by Anya Monroe
“I don’t understand, what would you do for them?” he asked incredulous, not able to keep his resistance at bay.
“I could help a lot, Abel, I’m quite capable.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t capable. I just, I don’t see why they would need an English girl like you. There’s not even a precedent for this sort of thing.”
“Precedent of not, your mom said it might be providence. Do you believe in that?”
“In Gods will? A divine calling?” Abel turned his body to face her easier. “I don’t know what I believe.”
“Well, me either, but it’s not like I am converting to anything by helping your mom with her yarn shop.”
“Yarn shop?”
“Yes, her shed’s filled to the brim. You’ve never seen it?”
“Why would I investigate my mom’s hobbies? I work in the barn, I do the work that requires managerial skills.”
“Oh, I see.” Marigold pursed her lips and rolled her eyes slightly.
“What was that?” Abel asked, having never seen Marigold annoyed before.
“You are just different than I expected.”
“So are you.”
And she was. Marigold entered his family home, the home that had stifled him forever, and had seamlessly found her place. His own mom inviting her to stay? He’d never heard of such a thing.
“I don’t think it’s as unheard of as you may think, Abel,” Marigold said, her voice softer. “When your mom was younger, she had a cousin stay with her and she says it was the best summer of her childhood. She wants the same for Bekah, especially now with Esther gone.”
“When did all this happen, Mom thinking you and Bekah could become friends? This morning at breakfast Bekah glared so much I thought her eyes might fall out.”
“Apparently she wasn’t glaring at me. That’s something between the two of you.” Marigold looked at him pointedly. When he didn’t respond, she added dryly, “Besides, I think it’s my naturally charming disposition that won them over.”
“You are charming.”
“You’re just saying that because your family likes me, even though I’m not Amish.”
“No, I’m saying that because I like you.”
“Do you really think it’s a bad idea, me staying at your house?”
“What did your parents say?”
Marigold laughed nervously. “I haven’t told them, I mean, they want me to get a job, but they won’t be happy about this, it’s like the opposite of what they want.”
“Then you should do it.”
“You want me to intentionally go against my parents’ wishes?” Marigold asked, her inflection hinting at her surprise. “That doesn’t sound like a very Amish thing to say.” She reached up to touch the brim of his hat. He took her hand in his, and spoke plainly.
“Not that, but since I met you, all you’ve said is how you feel lost and stuck and not understood. Maybe trying something else would help you figure out what it is you want.”
“Do you think I could do this, live in an Amish home?”
“Of course you could do it, especially for a summer. But forever? I don’t think many people convert to this way of life and stick it out for long.”
“I have no intentions of forever. I was thinking until September.”
“Ja, you can do it for a few months. You just might need a few aprons.”
“I can sew quite well, Abel, I’ve made most of my clothes. And besides I wore that cute apron yesterday.”
“Yeah, an apron with ruffles and embroidered birds isn’t an Amish apron, Marigold.” He shook his head in disbelief. This was the strangest conversation he ever expected to have with Marigold. “So you’re staying?”
“Are you mad?”
“At you?”
“At any of this?”
“No. I’m doing the same thing, figuring myself out. I would never hold that against you.”
“There isn’t very much room for you and me in this scenario,” Marigold said, looking down at their hands resting on the bench of the buggy.
“Don’t suppose there is.” He leaned in, his forehead touching hers. He felt her breath and wanted to pull her in close.
“Do you care if we’re apart?” Marigold asked passively, as if wanting him to reassure her.
“That’s a very English thing to say.”
Marigold let out a small humph before asking with a smirk, “Do you always call girls out on the words they choose?” She pulled back, blinking slowly. Her long lashes like feathers soft and full, and he had the urge to press her against his face to feel them flutter.
“I’d like you to say what you mean is all.”
“You want me to say that I like you,” she whispered into the night air. “You want me to say that I feel like I’ve known you for longer than a solitary week. That I wonder if you’ll go back to the city and fall for some girl like Lily, and forget me, the girl living in your parents’ house. I wonder why it matters since I am very much not Amish and you very much are.”
He thought she was finished, and he was grateful she spoke her wonderings aloud. He wanted to hear her opinions, understand her mind. Even if they were going to be apart, so much of him wanted to know her more.
But Marigold kept going, though her words soft and slow. Suddenly her floodgates opened and she was willing to reveal more of herself to him. “I wonder if you only like me because I am different, therefore interesting. I wonder what happens if I’m more than interested in you.” Her face was close to his once more, her lips nearly brushing Abel’s as she spoke in a hushed voice. “I wonder if you like me back. If you want to kiss me. If you want me to kiss you first.”
“You mean all of that?” Abel asked, his voice cracking in the darkness, his heart beating fast from the words Marigold wondered aloud. Words too tender to dismiss, words he had no desire to ignore.
She kissed him before he could answer. Her kisses like clouds and her body light as a feather and he pulled her close knowing she meant everything she said.
