Fraying at the Edge

by Cindy Woodsmall

  “I guess hoping for you to feel any excitement about it is asking a bit much.” He pursed his lips, a faint smile shining through. “The plan was that you’d be so thrilled about having a car you wouldn’t mind the next part.” He shrugged. “We have a ways to go before we understand each other.” He pulled out the large, thick manila envelope that held all the papers he’d needed to prove her identity. “Still, I have some goals for you, a sort of bucket list.” He handed her a small stack of papers that were stapled together.

  “Bucket list?”

  “Yeah, it’s usually a list of things people want to do before they die. In this case it’s a list of items you need to accomplish before you return to Summer Grove.”

  She skimmed it. He wanted her to get ten manicures and pedicures and five massages. She thumped the paper. “Manicures? Pedicures? Massages?”

  “They’re an indulgence that most women I know enjoy, and I want you to see that there isn’t anything evil about them.”

  “Ten?”

  “I thought it might take you a while to chill about it and see that it’s fun.”

  Why did he put such a premium on buying and enjoying things? She continued reading. “Attend an outdoor fund-raising concert?”

  “I’m helping with a charity event next Saturday for a student of mine who’s battling cancer. I saw that you held an Amish benefit, and I thought it’d be good for you to see how we hold an English fund-raiser. It’ll have a concert, a talent show, food, games, and whatever else the committee comes up with to earn some money for the family.”

  That was certainly something she could agree to. “Okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, sure. Something like that didn’t need to be on this list.”

  “Good.”

  She returned to the list. He also wanted her to find a friend, go shopping with an Englisch friend four times, stay in a hotel, watch twenty-five movies, pick one religion and learn enough about it to pass a college-freshman-level test, and pick a destination at least seven hundred miles away and drive there by herself. “This is a lot of stuff.”

  “You have a year to chip away at those items. Twenty-five movies over the course of a year is only one movie every other week.”

  She read more. “Go to a bar?” What kind of dad wanted his child to go to a bar? Especially an underage child!

  “Yeah, a bar. Just to see that neither the bar nor the people who go there are something to fear. If you learn anything this year, I’d like it to be that life should be lived with bold, brassy courage.”

  “I’m not even of legal drinking age.”

  “Then don’t drink while you’re there. But if you ever do drink, it’s okay as long as you never, ever get behind the wheel of a car afterward. Just call me, and I’ll pick you up.”

  “It’s against the law, hence me telling you I’m underage.”

  “You don’t have to color inside the lines all the time. Even the law allows for a little underage drinking in the privacy of your home for religious reasons.”

  “You don’t even believe in God.”

  “That’s not the point, Ariana. I’m just saying there’s some leeway.” He gestured toward the list. “But if you don’t want to do that one, choose something else. I’ve listed ten categories, things like education, travel, relationships, electronic entertainment, novels, and the like. Under each heading there are fifteen to twenty-something suggestions. Each one is worth at least one point, and you only need to earn a hundred points.”

  “And then what? Do I get to go home?”

  “Not home, no. Then you don’t have to do anything else on the list. Look, if you spend the next year doing the things on the list, I’ll be able to deal with whatever decision you make at the end of the year.”

  Did he think she would change her mind about returning home and joining the faith if she completed his bucket list? She lowered the papers and looked at him. “I’ve already made my decision.”

  The lines in his face mirrored his frustration and his effort to be patient. “Okay.” He stretched out the word. “Until then, we do things my way.”

  “Yeah, that much I’m clear about.” She went through the pages again, and this time her eyes caught the words “four dates.” “You’ve listed dating, but I’m seeing someone back home. We’re not officially engaged, but we are talking of marriage.”

  “So find a male friend, go on a few dates, and don’t even hold his hand. But go out and get involved in life differently than you ever have. That’s what I want. If a specific suggestion crosses your sense of moral rightness, don’t do it.”

  “Why does dating have an asterisk?” She flipped through the pages again. “Several on the list have two or three of them.”

