Fraying at the Edge (21 page)

The last time she saw him he looked rough, but it'd been dark, and she couldn't tell how rough until now. It was as if Cody was going through some sort of reverse metamorphosis, like a butterfly changing into a slug. He passed her without a word and stepped up to the counter. She lingered.

“You have a customer,” Jackson said.

“Yeah.” She was supposed to know this customer, but she wasn't sure she did. She went around the counter to her place behind the register. “What can I get for you?”

He stared as if looking through her. “A coffee would be fine.”

“Anything else? Today's special is shepherd's pie.”

“No.” He looked around the place before taking a few dollars from his pocket. He held them out, and when Skylar took the bills, she felt a little baggie stuck in with the cash. A quick glance said there were more than a dozen pills. She quickly stuffed the pills into her jeans pocket and put the money in the register.

“Are you okay?” She grabbed a mug and poured coffee, hoping they didn't look suspicious.

“Sure. Everything is rosy.” Cody pulled his cell from his pocket. He picked up the mug and walked off, looking at his phone while going toward one of the empty tables on the far side of the room.

She waited a few minutes before she took the pot of coffee to his table and refilled his mug. “You don't seem like yourself.”

Cody looked up from the screen and finally focused on her. “I am myself. This just isn't the ideal situation.”

“Us?”

He hesitated and drew a deep breath. “We're good, Sky. We'll figure out the rest. I need to go, but I'll see you in a few days. Okay?”

Her heart pounded. Was he losing interest in her already? She hadn't been here two weeks yet. Did he already have someone else? It wasn't as if their relationship was built for long distance, but all her hopes were pinned on him getting her out of here and keeping her supplied with drugs. She picked up the container of sugar packets and set them closer to him, brushing his fingers with hers. “I'll be waiting. Okay?”

His lips formed into a lopsided smile. “Yeah.”

“You'll come back to the café in a few days, right? And regularly after that?”

“Yeah, of course.” He read a text on his phone.

“Cody?” she whispered.

He looked up.

“I need you.”

“I know. I won't let you down.” He got up and walked out, leaving his coffee on the table.

She took the mug with her and returned to the register. She pulled the baggie out of her pocket and saw more than two dozen pills, maybe ten of which were unfamiliar. Pain pills, she imagined. Whatever they were, he'd added them for extra relief, which was nice, but if she stuck to two pills a day, she had at least two weeks' worth. Maybe he was giving her a few extra in case she needed them or lost some. But if he was returning in a few days, why would he give her this many?

“So…” Jackson startled her.

She closed her fist and jammed the baggie into her pocket.

“Is that whoopie pie ready by any chance?”

Had he seen what was in her hand? “Let me check.”

M
usic vibrated the crisp fall air as Ariana sat on the grassy seats of the amphitheater and watched the stage. Nicholas's hands moved effortlessly across the piano keys as he accompanied a singer. The beautiful sound of his playing seemed almost miraculous, and it filled her with emotion. How could such a challenging man stir her soul with music?

And why were all instruments forbidden among the Amish?

The midafternoon sun warmed her back through her winter coat. She missed home and all who were there, but she had moments, like now, when she felt as if she would survive this time intact. Well, relatively unbroken. Whatever damage occurred between now and when she was allowed to return to Summer Grove, she would gather up the pieces and take them home, where she could mend. Had Frieda survived emotionally and spiritually when she left the community? After talking with Quill on Sunday evening, Ariana had sent him a text the next morning to forward to Frieda. Ariana had said that she'd like to communicate with her via texts or calls or a visit, but Frieda had yet to respond. Should she send another text through Quill?

Cameron walked across the wide grassy area toward her, carrying hot dogs in a paper tray and a napkin in each hand. The park and its wide sidewalks were covered with people, and the acres of green spaces had booths galore with games and food. But the gorgeous amphitheater had only a smattering of people, maybe fifty, spread across ten long, semicircular rows.

Cameron held out a hot dog. “A late lunch or an early dinner. Call it what you will, but it's better than nothing.” She eyed the food. “Hopefully.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, if Muhammad won't go to the food, the food must come to Muhammad.” Biting into her hot dog, Cameron sat.

