by Anya Monroe
“Okay, so I got some tequila. What did you guys find?” Lily pulled a bottle from her backpack.
Lacey whistled, and then produced a handful of lollipops.
Lily bit her lip, scrunching up her face. “I don’t know, you guys are pretty hardcore. Maybe I’m all talk.”
“You don’t dabble with edibles?” Lacey said, unwrapping a sucker.
“I don’t know, I mean, tequila and weed? Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Lily said.
“There will be a keg at Johnny’s. Is beer more your speed?” Jenna asked, pouring herself an inch of tequila in a small plastic cup Lacey produced, drinking fast.
“Nah, I can hold my own,” Lily said. “Just didn’t realize you guys were such partiers.”
“Abel, you cool with this?” Lacey asked handing him a shot of tequila.
“Sure, I’m Amish, not a Puritan.”
“Because there’s such a difference,” Lily said, laughing.
Abel grabbed a sucker from Lacey, sticking it in his mouth to avoid talking. Joshua had ruined hardcore partying for him during his Rumspringa, but maybe it would be different here. He wanted it to be.
Joshua was his best friend, sure, but after that night with Bekah, where she’d ended up throwing up all over his buggy, half dressed, where he’d had to shake her back into consciousness, after Joshua mixed her too many drinks, too fast, he had sworn off doing any of that with his old crew. He’d made Joshua swear to never lay a hand on his sister or invite her to another party. He’d made a vow to himself to never do that within his community again. Bekah could have gotten hurt.
He’d heard the horror stories of Amish girls on Rumspringa being rushed to the hospital to get their stomachs pumped. Or girls terrified of a pregnancy after a weekend of binge drinking and partying, rushing into making marriage vows or finding a clinic to help them with decisions they would live with forever. He didn’t want any of that for his little sister.
Tonight those worries were far from him. Now he had a chance to have fun without the fear of keeping the people he loved safe. They all were soundly at his parents’ house. Marigold and Bekah probably dishing up dessert, maybe a rhubarb pie, and settling in for an evening on the front porch with embroidery or crochet hooks.
He smiled at his new friends. Jenna clinked glasses with Lily as they both took another shot. Lacey cranked up the music and they all had another round before heading across campus to the party.
It was loud. Not like the shed Joshua liked to party at, where the Amish girls he grew up with would put on jeans and pass around Smirnoff and listen to out-of-date rap on an iPod someone had spent their summer savings on. They’d spent their nights trying so hard to rebel, awkwardly posing as people they didn’t know if they really wanted to be.
Esther would come by, hanging on Abel’s arm, pulling him outside to the woods, where she’d kiss him. Where she’d let his fingers touch the skin on her arms, her legs, her face. Different kisses than the ones he’s shared with Marigold. He and Esther had always been intentionally intense, as if they wanted the experience to be like everyone else, to be a part of the group. To push the limits because they finally could.
Marigold had been effortless.
She seemed to know exactly who she was, which made everything more confusing when he’d seen the videos and heard the stories from Lily. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, and snaked his way through the crowd of people. Apparently it was Johnny’s party, a guy none of them knew, but apparently he’d invited everyone to come. Lacey had warned him it might be lame considering the only people on campus were the ones doing the summer semester, but he was wrong. The house was packed.
“This way, Abel,” Lacey shouted.
Abel followed his voice into a back living room where alcohol lined a coffee table. Guys hung around the perimeter of the room holding plastic red cups, and girls sashayed in the middle, grinding on one another in a way Abel had only recently seen in music videos Jenna had showed him on her laptop.
His back stiffened with the sensory overload. Reaching for the cup Lacey pressed in his hands, he was grateful to have something to hold onto.
“Drink this. Man, you look like a deer in the headlights.”
Even though he’d never been behind a wheel, deer in the headlights was an analogy he understood. He took the beer, drinking quickly, as blood rushed to his head. His shoulders relaxed and he was able to look around slowly and take in the room. Loud music blared overhead, and Abel allowed himself to move his head to the beat. Jenna and Lily made their way to the center of the crowd, laughing with two guys he’d never seen before.
A girl saddled up to Abel, smiling drunkenly. “Sup, cutie? Wanna dance?” She grabbed Abel’s hands before he could resist. She pulled his arms around her waist and inched her way up and down him, her chest pressed against him as she moved. Abel smiled, not altogether unappreciative of her movements, but also knowing it wasn’t his speed. He moved his hands from her, and smiled before walking away.
After pouring another beer, he hung out with Lacey on the deck, laughing as guys played beer pong and girls attempted keg stands. He wasn’t appalled, but he preferred to remain on the fringe.
A few hours later, he stumbled back to the dorm with his three friends. With Lacey’s help, they made sure the stumbling Jenna and Lily found themselves tucked in for the night in Jenna’s room. Lacey jammed a towel under the doorframe and pulled out his bong. Abel took a few hits before sliding off his boots and slipping into sleep.
He’d found his place and he slept in peace.
Marigold
She flipped over the simple sign hanging on the door. Open. The first day of official business in the yarn shop she’d created with Mrs. Miller’s guidance.
“Do you think anyone will come?”
Bekah twisted her lips before answering. “We put a sign at the end of the lane, and I told some friends at church, but I’m not sure.”
“If it’s a bust will your mom be mad?” Marigold straightened the already straight items on the table where the moneybox and receipt book sat.
“Mom loves you. There’s no way this shop not working out would ruin that.”
“You think?”
Bekah rolled her eyes. “You know that.”
Marigold nodded, relieved at hearing Bekah state it so simply. She knew the Millers had taken her under their wing and treated her as a member of the family, but she still worried she’d disappointment them. That they’d change their mind about her, about extending her as much grace in this situation as they had.