  “Those have more value. As I said, you have to reach a total of a hundred points. Each suggestion is worth one point, and each asterisk is worth five points.”

  Could she figure out a way to earn a hundred points quickly so she would be done with this? “If I finish this list early, will you add more to it?”

  “No, I promise.” He motioned at the used car he’d bought for her. “It’s apparent you’re not thrilled about your car over there, but can we at least look at it?” He got out and went to it and opened the driver’s-side door for her. “I got a great deal. It’s an automatic 2006 Acura RSX. Since it’s a two-door, it has a bit of a sporty look.” His eyes met hers, and his shoulders drooped a bit. “You don’t care, do you?”

  She didn’t mean to be rude or hurt his feelings. It was obvious that today meant a lot to him. “It’s pretty.”

  “Skylar was over the moon when I got her a car.”

  “I’m not Skylar.”

  He flinched. “No. Of course not. I didn’t mean…” He sighed. “Could you just sit in it?”

  She got behind the wheel and laid the bucket list in her lap.

  He passed her the key. “Leather seats and steering wheel.”

  She looked for the ignition and found it on the steering column, but she didn’t put the key in. “It’s nice. Really. Thank you.”

  “Look,” he sighed. “I know all this is hard. I do. And I’m trying to walk lightly, hoping to find a balance between what you want and what I think is best for you.”

  “How is asking a minor to go to a bar and drink good for her?”

  “That was wrong of me. I see that now. I should’ve seen it earlier. I guess I assumed all young people either drank or wanted to.”

  Ariana didn’t know what else to say, but she wondered how messed up Skylar’s thinking was.

  Nicholas propped his arm on the open car door. “Imagine if you discovered you had a child who couldn’t read and had never experienced the beauty of the outdoors or seen a sunset. You would want to change that, right?”

  “This”—she picked up the list—“isn’t about learning to read so someone can know God’s Word, nor is it about seeing God’s sunset.” She shuddered to think of fulfilling his list. “The list is…unfair.”

  “It’s not. I promise. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret. I’ve done more than enough of that for both of us. I was careful in deciding what to put on the list and what not to, although I should’ve left off the bar and drinking. I’ve admitted that. But somewhere between where you are as a person and where I’ve been as a person, there’s a good balance, and I want us to find that for you.”

  “So your plan is for me to sin.”

  “Based on your definition of sin, yes, I absolutely want you to sin. You’re afraid to wear your hair wrong. Even if I believed God existed, I would never accept Him as one who stood in judgment over half the things you consider wicked. If anyone understands the power of doing wrong, it’s me. I’ve caused more people more pain than I’m worth, and that’s the truth of it. I would never want to lead you into anything that’s truly against good, strong morals.”

  Ariana looked from the bucket list to him. “You mean that?”

  “I do. I needed a better
moral compass long before I got one. God or no God, it was immoral for me to be married to someone else when you were conceived, but even so”—he gestured from her head to her feet—“that time clearly brought a lot of good. You were born because of it. So even when wrongdoing is at its worst, it’s not as bad as you seem to feel about how you wear your hair.”

  Her heart turned a flip. What did he say? “You were married when I was conceived but not to Brandi?”

  All the vigor drained from his face. “Wait.” He looked desperately remorseful. “You didn’t know?” He clutched his head with both hands and moaned. “Not again.” He drew a deep breath, gaining control. “I…thought…I assumed you knew.”

  Her chest felt as if it were on fire. She was a bastard? That wasn’t possible. God wouldn’t…Her insides quaked, and her faith of knowing what God did and didn’t allow—everything that had been a sure foundation of solid rock under her feet—seemed to crumble as if it were bone-dry, unbaked pottery.

  Her head spun. She was illegitimate?

  That meant her mom and dad were adulterers, and she had been conceived in sin. She’d been a mistake of the worst kind.

  God, I can’t do this. I can’t be this person.

  But she was, and the pain in her chest was so bad she could only take shallow breaths.

