Gathering the Threads

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Ariana had tried to be a supportive, helpful sister, but she’d fallen short by a lot and ended up not being much more than a baby-sitter who watched as Salome slipped deeper and deeper into depression. She and Emanuel eventually reached out to Quill to help them leave. Before they could follow through, the family learned that Ariana wasn’t a Brenneman, and Ariana learned of Salome’s plan. Salome promised her she would remain Amish until Ariana returned.

  “But, dear sister,”—Salome squeezed Ariana’s hand—“when you were jerked away from us, I realized how awful it would’ve been for Mamm and Daed if Emanuel and I and their grandchildren were to disappear during the night. The other side of that is I realized how much I need all of you.” Salome sipped her hot chocolate, looking lost in thought. “Regardless how much pressure the ministers and the community put on us, no one stood in the doorway stopping us from getting skin grafts. Emanuel and I caved under the weight of expectations, but we’ve vowed never to do that again.”

  The remorse in Salome’s eyes was almost more than Ariana could bear.

  Salome glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I was hoping to see Quill before we left, but he’s late. It’s almost six twenty, and the driver will be here in a few minutes.”

  Ariana was sure Salome wanted to thank Quill for all he did to help them, from praying with them and gently trying to talk them out of leaving to paying out of his own pocket to rent them a home and get them a used vehicle.

  “He’s a busy man, and I only texted him a—” Ariana’s breath caught in her throat. “Dad’s here.” She pointed at the check-in desk in the foyer. When had he decided to come? And why?

  Salome turned. “Daed?”

  “No, Nicholas.”

  “Oh.” Salome sat up straight, checking on Esther. “Daed and dad sound very similar, and it’s just so weird hearing you call Nicholas ‘Dad.’ ”

  “I don’t always. It just slips out at times.”

  Nicholas had a pamphlet in hand, glancing at it and listening to a man pointing to things in the brochure. She didn’t know what they were discussing, but that was very Nicholas-like. If he came across anything unfamiliar, he took the time to learn about it.

  Ariana shifted the baby to Salome. “My two dads are similar in some ways, especially when it comes to believing what they believe and wanting me to believe exactly as they do.”

  “Then how on earth did you survive three months when he thinks so differently from the Amish? He doesn’t believe in God, does he?”

  Ariana stood, straightening the wrinkles from her cape dress and apron. “In a nutshell I fell apart, and he did a one-eighty. Now he encourages me to be painfully honest about how I feel.”

  “Ya, it makes sense that you like him. How else could you enjoy traveling the US with him the way you did?”

  “Excuse me for a minute.” Ariana left the living room and entered the wide foyer with its white wainscoting, antique chandelier, and hardwood floors. “Hey.”

  Nicholas turned. “There you are.” He hugged her.

  “When did you get here?”

  “About twenty minutes ago. You didn’t answer your phone, and I spotted a library and decided to make it useful. I found these.” He held up a stack of books. “This fine young employee saw me wandering around in the library, and he joined me. He’s been informing me about MAP. Apparently Scarlet Oak B&B is a sponsor.”

  Of MAP? Her heart jolted. The website she’d accessed on her phone when looking for places to stay hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Mission to Amish People provided help to former Amish, usually older teens and young adults. It was founded in Ohio by an ex-Amish couple about sixteen years ago. If Daed or the church found out she’d stayed at a place that supported MAP, she would have to answer for it. What were the chances? It was bad luck, but she couldn’t undo having stayed here.

  “I…I didn’t know you were coming.”

  He pulled a credit card out of his pocket and passed it to the young man. “You would have if you’d taken my calls. Where’s your phone?”

  She patted her hidden pocket and found it empty. “I’m sure it’s in my room. I had it out earlier, using the calculator.” She’d been studying the café’s ledgers, receipts, deposits, and bank statements, but the numbers didn’t add up.

  “I won’t stay long. I just needed to see you.”

  “I’m fine. I told you that when we talked Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and earlier today.”

  “And yet I’m here, verifying those words.”

  “That’s sweet, and thank you for paying for my stay.”

  “It’s nothing. Seriously.”

  The man passed Nicholas a small piece of paper and a pen. He signed and passed them back. She thought he’d told her earlier in the week that he’d already paid for everything via the phone but apparently not.

  “Ari,” Salome whispered.

  Ariana turned.

  Salome had the baby in her arm and Esther by the hand. “I hate to interrupt, but my ride is here.”

  “You’re a Brenneman,” Nicholas said. “You’re the one Skylar favors so much.”

  “Ya on both accounts.”

  Ariana made introductions.

  “I’m glad we got to meet,” Salome said. “And I apologize that I have to dash like this, but I have two boys with a fever at home, and my driver is here.”

  “Sure. No apologies,” Nicholas said. “Do you need a hand?”

  “The driver will get my bags. But thank you.” Salome turned to Ariana. “I know Daed is expecting you to return with me. What do I tell him?”

  “That I’ll be home by Sunday evening at the latest. It will save him some angst if he doesn’t know I have a cell phone, but tell him to call the B&B if he wants to talk to me.” Ariana hugged her and Esther.

