Brice shrugged. “She was a bit uptight, and I asked if she’d like something more enjoyable than a soft drink, and she said yes. I thought a frozen fuzzy navel might help take the edge off. Problem?”
“Several. For starters, it wasn’t your decision to make. It was hers.”
Brice turned to her. “Do you have a problem with the drink?”
“No. I would’ve ordered it myself had I known to.” That wasn’t true, but she refused to admit Quill was right.
“Then no harm, no foul.” Brice turned toward the bar and raised two fingers. The man behind the counter nodded. “Would you care for something, on the house?”
“No, thanks.” Quill intertwined his fingers. “Look, Brice, I need you to back off. No harm, no foul. Okay?”
“Ariana and I made plans to talk. If anything, you’re the one who’s interrupting.”
Ariana finished her drink and nodded. “Definitely.”
“See.” Brice motioned toward her. “Ariana agrees.”
“She is currently under the influence. So for the moment her opinion has no value.”
Ariana wanted to slap him. “Why don’t you tell him the truth, Quill? In your eyes my opinion never matters.”
“That’s not true, Ari.”
The server set a beer and another fuzzy navel in front of Brice. “Thanks, Nancy.” Brice slid the drink toward Ariana before he took a sip of his beer. “Who is this guy?”
Ariana rolled her eyes. “I’ve been asking myself that question for years. I guess the easy explanation is we used to be neighbors, and he and my brother were friends.”
“Ah, so you were the kid sister he got used to bossing around.”
Quill took her purse off the chair, took out her keys, handed the purse to her, and stood. “It’s time to go, Ari.”
She leaned back, folding her arms.
Brice took another sip of his drink. “Looks to me like she doesn’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Sounds true enough to me,” Ariana said.
Quill put her keys in his pocket and sat. “Fine. But I’m not leaving you until you are inside your home.”
“That could be a while, because I don’t actually have one. But you knew that long before I did, right?” Brandi and Nicholas just provided a roof over her head and four walls shared with people she didn’t understand or particularly like.
Quill said nothing.
“What? No great words of wisdom?” Ariana asked. “No pep talks to help me survive? You’re so good at those.” She grasped the glass and brought it toward her.
Quill put his hand over her drink. “Before you take another swallow, I need to say one word.”
“What?”
“Rudy.”
Her face flushed, and she set the glass down. Again she wanted to know what was wrong with her. “Brice, I…I can’t be here.” Ariana stood, and suddenly the floor felt like a trampoline.
Quill wrapped his hand around her arm, steadying her. “You got your footing?”
She nodded. He let go and got out his wallet.
“Who’s Rudy?” Brice asked.
Quill tossed a twenty onto the table. “Pretty much her fiancé.”
They wound their way around the various tables and to the front door.
“Well, that was fun.” Quill pulled a set of keys from his pocket. “This way.”
She longed to get into her car and drive away from Quill, but he had her keys, and even if he didn’t, she felt disoriented.
Quill opened the passenger door of the truck for her. “You want to ride for a bit and talk?”
She got in. “No.”
“Fine.” He started to close the door, but her purse fell out, spilling its few contents onto the pavement. He shoved them back into it, except the folded papers. He opened them, glanced through the pages, and shoved them into his pocket. He closed the door, went around to the driver’s side, and started the truck. “Which house? Nicholas’s or Brandi’s?”
She was supposed to stay with Nicholas tonight and Brandi tomorrow night, but how was she going to look either of them in the eye again? “Nicholas’s.”
“Do Brandi and Nicholas know that you know?”
Leaning her head against the car window, she closed her eyes and shrugged.
“So you’re not talking to me?”
“Apparently not.” She longed to ask him the questions that were churning inside her. What did she need to do to survive a year of this? What was happening to her? Why didn’t she feel anything like herself? Did God care how confused she was? But she was too embarrassed and too…
The next word—the one that welled up and she knew was true—shook her. Bitter. She was too bitter. When had that happened? She’d thought it took people years to go from angry to bitter.
She opened her eyes. Power lines crisscrossed the land, and she saw businesses and houses with pretty yellow lights, and she caught glimpses of flat-screen televisions. If all the miles of power lines were gathered into a single mound of twisted cables, they would match her jumbled thoughts.
They rode in silence until he pulled into Nicholas’s driveway. “Ari, how clearly are you thinking?” He no longer sounded angry.
“Decently.” Her head felt as though it were full of butterflies. “Why?” She stared out the front window, unwilling to look at him.
He put the truck in Park and turned it off. “I need you to hear me. I want to help you. Nothing means more to me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, waiting for him to finish.
He removed the keys from the ignition. “No matter how much I want to help or how guilty I feel for past wrongs, I can’t keep doing this—jumping every time the phone rings, turning my life upside down for you. If you’re going to survive this and get back home, you have to forgive all of us—me, Brandi, Nicholas, your Mamm and Daed. In our own ways each of us has seriously let you down.” He turned on the dome light and waited for her to look at him. “Don’t call me again unless you’re ready to stop beating me up for things I can’t change.”
