maybe your Englisch parents assumed all responsibility for paying for your needs. I think that's a mistake.”

“Wow.” Skylar rubbed her aching forehead. “So you believe the saying that idle hands are the devil's workshop?”

“What I believe is you should be bored by now, and I can't fix most of what goes wrong in life, but
that
I can fix.”

“I'm mostly exhausted from not sleeping.”

“Sometimes that sort of thing is circular. We can't sleep at night, so we sleep late and rest a lot the next day, and then we can't sleep the following night because we rested too much. That's not always the case, but we won't know until we break the routine, right?”

Did this man think he was a doctor? The desire to get up and walk out was so strong, but Skylar wrapped her fingers around the edge of the table and held on. They'd been kind to her up to this point—Saturday evening, Sunday, and Monday—but starting this morning she was expected to pitch in like a hired hand on a farm? She had to get away from here.

“Is there a problem?” Isaac asked.

“No. Maybe. I mean, I don't mind work, but it should be toward a worthy goal—like getting a break in the entertainment industry or finishing a semester of college.”

“That's on hold for a while. And would have been whether you came here or not, right?”

He knew the answer to that. She'd been found with a concoction of illegal substances in her system, and her parents were going to pull her out of school and send her to rehab…or she could come here.

She nodded.

“So”—Isaac dipped his head to look her in the eyes and smiled—“let's focus on what can be done. Like pitching in with the work. Okay?”

He ended his sentence as if he'd made a request. He hadn't. It was an absolute. Man, she didn't want to be here for one more day. She had no money, and for the first time in her life, neither Brandi nor Nicholas would bail her out. Stupid drug testing. If her blood work hadn't revealed her secrets, she wouldn't be stuck here.

But Cody said he'd help her escape after he got a few things squared away. She just had to wait until he could get to her.

Salome put a serving bowl in front of her. Was that whipped cream? “We were wondering if you would like to help Susie and Martha at the café today.”

Oh yeah. That's exactly what Skylar wanted to do—have her stage dreams taken from her and miss the rest of this semester while she helped keep Ariana's dream alive. “I wouldn't be much help.”

“It probably sounds scary, but what's needed isn't hard.” Abram lifted a coffee carafe from the table and refilled her mug. “See, that's pretty much all the girls need from you. Well, that and a few other simple tasks that would be a lifesaver for us right now.”

She stared at the ripples he'd caused in her mug. Did he think she was so stupid that he had to show her how to pour coffee? Even if she was, she didn't need the lesson in front of the whole family. “Sorry, I'm just not feeling too well today.”

Lovina passed one of the platters of pancakes to Martha. “Anything wrong besides not sleeping?”

“Headache.” Skylar pushed the coffee mug toward Abram, giving him a silent
thanks but no thanks.
“I think resting will help.” If she was going to cope with life until Cody could get her out of here, he had to bring her something stronger than Advil.

“Sure, you rest.” Isaac smiled, nodding. “You can use today to decide whether you're going to help in the café or on the farm.”

“That's the choice—help fulfill Ariana's dream or stay here and muck out the stalls? No. But thanks.”

Everyone stopped eating, and the room fell silent, all eyes on her. What? Had no one ever told this man no?

Isaac pushed his plate away. “You don't have to help with either.”

“Thank you.”

“There's plenty of other work—laundry, housecleaning, meals, gardening.”

“There's gardening in October?” Skylar's surprise made her sound interested. She wasn't. But the garden produced stuff in mid-to-late October?

“It's been a good year,” Isaac said. “Much to be grateful for. The kale is still standing. There's more red cabbage to make into coleslaw. Some beets and Brussels sprouts are continuing to produce. Some years we're still gardening during the first snow flurries.”

“No way.” Why did she continue to sound like someone who cared? She glanced at Martha, imagining the sweet wedding-cake girl in a tattered winter coat and no gloves while gathering food for supper. Why did that image bother Skylar?

“Maybe you should choose gardening,” Isaac said. “It's coupled with the chores of canning and meal preparation, but a lot of people find working with the dirt to be healing. I do. No matter what difficult thing is going on, when I'm planting or harvesting crops, I feel better and think and sleep better.”

“I don't need any healing.” Did these people just say anything that was on their minds while everyone was in the room?

And to think she'd almost felt bad for planning to go behind their backs in order to reach Cody. Not anymore. They didn't want to connect with their new daughter. They wanted slave labor. That's all.

When she left here, she didn't intend to be a part of either family—Brenneman or Nash. And certainly not a Jenkins, because Nicholas was a pain. She would head to New York or L.A., and she would never look back.

A
bram slung a bundle of shingles onto his shoulder and toted the sixty-plus pounds up the ladder. This part of the neighborhood had no residents, only homes in various stages of completion.

“Abram.” Jackson's tattoo flattened and inflated as he slid a shingle into place and shot several nails into it. “You okay?”

“Ya.” Abram tossed the bundle onto the roof and dug in his pocket for his lock-blade knife. He pulled out the blade, ready to rip the paper off the shingles.

