Gathering the Threads

by Cindy Woodsmall

  She smiled. “I don’t know when I’ve been so glad to see you.”

  “Glad to hear that…I think.”

  The moment he stood up straight, she embraced him, holding tight. This wasn’t normal. His Mamm gave hugs and was very open about her love, but this time she clung to him as if she were drowning, and since he felt as if he were drowning too, he held on tight. He kissed the top of her head. “You okay?”

  She jerked a ragged breath into her lungs. “I’ve been thinking.” She pointed at the rug under their feet. “You picked this out about ten years ago, and you loved this rug. How about if you roll it up and take it with you for your home?”

  “Strange welcome.” He looked down at the sturdy, colorful rug with the bits of melting snow that had fallen off his boots. “But I really like the plan.” He took off his coat and tossed it on the bed.

  Mamm was unique. He knew no one else like her. She was steel wrapped in fleece. Maybe that was her nature, or maybe that was who she’d become since giving birth to five strong-willed sons and burying the love of her life. Sometimes he didn’t understand her actions and reactions, but he knew she’d just used a diversionary tactic to avoid answering his question about her well-being. Something was seriously out of kilter.

  She raised the lantern toward his face. “You’re pale.”

  He nodded. “It’s been a bad twenty-four hours. I…I planned poorly, and it could cost a victim of domestic violence and her three children their freedom. Maybe even their lives.”

  Her eyes stayed on his. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Denki.” Quill hugged her again.

  “Have you heard from the woman?”

  “No. Last night after she changed her mind about leaving with me, I stayed at a hotel close to her house just in case she made contact with someone and wanted me to get her.” He had been up all night, pacing the floor and talking to people in the organization who knew Gia. But he’d been told this afternoon that he needed to leave Camp Hill. He couldn’t live in a hotel room without getting out some, and they couldn’t afford for him to be spotted. One of the children might recognize him and blurt out that he was the man from the grocery store who tried to get their mommy to leave with him. So he came here since it was only thirty minutes from Camp Hill.

  When his Mamm released him, she motioned for him to follow her. “Clearly we both need hot tea and a long conversation.”

  He hovered in the dark hallway while Mamm lowered the blinds in the living room and kitchen. Then he moved to the table, and they chatted as she peeled potatoes and cooked hash browns.

  After giving some details of the failed rescue and Gia’s fear of going with him, Quill was ready to change the topic. “Enough about me. How are you?”

  “Today”—she stabbed a knife into the cutting board—“the ministers were taking turns preaching about different dangers of being willful, and all of it was aimed at Ariana. I walked out.”

  Quill couldn’t believe his ears. “Mamm…”

  “I know.” She pointed a shaky hand at him. “That was my reaction.”

  “If you left in the middle of the meeting, you’re likely to get a visit tonight.”

  “Ya. The doors are locked, but if someone knocks, you’ll have to move fast.”

  He nodded.

  She jerked the knife free and started cutting the potatoes again. “They never mentioned anyone’s name, but let me tell you what was said…” Mamm rattled on about the letter he’d given Ariana and how she’d destroyed it in front of the deacon when he’d told her to hand it over. Mamm told him about the preachers mentioning texts between him and Ariana and his meeting her at the B&B. As the list went on, Quill was tempted to grab the knife and threaten the bishop with it.

  “How’s Ariana?”

  “I haven’t seen her since I left the meeting. Did you know she’s not been allowed to go to her café all week?”

  “Why?”

  As Mamm was explaining, someone knocked on the door, and Quill disappeared down the hallway and into his room.

  The ministers would have a lot of questions about his Mamm leaving the service, and he didn’t imagine she had any measured, polite responses right now, so it could be a very long visit.

  Could he get out the window without being heard? He really didn’t want to hide in this house for endless hours, and he feared he might come out of hiding and tell them what he really thought.

  Ariana stomped her feet, trying to knock as much snow off her boots as possible. She knocked again. Where was her key to Berta’s house anyway?

