For Sure and Certain

by Anya Monroe

  Marigold said nothing. She was done apologizing for who she was, and mostly who she wasn’t. Instead she turned the timer on for eighteen minutes and slid her scones into the oven.

  However brave-faced Marigold tried to be, she was still a girl whose parents had chosen to misunderstand her. Tears pooled in her eyes as she realized just how stuck she was.

  She didn’t even really want to work at a bagel shop, or the Gap, or the craft store, even if she could get a job at those places. Options were limited. For all the prestige and fortune around her, the diplomas hanging on the walls, the rare book collections, the housekeepers, and rooftop pool, she was left empty because none of it afforded what she really wanted – a chance to be her own person. And it would be one thing if taking one of those perfectly fine jobs would get her family off her back, but she knew it wouldn’t.

  The only route she saw was to accept her parents’ path for her and all the strings attached to it. She didn’t want to be tethered to a life that didn’t matter to her.

  But maybe she didn’t have a choice.

  The timer went off, and she pulled the scones from the oven but misjudged her hold on the baking sheet. It fell against the tile floor with a clang, the soft scones falling in crumbles at her feet.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, forgetting her right good from earlier. Pitifully, she took a large piece from the polished floor and plopped it in her mouth. It was good. Broken but good.

  Later that day Abel came in the garden through the back door, unexpectedly. He held a bouquet of daisies, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon and offered her them with a smile across his lips.

  “Lily let me in,” he explained.

  “Your new BFF.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but did she tell you about the group then?”

  “Yes, she did, she seemed a little miffed at how the groups were chosen, but that’s Lily for you. She will always find a reason to complain.” She smelled the flowers in her hand, knowing no boy had ever once brought her a bouquet, and she was going to relish this moment. “Look at you, Abel, a few weeks in the city and already all tied up in the Archer family affairs.” If someone else said this you’d think they were being funny or flippant, but not Marigold. Saying her family’s name made her wistful, because she knew what being a member of her family actually meant.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “I guess we’re finishing twenty questions?” she asked, pretending to be in a better mood than she was. “That was question eight.”

  Abel rubbed his hand over his chin thoughtfully. “Ja, I’ll play but, Marigold, you look upset.”

  “That’s an understatement,” she said, her words catching in her throat. After the scone disaster, she sent the housekeeper home and spent the morning cleaning. Mopping, dusting, washing windows that already sparkled. After the house was clean, she lost herself in the backyard all afternoon, a half-finished afghan splayed across her lap, knitting needles moving furiously, a distraction from the conversation of the morning.

  “I don’t know you that well, I mean, it’s been a week, ja?” Abel sat next to her in an Adirondack chair, his long legs stretched before him. “But I’d like to think I can tell you are sad, or at least not your usual self.”

  The tears came again, unexpectedly. Marigold had no intention of crying in front of this boy. Yet at the same time she hated that tears were the universal sign of weakness. Why can’t tears be strength, she wondered. Why can’t my tears be an invitation? A way of saying I’m letting you into this private place. That I’m letting you into my heart. She didn’t wipe them away, and he didn’t either, as if he wasn’t scared of her vulnerability.

  “I don’t even know why you’re hanging out with me, Abel, bringing me flowers, being so kind, we’re so different. You’ve said so yourself.” Her words stopped short as Abel reached for her hand, taking it in his, rubbing his thumb against hers, slowly. Intimately. It steadied her, and she squeezed tightly, not wanting him to stop.

  “I like you, Marigold. Is that reason enough?” Nine.

  “I don’t know. If there isn’t an Amish girl waiting for you, which you’ve said there isn’t, I’m sure there is some really lovely scholar in the Business Intensive. I’m not like those girls. Girls like my sister. And those guys? Guys that do programs like you, they aren’t the sorts of guys for me. I’ve tried to date guys from there before. They are all so … so….”

  “Pretentious? Obsessed? Wrong?” Abel offered.