He knew that he’d see her again, kiss her again. He didn’t know if he believed in providence, but he did believe them finding one another was more than coincidence.
Chapter 7
Marigold
“I know, but you telling me I can’t stay is only going to make me want to be here all the more. You can’t reverse-psychology me, Mom. I’m a teenager, it’s like, my job to know better than that.” Marigold twirled the outdated phone cord in her hand, using the business line since her cell didn’t get service this far out of town.
She sat on a crate in the barn on Abel’s farm, the smell of sweet hay in the air, the sheep baaing around her as if trying to drone out the hiss of her mother’s voice.
“This is just so absurd. You hardly know these people.”
“Tabby is hiking in Peru with absolute strangers. I’m asking to stay a few hours from home for eight weeks. Worst case scenario, I start praying to a god I don’t believe in or quit drinking socially. These are not things a mother should be against.”
“It’s just so weird, I can’t in good conscience leave you with strangers.”
“Honestly, Mom, I don’t think I’m asking for your permission. I am eighteen and am staying here, with a girl my age, to help her parents at their farm. It’s not like I’m joining the military or something.”
“Your father will be so—”
“Don’t even start with that. Dad won’t notice my absence. Ask Lily about Abel, she’s friends with him. He’s completely sincere.”
“I know. That’s why I let you go this weekend in the first place.”
“You’re the one who told me to get a job. I got one. And you know what? I’m actually excited. I want this.”
Her mom drew in a deep breath, one so loud Marigold could hear it through the phone line.
“Just say yes and that you’ll send me my stuff.”
“We aren’t even religious, Marigold, you aren’t cut out to live with those peo
ple. You had a three point seven GPA for Christ’s sake.”
“First of all, those grades were ridiculously skewed and you know it. Secondly I’m literally so confused how grades factor into this summer job.”
“You’re better than this.”
“Mom, I’m done. I can’t keep going around and around with you. If you don’t want to send me the clothes, I’ll just suck it up and ask Lily.”
“Okay, fine, Goldie. This is so typical. You can’t do anything like anyone else. You always insist on being different.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Of course it is.” Her voice was angry now, and this was the exact reason Marigold had no interest in living in her parents’ house for another day. “I thought I was the epitome of passion and justice, standing in a picket line, protesting like everyone else on my college campus, but you know what? It didn’t create change, it made me reliant on the people offering handouts, pushing away my family in the meantime. I don’t want you couch surfing as you work a part time, minimum wage job.”
“I get it. You don’t want me to stand up for what I believe in.”
“Oh, Goldie, and what exactly is the ‘pie in the sky creed’ you believe?”
“I don’t know, but I want to find out.”
“And how long will your little experiment as a farmer last?”
“I want to stay until Labor Day weekend. I’ll come back that Friday, but no sooner. I’m doing this.”
“We always go the Outer Banks for Labor Day, you’ll be back for that?”
“No, I don’t want to do that this year.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I am tired of doing things for you.”
“Fine,” her mother said, her voice short, and Marigold felt the sharpness. “I’ll cancel the trip.”
“Mom, don’t be like that.”
“Be like what? We go for you, for our children. If you don’t care about that, than why do any of this?” Her voice was strained now, and Marigold hated being the reason behind the pull. Even though it hurt, Marigold wasn’t going to give in.
“I hope one day you’ll understand,” she told her mom.
Marigold hung up the phone, unable to listen to the berating any longer. She needed a break from the criticism.
With a sigh, she dialed her sister’s cell number, second-guessing everything. For once she’d just like the support of her family.
Lily answered and Marigold explained the situation.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.” Marigold bit her thumb anxiously. Calling Lily could easily be considered last resort.
“I thought you wanted to jump his bones. How will you do that if you’re living at his parents’ house and he’s living in D.C.”
“We’re going slow, if it’s meant to be, it will be,” Marigold said, recalling the conversation she’d had with Abel the night before. Visit once in July and once in August. Call when Marigold went into town. See what happens.
“Are you going to dress like them?”
“No, that’s actually why I’m calling. As much as I want an analysis regarding my summer plans, I mostly just want to know if you’d send me some clothes and my sewing stuff. I only packed for the weekend.”
“Oh, fine. But seriously this is way more sister bonding than I’m interested in. Consider this a one-off. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Marigold said, and then she gave Lily a list of items to pack along with Abel’s parents’ address so she could send them. She wanted to ask if Lily would keep an eye on Abel, to make sure he was doing okay, but she didn’t want to step on Lily’s toes any more than she already had. Apparently asking her sister for help was reserved for crisis situations only.
Abel and his family had left a few hours earlier for their church service, and Marigold opted to stay behind so she could get in touch with her family. Walking back into the house from the barn, Marigold noted how quiet everything was, no dinging from a cellphone alerting her of new messages, no whirring from a vacuum cleaner held by the housekeeper, no white noise from the un-said things between her and her mother and father. It was a relief to stand in such silence.
