For Sure & Certain (25 page)

“And you know he was growing pot out there and selling it?”

“I didn’t know that part,” Marigold said slowly, still unfazed. “But I do know he’s been out here, visiting with your parents. And we went to his mom’s quilting circle.” Marigold knew the only way to bridge Bekah and Abel was to explain the things they were too reserved and proper to discuss. “They’re getting serious, and the last thing I want is for you to get news that they’re engaged, without even knowing they were seeing one another.”

“So you think this is a good idea?”

“Them courting in general or us going to dinner tonight?

“All of it.”

“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t find a way to let them back into your life.”

“I don’t think any of this fits into my life, Marigold.”

They looked around the office, the wooden chairs and desk, the flat surface that didn’t house a laptop or fax machine. She knew what her parents’ offices looked like, what any modern office looked like. A charging dock and a flat-screened monitor. Click-clacking on a keyboard and a constant buzz of a phone with incoming texts. Watching Abel here, amid the invoices handwritten on carbon-copied paper, she wondered if being at Jamestown was a bad idea, like his father feared. Not everyone would choose this life over the allure of a University with all the latest technological conveniences.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, the one filled with longing. “Maybe you ought to just go with them tonight. I’ll stay behind,” she offered. “I mean, honestly, this is all between the three of you, and I think I did my part in letting you know where they were coming from.”

Of course she wanted to go with them. She wanted to sit next to Abel and brush her hand against his, she wanted to ride home in his buggy and have his lip on hers like they had been last night. She wanted all of him, but she also knew if he didn’t want all of her, she needed to step away until he changed his mind, or until her feelings faded.

“You’re okay with that?”

“For sure and certain,” she answered. And she was.  Their story wasn’t going to continue unless he wanted it to.

chapter fourteen

Abel

G
oing out to dinner with his sister and Joshua was unnecessary. If the two of them wanted to spend Saturday evening together, they ought to spend the night hours without him in tow. Before he would give that blessing, however, he needed to speak with Joshua on his own, to see for himself if he’d really changed as much as Marigold seemed to believe he had.

Pulling up at Joshua’s parents’ house, he saw Katie walking out the back door in a hurry, clearly not noticing he’d arrived.

“Is Joshua here?” Abel asked, startling her, as he stood only a few feet away.

“You punk, you snuck up on me.” She moved to push him, but he jumped out of the way. “Don’t you know better than to do that to girls?” She flashed him a smile meant to draw him in.

“I didn’t mean to, honest. But is your brother around?” Abel had no interest in beating around the bush, or encouraging Katie, she’d always found ways to flirt with him.

“Why? My brother’s gone all straight edge. He’s no fun.”

“Is he now?”

“You should know, everyone’s talking about it. Your sister and him couldn’t be less discreet if they tried. But all proper, too. The bishop’s happy that’s for sure, a redemption story and all that.” She twisted her lips, before adding, “So are you and Marigold really together or are you…?” When he didn’t answer right away she took it as an opening. “I’m headed down to the cabin, want to come with?

“Seriously, Katie, I don’t have time for this,” Abel said, cutting her off. Her flirting had always seemed harmless, but nothing seemed harmless anymore.

The idea that Joshua had spent time at his parents’ home was hard to wrap his head around. Openly courting wasn’t something Amish did very often, and it indicated things were getting serious between them. If Katie was being honest here, Bekah and Joshua were probably already planning a wedding. The knot in his stomach grew.

“So, I’m here for Joshua,” Abel said again. “I can go to the front door if you’re not gonna help.”

“Fine, Abel, you’re always such a buzz kill.” Katie huffed back to the door calling for her brother. Abel couldn’t help but wonder when she’d picked up so much English vernacular, but he guessed it had to do with the miscreants she hung out with.

Joshua came out the back door, nodding hello at his oldest friend, and Katie waved good-bye.

“She okay by herself?” Abel couldn’t help but ask, worry crawling up his back.

“Probably not, but she won’t listen to anyone. Mom and Dad can’t get her to reel it in, and the bishop has already threatened her a few times.” Joshua rubbed his hand across his cheek. “It worries me, for sure. You know what goes on down there, she’s gonna get hurt.”

“You should stop her, Joshua, it’s your fault she got caught up in that crowd at all.”

“Not true, you can’t tame a wild horse not wanting to be reigned in. You know that.”

“But now you want to be tamed? By Bekah?” Abel’s words were cold, and Joshua stepped back a few steps at the impact they made.

He recovered quickly. “So, cutting right to the chase, ja?” Joshua smirked, as if he knew this conversation had been coming for a while. Abel resented the fact his friend had time to think it through, Abel had been smacked with this information just an hour earlier.

“I told you straight up to stay away from her.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.” Joshua pulled Abel by the arm and dragged him to the back of his family’s barn for a more private conversation. “Listen, I know that night at the cabin got crazy. We’d had a lot to drink, and I didn’t mean for the night to go down like that … but things are different now.”

“Right, a few months can change a person entirely, that’s what you want me to believe?” Abel had his arms crossed against his chest. “That’s what you’re selling to the bishop and apparently my parents, and mostly, Bekah.”

“Forget it, Abel. I knew it would be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Judging me. And Bekah. And everyone. It’s always like this with you. And I’m not doing it anymore. Maybe you should do what you’ve always wanted, walk away. Leave this life.”

It was a blow to hear Joshua talk that way about him, and the shock took his breath away, leaving him speechless. Memories flashed through Abel’s mind, the years the two of them had fished down at the pond near the edge of the Lapp’s property, the winter days where they snow shoed across farms, looking through binoculars at the birds hovering in the trees, bringing them crumbs from their mothers’ kitchen cupboards. The school days when they were young, where he’d go with Bekah to meet up with Joshua and Katie and they’d walk together, lunch pails in tow, to the one room schoolhouse.

