“Do you think Ariana is embracing Brandi and Nicholas any better?”
Lovina eased into a chair. “May God forgive me, but I hope not. They’re…worldly, probably dangling every shiny bauble known to man in front of her.” Did feeling that way make Lovina a hypocrite? She wanted Ariana to return unscathed by her new world, but she wanted Skylar changed by the power of God.
Isaac glanced at the clock, but he said nothing. Usually at this time of the morning they would be busy with their workday, but they remained in the kitchen, hoping Skylar would wake and the three of them could talk.
“I don’t know if I should tell you…”
Isaac frowned. “If we’re going to make any difference, we can’t hide anything from each other concerning Skylar.”
“Okay.” Lovina glanced at the stairway and lowered her voice. “The whole time she and I were together yesterday—working some in the garden and then making lunch—she gave me nothing, Isaac. Not one kind word, not a smile, not really even lifting a hand to do any real work. She dragged herself through every hour and disappeared if I so much as blinked.”
But Skylar had logged time on her feet and not in her bedroom. That had to count for something. Today she’d slept in, waking only long enough to say her head hurt again.
Since everyone else was gone in a dozen directions now, Lovina thought it might be a good time to try to find something in common, something fun or interesting they might begin to bond over.
Her guilt about the girls hadn’t eased, nor had her grief. The situations Ariana and Skylar had been forced into were unfair, and Lovina carried the most responsibility. But she couldn’t let that drown her. There was work to be done in both their lives—prayers to be prayed and battles to be fought. Lovina had to keep moving forward. This was no time for immobilizing regret.
But one of the undeniable realities was that the hole Ariana had left—her tender heart toward everyone and her love of hard work—felt as deep as the well in the side yard.
Lovina picked up Isaac’s mug and took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “I hope Ariana is putting forth good effort for Brandi and Nicholas.”
“She is.”
“I’d sort of hoped that Skylar was one of those Englisch people who was enamored with Plain life.”
“That would have made the transition easier, but she would realize we’re not on that pedestal, because no one is. At least this way we get to work our way up, and it’ll be based on who we are, not who she thinks we are.”
Lovina slid her hands over Isaac’s. “That’s a good way to look at it, I suppose.”
He glanced at the clock. “It’s almost ten. Perhaps you should wake her.”
“What if she didn’t fall asleep until nearly morning?”
“Then she’d fit in with the rest of us, I think.” He shrugged. “No one is sleeping well right now.” He opened his paper and began reading again.
Lovina put a fresh pot of coffee on to percolate. She had a bacon biscuit sitting in a warm, covered frying pan. Surely Skylar would be up soon. In the meanwhile Lovina started scrubbing the inside of the oven. Twenty minutes later she heard the floor overhead creak and light footsteps on the stairs.
Still in her red silky pajamas, Skylar walked into the kitchen. Her blond hair with its black streak was tousled, and her gait resembled that of a wobbly-kneed senior citizen. She spotted them and froze, as if surprised to see them. Usually by this time Lovina was up to her elbows in outdoor chores—mostly laundry, some gardening, and helping with the never-ending farm work.
Lovina smiled. “Kumm. Sit.” She took a mug from the cabinet and poured hot coffee. She put the bacon biscuit on a plate and placed both in front of her.
“Thanks,” Skylar mumbled and leaned her temple against her palm.
Lovina passed her cream and sugar.
Skylar gave Lovina a sleepy halfhearted smile before returning her focus to the coffee.
Lovina sat across from her, and Skylar shifted. Were they making her uncomfortable? Lovina waited for the words to come to her, but her brain was just dead weight, and she looked to Isaac for help.
He fiddled with the edges of his newspaper. “We are wondering how you’re doing. You know, how are you feeling about the transition?”
His words were as stiff as the oak table between them. How were they going to reach into Skylar’s heart to make a difference when they couldn’t get past their own awkwardness?
Skylar took a sip of coffee. “Not much to compare this to, is there?”