“Hold up. Don't open those.”

Abram closed his knife. “Why not?”

Jackson rocked back to sit on his haunches while looking at Abram. “Because we don't need any more bundles of black shingles, especially since that color doesn't go on this house.”

Abram looked to the ground below at the two stacks of roofing materials, one on this side of the driveway and one on the other. He'd spent the last thirty minutes getting bundles from the far side of the driveway. How had that not dawned on him?

“I just realized the mistake as you were climbing up.” Jackson shifted until he was sitting on the roof. “You've been distracted lately. No biggie. Just take a breather for now.”

Abram's knees were a bit weak, and he sat. He knew exactly where his mind was—Ariana. She had been the confident one, his safety net when he needed to talk, someone who could help him get through everyday encounters. Now that she was gone, he wasn't quite sure how to function. He was sick with worry about her, and he didn't know what to do about that either.

Sitting on this roof, looking at dozens of unfinished homes, watching other workers on the ground moving about, he had one clear thought: he couldn't let the café go under while Ariana was gone.

“I don't think I can keep this job.”

“Why? We've been a team for three months. And you're good at roofing when your mind is where your body is. I gotta say it's bothered me to watch you go from extremely focused to superscattered over the last month. I'm not the boss, so there's no need to explain anything to me. I just wanted to get that off my chest.”

Abram should string together a few more words. Ariana would want that of him. “I'm not dying. No one I know is dying. So you know…I'm fine.”

“Ah, so that's how it is. If you're not gut shot and none of your buddies are gut shot, everything is just fine.” Jackson propped his forearms on his knees and interlaced his fingers. “The Amish guys you arrive with each day seem to have had your back since your focus disappeared. I'm guessing they know what's going on, right?”

“Ya. They know.”

The local Amish community knew the story, and maybe the Amish communities around the country knew. But since Abram's family didn't want the story picked up by the news, the Amish were keeping it to themselves.

“That's good,” Jackson said. “Everybody needs at least one person who knows.”

“But they don't get it, not really.” Why had Abram said that?

“Yeah, what people know and what they get are very different, but take it from a former marine, it's still important to talk to someone.”

Abram's sounding board was gone, and it was hard to sleep and eat. Every time he looked at Skylar, it made things even harder. He had to remind himself that she was as innocent in this as Ariana.

Jackson pulled a stick of gum from its package and offered it to him.

Abram took it. “Thanks.” Would the walking boss see them sitting around and yell? “I better take the wrong shingles back and get the right ones.”

“You can do that tomorrow.” Jackson held up his wrist and looked at his watch. “It's almost quitting time.” He gestured toward the driver, Mr. Carver. The older man was half a block down the street, but he'd removed his tool belt and was slowly walking toward the work van.

“My sister bought a café, and I'm needed there. My two younger sisters are struggling to run it.”

His whole family was struggling under the weight of the new café and Ariana's absence. If Jackson thought Abram was making a mess on the construction site, he should see what was happening at the café. Susie and Martha could barely cook anything on the menu, run a register, or keep enough dishes washed. If Ariana were here, she'd have that café running like water in a crystal-clear creek in summer—inviting and rippling with energy.

“I didn't know you had sisters or a café. Amazing what a person can learn when the quiet man actually speaks.” Jackson chuckled as he unwrapped a piece of gum and shoved the trash in his pocket. “Is the food any good?”

“I doubt it.”

“That's a great recommendation. I'll be sure to spread the word.” Jackson's laugh echoed off the half-built homes around them. “But you'll forgive me if I don't eat there.”

“Can't say I blame you. Hopefully, Susie and Martha are getting the hang of cooking what's on the menu.”

“Your sisters bought a café, but you don't know if either can cook? I thought the Amish were practical.”

“We are. I think. It's just…well, things didn't go as planned.” Abram had said plenty, at least to an outsider.

“Where is this topnotch café?” Jackson got up.

“Old town Summer Grove.” Abram stood. Nausea and lightheadedness made him feel a bit wobbly. A man who couldn't eat or sleep shouldn't be on a roof. “My sister Ariana can bake, and she bought it the first of the month.”

He took baby steps down the slanted roof and to the ladder, thinking about all he and Ariana had been through to buy the café. They'd worked and saved for years. When time began to run out on the option to buy it and they were still short on funds, Quill walked her through the steps for having a successful benefit. She went to closing less than a week after the benefit. Abram started down the ladder.

Jackson waited nearby. “So why isn't Ariana running it?”

“She had to leave unexpectedly. In the two weeks between buying it and leaving, she tried to teach us how to prepare everything on the limited menu, but apparently that hasn't worked so well.” Abram hushed and stepped off the last rung.

He couldn't stop thinking about the café. No matter what he did, the café forced its way to the forefront of his mind like a punch to the head. Something had to be done. They couldn't afford to hire anybody yet, and Susie and Martha couldn't keep up with the baking, serving, cleaning, ordering, and picking up supplies.