  The lock clicked, and slowly the door opened an inch. The chain caught. Berta gasped. “Ariana!” She peered behind her. “Are you alone?”

  “Ya.”

  The door slammed, the chain rattled, and then the door flew open. “Ach, Ari.” Berta hugged her and ushered her inside. “Are you okay?”

  “Better, actually.” Ariana closed the door. “But I’m not as alone as I said.” Ariana pulled the pup out from under her coat. “Look what I found.” The puppy wriggled and whimpered, clearly preferring to snuggle and sleep than to be showcased. “Is she welcome to come in too?”

  Berta laughed. “Ya.”

  “We need to be a little bit careful because she hasn’t gone potty since I found her four hours ago.”

  Berta lifted the puppy from Ariana. “I know what you need. Kumm.” Berta put a towel on the woodstove, and Ariana knew in just a minute she’d wrap the puppy in it and feed her something tasty.

  Ariana unbuttoned her coat. “She was half-frozen in the middle of the lot behind the café. I don’t know how she got there, and I can’t believe I heard her whimpering and was able to spot her under a layer of snow.”

  Berta stroked the puppy. “You went to the café?”

  “I did.” Ariana hung her coat on the back of a kitchen chair. “I snuck out after the fellowship meal and…”

  Chills ran up the back of Ariana’s neck. But it was different from feeling cold. The feeling was a familiar one. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Sure.” Berta never looked up. “I think I lit the lamp in the bathroom, but if not, I put a fresh lighter in the right-hand drawer under the sink.”

  Ariana stepped to the edge of the hallway and peered down the dark corridor, looking at the closed door of Quill’s bedroom. If Quill was here, Berta wouldn’t volunteer that information. It would be up to him to make himself known or not. But if he was here, why would he hide from her? Maybe he hadn’t realized she was the person who came to his Mamm’s door. “Quill?”

  The bedroom door opened, and moonlight shone around him as if he were a dark cloud outlined by a shimmering silver lining. He said nothing. Didn’t even move.

  Relationships of all kinds are odd, each one unique to the two people in it. Apparently, based on the last five or so years of her life, they were also complex and really hard.

  A memory of the two of them in this exact spot five months ago washed over her. At the time, all that was between them was the darkness of a stormy night and the silence of brokenness. But now, even in the evening shadows, she could feel a tremor in him and knew something was wrong, something cataclysmic.

  She brushed a strand of hair from her face, wondering how much had fallen from her prayer Kapp since daylight. “I didn’t expect you to be here.” And hadn’t she promised Rudy she wouldn’t see him anymore?

  “I heard you’ve had it rough,” he whispered as he came toward her. He stopped mere inches away.

  “Ya, but right now I’m asking about you.”

  He drew a deep breath, and she waited for his answer, but none came. Then he gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m good. No worries.”

  “Fine.” She didn’t believe him. “Of course you are. You always are. It’s no problem if I’m a wreck, if I need to vent and cry and talk about my issues without a filter. But it’s entirely too much for you to stop protecting me for three minutes and just tell it like it is.”

  Quill gestured t
oward the kitchen again. “How bad is the damage from what’s going on with the ministers?”

  “That’s it? That’s your response? Because that’s the kind of diversion and withholding of information that adults use on children.”

  “You have a lot going on right now—”

  “Everyone on the planet has a lot going on right now.” Why was she prodding him to talk to her when she was supposed to avoid him? It just seemed wrong that he carried too much and shared so little.

  A loud knock made them both jump.

  Berta hurried down the hallway with the puppy. “It’s the ministers.” She pushed the puppy into Ariana’s arms. “You both should go. It won’t help Ariana to be seen here,” she whispered.

  “Berta.” Ariana put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. Calm.” She said the word slowly. “I’ll stay back here as an excuse for any noises Quill makes as he goes out his bedroom window, and I’ll join you momentarily.”

  “Ach, gut. Ya.” Berta took a deep breath, returning to her usual calm.

  “Go.” Ariana pointed at Quill’s bedroom door.