  The driver stepped in and grabbed Salome’s suitcases. As she was leaving, Quill walked in, and they stepped inside, getting out of the way of the foot traffic, and visited.

  Nicholas examined Ariana. “You’re not surprised Quill is here.”

  “I texted him, asking if we could talk.”

  “Then I’ll go, but first…” Nicholas led her into the library. “I got this for you.” He held out a plastic card. “It’s a debit card.”

  “No.” She held up both hands. “But thank you.”

  “I was afraid you’d feel that way. There’s a thousand dollars in the account.” He held it out again. “Please.”

  Temptation tugged at her. Even after she’d gone over a plastic grocery bag full of receipts for deposits and purchases made for the café, the account was still a mess. Between money spent and money missing, she’d yet to get the ledgers straight.

  But accepting the card from him would be wrong. He carried a lot of guilt about his parenting of Skylar and her—or the lack of it—and she couldn’t allow herself to profit from that. The frustrating part was she shouldn’t need an outsider’s help. Farming and small businesses usually thrived among the Amish, but not for her family.

  “Just take it. If you have it in hand, you can use it or not, right?”

  “Goodness, you’re enough to drive me up a wall. Pushy on the one hand and so very generous on the other.”

  He held the card out to her again.

  “The money would come in handy.” She took the card. “Thank you.”

  “It works as a debit or credit card, and you can get cash out of any ATM. You remember how to use an ATM, right?”

  “Ya.”

  He smiled. “I’ve missed that ya of yours.”

  “It’s only been a few days since you dropped me off at my house.”

  “But you’re here and not there. You should come back to my home or your mom’s. If you’re feeling oppressed, you should, and you need to—”

  “Dad.” Her whisper sounded harsh, and she hadn’t meant for it to. She cleared her throat and started again. “I’m very grateful you paid for my stay here, and I appreciate the debit card, but you’re projecting how you think I feel
based on me being here, and please don’t tell me what to feel or do.”

  He stared blank faced for a moment and then smiled. “Good for you, Ari.” He kissed her cheek. “You call me if you need anything. Okay?”

  “I’m an adult, and what I need is to pull myself together and not ask anything else of you.”

  “That’s nonsense. You’re my daughter, my only flesh and blood. Skylar is mine too, although she isn’t claiming me.”

  Ariana could see the pain in his eyes as he paused.

  He cleared his throat. “The PIN is 9874. I can text it to you.” His eyes moved to the doorway. “Quill,”—Nicholas walked to him and shook his hand—“it’s good to see you.”

  “Thanks. I’m surprised you’re here.”

  “Ditto.” Nicholas hooked his thumb toward the door. “I need to go. Good luck. As I understand it, you’re here to talk, but she doesn’t want any opinions. That should be quite a feat.” Nicholas winked at Ariana. “I’m proud of you.”

  What was he proud of her for? Asking for money so she could stay here? Accepting a debit card? Pushing him to get her home, and then her being so overwhelmed she couldn’t stay? There was nothing to be proud of. But being impolite would only add to her disappointment in herself.

  She drew a breath. “Thank you…for everything.”

  After a stilted greeting, Quill followed Ariana and the hostess to an out-of-the-way table in the dining room. Ariana flicked her fingertips across her thumb, one by one. When she wasn’t doing that, she was fidgeting with something else. He’d teased her in the text, and she’d responded in like manner, but this face-to-face meeting was clearly uncomfortable for her.

  She sat across from him. “I hate that I needed to text you.”

  Quill removed his coat and took a seat. “This is nice, and it has food.”

  She unwrapped her flatware and put the napkin across her lap. “Did you know Scarlet Oak supports MAP?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Gut. When Daed asks Salome where we stayed, maybe he won’t know either.” She shifted the flatware and moved the vase with its fake flower several times.

  He picked up the menu. “Any suggestions?”

  “The filet mignon, roasted potatoes, and grilled asparagus are amazing. It’s all covered in some package deal Nicholas got, so I’m not actually paying for it.”

  He studied the menu. “Then filet mignon it is.”

  A server brought water and unsliced bread on a cutting board with a knife and butter. They placed their order, and the server left.

  “It was good of you to come, especially on short notice.”

  “Of course. My meeting ran a little later than I’d hoped.” He’d gotten so involved in the plans Melanie wanted him to help carry out that he’d left fifteen minutes late and then got stuck in traffic.

  “It feels odd sitting here, talking as if…”

  “As if what, Ari? As if we’re friends? As if we grew up together?” His awareness of being a phony formed a lump in his throat. They were friends, but he’d loved her too much and for too long. For both their sakes, they needed to put some distance between them. And soon.

  “I should be here with Rudy.”

  Quill fiddled with his napkin. Could he really disagree with her? “I see it a little differently. I believe if Rudy was who should be here right now, you would’ve made sure he was here. But you apparently need to talk about something he can’t help you with. That doesn’t mean he’s not everything to you. It only means you need a different perspective for maybe an hour before you return to him feeling better than when you left.”

  Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “Denki. That was the perfect thing to say.”

  “Good. Mark it down”—he circled his index finger in midair—“that I said the right thing at least once tonight.” He took a sip of water. “What’s going on, Ari?”

  She sliced a piece of bread and put it on the little plate in front of him. “I’m not really sure.” She explained about the roar of conflicting opinions in her head, each group insisting on what she needed to believe and who she needed to be, and she confessed that she had no idea how to make them shut up or how to isolate which group of thoughts to believe.

  “Is any of it complete nonsense?”

  She grew quiet, apparently thinking, and their dinner arrived.

  “Man, that looks great.” He picked up his fork and knife.

  “It tastes even better.”

  He cut the meat and took a bite. It seemed to melt while exploding with flavors. “Oh, my stars,” he mumbled. “That’s the best steak I’ve ever had.”

  “Good.” She motioned at him, circling her index finger. “Mark that down as one thing I got right tonight.”

  He chuckled. “You have to bring Rudy here.”

  “I agree.” She cut her steak.

  He forked a potato. “What’s the verdict? Is any of the roar complete nonsense?”

  “Sure, but if something has no validity or value, I can toss it out like a piece of trash, and it’s gone.” She drew a deep breath, looking torn and tired. “But over the last few months, I’ve learned a lot that has substance and solid reasoning. Most of it collides with what I’ve been taught in church, and those teachings also have substance and solid reasoning. I’m like the wave of the sea in the book of James—‘driven with the wind and tossed,’ ‘double minded,’ and ‘unstable.’ ”

  “And your concern is God doesn’t answer the prayers of the double minded?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. What’s bugging me is the dozens of different viewpoints inside of me on every single topic.” She gestured at him. “When situations crop up in your life, you know what you believe and what you will and won’t do.”

  “I only know the essential answers, Ari.”

  “What are those, and how do you get them?”

  “We have a core value of who we are, right?”

  “If that’s true, mine is so muddled it’s useless.”

  “I don’t think so. Your thoughts and emotions are bewildered. But our core is our gift. Our way of making a difference. Our filter through which we see life.”

  “Uh, still confused.”

  “Push aside all you know of my beliefs and opinions, and tell me the lifeblood of who I am.”

  Her eyes bore into his as she pondered. “You’re a protector.”

  He smiled. “Bingo, and on the first try.” He took another drink. “It’s like my personal North Star, navigating me through the important things. I mess up and make mistakes in all areas of life, of course. Too much and too often. But I don’t ignore or discount that one thing I know about me.”

  “I know nothing about me.” She set her fork down and leaned in. “The morning I was getting ready to return to my Amish home, I pinned up my hair and put on my cape dress, apron, and head covering. When I looked in the mirror, I had no idea who was looking back at me.” She shook her head. “None, Quill.”

  He could see the aftermath of the earthquake that had shaken her. Her focus had been to get home, but once there, she discovered that her newfound knowledge railed against the Old Ways and vice versa.

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No.” She trembled as she took a drink of water. “This isn’t about being Amish or not being Amish. I know with my whole heart that I could be in either world, and I would be equally bombarded and overwhelmed.”

  “You’ve done several vital things right. Can we take a moment for you to appreciate that about yourself.”

  “I’ve done nothing right—”

  “You’re aware of what’s going on inside you, and you didn’t repress it or assure yourself you were fine when you weren’t. And you’ve taken time to get away to absorb and regroup.” He knew she wouldn’t have done either of those things before her time with Nicholas and Brandi.

  “What’s the next step?”

  “I wish I knew, Ari. You want relief, and if I could give it to you, I would. But these
things take time.”

  “It’s normal?”

  “I think so.”

  “You went from the simple life and limited knowledge to a chaotic world with too much information and too few answers. Did you feel like this?”

  “Yeah. It was a mixture of information overload, grief, guilt, and who knows what else.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I feel bad for leaving Nicholas and Brandi, and I feel bad for not being overjoyed to be home.”

  He’d carried so much guilt for hurting Ariana, and he’d grieved the loss of many friendships. It had been a hard adjustment, knowing everyone he cared about thought poorly of him. “Focusing on your purpose helps.”

  “You do get it. I knew you would.” She pointed at him.

  “I get it, so what’s your purpose?” He knew the answer, but she needed to say it.

  Her brows furrowed, and they both ate in silence for several minutes.

  She pursed her lips. “All my life I’ve wanted to make things better for Mamm and Daed. But they’re no better off, and the café’s finances are in a mess.”

  He listened as she told him about the items Abram had purchased to make the café more successful and about Cilla’s medical bills.

  “Quill, the bank receipts and deposits from the café show a really good profit, except there’s about five thousand dollars unaccounted for.”

  “What?”

  “Ya. My reaction exactly. Sunday afternoon right before I left, Abram gave me everything concerning the finances of the café—checkbook, statements, receipts, deposit slips. I’ve spent a lot of time this week going over everything, and the café earned that money, but it’s not in any account.”

  “Have you asked Abram?”