But now they were men, the two of them in a standoff. Abel wasn’t about to ask Joshua what he meant about the Amish life not being for him, he knew exactly what he was trying to say. Clarification wasn’t necessary, and he didn’t really care what Joshua thought of his own life plans anyhow. What he needed to know was that Joshua wasn’t using Bekah. He’d disappointed so many people already, his parents, Eli, Marigold. He didn’t need to add Bekah to that list.

“You’ve truly sewn your wild oats?”

“Ja, I’m ready to take my kneeling vows come fall.”

“What made you so certain, Joshua, after you strayed so far?” Abel dropped his arms, suddenly more vulnerable, really wanting to know what had made his old friend so sure. Nothing filled Abel with that sort of confidence, and in all honesty that’s what he wanted. He was tired of this tug of war in his heart; he envied anyone able to discern so clearly their future.

“It wasn’t Bekah, is that’s what you’re worried about. That I wanted her so I gave up everything to get a girl.” Joshua shook his head, leaning against the wooden red slats of the barn. “It happened right after you left. I looked around, wondering what I’d do if you really never returned, like I’d always been scared would happen. And I realized I didn’t want to go anywhere, even if my best friend wasn’t going to be along for the ride. The only place I wanted to be was here in Lancaster, with my community.”

“Just like that?”

“Look, I’m glad we had our Rumspringa together, I’m glad I had that time with you, my best friend. But truly, Abel, I’m ready to stop running around.”

The knot that had wrapped tight around his chest ever since Marigold told him about his sister and Joshua began to loosen. His friend spoke plainly, and honesty was written on his face. He had no gain in lying now.

“And Bekah?” he asked.

“I love her. I know it’s not very Amish to say, and I haven’t said it to her, but it’s true. I intend to marry her.”

“How can you know everything you want forever, so fast? Aren’t you scared you’ll get it wrong?” Abel asked the question that had burned inside him for weeks, the question of where he belonged, and with whom. Marigold was just like Joshua … they saw everything so clear. Their eyes were colored with a fearlessness Abel didn’t have. He wanted to be washed over with that sort of clarity.

“Not everything has to be hinged to a question. Sometimes the answer hangs on it’s own, without needing an explanation.”

“I’m sorry for assuming the worst.”

“Ja, I know, Abel.” Joshua clapped him on the back, bringing him in for a quick hug, not needing to linger on what they both seemed to understand. They’d remain friends, for a long time yet, and maybe even family one day.

“Now,” Joshua said. “Before you leave for Jamestown, what in the world is the deal Marigold?”

Abel laughed slowly, “If I knew that I wouldn’t be asking you how you knew for sure.”

***

He woke early the next morning, having arranged himself a taxi to come before the rest of the house woke to begin preparing for church. A small bag was slung over his shoulder and he grabbed a muffin in a paper napkin before slipping out the back door into the still dark morning sky.

A figure in the distance, walking towards him from the field where the low hanging willow tree stood tall, caught his eye. Marigold.

Her hair was down, draped over her shoulders, her body wrapped in a shawl, as if she needed an extra layer of protection for her heart. He guessed she probably did, after he trampled on it so effortlessly the morning before.

“Abel?” She called to him, her voice carried like a wave, a gentle current coming towards him. He wouldn’t let himself get caught in the unintentional net she cast. He wasn’t what she needed; she needed the long expanse of the seaboard, an open-armed beach where her waves could curl up against a sandy edge. He was a deep-set bank; her swells wouldn’t reach him, not now, now when he was like this. He’d chosen to step away from the shore, from the margin in which she lived. This ghost-girl walking on water, performing miracles in the dawn of the day.

He didn’t deserve a girl so sure. A girl so comfortable with living in the depths when he was scared to step on shore. He’d drown out there and didn’t want her to be the one saving him. He wanted to save himself, first.

“You’re leaving.”

She didn’t ask. There were no questions left. He had to figure out what he wanted before he would come back, they both knew this unspoken truth.

Without whispering the breakable-promise of
I’ll see you soon
or
I’ll be back
, he simply brushed his lips against her cheek, and walked away.

Marigold

She expected to fall apart in the weeks after he left.

But she didn’t.

She had dealt with the semi-famous-fall-out of being a video sensation, and all the overwrought shame associated with flinging herself so desperately onto the computer screen of anyone who would look. There had been the break up with friends who no longer understood her, a family who never had. And somehow those things had made her stronger than she knew. Strong in a way she only realized after Abel left in the taxi, the high beams shining on her face. Strength she finally saw the moment she didn’t cover her eyes.

She had nothing to hide.

Abel had told her before that she wore her heart on her sleeve, and as she worked on the weaving before her, sitting in the yarn shop, she could see what he meant. She pulled taut the golden-rod thread up with a needle; subconsciously adding to a bright yellow heart on the center of the piece she was working on.

There had been no falling apart after he left because in her heart, she didn’t doubt what they had. There was no rush for her, for them, to be together. She’d simply told him how she felt, and let that be enough.

Heaven knew she had enough on her mind here at the Millers’ with him gone. Mostly the constant rub about what came next. Summer was pulling to a close.

“Marigold, you almost done? Dinner’s ready.” Bekah came in the shed catching Marigold at her work. “Oh, wow, that’s lovely.” Bekah gushed praise without restraint and Marigold blushed, shaking her head at the compliment. But even she could tell her weaving had improved, the lines more even, the colors more complementary. It was a labor of love, for sure, but with the shop usually empty, and the weeks flying by, she had hours to practice.