She put away the plates and glasses that had been drying on the rack from breakfast. Shutting the cupboard door, she looked around to see if anything else needed doing. But the Millers kept everything in order and there wasn’t anything left for her to do. Looking at the windup clock in the living room, she noted there still were a few hours before Abel and the family would return from the noontime meal that the community shared after their service.
Stepping onto the front porch with her knitting needles and a ball of magenta yarn, she hoped the familiar clicking would erase the conversation with her mother from her mind. She continued to work her way across an intricate shawl she hoped to wear come fall. Tiny rosettes peppered the pattern, a rose garden for her shoulders. It would remind her of spring during the cold months in D.C.
As her fingers moved with the needles in hand, she couldn’t imagine wearing such a heavy shawl now, for the summer heat was muggy and beat against her. The Millers’ home had no air conditioner, or anything generated by electricity. A fan would be useful and she wondered if they owned battery-operated ones that would be within the regulations of their religious beliefs. Not wanting to snoop around the house for one, she poured herself a glass of iced tea, cold in the refrigerator run by a generator.
Marigold went back to the front porch and sat on the steps, relishing the view before her. Rolling hills, a blooming garden, and enough livestock to be self-sustaining. Everything she needed was here, including an enormous cache of yarn in Mrs. Miller’s shed.
She couldn’t imagine finding a reason to leave.
Abel
While pulling up the long driveway in his buggy, he saw Marigold sitting on the front porch, her eyes raised to him. Wisps of hair flew out of her braid, and he knew she might need to button a few more buttons on her peasant blouse before his dad showed back up at home.
Not that he wanted her to change, but his dad wouldn’t be interested in being the center of gossip. Marigold exposing the rise of her breasts wasn’t going to help his mom’s cause, that was for sure and certain. He knew that Marigold staying here wasn’t so much a welcome decision on his dad’s part as much as a directive on behalf of his mom.
Abel knew some of the workings of his parents’ relationship, after all he had witnessed it for eighteen years. As much as his mother appeared an honorable Amish wife and mother, she was bent on doing things her own way, not easily conforming to the church’s standards of a woman.
She didn’t condemn Abel for spending his evenings doing schoolwork for so many years, or push his brother Eli into working the family business. She was progressive, but knew where and when to share her more liberal views.
At church she sat tight-lipped, refraining from gossip and idle chatter. Although she rarely joined quilting circles or canning parties held by other women in the district, she maintained a well-appointed household, and attended church service each week.
Abel’s father held domain over the successful business, and his mom never questioned his decisions there. They kept to their own spaces, giving one another enough room to find joy in their work. It was only where Abel was concerned that their territory overlapped.
Abel knew this because his decision to leave for Jamestown had been the topic of every single argument, clenched jaw, and huff around his parents’ house for the last few months. His dad wanted him to stay, his mom wanted him to go. His decision to leave caused a divide in his parents that he now shouldered.
He brought Marigold home, and his mother wanted her to stay for reasons beyond him, but there was no changing her mind. Regardless, his dad wouldn’t be happy about it. Abel knew that her staying would create even more resentment between him and his dad.
But how could he explain all that to Marigold? This girl he’d known for a week, this girl who stepped out of
a story book, who for some unknown reason dropped sweet bread crumbs as she walked, leading him straight to her heart. He wanted to follow her, even if it made little sense. Even if he ended up in a witch’s oven, burned to a crisp.
He wanted to have this story with her, but he also needed to go back to school. Staying home wasn’t an option, not after everything he sacrificed to get there. While his parents disagreed on what was best for him, he knew his dad modeled something important. He let his wife be her own person, he gave her space to decide what that was, and didn’t force his way on her like other men.
He didn’t want to tell Marigold she couldn’t stay here if she wanted to, but he watched this girl sit on the front steps, basking in the sun, and he wanted to pick her up and carry her away with him. Not to leave this place exactly, but to learn more about her. To learn everything about her.
As his horses clomped by, she waved brightly, her smile wide. She walked to the back of the house where he was leading the horse to the stall.
“You’re early,” she said. “I didn’t expect you for a few more hours.”
“I couldn’t stay there and eat when I knew you were here, alone.”
“I see, so you wanted to be alone with me.”
His cheeks flushed red, heat rose up his back as he took Marigold’s hands in his, finding freedom in being alone with her at his parents’ house. The barn was empty, the animals secured in their pens, the smell of the hay heavy in the warm summer air. They were alone, and he led her to the ladder in the back of the barn, leading to the loft where he swung from a thick rope with his brother as they grew up. He hadn’t been up there in a long time, not since Eli left for his life with Sarah.
He watched as Marigold climbed the ladder, she carelessly held the hem of her dress, revealing her legs, her calves flexing as she moved. He followed close behind her, wanting to make sure she got up okay, and also just wanting her.