Berta…If Quill and his brothers were cloaked in secrets, their mother was too. Ariana had sort of realized that after learning about the sons’ visits, but the weight of how deep that secret life went hadn’t unloaded on her until now. Berta had known how worried Ariana was about her after the incident with the supposed drunk. But Berta continually discounted the event, talking as if it’d been nothing and telling Ariana she had nothing to worry about. Why hadn’t Berta broken her silence and spared Ariana the concern?
Breathe, Ariana. Cold air rushed into her lungs time and again as she tried to put the event into perspective. She had come to apologize to Quill, and she would not stir discord with his siblings. “Okay.” She turned back around and realized the brothers and their families had moved closer. They were still hanging back a little, as if unwilling to remain where they couldn’t hear what was going on but not wishing to crowd her.
She held out her hand to Dan. “Ariana.” What was she doing? He knew who she was.
He shook her hand. “This is my wife, Regina.”
Ariana shook her hand.
“Listen, Ariana,”—Dan rubbed his clean-shaven jaw, and the gold band on his finger gleamed—“I feel the need to clarify that Mamm had little choice. She longed to see her children on occasion. You can understand that, right?”
Dan was the eldest, and it had seemed he had drawn each brother away from the Amish. But maybe not Quill. Last month he’d told her he hadn’t connected with his brothers until two years after he’d left the Amish. She didn’t know why he’d waited that long any more than she knew why he’d left in the first place.
“Yeah, but—”
“There are really no buts. The bishop decreed there was to be no contact between her and us. I’m sorry we had to deceive you, especially my pretending to be a drunk. Mamm had to choose either not to see any of us or to see us without making you a party to disobeying the bishop.”
If Ariana had learned anything since leaving Summer Grove, it was the heartache of longing to see loved ones. How could a mother not want to see her children? Maybe Ariana’s viewpoint of either live Amish or leave the Amish alone wasn’t as easily done or as right as she’d thought.
“Mamm misses you.” Dan lifted the little boy from Regina’s arms. “She’s counting the days until you get back. You won’t hold the incident against her, will you?”
How many people were lied to and tricked the way Ariana had been and still kept the relationship intact? “It’s a lot to ask.”
“It is. But in our own way, we—you and us—try to help the world go round for people we care about. Mamm is one of those people. You can disagree with how we keep her world moving, but don’t hold Mamm responsible.”
Ariana wasn’t sure that people like Dan helped the world go round as much as they helped pull it apart. “I’ll need more than a moment on that one.”
“Sure. I get that, but—”
“Guys?” Quill came to a halt on the far side of a red car. He put his hands on his knees, staring at the ground and breathing heavily. “What’s everyone doing out here?”
“You have company,” one of his brothers answered.
Quill took a few more breaths before he stood upright. “Yeah?” His dark blond hair was disheveled, and he looked very different in shorts and a T-shirt. A few moments later his eyes landed on Ariana, and he said nothing as he walked toward her.
“Okay, guys,”—Dan looped his finger through the air as if it were a lasso—“everyone inside.”
Regina grabbed some grocery bags out of the car and hooked some on Dan’s hands as he held the little boy in the crook of his arm.
Dan turned back to Ariana. “You’re more than welcome anytime, either here or at our homes in Kentucky. If you arrive here and nobody’s home, we keep a key in a toy under those rickety steps.”
She looked at Quill, who’d moved in closer, easily able to hear what Dan had said.
Clearing her throat, she hoped to speak without her voice wavering. “That’s a kind invitation, Dan.” But she wouldn’t return. Quill’s family lived between two worlds, and she found it dishonest.
Quill studied her, but neither spoke until everyone else was inside. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
She took in the man in front of her, the stranger she knew all too well. “I had things I needed to say—an apology—but now my emotions are all over the place, like that crazy roller coaster we used to tease about…the Thunderhawk. And I’m on it once again, and I…I can’t think straight.”
“It’s fine, Ari. You’re here, which is nice. Let’s talk.”
His calmness settled her jittery nerves, and she took a cleansing breath, trying to slow the roller coaster. “Nothing about us is ever normal or easy, is it?”
He leaned against the car parked next to hers, looking tranquil. “Our relationship is unique, but then again, for better and worse, we’re unique. So it fits.”
“Are the lies and trickery befitting of us too?”
“Every deception had a purpose, and none of it was done for selfish reasons. Some were poor decisions, but not selfish. What’s this about apologizing?”
Was he serious?
But he was right. That is what she came for. “Ya, about that.”
Some birds dipped low and rose again with such uniformity they reminded her of a huge flag waving in the wind. She closed her eyes, listening as the wind rustled through the trees, birds cawed, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Her thoughts began to gather again.
“Sometime during last night’s fitful sleep, I realized I’ve been angry with you since you left five years ago. Then when I learned that I wasn’t a Brenneman and that you were involved in uncovering the truth, being angry with you was the only familiar thing left in my life, and I’ve been clinging to it with all I had.”
