Ties That Bind (31 page)

The deacon's wife walked across the lawn, carrying a basket of baked goods. She eyed him, clearly trying to figure out who he was. Hoping to avoid a scene, he lowered his cap and turned. He'd been spotted a few times today, but the others had turned away, avoiding him as much as he avoided them.

She paused. “You're one of the Schlabach boys, right?” Her voice wavered in that elderly woman way.

He turned, offering a smile as he nodded. “Yes. I'm Quill. Beautiful day, isn't it?”

There were more people here than even Ariana had prayed for. Her Daed said it had taken three visits with the church leaders to convince them to let her have this benefit. Isaac had humbly held his ground, and he'd won. Since Isaac had shared that news with Quill, he'd caught himself thanking God throughout the days that followed.

She studied him. “I…I pray for you. I don't know much about what went on. It was a secretive scandal, but I believe things that weren't your fault came against you, and I've grieved over the whole distasteful mess.”

He tried to thank her, but he couldn't manage to say a word. The deacon's wife hadn't condemned him? The deacon's job was to carry out the letter of the law—the Bible and the Ordnung. If the bishop came for a
correcting
visit, that was bad news. If the deacon came, it was much worse.

If she felt this way, were there others like her?

“Martha?”

She turned to see her husband coming toward them. “I best go.”

“Denki for your prayers.”

She smiled and started to walk off, but one leg seemed to buckle, and Quill caught her before she fell. Her husband ran toward her. “Martha, bischt du allrecht?”

She shooed him with her hand. “Ya.
Ich bin gut.
”

Within minutes a crowd of Amish had gathered, and she was still clutching Quill's hand.

“I'm fine.” She finally released his hand, dusted off her dress, and pulled the basket close again. “I'm just glad Quill Schlabach was here to catch me.”

So much for staying incognito.

As if realizing what she had said, she gasped and looked at him apologetically. All eyes moved to him. Some of the faces quickly hardened with disapproval. That didn't surprise him any. But some seemed to indicate interest and hints of forgiveness. Considering the way he and Frieda had departed, he couldn't believe the less-than-hostile reactions.

“Geh.”
She shooed the people away. “Geh.”

The elderly woman knew her power as the deacon's wife, and clearly she didn't mind using it. Slowly the group dispersed, many glancing back at Quill. The deacon stood firm, as did a few others. She squeezed Quill's hand before letting go.
“Nachsicht.”

Forbearance?
Why would she whisper that word?

“When I pray for you, that word comes again and again. I looked it up. It means patient self-control, restraint, and tolerance, but I have no idea why it continues to come to mind concerning you.”

He didn't either. Wasn't he decent at forbearing? His Daed used to say that forbearance was being patient with those who thought they were right. Maybe others needed forbearance for him, because he definitely thought he was right a lot.

“Kumm.” Her husband took the basket from her and put his hand under her elbow.

Only one person remained—Mark, a former close friend and Ariana's brother.

With steely eyes casting judgment, Mark walked toward him. “Does she know you're here?”

The
she
was Ariana, and Quill nodded.

Concern entered Mark's eyes. “Why are you back?”

The phone in Quill's pocket vibrated, the one that few had the number for, reserved for emergencies…and Ariana. He had bought her a cell phone, and she called when she needed something.

How was Quill supposed to answer Mark? Questions like his were part of why he avoided being seen. He glanced at the screen. It wasn't a number he recognized, so it had to be a wrong number, telemarketer, or Brandi. “I…need to take this call.” Quill gave a brief, friendly wave as he walked away. He slid his finger across the screen. “Hello.”

He could hear muffled voices, one of which was a man's. “How is it possible you never told me that my daughter was born in an Amish clinic?”

“Hello?” Quill called out. “Brandi?”

The call ended. Quill debated whether to call back, but it sounded as if he'd been called by accident. When he looked up, he realized Mark had followed him.