  They heard the front door open and the minister enter.

  “Ari,” Quill whispered, “I didn’t mean—”

  She covered his mouth with her hand. “Sh.”

  They went into his room, and Ari closed the door. “You most certainly did mean it, every single word you didn’t say.” She picked up his leather coat and thrust it at him.

  “But…”

  Footfalls in the hallway caused both of them to hush. The bathroom door closed. Without another word Quill eased the window open.

  The ministers could be here for hours, and Quill needed to leave while he could. She put the puppy on the rug to close the window behind him.

  “She’ll use my rug,” he whispered as he stepped out the window and onto the wraparound porch.

  Through the moonlit darkness, she grasped the window to close it. “Good.”

  Skylar stood behind the counter of the café, disinfecting the smudged keys of the cash register. How many people who’d come in today had a cold? Or worse.

  The Saturday crowd had simmered down to a dull murmur of coffee-sipping regulars. Apparently the ridiculous amount of snow lately had caused cabin fever, and this café was a hot spot to go to.

  When the bell on the door jangled, her heart sped up, expecting to see Jax lumbering toward her. After their last encounter they needed to clear the air a bit. Because of the sunlight, she saw only the silhouette of a man, but it clearly wasn’t Jax, and her heart seemed to drop a few inches.

  It was reasonable for him to have pulled back. She was the pot calling the kettle black to question his issues. He had served his country, was good to his friends, and reached out to help those less fortunate. That was a far cry from how she spent her days.

  But Jax would be here soon. He came every Saturday around closing time, bringing whatever supplies Susie had ordered.

  The man came to a halt in front of the register, interrupting her thoughts. She didn’t recognize him for a moment, but then his handsome face brought it all back.

  “What?” Skylar tossed the cleaning cloth to the side. “Have you uncovered another long-lost biological family member of mine and are here to rip apart my life again?”

  Quill seemed unfazed by her sarcasm. “I suppose I deserve that.”

  “You think?” She looked at an imaginary watch on her arm. “Oh, look. You dropped me off here almost four months ago.” She tapped her wrist and held it to her ear as if the pretend watch was broken. “And never looked back.” She lowered her arm. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Ariana isn’t here. Just me.” She shooed him. “So off you go. No need to linger.”

  But instead of backing away, Quill leaned in, propping his hands on the counter. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. I got completely caught up in work and being there for Ariana, and I should’ve made time to come by here.”

  “Shoulda, coulda, woulda. It’s the story of my life.”

  “Mine too, I think. But I knew you were in good hands with the Brennemans.”

  Skylar’s insides relaxed, as if she’d stepped into a warm shower. “You’re right about the Brennemans. I mean, they are bat-crazy religious, and if I ever forget that part, Isaac lowers his iron fist on someone and quickly reminds me. Thankfully I fall into a different category, so as long as I carry my share of the workload, he doesn’t put his iron-fist expectations on me. But the religious part aside, they are real and kind in ways that…” She shrugged, unwilling to be vulnerable with him. But she’d desperately needed the type of kindness and authenticity that defined the Brenneman family. “Anyway, I’m clean. Can you believe that?”

  He smiled, and his blue eyes lit up with pleasure. “I believe it. And words can’t convey how glad I am, for your sake. But you’re right, so I’ll say it again, I should’ve made time to come by sooner. You deserved at least that.”

  “You’re really good at apologies.”

  “Glad to hear it. I need to be.” He looked toward the kitchen. “Where is she?”

  “Grounded.”

  “Still?”

  “Yup.” Apparently when Skylar did something sneaky and underhanded, she did a great job of it.

  Quill drummed his fingers on the counter and sighed. “All the same I’ll have a coffee.”

  Skylar grabbed a mug and filled it. “My guess is you’ve tried to reach her via texts or phone calls.”

  “I have.” Quill sat at the counter directly in front of Skylar. “How are you?”

  Skylar put the mug in front of him. “Drink your coffee. I was nice to you once, and you used the information against me.”