Ariana hadn't left this spot since arriving at the fund-raiser almost four hours ago, and it would continue five more hours before moving indoors. She'd come here with Nicholas yesterday afternoon as the performers did a quick run-through for today. The music in all forms—cantatas, symphony orchestras, jazz and marching bands, and duets to quartets—was mesmerizing. Maybe it wouldn't be so magnetic if Ariana's father, the person God had put over her as an authority, wasn't fine with it, but he was, and he'd convinced her to relax and enjoy it. If it was wrong to listen and enjoy it, God would have to take it up with Nicholas.

According to the handout the stage events would shift gears throughout the day. At the opening Nicholas's college students had sung a cantata as he conducted. As one of many teachers and musicians helping out today, he was now accompanying individual singers, using an electric keyboard that looked like an upright piano. In a few minutes a talent show would begin, followed by various high school orchestras and at least one college orchestra, and at the inside venue a professional band would perform last as the grand finale.

Ariana wiped her mouth on a napkin. “So where did you ditch Brandi and Gabe?”

Cameron swallowed hard before speaking. “They were playing games like a couple of kids. They had sticks with magnets and were fishing for something. If you hear embarrassingly loud laughter, that'll be our mom.”

Any reference to Brandi being Ariana's mom still felt odd, as if it were a mistake, but the truth of it no longer shredded her. Cameron saying “our mom” also brought a new sensation with it. As an only child, Ariana not only felt less isolated, but it also helped her see Brandi through Cameron's eyes as a savior mom rather than an adulterer mom. Ariana wished she could erase all knowledge of the affair from her mind, but she was at least determined to stop viewing Brandi through tainted glass. It would just take time. And maybe Cameron's use of “our mom” helped, because Ariana had thought all Englisch teens were rude to their parents. Cameron freely gave them her opinion, often wrapped in over-the-line humor, but she wasn't bugged by her parents' existence or disrespectful to them. That was refreshing too. Ironically, Ariana seemed to be the child with the attitude problem as she struggled to accept who her parents were and who they'd once been.

When the song ended, everyone clapped. Nicholas grinned, motioning to the singer. A woman moved to the piano, and a new singer came onstage. Nicholas walked down the steps, looked for Ariana, and strode toward her.

“Hey.” He smiled and sat beside her. “Enjoying your time?”

“Yeah.” It was strange how different she felt this Saturday from last Saturday. As much as she had hated changing out of her Amish clothing and setting aside her prayer Kapp—and those things still bothered her—today she had enjoyed blending in with the people around her. No one was glancing at her and whispering, as if impressed by or questioning her faith. The feeling of invisibility she had in her Englisch clothes was very different from the feeling she had in her Amish clothing. Maybe Nicholas wasn't as wrong as she'd thought in some things he pushed her to do.

A smiling Brandi and Gabe walked up on the other side, Brandi carrying a drink in each hand and Gabe carrying bags of cotton candy. Clearly Ariana wasn't the only one doing better this Saturday than the previous two. It wasn't as if everything was rosy for her or for them. The difficulty of the situation and the grief came in waves, and sometimes it pulled all of them under, threatening to drown them. But then low tide came, and they gulped in air and rested.

Her parents spoke to each other and gave an awkward nod. But like her, they were trying.

Nicholas peered around Ariana to look at Brandi, as if wanting to make sure she would hear him. “There will be an impromptu, anyone-can-participate talent show in a few minutes.”

“That should be interesting, and that's all.”

It wasn't what Brandi had said as much as the way she'd said it that made Ariana realize Nicholas was doing more than informing them of what would come next.

The bucket list.

“Five minutes onstage and a few hours helping Quill wire a home tomorrow, and you're free to spend a day with Rudy as soon as it can be arranged with him.”

“Like next Saturday?” Ariana couldn't believe she was asking him. Wiring a home with Quill was lined up, and on a Sunday no less, but that's when she could be at the job site without being too disruptive. By doing what was typically a man's job, she would earn points. But what was she thinking? She couldn't get on that stage.

“Yes, next Saturday. The whole day.”

Ariana turned, looking at Brandi, Cameron, and Gabe.

“Go for it,” Cameron whispered.

Brandi looked less sure. “Don't let anyone move you around like a chess piece. If you want to see Rudy that badly, I'll take you myself
for the whole day.
” Her eyes flashed angrily at Nicholas.

But Ariana couldn't allow that, because Brandi didn't have God's authority to dismiss Nicholas's will.

“And now,” a woman onstage said, “we will begin the impromptu-talent-show portion of the day. If you're a singer or dancer and have music or musicians, let us know. If you need a pianist, Professor Jenkins will do his best to accompany you.”