“Mark.” Quill nodded.

“I asked why you're back.”

“Business.” Mostly to do with Ariana and the café, but he wasn't going to add that part. Quill's phone rang again. “I need to go, but it was good to see you.”

“Ya, maybe. I suppose that depends on all that's going on that you're
not
telling me, doesn't it?” Mark walked off.

That kind of reaction was expected, but it wasn't much fun. Definitely not encouraging. Still, even former best friends had good reasons to perceive him as the enemy.

Quill swiped his finger across the phone again. “Hello.”

“Quill?”

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“It's Brandi. We're…we're here.”

“Here?”

“On the square in front of Boscos Brewery.”

He headed in that direction, walking as fast as he could. “And by
we
you mean who?”

“Skylar's dad and me. We…we needed to come, to ride and talk while trying to process the shock…you know?”

As Quill went up the sidewalk on one side of the street, he saw Ariana and Rudy on the other side, leaving the café and heading toward the green space. She spotted Quill and smiled—a grateful, excited grin. At least he'd finally accomplished one truly good thing on her behalf.

He wasn't sure he had managed even a small response to Ariana as he hurried toward the brewery. “You both know that Ariana has not yet been told anything, right?”

“We know,” the man responded. It sounded as if Brandi had pressed the button for the speaker. “I…need to talk to someone close to the situation.”

The man didn't sound pleased, but he did seem in control. Quill continued toward the brewery. He wasn't sure he fit the category of
close,
but he was fairly well informed, and he was willing to run interference so Ariana could finish her day without incident. “I'm the only one available today.”

“Then we need to meet,” the man said.

When Brandi saw Quill, she got out of the vehicle.

Despite her bloodshot, swollen eyes, Brandi's blank face and softer tone seemed to indicate she was much more in control of herself than when Quill saw her four days ago. She barely nodded. “Hi.”

The man got out of the car, hanging back. “You're Amish?”

A few steps ahead of the man, Brandi rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He's confused about the whole situation. But it's my fault. He didn't know I'd had her at an Amish birthing center until I told him after you left my home. I'm sorry that we just showed up like this.”

“Nicholas Jenkins.” The man held out his hand.

“Quill Schlabach.” They shook hands. “I'm former Amish, and I've been helping Ariana's parents navigate this…possible incident.”

“It's not a possible incident anymore.” Nicholas rubbed one eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb, looking confused and angry.

Quill glanced from Nicholas to Brandi. “You have the DNA results already?”

“Yeah.” Brandi released a long stream of air, her eyes filling with tears.

Nicholas pulled a paper from his pocket. “I have friends at the lab, and I asked them to rush it. We got the results in today's mail.” He thumped the paper. “I hate what's happening. Saying I'm angry doesn't touch it.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket.

Quill shouldn't feel as if this was shocking news, but his head spun and his pulse raced. He'd known what the results were likely to be, but apparently he'd been holding on to far more hope than he'd realized. “And?” Why did he even need to ask?

Brandi broke into fresh tears. “Skylar carries no DNA from either of us.”

Quill had to rest against something. He moved to the bumper of their vehicle, propped his feet on the curb, and lowered his head, trying to stop the world from swaying.

He'd had few doubts what the results would show since the day he talked to Skylar at the mall and verified her birth date. Everything after that was a matter of going through the necessary checklist, but he'd known the truth. Nevertheless, the power of the disappointment pressing in on him was as if he had never suspected anything. “Have you told Skylar?”

“No. We talked to her about…The tests revealed”—Brandi squeezed her eyes shut, taking deep breaths—“other issues.”

Other issues? “Is she sick?” He really didn't have the right to ask that, but that hadn't stopped him.

Brandi's shoulders slumped, and her face showed tremendous stress. “No.” She glanced at Nicholas. “And I guess we could be grateful that she's not.”

Nicholas drew a deep breath. “Don't play Little Miss Sunshine. There is
nothing
in this mess to be grateful for.”