  Marigold shook her head. “See, why do you do that?” she asked. Ten.

  “Do what?”

  “Say the absolute right thing.”

  Abel considered her words, and she looked away, not knowing why she pushed him back. Why she looked for reasons for the two of them to not at least try to see if there was something here, when it so clearly hung in the air around them, heavy in the murky summer heat.

  “Why were you crying?” Eleven.

  “The job thing. And the me not wanting to go to college thing. I don’t know if you know this, but my dad is this big business guru guy. He’s written some books.” Abel shook his head, so she continued. “Anyway, my parents really want me to go to college … follow the Archer family footsteps. But like I’ve told you, I’m not up for that, at least not now. So they say I have to get a job … like I’ve told you … but it’s not as easy as that.”

  Marigold paused, not knowing how much of her past she wanted to dump on him. Not knowing how much of her past even mattered. She didn’t want to dig up what she’d put behind her, so she left out the part about her videos, her fight with the barista. The cops coming and the handcuffs and the footage that went viral. The guy losing his job, her losing the respect of her family. Her teachers. Herself.

  She’d made a choice to not go back to being that girl, and she wouldn’t. She didn’t want the guy sitting next to her to change the way he saw her. And maybe that was selfish, but it was her choice.

  “You’ve been looking for a job though, you went to the shopping center. Surely the effort is enough, something will turn up eventually.”

  Wiping her tears away, Marigold nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Something will turn up. If not, I’ll have to do what they want.” She let out an exhausted sigh. “In the meantime, I’ve got to get out of this house.”

  A smile spread across Abel’s face, “I know the perfect thing.”

  “There is no easy answer for this.”

  “No, there is actually.”

  Curiosity danced in Marigold’s eyes.

  “Come home with me this weekend.”

  “The dorm?”

  “No, Lancaster. I’m going tomorrow after morning classes and staying until Sunday night. My dad needs help with the crew for the sheep shearing.”

  Marigold looked down at herself, her legs bare in lacy white shorts, a sheer blouse over a blush-colored bralette. Her toes were painted turquoise and rings that she’d collected at vintage shops wrapped around every finger. Glittering antiqued diamonds and emeralds and amethysts, and all of them were real and all of them pointed to the fact that she was not Amish, not even a little. Not even a bit.

  “You can’t take me home. I could be a psychopath. You’ve gone out with me exactly three times and one of those times was an accident.”

  “Technically this could count as date four. I brought you flowers.” Abel looked at the flowers undeterred. “And at home it would be months of dating before we’d have that many dates, also, we’d have to be engaged to be alone so much, so often.”

  “I don’t know if that’s helping or making me feel weirder.”

  “Do I make you feel weird?” Twelve.

  “No, I just...” She looked down at her clothes again. “I just started feeling like myself, like I was comfortable in my own skin, and I don’t really want to be around people who are going to judge me. That’s what I need to leave home to avoid.”

  “I like your clothes.”

  “That’s b
ecause you’ve been around very fully-clothed women all of your life. This much skin is probably making you high or something.”

  “I like your clothes. They look like they floated from the sky and landed on you in a breathless cloud of perfection.”

  “Did you practice that?” Thirteen.

  “No, I’m practically a genius, Marigold, I’m sure you remember. Words like that just slide off my tongue.” She gently punched his arm. His very muscled, rock solid arm, and he took her hand before she could pull away. The moment grew quiet, the laughter and the jokes gone, and all that was left was the two of them, fingers laced. Hearts held.

  “It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Marigold looked at Abel straight in the eyes, her words true and soft and slow.

  “You don’t hold your cards very close, Marigold,” Abel whispered in her ear, near enough to send a shiver down her back, through her core, right up to her lips.

  “I thought you didn’t play poker?”

  “That was question fourteen, and I’m betting we’re going to run out of questions.”