“True.” Lovina stopped her fingers from fidgeting. “Still, you should know how you feel, right?”
“Considering how surreal this tabloid ‘switched at birth’ thing is, I’m fine. It feels as if I’m being punked.”
“Punked?”
“It’s a television show, and I can hear the hook—‘Aspiring actress college student has been sent back in time, a time before electricity and cars, where people live off the land. Will she adapt or go insane?’ ” Skylar set the mug on the table. “I’m leaning toward insane. You?”
She sounded every bit as apathetic as she was sarcastic, and once again Lovina looked to Isaac. His eyes were glued to the table, probably trying to keep from lecturing Skylar. Lovina couldn’t let the awkward silence settle into nothingness. “There’s no chance of going insane. People are built to adjust to their surroundings. But I also don’t think you are, as you said, fine.”
Skylar set down her coffee. “How would you know how I feel?”
Her tone bothered Lovina. It wasn’t accusatory. Her question was more like an observation.
Lovina put her hands in her lap and clutched them, holding tight. “This is a tough situation, and no one expects you to be happy, but you seem particularly unhappy, and we thought you might have a couple of suggestions for ways we could help.”
“Maybe seeming unhappy is my personality. You don’t really know me well enough to have a clue, do you?”
What could be done to break through her defenses, her apathy? “So what would you like to see happen between us—parents and daughter—while you’re here?” Would reminding her they were her parents help her want to try?
“ ‘See happen’? You mean other than being allowed to return to the twenty-first century and attend college?” Skylar took a bite of her biscuit.
“I meant relationshipwise.” Lovina couldn’t keep her hands still. “This is our chance to get to know one another. We don’t want it to feel like a punishment.”
Skylar took another bite of biscuit. “I don’t know what else to call it. I was given the choice of rehab or living here. Quill talked me into coming here, and I thought it would be better than rehab. For the record, it’s not.”
If this young woman weren’t their daughter, Lovina would be tempted to show her the door.
Isaac shot his wife a look. “You see being here and doing chores as a punishment, but our only wish is to get to know you.”
“That is just so shady.”
Lovina wondered if Skylar thought they didn’t know she was calling them liars.
Isaac sat up straighter, his face taut. “Why?”
“You’re not trying to get to know me. Nobody here cares who I am, which is fine. But be honest about it. You want to use me as another worker. When I arrived, I wondered why anyone would have this many children. Now I know.”
Isaac closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “That’s not true, but, more important, what’s your point for saying those things? Do you need to vent, or do you hope to keep pushing us away?”
Skylar blinked, and her guard seemed to drop momentarily, as if she was shocked that Isaac had pinpointed her desire to keep them at bay.
What would this relationship be like if they hadn’t missed out on her childhood: seeing her blow out candles on her birthday cake, watching her clap and beam with excitement over dozens of things each month, kissing a scraped knee to make it better, walking with her to her first day of school, greeting her with homem
ade snacks when she came home, helping with homework, having daily devotions. But Lovina was never given that opportunity, and she feared Skylar would never want to have anything to do with her.
Skylar raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you already have a daughter my exact age?”
Was Skylar being aloof and difficult because she thought they had no room in their hearts for her? Lovina had so many unanswered questions. If they didn’t understand Skylar, they wouldn’t be able to find a way into her heart.
“We have other daughters. That’s true,” Lovina said. “But each one is equally valuable and means the world to us. We would do anything to help them, and that focus is especially directed at our third daughter right now.”
Skylar flinched at the words “third daughter.” An awkward silence filled the room. “Don’t you think referring to me as your third daughter might strain your relationship with Ariana?”
Lovina had practically thrown out Ariana for the chance to make sure Skylar knew God. Clearly she couldn’t undo how swiftly she’d pursued connecting with Skylar. And Ariana would always be her daughter, but would she see it that way? “Love is weird. Its boundaries are able to expand, and each time that happens, it brings unexpected joys. Gifts from God.”