The man's phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and turned it off. “I know almost nothing about the Amish, although I spent hours Googling them yesterday. Can you help me understand how our daughter has been raised, tell me about her parents?”

Quill willed himself to stand upright and be a man about this. It seemed wise to be as courteous and friendly as possible. “Sure, I can try.”

He could see how this calm, reasonable man with an undercurrent of overwhelming emotion could be Ariana's dad. Quill told him a lot and then answered dozens of questions.

Nicholas had the same long, steady gaze as Ariana, seeming inquisitive, trusting, and skeptical at the same time. “You haven't mentioned this so-called midwife. She clearly knew there was a chance the girls had been switched, and yet she's still practicing?” The anger in his tone was undeniable.

Quill had a feeling this man would be willing to file charges against Rachel. “She does still practice.”

“And?”

“I can't tell you more.”

“Can't or won't?”

“I probably know less than you do about what happened that night. I haven't spoken to Rachel. My only concern in all this has been Ariana.”

“That's not my only concern, but it's half of it. I feel as if I”—he turned to Brandi—“
we
have two daughters to look out for in this situation.”

Quill took a cleansing breath. Maybe this situation wouldn't be nearly as bad as he'd braced himself for. “Lovina and Isaac feel the same way. If we work together—”

“Yes, together. As it turns out, I think this situation may benefit both girls.”

“Nicholas,” Brandi scolded, “not now.”

“I think now is the perfect time. Quill is clearly the go-between, a man who understands the Amish as well as people like us. What was the word Skylar used?”

“English,” Brandi said.

“Yeah, she said we're called English. Apparently your forte is knowing both Amish and English, so you can tell the Brennemans my intentions. Break it to them gently, and get their feedback. If you'd rather not, I'll send my lawyer to speak with them.”

“What is it you want me to tell them?”

“Skylar's drug test came back positive for a cocktail of drugs. Her supplier is her boyfriend, and I threatened to bring charges against him unless he disappears from her life completely and permanently. Let Lovina and Isaac know of the situation, and if they wish to spend time with her immediately, then we'll give Skylar a choice of rehab or time here. Either way, she'll have to do weekly drug testing. But where she lives during the next three to six months will be up to her. As much as I detest religion, I can't stop her from eventually having contact with them. They are her family, and a little Plain life might help her get her head on straight. But if she chooses rehab, Lovina and Isaac will be free to contact her afterward and free to lure her here to get to know them if she will come.”

“That seems fair.”

“Unfortunately, the next part won't sound fair. Ariana needs to get away from this backwoods way of life. I'm appalled at what I've learned about the Amish over the last couple of days. Religious services that last three hours? Stopping education at the eighth grade? No music? No television or movies? No freedom concerning dress or hair? My God, what do they allow?”

“Ariana loves the Amish way—”

“Of course she does. She has absolutely nothing to compare it with, and from what I read on the Internet, what precious little she has been taught clearly centers on a long list of ‘thou shalt nots.' I have only one ‘thou shalt not' I live by, and it's ‘thou shalt not keep my child from experiencing the real world.' Now, trust me, I know how that sounds since Skylar has had that opportunity and has clearly abused it. That's something we'll spend the needed time and effort to get her past, but at least she's had every opportunity to find her talent, to explore the possibilities of where her dreams can take her.”

“Ariana is an adult. In less than a week, she'll own a café that she's named Brennemans' Perks. That's her surname, Brenneman, and it's a name shared by people she adores, people she believes to be her family. She has a boyfriend, siblings, a life.” Could they hear Quill's plea?

“I won't take any of that away from her. I'm only asking her to hit the Pause button. Give us and the life she was meant to have an honest chance.”

“Then you're saying it's her choice whether to leave her home and people or not, right?”

“Eventually. But she needs to live with us for a while—at least a year, I think—dividing time between her mom's home and mine.”