  Abel pulled her close, his lips against her salty tear-kissed skin, the droplets disappearing as he brushed his fingers across her cheeks. He kissed her mouth soft and strong, and she kissed him with a longing that pressed at her chest. His hands held her face and he didn’t let go until they had shared a kiss memories are made of.

  Abel

  Thursday night when he came back from Marigold’s, Lacey immediately tried to talk him out of bringing her home. Abel didn’t understand why.

  “She’s not Amish, Abel. How do you see this ending? You can’t be together, I mean unless one of you made a very drastic life choice.”

  “On the outside we’re different, I get that, but my mom will see how wonderful she is,” Abel explained. “There’s no way they won’t like her.”

  “Except for the fact you’re bringing home a girl just two weeks after you left home,” Lacey pressed, sucking on a spiked lollipop.

  Lacey must be pretty rich, Abel thought, not for the first time. Just like Marigold, whose father was apparently a bestselling author. He ran his fingers through his hair, once again reminded that he was way out of his league. His family was well-off as far as Amish went, but the people at Jamestown were an entirely different sort of well-off.

  They were rich enough to have a never-ending supply of edibles in their arsenal. Sticks from already-eaten lollipops littered the floor.

  Lacey plopped back on his bed then rubbed in Abel’s insecurities. “And she’s gonna think it’s serious. It’s way too soon for a move like this.”

  “Maybe I am serious, and since when did you become the relationship expert?”

  “Well, Jenna’s going out with me tomorrow.” Lacey leaned in for a high-five, which Abel gave, shaking his head and taking a lollipop from the bag on Lacey’s bed. “Bedsides, dude, you’re gonna piss your parents off. They let you come because they think you’re returning home to run the family farm. This is gonna mess with their heads.”

  “But maybe I won’t go back home, ever. Maybe this is where I belong.”

  “Do you mean that?” Lacey asked, his voice raised in surprise. “Because all that ‘baptism vow’ stuff seemed pretty hardcore when you told me about it.”

  “That was what I planned before I came. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but how can I leave after the summer?”

  “Your parents are expecting you to take your vows come fall.”

  “I know, but I can’t make promises I don’t know if I can keep.” The heaviness of the statement sat between the two of them. “Besides, all I’m doing is taking a friend with me while I go sheer a thousand sheep. It’s nothing more than that.”

  “You’re sure?” Lacey asked, taking on a protective role Abel wasn’t used to. “Because intentions are everything.”

  Abel looked at him confused, since when did the pot-head become Buddha?

  “I intend to take Marigold, a friend I care about, to visit my family.”

  Abel smiled as the taxi stopped at Marigold’s front door. The fears Lacey planted in his head dissolved as he stuck his head out the window, gulping the fresh air as he took her in. Marigold stood on the sidewalk, her long hair blowing in the breeze, her head looking up at the clouds.

  “Good afternoon, Marigold,” he said, stepping out of the car to greet her. She stood, clutching a canvas bag, and another sat at her feet.

  “You came,” she said it like it was a relief, like she wondered if he’d really be here. He was.

  “You’re all set then?” he asked. She nodded and slipped in beside him as the driver shut their door. The taxi delivered them to the bus station, and they were quickly settled into their seats for the ride to Lancaster.

  “I brought sustenance,” she said pulling out a paper sack from her purse. “My very best peanut butter cookies and a thermos of coffee.”

  “You’re so prepared.”

  “I bake when I’m nervous,” she admitted biting her lip.

  “Don’t be nervous.”

  “Did you tell them I’m coming at least?”

  “The whole no phone thing kind of zeroed out that plan.”

  “Right.” Her face fell slightly.

  “Don’t worry. Seriously, girls always over think these things.”

  “Do you bring a lot of girls home?” she asked as the bus pulled out of the city and onto the highway. They had a two-hour ride ahead of them, and Abel wasn’t all too keen on spending it rehashing past relationships.

  “Bringing girls home isn’t really an Amish thing, everything is discreet. I only courted one girl. Esther.”