Skylar’s light brown eyes held suspicion. “All the joy of having a bouncing baby girl was centered on Ariana…for twenty years. I arrived too late to that party, and it’s over. If you think otherwise—”
“Skylar.” Isaac leaned in. “You’re right that opportunities have been missed, and we’re strangers for now. There will be a learning curve for us to connect this many years later, but we’d like for you to give us a chance.”
Lovina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Ariana will always be our daughter, just as you will always be your parents’ daughter.”
“Yeah, that’s the sentiment.”
“What do you mean?” Isaac asked.
It was becoming clear that Skylar didn’t show much emotion. She just nonchalantly spoke in a sarcastic tone. “My mom was weary of trying to make me better, and my dad was all too grateful to have a new daughter.”
Lovina ached to touch her daughter—to hold her hand or place a hand on her shoulder—but she didn’t reach out. “I’m sure—”
“It’s okay. I’m not complaining. Or looking for sympathy.”
Was that true? Were Brandi and Nicholas worn out from trying to raise Skylar? “Look, we know this isn’t an ideal situation, but—”
“That’s a bit of an understatement.”
“Regardless of how awkward and unpleasant this situation is, God can cause it to benefit all of us.” Would Lovina regret talking about God to someone who didn’t wish to hear about Him? “You can talk to us about any struggles.” Was that true? What did they know of the kind of issues Skylar was dealing with?
“Struggles?” Skylar lifted a brow. “If you want to talk about drugs, say so directly…as if I could get my hands on any around here.”
Looking at her in this moment, Lovina was convinced her daughter intended to make connecting with her impossible, and Lovina had no idea what to say to her.
“We weren’t talking about drugs,” Isaac said, “but since you brought it up—”
“I really don’t want to hear about my sins.”
“Then we won’t touch on that topic.” Isaac went to the stove and got the percolator. “But a laws-of-nature chat might be in order.” He refilled her cup. “Not only am I a farmer, but I’m from a long line of farmers. Whether growing crops or tending cattle, we know the yield is a gift, but that gift is affected by whatever it comes in contact with. If crops grow in tainted soil, they can make a person sick rather than give nourishment. It’s the same basic principle for livestock. If livestock eats something as harmless as onion grass, their milk or beef will taste strange, ruining the gift. Laws of nature are true whether we like them, agree with them, or are ignorant of them. Your life is a gift, and it’s meant to yield good things to you and others. Drugs, whether a sin or not, will negatively affect your gift.”
“Laws of nature.” Skylar pinned Isaac with her stare as he sat back down. “Like the one that says if you don’t care enough to look for or reach out to your child until she’s twenty, she’s not going to care by that point.”
Isaac abruptly stood up, and Lovina knew he was fighting with himself, trying to weigh his words rather than unleashing them to straighten out this girl’s thinking. He went to the cabinet, got a glass, and filled it.
“Is that what you think?” Lovina’s insides shook.
She’d asked herself time and again why she hadn’t pushed to learn the truth sooner, why she hadn’t acted on her mother’s intuition. She hadn’t dreamed Skylar would piece together enough to blame them so fully.
“What should I think?” Skylar asked.
Isaac downed the glass of water and refilled it. “You should think that mistakes have been made on all sides. But we’re your parents, not the enemy.”
Skylar slunk back against her chair, looking disinterested in the whole conversation.
Lovina’s heart ached for her child. Skylar was more than walled off and defiant. She was skilled at debating, and she wasn’t interested in accepting where they were and moving forward but in assigning blame and pushing people away. Lovina was beginning to see why Susie bristled whenever Skylar entered the room. But whatever irked Susie about her new sister, she was keeping it to herself.
Isaac set a fresh glass of water in front of Lovina.
“Skylar…” Lovina took a swallow, trying to gain control as she prayed for the right words. She set the glass on the table. “You seem to understand the laws of nature well, and our hope is that you will apply that knowledge toward all sorts of things in your life, including the use of illegal drugs.” Lovina drew a breath. “We don’t want to impose our Amish beliefs on you or use you as free labor. That was never our hope.”
