For Sure & Certain (12 page)

“It’s not about the Yoder’s. It’s about you getting your priorities in line. In fact, you should come tomorrow, get your head on straight again about what is important.”

“Yes, Dad.” Abel stood, wanting to find Marigold, wanting to be around someone who understood that there was more to life than this singular farm.

***

Abel walked into the dining room later that evening knowing something was up. Marigold smiled extra wide, his mother and sister suddenly smitten with the girl they had narrowed their eyes at just one day ago. His dad wouldn’t make eye contact, and Eli wasn’t there to be a buffer between them.

His mom and dad discussed the shearing, and Abel answered questions politely about how many pounds of wool they expected to garner. Having the largest sheep farm in the county meant they turned a good profit, especially since he’d made suggestions about the way they bag the wool, using plastic packaging now instead of the typical burlap. Buyers responded well to the changes he’d implemented and it meant only good things for the family business.

After dessert, and once the table cleared, his mom pulled Abel aside.

“Why don’t you take Marigold for a ride in your buggy? She’d probably like to see some of the local farms.”

“It’s dark out, Mom.”

“Oh, well, maybe you can catch up, it’s been a long day.”

“Dad’s okay with this?”

“Don’t see why not, you’re on your Rumspringa after all, can’t exactly tell you what to do or not do, can we? Anyways, it was his idea.”

After getting his closed-top buggy hitched, Abel helped Marigold step in. Once settled and moving down the road, he stole a look at the girl beside him.

“What?” she asked.

“Is that one of the six questions left?”

“No, I’m not up for games tonight.” She paused, and then said, “So why did you look at me like that when you got in the buggy?”

“You’re biting your lip, that means you want say something but are holding back.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve been watching you, and it’s as if there is always something more you want to say.”

“I don’t know what you’ll think.” Marigold sat with her hands in her lap, and with her hair pulled away from her face in a tight braid, Abel saw the nervousness in her eyes, even in the dark of the buggy.

“Try me.”

“Well, I sort of found a job.”

His eyebrows knit together and he stole another glance at her.

“Why didn’t you say something yesterday, while we were on the trip here?”

Marigold blew air out of her mouth. “I didn’t have the job offer then … your mom kind of offered it to me.”

“What?”

“Your mom, she spoke with your dad and they said I could stay here at the farm, if I wanted. And help.”

Abel watched the empty road, emotion rising in his chest. He wanted to ask if she was insane, but instead quietly looked for a place to pull his buggy over as he tried to put together a coherent thought. A gravel lot at a fruit stand was empty for the night and he pulled his horse to a stop.

“I don’t understand, what would
you
do for them?” he asked incredulous, not able to keep his resistance at bay.

“I could help a lot, Abel, I’m quite capable.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable. I just, I don’t see why they would need an English girl like you. There’s not even a precedent for this sort of thing.”

“Precedent of not, your mom said it might be providence.  Do you believe in that?”

“In Gods will? A divine calling?” Abel turned his body to face her easier. “I don’t know what I believe.”

“Well, me either, but it’s not like I am converting to anything by helping your mom with her yarn shop.”

“Yarn shop?”

“Yes, her shed’s filled to the brim. You’ve never seen it?”

“Why would I investigate my mom’s hobbies? I work in the barn, I do the work that requires managerial skills.”

“Oh, I see.” Marigold pursed her lips and rolled her eyes slightly.

“What was that?” Abel asked, having never seen Marigold annoyed before.

“You are just different than I expected.”

“So are you.”

And she was. Marigold entered his family home, the home that had stifled him forever, and had seamlessly found her place. His own mom inviting her to stay? He’d never heard of such a thing.

“I don’t think it’s as unheard of as you may think, Abel,” said Marigold, her voice softer. “When your mom was younger, she had a cousin stay with her and she says it was the best summer of her childhood. She wants the same for Bekah, especially now with Esther gone.”

“When did all this happen, Mom thinking you and Bekah could become friends? This morning at breakfast Bekah glared so much I thought her eyes might fall out.”

“Apparently she wasn’t glaring at me. That’s something between the two of you.” Marigold looked at him pointedly. When he didn’t respond, she added dryly, “Besides, I think it’s my naturally charming disposition that won them over.”

“You
are
charming.”

“You’re just saying that because your family likes me, even though I’m not Amish.”

“No, I’m saying that because
I like you
.”

“Do you really think it’s a bad idea, me staying at your house?”

“What did your parents say?”

Marigold laughed nervously. “I haven’t told them, I mean, they want me to get a job, but they won’t be happy about this, it’s like the opposite of what they want.”

“Then you should do it.”

“You want me to intentionally go against my parents’ wishes?” Marigold asked, her inflection hinting at her surprise. “That doesn’t sound like a very Amish thing to say.” She reached up to touch the brim of his hat. He took her hand in his, and spoke plainly.

“Not that, but since I met you, all you’ve said is how you feel lost and stuck and not understood. Maybe trying something else would help you figure out what it is you want.”

“Do you think I could do this, live in an Amish home?”

“Of course you could do it, especially for a summer. But forever? I don’t think many people convert to this way of life and stick it out for long.”

“I have no intentions of forever. I was thinking until September.”

“Ja, you can do it for a few months. You just might need a few aprons.”