  “And when did you guys break up?” Marigold asked. Even though Abel was bright, he hadn’t exactly thought through how all of this would sound.

  “Two weeks ago, on my way out of town,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “No!” She buried her hands in her face. “So I’m a rebound girl?”

  “I don’t know what that is, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t good. And you, Marigold, you are good. You are only good.”

  “Who was she?”

  “Esther?”

  Marigold nodded, so Abel explained, “She’s my sister, Bekah’s, best friend. Which I know doesn’t sound great, but she already moved to Ohio. You won’t even see her.”

  A groan escaped her lips. “This is going to so be bad, you know that, right?”

  “What part especially?”

  “Oh my goodness, Abel, you are such a guy!”

  “Well, tell me about the guys you’ve brought home.”

  “I didn’t bring anyone home either. I mean, I went out with a guy last year for a few months, Drake, but he was ridiculous, and anyways he left for Stanford. I mean it was nothing serious-serious. And then this guy who works at the Jamestown library took me out a few times last summer.”

  “What happened with him?”

  “He wanted to get in my dad’s pants that’s what.” She grimaced. “Sorry, that’s probably totally inappropriate. You need to tell me what’s okay to talk about. I mean, I’m pretty sure my father’s trousers aren’t PC, but what is?”

  “We can talk about that in a minute, what I want to know is, why only two guys? Why wouldn’t a girl like you have dated more?”

  She stood to lower the window and let her hand feel the wind, then turned back to him, her hair flying out the opened pane. He wanted to capture her with a camera, even though photographs were forbidden. He wanted to see that girl, the one so free, always.

  “I went through lots of phases, Abel. And it kind of kept people at a distance, like they didn’t know what to make of me. I was a mystery, and not so interested in anyone I saw. I went to this crazy fancy prep school and everyone was just like my sister and brother, so cookie-cutter. So not me.”

  “You were like the Zelda girl in my group.”

  “Is that a video game reference?”

  “I think so.”

  “Right good, Abel you’r
e so culturally relevant.” She pushed her hand against his chest, and kept it there.

  “The Zelda girl though, she wears this outfit every day, and I didn’t even know it was a costume until my roommate Lacey explained it. I thought she was really into family crests, because she wears one on her back, but apparently it is Hyrule’s, the city she lives in.”

  “The kingdom you mean, she’s the Hyrule Princess,” Marigold clarified.

  “Right, so I may have a few gaps in my Hyrulian education. Anyway, she wears this outfit every day and is kind of an outsider, which says a lot coming from me.”

  Marigold licked her lips before answering, “Yeah, I was the Zelda girl.”

  Then he kissed her, grateful there was a bus full of people, because the additional set of eyes forced him to lean away from the girl next to him. He knew he needed to explain a few things before they arrived at home. Most importantly the fact that there would be zero touching allowed once they got to Lancaster County.

  Marigold

  They passed another horse and buggy, big black wheels with a small carriage perched on top. Abel rested with his eyes closed, their knees touching just barely, just enough to keep Marigold’s heart fluttering.

  His chest rose and fell steadily, completely calm even though they were nearly to his parents’ home. She knew because she’d Google mapped it after her mother required an address to where she was off to all weekend. When Eileen asked questions, Marigold didn’t have answers for, Lily shocked them all and stepped in to vouch for Abel’s character.

  Now, so close to their destination, she was freaking out. And she wasn’t a freak-outer by nature. Her hands were sweaty, and she rubbed them together, only making it worse.

  “Abel, do I look alright?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “You look great,” he beamed. She nodded her head, wanting to believe him, and smoothed the skirt of her soft purple pinafore. It was her favorite smock, with hand-embroidered pink flowers trailing the bodice and large pockets at the side. Underneath it she wore a pale pink calf-length dress, with three layers of soft ruffles at the hem, ones she’d added herself. She’d put light blue leggings underneath and wore black ballet flats, hoping her simple clothing choices wouldn’t stand out.