“Then, do tell, what is it you want?”
The question stung. Was her only desire to figure them out and be on her way? “To get to know you,” Lovina said. “To assure you that wherever you go in life or whatever you do, we’re here for you. To give you a chance to get to know us and your nine siblings.”
Skylar still had the same melancholy, apathetic look on her face. But she wasn’t firing back a witticism or an insulting observation, which Lovina took as a small triumph. “How do you feel about our wishes?”
“I feel that if I refuse, I won’t have a roof over my head by this time next week.”
Lovina opened her mouth to refute that, but Isaac shook his head. Skylar’s eyes bore into Lovina, making her shudder. They had no idea who this young woman was.
The aroma of steamy hot water, perfumed soap, and expensive body lotion filled the bathroom as Ariana finished pinning her prayer Kapp in place. She felt as if bees had taken up residence in her chest. Nerves, she imagined. She eased open the door and tiptoed past Cameron’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to disturb the snooty, difficult teen. The whole house had been completely quiet since Ariana awoke an hour ago. What time did the Englisch wake on a Saturday?
She glanced into the room where she was staying—Skylar’s bedroom at Brandi’s house—making sure it was in good order. Ariana had made the bed and straightened everything, but nothing looked as it should.
A driver’s license manual with her name scrawled on it sat on a French provincial vanity with three huge mirrors and a marble top covered with silvery containers of makeup, creams, and colognes, along with a jewelry box. A canopy of red lace was attached to four bedposts, a thick satiny bedspread of golds and reds covered the mattress, and a mirror ball hung from the ceiling. Ariana hadn’t even known what a mirror ball was until she arrived. So who decorated a young girl’s room like this?
Feelings she detested settled over her. When had she become a judgmental biddy? Had it always been there? She grabbed the manual, closed the door, and went downstairs to the kitchen. Her stomach growled, and she loo
ked in the pantry. It had lots of stuff—cold cereal, macaroni and cheese, Hamburger Helper, raw sugar, breakfast bars, protein drinks. She spotted an uncut loaf of french bread and grabbed it. The one thing she knew how to do was to turn limited ingredients into something wholesome and delicious. She pulled eggs, cheese, and bacon out of the fridge before moving to the spice rack.
She had everything she needed to make cinnamon french toast. Her family loved it. If Cameron had friends over again, maybe they’d enjoy a nice breakfast when they woke. So far things between Cameron and her were uncomfortable. How could they not be? Cameron whispered and snickered with her friends, and she constantly referred to Ariana as different movie characters.
Ariana walked to the stove. It was time to win over Cameron, and a good meal would help. But the stove had no dials to turn and no burners. She studied it. There was writing inside various painted squares on a flat panel. Clock. Clean. Start. Off. It had other things too, including a number grid like a touchscreen phone.
She pushed various spots on the panel, and blue digital symbols and numbers showed up where it had been blank moments earlier, but nothing else happened. She pushed more painted squares, hoping to find the right combination that would make this cold block of silver and black come to life. It was pretty, and it was the cleanest stove Ariana had ever seen. Unlike the lace canopy on her bed, surely the oven served a purpose. Fine. Forget the oven.
She would simply make french toast on the stovetop. But…how did she turn it on? She pressed different squares of words this time. The stove beeped. Actually more like howled, making long shrieks that she didn’t know how to stop. More shrill beeps started coming from somewhere in the house. What had she done? She followed the beeps and discovered a book-sized electronic plastic thing on the wall that was screeching and blinking. How had pushing buttons on the oven made this thing go off? Heat burned her skin, a sure sign of once again feeling completely stupid. She pressed the red button with the outline of a home on it, and it beeped louder and faster. Perhaps she should run upstairs and get Brandi. No one could be sleeping through this anyway. As she started up the stairs, a phone rang, the noise echoing off the walls.
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