“I can sew quite well, Abel, I’ve made most of my clothes. And besides I wore that cute apron yesterday.”

“Yeah, an apron with ruffles and embroidered birds isn’t an Amish apron, Marigold.” He shook his head in disbelief. This was the strangest conversation be ever expected to have with Marigold. “So you’re staying?”

“Are you mad?”

“At you?”

“At any of this.”

“No. I’m doing the same thing, figuring myself out. I would never hold that against you.”

“There isn’t very much room for you and me in this scenario,” Marigold said, looking down at their hands resting on the bench of the buggy.

“Don’t suppose there is.” He leaned in, his forehead touching hers. He felt her breath and wanted to pull her in close.

“Do you care if we’re apart?” Marigold asked passively, as if wanting him to reassure her.

“That’s a very English thing to say.”

Marigold let out a small humph before asking with a smirk, “Do you always call girls out on the words they choose?” She pulled back, blinking slowly. Her long lashes like feathers soft and full, and he had the urge to press her against his face to feel them flutter.

“I’d like you to say what you mean is all.”

“You want me to say that I like you,” she whispered into the night air. “You want me to say that I feel like I’ve known you for longer than a solitary week. That I wonder if you’ll go back to the city and fall for some girl like Lily, and forget me, the girl living in your parents’ house. I wonder why it matters since I am very much not Amish and you very much are.”

He thought she was finished, and he was grateful she spoke her wonderings aloud. He wanted to hear her opinions, understand her mind. Even if they were going to be apart, so much of him wanted to know her more.

But Marigold kept going, though her words soft and slow. Suddenly her floodgates opened and she was willing to reveal more of herself to him. “I wonder if you only like me because I am different, therefore interesting. I wonder what happens if I’m more than interested in you.” Her face was close to his once more, her lips nearly brushing Abel’s as she spoke in a hushed voice. “I wonder if you like me back. If you want to kiss me. If you want me to kiss you first.”

“You mean all of that?” Abel asked, his voice cracking in the darkness, his heart beating fast from the words Marigold wondered aloud. Words too tender to dismiss, words he had no desire to ignore.

She kissed him before he could answer. Her kisses like clouds and her body light as a feather and he pulled her close knowing she meant everything she said.

He knew that he’d see her again, kiss her again. He didn’t know if he believed in providence, but he did believe them finding one another was more than coincidence.

chapter seven

Marigold

“I know, but you telling me I can’t stay is only going to want me to be here all the more. You can’t reverse-psychology me, Mom. I’m a teenager, it’s like, my job to know better than that.” Marigold twirled the outdated phone cord in her hand, using the business line since her cell didn’t get service this far out of town.

              She sat on a crate in the barn on Abel’s farm, the smell of sweet hay in the air, the sheep baaing around her as if trying to drone out the hiss of her mother’s voice.

“This is just so absurd. You hardly know these people.”

“Tabby is hiking in Peru with absolute strangers. I’m asking to stay a few hours from home for eight weeks. Worse case scenario I start praying to a god I don’t believe in or quit drinking socially. These are not things a mother should be against.”

“It’s just so weird, I can’t in good conscious leave you with strangers.”

“Honestly, Mom, I don’t think I’m asking for your permission. I am eighteen and am staying here, with a girl my age, to help her parents at their farm. It’s not like I’m joining the military or something.”

“Your father will be so--“

“Don’t even start with that. Dad won’t notice my absence. Ask Lily about Abel, she’s friends with him. He’s completely sincere.”

“I know. That’s why I let you go this weekend in the first place.”

“You’re the one who told me to get a job. I got one. And you know what? I’m actually excited. I want this.”

Mom drew in a deep breath; one so loud Marigold could hear it through the phone line.

“Just say yes and that you’ll send me my stuff.”

“We aren’t even religious, Marigold, you aren’t cut out to live with those people. You had a three point seven GPA for Christ’s sake.”

“First of all, those grades were ridiculously skewed and you know it. Secondly I’m literally so confused how grades factor into this summer job.”

“You’re better than this.”

“Mom, I’m done. I can’t keep going around and around with you. If you don’t want to send me the clothes I’ll just suck it up and ask Lily.”

“Okay, fine, Goldie. This is so typical. You can’t do anything like anyone else. You always insist on being different.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Of course it is.” Her voice was angry now, and this was the exact reason Marigold had no interest in living in her parents’ house for another day. “I thought I was the epitome of passion and justice, standing in a picket line, protesting like everyone else on my college campus, but you know what? It didn’t create change; it made me reliant on the people offering handouts, pushing away my family in the meantime. I don’t want you couch surfing as you work a part time, minimum wage job.”

“I get it. You don’t want me to stand up for what I believe in.”

“Oh, Goldie, and what exactly is the ‘pie in the sky creed’ you believe?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out.”

“And how long will your little experiment as a farmer last?”

“I want to stay until Labor Day weekend. I’ll come back that Friday, but no sooner. I’m doing this.”

“We always go the Outer Banks for Labor Day, you’ll be back for that?”

“No, I don’t want to do that this year.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am tired of doing things for you.”

“Fine,” her mother said, her voice short, and Marigold felt the sharpness. “I’ll cancel the trip.”

“Mom, don’t be like that.”