  “Ariana?” Nicholas said. “I’m sorry.”

  She needed to get away. “I…I think I’ll take the car for a drive.”

  “I’d rather you come inside and talk.”

  “Later. Okay?” She grasped the handle of the door.

  He hesitated but let it go.

  Her hands shook as she shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. Illegitimate and unwanted. Unlike her Amish parents, who were excited and proud to welcome her, Brandi’s and Nicholas’s lives had been torn apart because of her. And it seemed pretty clear to her that neither had fully recovered from her ill-timed, unwanted appearance. A bastard? Tears fell from her eyes. The Amish community would never look at her the same. She’d heard of illegitimate Amish babies, not that she knew of any personally. The gossip arrived on the winds of a tornado, filled with debris and destruction of the character of the mother and child.

  Ariana drove for miles, barely able to see. Not only was she not who she thought she was, but neither was God.

  Then who was He?

  Her lifetime had been spent in a small community that spoke its own language and listened to preachers who spoke in the believers’ homes or barns. Her education came from teachers no older than herself who taught in a one-room schoolhouse. Every one of them—believers, church leaders, schoolteachers—believed and taught the same thing. How much of what she’d been taught was true? And how much was based on the bishops’ and preachers’ interpretations of what was true?

  She pulled into a parking lot and shut off the car. Her hands trembled, and the tremors intensified until her whole body shook. God, I can’t do this.

  All dignity and honor were gone now. If she hoped to survive this test of endurance intact, with enough of her left that she could return home and begin to heal, she had to talk to someone.

  The wind whipped brown leaves across the Brennemans’ yard as Lovina checked the hanging laundry and found it was dry. She unpinned several dresses and laid them across her arm as she moved down the line. Her grandchildren’s voices echoed as they played in the sandbox and play area on the far side of the house.

  A gate clanged and rattled, and Lovina looked in that direction. Skylar held open the gate to the pasture as Salome pushed a wheelbarrow of compost out of the field and toward the garden area behind the house. Neither looked happy, and neither was talking. Isaac had paired them as chore partners today, and they were doing some gardening—harvesting and prewinter prep—while keeping an eye on Salome’s children.

  Her daughters couldn’t be more of a mismatch. Skylar wore jeans and a sweatshirt with the name of her college stamped in bold letters across it, and Salome looked to be an exemplary Amish woman. But how Salome looked or acted didn’t reflect how she felt. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have planned for Quill to help her abscond during the night with her husband and children.

  Dogs barked in the distance, and cows mooed as if they were uneasy. The men and her eldest grandson were gleaning feed corn from Englisch fields that machines had already harvested. Usually they picked up enough leftover cobs to feed the horses through the winter.

  Lovina tried to reel in her meandering thoughts. She returned to getting clothes off the line even though her heart was as heavy as the laundry. Mondays were laundry days in these parts. All Amish knew that. But here she was on a Saturday afternoon standing at the clothesline for any passerby to see. Then the Amish community would have more gossip to add to the rumor mill.

  She wasn’t sure she cared anymore what people outside her immediate family thought. What anyone believed wasn’t the problem. Truth was the problem, and the truth was that Lovina had failed her family.

  What Mamm doubted that a newborn was hers and yet didn’t fight to uncover the truth? What Amish woman couldn’t keep her home in order, couldn’t do laundry on the right day, because worry and grief had come her way? And what good Christian failed to seek wisdom and to use patience before searching for the truth?

  Lift up your eyes unto the hills.

  Lovina immediately looked to the hills at the horizon, longing for insight and a whisper of God’s wisdom to her heart. She neither saw nor felt anything helpful—just the eerie beauty of half-barren tree limbs swaying in the wind as they were entering a deep winter sleep.

  Suddenly loud barks pierced Lovina’s thoughts.

  “Esther!” Salome screamed. “Run! Dabber schpring!” Salome thundered toward her children. “James! Henry! Get behind a tree!”