“I have to go.” Nicholas stood. “If you decide to do it, just tell me the song. If I don't know it by heart, I can download the sheet music to my iPad.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “This isn't about proving anything to anyone but yourself. No one here knows you, and you don't have to give your name. Who you are is no one's business…except yours.” He walked off.

Cameron leaned against Ariana's shoulder. “All these years I thought he was just a hothead, and I was scared of him. I stand corrected. He's a weird hothead. Definitely more weird than hot.”

“Thanks.” Had she nailed the right sarcastic tone while aiming to tease?

“You're welcome.” Cameron elbowed her. “You gonna do it? Huh? Huh? Huh?”

A young girl, maybe ten, went to the stage and picked up the microphone. If a little girl could do it…

“Cameron,”—Brandi put her hand firmly on Cameron's knee, giving her the mom squeeze—“leave her alone.”

“Hey, I'm just curious,” Cameron said. “You and Dad have always encouraged me to ask any and all questions that come to mind.” Cameron's playful energy bowled right over Brandi's correction.

Gabe looked around his wife and daughter to make eye contact with Ariana, silently asking if she needed him to wrestle with his high-energy, says-too-much daughter.

“She's fine,” Ariana assured him. “Annoying, but fine.”

Gabe and Brandi laughed. Gabe tossed a bag of cotton candy onto Cameron's lap. “Eat and be quiet.”

“Oh, the good stuff.” She ripped open the bag, plucked out a wad, and held out the bag to Ariana.

The girl onstage was really good, but she sounded nervous. Still, she was up there. Couldn't Ariana do that so she and Rudy could see each other?

Ariana took a big pinch. “You called him a hothead, and I know he's an opinionated stickler, but I thought musicians were supposed to be mellow.”

Brandi was leaning in, listening to Ariana and Cameron.

“Yeah, that's the stereotype,” Cameron said. “But your dad breaks the mold. Still, he seems different with you.” Cameron looked at Brandi. “Doesn't he?”

“Yeah. He's different with her.” Brandi smiled, but there was hurt in her eyes. Even though Brandi appeared to be glad that Nicholas felt strongly about her, she was probably hurt for Skylar's sake.

Cameron put another wad of cotton candy in her mouth. “He's, like, human and being only half-throttle difficult rather than full throttle.”

“He's right that I don't know anyone here except you four.” Ariana finally put the sticky stuff in her mouth. “Wow,” she mumbled, licking her fingers, “that's even better than it smells.”

“Told you. Stick with me, kid. I know everything.”

“Cameron,” Brandi said, “that is just so not true.”

“I don't know
everything
?” Cameron mocked being offended. “But you could fill a thimble with all I know, right?”

Brandi laughed. “Definitely. Maybe even two.”

“There you have it. I know more than enough, a whole thimbleful, maybe two.”

Ariana looked at the sparse audience. Most people were milling about in the rest of the park, playing games and eating. “I could have Nicholas's blessing to see Rudy by this time next week, and almost no one is here to see it.”

Cameron pulled her cell phone from her jeans, cotton candy sticking to her fingers, and directed it at the stage. “No one, except however many thousands of people watch this on YouTube.”

Ariana looked at Brandi. “If I go onstage, confiscate her phone.”

“Done.” Brandi snatched it from Cameron, smiling as she tucked it away in her purse. “I had to get it while the getting was good. Just in case.” Brandi patted her purse. “So, Ariana, if you went up there, what would you perform?”

“I'd sing, I guess.” It was nuts even to consider doing that and crazier that it was Skylar's singing onstage that had brought to light the bizarre truth about their being swapped at birth. But it felt right to defy fear and Amish tradition and sing onstage. Who cared whether she could sing or not? She and Susie used to sing Englisch songs while cleaning other people's homes, so she knew she could carry a tune.

While she wrestled with herself, different performers went onstage, did their thing, and received applause as they returned to their seats. It wasn't a spotlight event. It was a community enjoying themselves. Not really much different from playing volleyball while onlookers cheered for them, was it?

The emcee was onstage again. “Anyone else?” She looked around, waiting. “Last call. Anyone?”

Ariana couldn't believe she was on her feet with her hand up. Fear clutched her, and she turned to Brandi.

Brandi grinned with an I'm-in-your-corner motherly look. “You want me to go with you?”

Relief skittered through Ariana. “Would you?”