“That’s a tough thing to have to use as your anchor. I’m sorry for my part in—”
“Shh.” She leaned forward and touched his arm, shaking her head. “I know. We’ve been there before—you apologizing, me forgiving. Let’s not rehash it. I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I behaved last night, and I’m sorry for waffling in my forgiveness, allowing old hurts to rise up and control me, making me feel justified to invite you in or kick you out of my life at will.”
His eyes never moved from hers. “Apology accepted.” His voice was hoarse. “Thank you.”
The air between them seemed to vibrate with awkwardness…and some indefinable emotion. Maybe he felt it too, because he looked away. And then Lexi dropped a tennis ball at his feet. He picked it up and threw it a long way.
“You’re welcome. Also I really appreciate your help last night. You came when I called, and you protected me from myself.”
“Ari, we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”
“Are we friends? Because if I’m really honest, this relationship”—she pointed at him and then herself and then back and forth—“is a one-way street. It’s pastoral care by you, and I’m the flock.”
When Lexi dropped the ball at his feet again, Quill picked it up and threw it even farther.
“What you do for Mamm makes you the best friend I have.”
“That’s just so not how relationships work.”
“I’d say it works pretty well. We are two very different people, working through frustrations. Maybe your idea of friendship is people who hold the same views about right and wrong.”
“Maybe.” She was a long way from knowing how to accept her parents, herself, her new role as their daughter, and the Englisch ways without criticism and discontent. She longed to at least close the distance between Quill and her, but there was so much debris to deal with. “It’s just hard to think in friendly terms when I hate what you do, sneaking in to help Amish people leave. My sister? Really?”
He threw the ball for Lexi again. “Friends also argue, as we’ve proved all too well already. What if we talk about something else?”
Salome had used Esther’s s
cars on her face and neck as a reason to leave the Amish. That didn’t make sense to Ariana. “No one forbade Salome to use Englisch medicine to treat Esther. Despite some pressure from the community, the choice was hers and Emanuel’s. So I see no reason for you to offer to help them leave during the night.”
“You’re just determined to have this conversation.”
“I am.”
“Okay.” He picked up the ball and threw it. “Let’s have it. Only a very few Amish feel they need a way out, and of those, even fewer choose to leave after we’ve worked and prayed with them for at least a year. But in the end the decision is theirs. I don’t have to agree with someone’s conclusions or decisions to support their right to choose. I feel that freedom dictates I take a stand for the Amish who feel chained to a way of life they no longer believe in.”
“But it’s wrong. They’ve taken a vow. And for those who haven’t, they have a family, a whole village that loves them and has helped raise them.”
“Ari…” Quill threw the ball again. “There seems to be a number inside your head, and every person’s life—including Salome’s, Brandi’s, Nicholas’s, mine, and yours—is supposed to add up to that number. It never does, not for anyone.”
“It could, couldn’t it—if people tried hard enough?”
“It can’t. Even if everyone wanted to do the right thing, the possibilities of what’s right for individuals are endless. God beats out a different rhythm for different people, and despite all you’ve been taught, people shouldn’t wall out each other because of it.”
Was that right? Did God have different beats for people to march to? Longing for answers, she looked skyward.
“Hey.” A little girl about six years old, wearing jeans and pink boots, hurried outside. Ariana’s prayer scattered with the wind.
“Hi, Kylie.” Quill sounded upbeat, as if it wasn’t an interruption at all. “What’s up?” He grabbed the tennis ball and threw it much farther than before.
The girl’s arms were full, and she stopped several feet away. “Mom said you’ll be cold staying out here after your run. She’s not trying to interrupt, and I can’t stay.”
“Ah. Tell your mom I appreciate it.” Quill removed everything from her arms. He set a bottle of water, a thermos, and a container of hand sanitizer on the hood of the car. Then he slid the gray hoodie over his head and stretched his arms into the sleeves. “I’m much warmer now. Thanks.” He rubbed the top of the little girl’s head.
Kylie stared up at Ariana as if she was in awe of her. “I heard that you know our Mammi Bertie.”
Ariana smiled at the nickname. “I do.”
“What’s she like?”
The question knocked the wind out of Ariana. This sweet child didn’t know her wonderful grandmother? Clearly Berta was a bit secretive, but, still, she was an amazing woman. “Well…” Years of good, fun memories of Berta flooded Ariana, and her heart ached for the position Berta had been put in. “She’s really smart, very energetic, and a bit prickly if you fuss over her when she’s sick.”
“My dad’s like that.” Kylie grinned. “Would you give her a hug for me?”
Ariana knelt. “If you give me a hug, I’ll see that she gets it.”
Kylie threw her arms around Ariana’s neck and squeezed hard. Ariana returned the hug. “Mm-mm,” Ariana groaned lovingly. “That’s from Mammi Bertie.”
Kylie backed away, pointing a finger at Ariana. “When I’m big like you and I have a car, I’m going to go see her.”
If only it were that simple. “I’ll be sure to tell her that.”
The door to the trailer opened. “Kylie Peyton,” Regina called.
“I gotta go.” Kylie took off running, but before she disappeared inside, she blew kisses and waved at Ariana and Quill.
Ariana waved. “She has no memories of Berta?”