His words burned away the chaff, and she saw the truth. Her heart pounded, and every erratic beat held rage. An unfamiliar, uncontrollable fury. But why was she angrier with him than the others? Was it because his betrayals had been the most purposefully deceitful and they’d hurt the worst?
She wasn’t sure, but he was right. She was angry with Brandi, Nicholas, Mamm, and Daed too. But as she began to recognize her anger, she knew they weren’t the only ones. She was also furious with God. She lifted the door handle. “None of us has the power to change anything, do we?”
“Of course we—”
She opened the door. “It was a rhetorical question.”
“Fine.”
They got out, and he walked with her to the front door. She opened it and went inside, knowing Nicholas would reprimand her if she knocked.
Nicholas bolted out of his office. “I’ve been trying to reach you. What’s going on?”
She headed for the stairway without answering.
“Ariana?” Nicholas called to her.
“I’m going to bed. Quill knows far more about me than I do anyway. Ask him.”
Quill watched her stagger up the stairs. Once on the landing, she stopped and stared down at him, their eyes locking. No matter where life had taken him, he’d always been able to gauge to some degree what her reaction and response would be. Was he seeing her at her worst, or was she beginning to spiral out of control?
She lowered her eyes and walked away.
After they heard the door close, Nicholas turned to him. “Is she okay?”
Quill’s pulse quickened. He needed to say as little as possible and get out before his angst and anger spilled onto Nicholas and made the situation even worse. “She’s pretty beaten up.”
“I guess she told you about the affair and…”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t mean to blurt it out. I thought she knew.”
“She knows now, but it�
��ll be a while before she’s okay with it.”
“I don’t really understand why the news hit her so hard. It happened twenty years ago.”
“It happened in your life twenty years ago. It happened in her life today.” He handed Nicholas her keys. “The car is at a bar called Long Shots.” He pulled the bucket list out of his pocket. “You can put a check mark beside ‘go to a bar’ and ‘have a drink.’ She accomplished both. I guess this means you should be proud.”
Quill tucked his resentment down deep and went to the door to leave. Then he stopped and turned to face Nicholas.
“Your method of welcoming Ariana into the Englisch world will, without a doubt, ensure she returns to Summer Grove. I think that’s where she belongs, so I should be fine with what you’re doing, but you’re ripping her apart.” He shook his head. “And that, Mr. Jenkins, is probably the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life.” He walked out.
Nicholas followed him outside. “I don’t want to hurt her. I’m just trying to keep my daughter from returning to the eighteenth century.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? Those people are…weird and closed minded, and they believe in myths.”
“For the sake of argument, let’s assume you’re right. That bothers you because…”
“Because it’s wrong to live that way.”
“Wrong?” Quill’s temples throbbed. “You think it’s wrong? Why? Because people like you and me have it right? Because we’re so happy with our lives?”
“She doesn’t know enough yet to have a clue about what could make her happy. She’s tied in knots about pleasing a God that doesn’t exist.”
“If, as you say, He doesn’t exist, then all we have is this brief life. What’s so wrong with letting her do what she wants with it? Let her go home, marry Rudy, raise the babies she’s always wanted, and die having lived a simple life.”
“I…I want her to grow as a person. There’s nothing wrong about that.”
“Grow?” Quill couldn’t stop himself. “Ever known a gardener to rip a plant out of the ground and stomp on the roots until they’re crushed and then expect the plant to grow?”
“It’s been clear from the day she arrived that I need to be more tender. I actually thought I was being very gentle this past week.”
“Just because she’s not fighting you, that doesn’t mean you’re being gentle. You insisted she remove her prayer Kapp. That’s no big deal to you, but to her, God told women to wear a head covering. That makes it a big deal. Removing it feels like a violation. Would you condone violating a non-Amish woman over her choices, Nicholas?”
“Okay.” Nicholas rubbed the back of his neck. “Apparently I’ve missed being gentle by a lot. But there’s so much she needs to know before the year is up.”
“Your goal should be to get to know her, to embrace who she is—not to mold her into who you think she needs to be.”
“You think I’m being intolerant? Religion is intolerant—”
“We aren’t talking about religion. We’re talking about your daughter. It’s obvious you think religion is evil. But you can’t set anything right by force-feeding Ariana books written by atheists or threatening to sue the faithful people she loves unless she goes against her conscience and accomplishes certain goals. She’s not a cause or an issue you can do battle with to win a Supreme Court decision. She’s your daughter, and you get one year to be with her…maybe.”
Nicholas’s brows furrowed, and Quill knew he’d made some headway.
He drew a deep breath. “Good night.” Quill exited and got into Dan’s truck, hoping Nicholas would start cutting Ariana some slack.
If something between Nicholas and Ariana didn’t give soon, Quill feared what would happen to her.
Skylar looked back over her shoulder as she hurried along the road toward the community phone. She hoped no one heard her slip out of the house right before midnight. When she’d done the same thing four nights ago, no one was the wiser. But she hadn’t expected to need a repeat performance this soon.