  Quill put out his hands pleadingly. “I thought you just accepted my good apology.”

  Skylar enjoyed being passive-aggressive. “That was for dropping me here and not checking on me. Now I’m focusing on your flirting with me to get info.”

  “I did do that, didn’t I?” He shook his head. “Can’t apologize for it. It was necessary to uncover what I needed to know, and based on this conversation, you’d only find something else you’d want an apology for.”

  “Maybe. Four months has given me a long time to think.”

  Quill bounced his palm against the rim of the mug. “Any idea how Rudy is handling all of this?”

  Skylar shrugged. “He seems good. A bit quiet when the bishop says to be, but I haven’t seen him do anything but support her, whether he’s by her side or winking at her from across the room during church service.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Are you?” Had he forgotten that when he first “happened” to meet her and was trying to break the ice, he’d told her how he felt about Ariana?

  “Yes. Very.”

  “Okay.” Skylar refilled his mug. “Just wondering.”

  “Any idea how much longer she’ll be grounded?”

  “None.” Skylar returned the carafe to its burner. “You’re a weird guy, you know that?”

  “How so?”

  “You displace my entire life and then sit in front of me, sipping coffee like we’re old friends.”

  Quill didn’t react. “Yup.”

  “Is that it?”

  He didn’t break eye contact or blink. “Yup.”

  She propped her folded arms on the counter in front of him. “Really? You actually think the scraps you just threw me were plenty?”

  “Apparently smart women don’t like brevity very much.”

  Skylar suppressed a giggle. “Ah, have we stumbled on why you’re here and need to be good at apologies?”

  “They say silence is golden, but it clearly also gets under people’s skin.”

  The door jingled, but she ignored it. “I’ll tell you this much. Ariana has more pluck than I imagined.”

  He barely smiled as he stared into his mug. “Pluck to spare of late.”

  She laughed, grabbed a dish towel, and threw it at his face. He didn�
�t react, but when it fell over his coffee, he removed it.

  “You’re too calm, Quill. Just too calm.” She glanced up to see Jax hanging back, a folder in one hand and flowers in the other. “Hey, Jax.” Since their uncomfortable conversation more than a week ago, they’d simply spoken when necessary and danced awkwardly around each other. She gestured between the two men. “Jax, meet Quill, a.k.a. the life ruiner.” She picked up the cloth and smacked Quill’s arm with it.

  Quill stood and shook Jax’s hand. “Life ruiner isn’t my official title.”

  Jax’s usual smile was barely visible.

  Skylar leaned over the counter. “Oh, my. Look at those flowers, and here it is stark winter, no floral color peeking through anywhere. Those had to cost you a pretty penny, and Susie will love them. Do you want a vase?”

  “Uh…” He looked from the flowers to Skylar. “Nah.” He held up the folder. “I brought the estimates to show you.”

  Skylar pointed toward the pass-through. “The people to talk to about all of that are in the back.” She shooed him. “Go.”

  Jax left, and Quill took a five-dollar bill out of his wallet and held it toward her.

  She shook her head. “You’re good.”

  He held on to the money as he put away his wallet. “In my opinion he didn’t bring in the estimates to talk to the others about them.” He tossed the money on the counter. “And the flowers weren’t for Susie.”

  “What?” She looked beyond the pass-through, trying to see Jax. “You think…me?”

  “Yup.” Quill rapped his knuckles on the counter. “If you like that guy at all, it was a bad call not to tell him we barely know each other.” Quill briefly lifted both brows, a smile tugging on his lips. “But it’s a fixable situation…if you care to.” Quill walked toward the front door.

  He was known for being savvy, but he had to be dead wrong about this.

  Abram rushed out of the kitchen, causing the swinging door to flop to and fro with fury. “Quill.”

  Quill stopped and turned. When the two men were close, Abram spoke softly and pulled what appeared to be a folded piece of paper from his pocket. The two talked for maybe a minute before Abram handed it to Quill, and then Quill left.