Quill blew Kylie a kiss as if he’d done it hundreds of times. “Visiting Mamm is complicated. We’ve never tried to sneak in any of the kids.” He held up the water bottle and the thermos, offering her a choice. “Water or coffee?”
She pointed at the thermos. “Berta’s never held any of her grandbabes?”
“Not yet.” He poured hand sanitizer into his palms and rubbed them together before he removed the cup and lid to the thermos. Steam rose as he poured the hot liquid into the small mug.
“Couldn’t she come to them?”
He passed her the mug. “That would mean directly disobeying the bishop. She wouldn’t do that. The most she can handle is not telling the bishop that we drop by unannounced from time to time.”
She studied him, seeing a tower of restraint. They were nothing alike, didn’t seem to view life from the same planet, yet they seemed to need each other. But she could see this conversation was just another painful reminder for Quill that his Mamm was in Summer Grove without any family. “Do you ever get relief…you know, concerning your Mamm being without all of you?”
He opened the water bottle and leaned against the car. “Some, mostly because I know she has you, a girl she loves like a daughter. So when you return, please don’t be angry with her for keeping our necessary secrets.”
Hard lines were drawn between the church and those who left, but usually if someone hadn’t joined the faith, like Quill and his brothers, the boundaries weren’t strict—not like this. But for reasons Ariana knew nothing about, the bishop had made inflexible rules where the Schlabachs were concerned. Maybe it was a message to other Mamms to do a better job of ensuring their children stayed. Or maybe the church leaders suspected one of the Schlabach brothers was the Nightcrawler, as the Amish referred to him, the one who occasionally sneaked in at night and helped an entire Amish family leave.
Ariana could still feel the warmth of the hug from Kylie, a beautiful connection to life that Berta had yet to experience. And she might not experience that until Kylie was old enough to hide quietly in a barn or shed for hours. The whole thing grieved Ariana. “It’s all so confusing. Not long ago I was completely confident and peaceful in my faith, and now I have no idea how to meld my beliefs with what’s taking place in my life—not just with your family, but with the people who apparently are my family.”
“I wish I could tell you it’ll get easier.” He threw the ball for Lexi again.
“Yeah, I wish you could tell me that too.” Ariana sighed.
She was beginning to think Quill was right about that number in her head. That explanation didn’t clear up everything, but if she could refuse to judge people based on that imaginary right number, it would help her a lot—and everyone who came in contact with her. “I won’t hold anything against your Mamm. She’s been my second Mamm since I was your shadow.”
“My shadow.” Quill smiled before he guzzled half of the bottle of water. “See, we are friends.”
She took a sip of coffee, realizing it had the perfect amount of sugar. “Yeah, I guess we are. And it’s a good thing because”—she pulled the bucket list out of her pocket—“I need your help.”
He took the papers from her, barely glancing at them before again tossing the ball for Lexi. “Absolutely. There are a few things I could use from you too.”
“Like?”
Night continued to close in, and a misty rain began to fall, but there was nowhere for them to go. The trailer or a restaurant lacked privacy, and sitting in a car to talk seemed awkward, maybe inappropriate. This is who they’d become—people who stayed put and dealt with the storm between them, whether in his mother’s dark home on a rainy night, or working on a rundown café, or here in Mingo.
Quill opened the thermos and refilled her mug. “One, don’t meet any more single guys at bars. You’re going to get me beat up.”
She peered at him over the mug. “You could’ve taken him.”
He set the thermos on the hood of her car. “Maybe, but not all his friends, which seemed to be everyone in the bar.”
“So friends don’t help friends get beat up. Got it.”
“Exact
ly.” He studied her through the misty darkness. “Have you heard from him?”
“No. Do you think I will?”
“Yeah, absolutely. You should block his number.”
“Seems excessive and rude. Shouldn’t I take his call and tell him the truth? I probably owe him an apology. I was the one who forgot about Rudy and—”
“Ariana, for Pete’s sake.” Quill’s eyes bore into hers, his brows knit, and his voice was filled with concern. “Better yet, for your sake, don’t be the kind of woman who is too nice, giving users the benefit of the doubt. I call that giving the benefit of the doubt to the death—often the death of someone’s good sense and the death of wise decisions and anything else men like that will tromp all over. And apologize? To him? Come on, he was aiming to lower your defenses and see just how far he could get.”
So Quill felt a lot he rarely showed. “He really got under your skin.”
Quill’s brows barely lifted, and a stony coldness etched his face. “He’s a creep who tried to use his nice looks and gentle manner to disarm you.”
“I believe you.” Ariana pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Block his number.” She held on to the phone until Quill looked at her. “Thank you, not only for last night, but also for helping me understand creeps and how I should think about them. So what else can I do for you?”
Quill pressed numerous items on her touch-screen phone before handing it back to her. “Write a short, friendly text to Frieda. I can’t give you her number, but if you send it to me, I can forward it along with your number…if you’re willing.”
“I can do that.”
“About a month ago she offered to tell you her story. Maybe she would have followed through, maybe not. It’s hard to tell. But I didn’t think the timing was good, so I declined her offer.”
“You’re unsure whether she’ll respond.”
Fraying at the Edge Page 15