  One glance informed Lovina of everything—the gate to the pasture was open, and the dogs were chasing the Holsteins. As the cows rushed through the gate, they gained momentum. Lovina threw the clean clothes at the basket and took off running. The herd was headed straight for the children’s play area.

  Lovina urged her aging body to go faster. Why was she going in this direction? Stop! Go the other way! But her body didn’t listen, and she kept running toward the front of the house.

  Skylar seemed frozen, and Lovina cupped her hands around her mouth. “Skylar!” She pointed behind her daughter at several cows that were heading straight for her. “Get behind a tree!”

  Skylar flailed her hands heavenward as if she had no idea what Lovina had said. Had Lovina spoken in Pennsylvania Dutch? Lovina pointed. “The tree. Get behind it or climb it!”

  Skylar sprinted, but she seemed to be heading away from the closest tree. Should Lovina go after her? Maybe. But her legs kept going toward the front of the house. Soon four-year-old Esther was in sight, running as fast as her little legs could go. She was ten feet ahead of the first cows, red faced and losing ground. Although exhausted, Lovina somehow ran faster, grabbed the girl’s hand, and dragged her around the corner to the front of the house. Gasping for air, she lifted her granddaughter and held tight, flattening her back against the house. The cows thundered past them, dogs still barking and chasing.

  Where was six-year-old James? And eight-year-old Henry?

  “James!” Salome screeched.

  Time seemed to move in slow motion as terrifying thoughts whirled in Lovina’s head. Where was Katie Ann, Salome’s two-month-old? Surely she was safe in her bed, sound asleep, and not on a blanket in the yard. Lovina’s heart thudded, and her wobbly legs threatened to melt to the ground, but she stayed upright. “Bischt allrecht, Liewer?”

  Esther nodded. “Ich bin gut,” the girl whispered, panting hard. The burn scar on Esther’s face was extra bright red, but she’d assured Lovina she was good.

  The cows continued onward, gradually scattering and slowing down. Lovina peered around the side of the house and saw two straggling Holsteins. Cows didn’t usually need to be feared—as long as they weren’t stampeding across the
ground where children were. Lovina ignored the stragglers and held Esther’s head against her chest as she wobbled along, praying neither her grandsons nor Skylar had been trampled.

  Salome jumped up from behind the woodpile, her son Henry beside her. Salome spotted Esther and broke into tears. “Denki, Gott. Where’s James?” She spun. “James!” The panic on her face made chills run up and down Lovina’s body.

  “Here.” Skylar came out from behind a tree, pointing up. “James is here.”

  Henry ran to Lovina and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You saved Esther!” He hugged his Grossmammi tight.

  “Denki.” Lovina rubbed his back. “But Gott saved her.”

  “I’ll go close the gate.” Henry ran off, but Lovina thought the whole herd may have gotten out. They needed to round up the cows as quickly as possible, but right now Lovina didn’t care if it was midnight before they were all corralled. The women and children needed a few minutes to restore calm.

  James was still standing on the lowest branch and holding tight to the tree.

  “It’s okay.” Salome sounded calmer now. “Kumm.” She reached for him, but he was too high. How had he gotten up there?

  Salome directed him gently in Pennsylvania Dutch, and James slowly released the tree, lowered his belly onto the limb, and then hung from the limb by his hands. Salome wrapped her hands around his belly and steadied him as he let go and dropped to the ground.

  Lovina moved in closer toward Skylar. “Are you okay?”

  Skylar took several steps back. “I’m fine.”

  The girl seemed just short of hating Lovina. Was Lovina expecting too much progress in a week? We will move past this, right, God?

  Lift up your eyes unto the hills.

  Lovina again looked to the closest hill. The wind played with the trees, leaves fell like spring rain, and gusts of wind pushed the limbs to and fro.

  The two boys grabbed their Mamm and Grossmammi by their black aprons and pulled them into a group hug. After a long squeeze all of them laughed with relief. Skylar stood ten feet away, arms folded and as aloof as the day she’d arrived. The group finally released one another.