Cody had met her near the Brenneman house at two a.m. on Tuesday and had given her a good stash. But now it was missing. If she called him, surely he’d find a way to get more to her. She opened the weather-beaten door to the phone shanty and stumbled inside. While searching for a light switch, she cursed. When would she stop trying to turn on the lights?
She ran her fingers across the makeshift desk until she felt the now-familiar shape of a box of kitchen matches. She struck one and searched for a candle or kerosene lamp. There was a lantern near the old push-button phone. She lit it and pressed the buttons, calling Cody.
“What.” He sounded as if he’d been asleep.
“Hey, it’s me.”
She heard shifting.
“What’s up, Skylar?” He seemed both annoyed and glad to hear from her.
“The pills are missing.”
He cursed. “Missing?” He still sounded groggy. “All those uppers and downers are missing? Do you know what it took to get those? Were they stolen?”
“No, I had them in my jeans pocket, and the bottle must’ve fallen out.”
“Bad move, Skylar, and I feel for you, babe. But I’m fresh out and can’t get any more for a day or so, and if I had them, I couldn’t make another late-night run out there on short notice. You’re in the boondocks, and I work for a living. Are you sure you can’t find what I brought you last Tuesday?”
“I’ve looked. The cows got out, and after the stampede was over, we were on foot for hours, covering miles while corralling them back into the pasture.”
“You, on foot, herding cattle? I’d have paid good money to see that.” Cody laughed.
“I’d pay good money not to be here…if I had any money. Look, I’m really sorry. I know you’re covering all the costs right now, but you can’t possibly hate more than I do how inconvenient the missing bottle is.”
“It’s okay. Chill already. I can handle the money part.”
“When can you get me out of here?”
“In a few weeks, I think. I’m working on a deal, a big one. When that happens, I’ll have some cash. And the first thing on my list is getting you, okay?”
His words brought hope, and she was grateful. “Okay, thanks, Cody.”
“I can’t leave my best girl stuck in Amish country, can I?”
She cursed. “I hope not. I’d die. When can you bring me more pills and cigarettes?”
“Any way you can meet me during the day? I’m wiped at night, babe—working on the deal and holding down a job.”
“We’d be seen during the day.”
“What can they do to you—take away your social life, your cell, your allowance? They’ve already done all that.”
“If they call my dad, he’ll follow through on his threat to come after you for distribution and put your butt in jail for as long as possible.”
“Oh yeah.” From the slurred speech and breathing pattern, she assumed Cody had started to smoke a cigarette. “I didn’t think of that. I guess he has the means to target me and keep you out of it. So let’s play it safe. Maybe there is a place we could meet during the day. What if you worked at that café you told me about?”
“I’m not helping keep someone else’s dream alive.”
“Then sabotage their efforts. Have it in ruins by the time you two switch places. Since no one there has a clue what I look like, if you’re at the café on Tuesday, I’ll bring you another stash.”
“Tuesday? It just turned Sunday like fifteen minutes ago. How am I supposed to wait until Tuesday?”
“Raid the medicine cabinets, Skylar. You said there are family members with homes of their own. Visit them. See what you can find. Someone has to have something. What about the midwife? Would she have something at the clinic? Is there an Amish doctor who might have some goods at his office and not have them locked up like they are in other places?”
“Yeah, I hadn’t thought about any of that.”
<
br /> “That’s because you don’t think like a junkie, and you should.”
The word junkie sounded so wrong. She wasn’t one. Not even close. “Everything in my life is upside down, and I need some uppers and downers to get by.”
“If you say so, babe. Funny how those drugs were in your system before any of this started.”
If she weren’t desperate for drugs, she’d tell him off and hang up.
Why did guys always ruin everything for her? She wouldn’t even be in this mess if it weren’t for that other guy. Quill Schlabach. Oh, how she wished she’d never spoken to him, never told him her birth date, never learned she’d been switched at birth. Her old life wasn’t the best, but it was better than this. “I’ll be at the café on Tuesday. It’s open from seven to two. Please don’t get there after hours.”
“Yeah, okay, Skylar.”
“Bring Xanax and Ritalin this time, not Valium and Bontril.” Valium and Bontril just didn’t do the trick. They were older drugs, and her reaction to them wasn’t the same from day to day. What might knock her out one day barely calmed her the next.
Xanax helped her chill, just the right amount of chill. And since she wasn’t hyperactive, Ritalin gave her mounds of energy, and in the right dose it made for some really interesting hallucinations. Nothing too bizarre. If the television was on, it was as if the characters left the box and became holograms in the room with her—stretching oddly like Picasso paintings. She liked the feeling, and despite what the law said, what she took was nobody’s business but hers.
Abram sat on the steps of the back porch, waiting. Tonight was the second time Skylar had sneaked out. He had some concerns she might not return, but if she did, he didn’t know what to say to her. Accusations wouldn’t help.
He wished he were capable of talking to people like Ariana was. She could quickly get to the heart of complicated matters. He needed to form some sort of bond with Skylar, but it’d been hard even to look at her, let alone talk to her. She was a constant reminder that Ariana wasn’t his biological sister.
Fraying at the Edge Page 12