Ariana could, but Skylar couldn't even manage to pour refills for the customers.

Without having Ariana to talk to, he actually had a hankering to talk, but he had already said too much to Jackson. The man was just being polite.

The other men who rode with Mr. Carver were loading the van with their tool belts and lunchboxes. Abram told Jackson bye and climbed in the van, tuning out everything as the others got in. Mr. Carver started the van, and once the tires hit the main road, the vehicle seemed to fly.

Abram had decisions to make, and there was only one girl to talk to about it—Cilla Yoder.

An hour after leaving the job site, Mr. Carver dropped off Abram at his house. He needed to eat something so he would feel better, but instead he went into the barn and hitched a horse and buggy. He hoped none of his family had seen him get out of the van, because he wasn't in the mood to tell them where he was going. Or how work had been.

With the buggy set, he headed out of the barn and soon was going down a gravel road. Seeing the small pond to his left made him feel nostalgic. He and Ariana used to go to the pond, lie on their bellies, and lean into the water with buckets in hand to scoop up minnows. But once they had the minnows, they would let them go. Since Ariana left, everything reminded him of her.

Pulling onto Cilla's driveway, he realized he'd been hoping she would be outside. But she wasn't. He parked his buggy and walked to the house. After hesitating a few seconds, he knocked on the door, rapping three times. They probably had their door open earlier, letting in the fall air, but with the sun setting it was getting nippy.

He heard footsteps, and when the door opened, Barbie stood on the other side—the girl he'd finally gained the courage to ask out, who had said yes, and who had then jilted him before their first date. Abram nodded at her, frustrated at feeling nervous in her presence.

“You here for Cilla?” Barbie acted friendly.

“Ya.”

“I'll tell her. Want to come in?”

That was the last thing he wanted to do. “No, just let her know I'm here.”

Barbie gently shut the door. He moved to a rocking chair and stared out at a wide field, bare except for large, round bales of hay.

Cilla came out of the house, looking chipper and healthy, as if she didn't deal with cystic fibrosis. “This is a pleasant surprise.” Her smile made his heart warm. She sat in the rocker next to him. “You know you could come inside.”

“This is good.”

They sat in silence for some time, gazing at the field and the pale orange sky. His head felt a little clearer already. “Do you think she'll like it there?”

“Ariana?” Cilla turned, studying him. “I don't know. I hope not.”

“Ya, me too.” He wanted assurance, but Cilla was too honest to tell him only what he wanted to hear. A silence stretched out for a few moments as he thought of all the Amish who had turned Englisch. Was the Englisch way of life as appealing as it looked from the Amish side? Appealing enough for people to leave their families forever? “I think I might need to quit roofing.”

“Why? You're not thinking of searching for Ariana, are you?”

“No. She has to do what Nicholas wants, or it could cause trouble for the midwife.” Abram watched the sky as the clouds moved across it. “It's so hard to believe Ariana has different parents than me. It always felt as if we were twins. We were so close.”

“You and she
are
close, Abram, not
were.
”

The clouds changed shape, looking so different from a few minutes ago. How much would circumstances change Ariana between now and when she returned? “
Are
close,” he mumbled.

“How's your Mamm doing?”

“Not great, but she tries to hide it. I overheard her talking to Daed, and she's carrying unbearable guilt. And now that Skylar is living with us, she seems to blame Mamm too. It's as if neither of them remembers that Rachel, the midwife and Mamm's friend, spent twenty years hiding her suspicions from Mamm.”

“I heard at the Sunday meeting that a blanket brought everything to light.”

“Sort of, I guess, in a roundabout way.” He imagined that a lot of what was being said wasn't accurate. Other people could think what they wanted, but he wanted Cilla to know the truth…as much as he knew it. “What happened is while Mamm was in labor, she had time on her hands, and she embroidered a small set of baby's feet in the corner of two blankets, one blue and one pink. Since she didn't know she was having twins, she thought she would need just one of those blankets. Hours later as Mamm was delivering us, the birthing center caught fire. Rachel and Daed got everyone out safe—Mamm, Ariana, Brandi, Skylar, and me.”

“Ya, I know about the fire. Everyone had to be really shaken and not thinking clearly for a while after something like that.”

“I'm sure that was part of it. Brandi and Skylar were taken to a hospital. Mamm and Daed came home with Ariana and me. A few days or weeks later Mamm realized Ariana's blanket didn't have the embroidery on it like mine did, so she talked to Rachel about it. And Rachel wasn't just the midwife; she and Mamm were good friends. When Mamm questioned her about whether there was any chance the girls had been switched at birth, Rachel assured her the answer was no.”

“Your poor Mamm must feel betrayed.”

“Probably. Rachel told her the blankets fell off the infants and were mixed up but not the girls. That's the story Rachel stuck to until my brother Mark saw Skylar performing on stage, and he couldn't get over how much she looked like Salome. He came home and told us about it. Not long afterward Mamm and Daed approached Rachel, and whatever she said caused them to ask Quill to investigate the issue secretly.”