“You all set then?” Bekah asked, picking non-existent lint from the sleeve of her light purple dress.
“I think so, but I’m nervous.” Marigold retied her apron strings, over-thinking everything about her appearance on the opening day. Hopefully some Amish women would come by and shop, but they’d inevitably ask questions. She’d prepared herself for this, but still, she felt tense.
Thoughtful of the values of the community, Marigold wore the simple blue dress she’d sewn with the help of Mrs. Miller. The sleeves were above her elbows, the hem hit her calf, and her hair was wrapped in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. The simplicity of her appearance allowed her to focus on the day ahead.
“Rightly so, Marigold. You’ve never had a shop before.” Bekah moved to leave, having her own morning chores to take care of. “But you’ll do great, and even if you don’t, it’s okay. You’ve got to start somewhere.”
Bekah left the shed, and Marigold took up the broom in her hand once more, sweeping the already clean walkways in the shop and then stopped to water the greenery right outside the door.
She smiled at the many marigold plants Mr. Miller had his crew plant for her outside the yarn shed. It was the little things everyone in the Miller family did for her that made her feel considered.
Once done with the unnecessary sweeping, and knowing Mrs. Miller was busy with her little ones until nap time, Marigold sat in the rocker inside the shed
with her knitting needles.
The quilting party earlier in the month had inspired her to begin piecing her knits together in a new way. She’d been surprised at the bold arrangements of color and the modern, geometric designs in many of the patterns Mrs. Lapp had shown her. Although Katie had chosen a more traditional quilt with the Lonestar in the center, many other designs used bold color blocking with black backgrounds. Marigold easily imagined a pattern that would incorporate these concepts with something she was much more versed in.
Quilting, though something she was good at, was not her first love. Ever since Marigold had taken an interest in the more traditional arts, knitting needles had replaced her iPhone. She never had the slightest itch to go back to the old ways, the old habits that used to occupy so much of her energy.
Sitting in the rocking chair, she continued to work with the bulky white yarn Mrs. Miller had dyed. This weight of yarn was ultimate for making fast knits, at two stitches per inch, but that wasn’t why Marigold used it. She found that the fuzzy yarn created an almost cloudy effect, and when paired with an extra fine lace weight yarn in black along the border, the result was a stormy sky. The blanket, when finished would be ideal for wrapping up with on a blustery night.
The project in her lap was different than the traditional shawls, socks and blankets she’d made before. She knew she could come up with even more unique combinations of color and weight. Remembering a weaving she’d seen at an art gallery, where an artist had used a loom to create a wall hanging, she had an idea. Looking around the shed, where the rows of colorful yarn covered the walls, inspiration bubbled inside of her. The possibilities were endless.
That night at dinner Mr. Miller was tired as usual, but he thoughtfully asked Marigold about the first day in the shop now positioned behind his farmhouse.
“Not great,” she admitted, adding a scoop of coleslaw to her plate of spare ribs. “Honestly, we had about three customers, and I know for a fact those women don’t knit, they came because they were invited. Which is fine, of course, I just don’t want your family to pay me a wage if there isn’t any revenue.”
Mr. Miller smiled, “‘Tis okay, Marigold. It’s a lesson in commerce for all of us.”
Marigold knew the family was very well off in comparison to the neighbors, but it felt like charity. Nodding her thanks, she felt Bekah’s hand squeeze hers. “It will work out. You’re here for a reason, don’t you think?”
“I believe so, Bekah,” Marigold answered, her eyes filled with tears, ones she quickly blinked away. “I’m so grateful to you all.”
Baby Jacob banged his plastic plate against the tray of his high chair, and clapped his hands.
“It seems Jakey here is grateful for you as well,” Ruthie said, picking up her younger brother’s dish. “But no throwing, brother. It’s messy.” She pointed her finger at him in mock correction.
“Pretty soon he won’t be the only baby around. He ought to learn to behave before Sarah’s babe is born, can’t have our son teaching the first grandchild to misbehave,” Mrs. Miller said.
Eli and Sarah were bound to have their baby anytime and Mrs. Miller had been over there earlier today dropping off dinner to help Sarah stay off her feet.
“Did Sarah seem well?” Bekah asked.
“Ja, she’s in good spirits, anxious as well, but mostly just eager to meet her babe,” Mrs. Miller answered.
“It would be great if Abel were here for when the baby is born,” Bekah said wistfully. Even though she had ill will towards her brother’s demands of her and Joshua’s relationship, Marigold could see it was still hard on her to not have her closest sibling around.
“He might get lucky,” Marigold said. “He told me he’d be coming this weekend.” It had been a few weeks since he backed out of coming for a weekend visit, and she wasn’t holding out hope that he would show now, but she wanted him to. Badly. She missed him. His voice, his hands on hers, the steady beat of his own drum.
“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mr. Miller grumbled. Mentioning Abel’s name seemed to sour the mood, and Marigold regretted it immediately.
Marigold helped Bekah clean up the dinner dishes, as was their nightly routine, and Mrs. Miller got the little ones to bed.
“Can I tell you something?” Bekah whispered as she dried a ceramic plate with a dishtowel.
“Of course.” Marigold used the sponge and soapy water to wash the platter that held the meatloaf at dinner.
“After Ruthie and Jakey go to bed tonight, I’m having a friend over.”
“Joshua?” Marigold wondered aloud.
“Ja.”
“With your parents around?”
“Ja.” She darted her eyes to Marigold and smiled shyly. “I really like him,” she admitted under her breath. “Abel will kill him if he finds out, but we want to court, properly.”
“He’s going to find out, Bekah.”
“I know, but I want to give Joshua a chance with my parents before Abel comes and tells them all the reasons he’s wrong for me.” Bekah’s whispers were filled with worry.
“Of course. But I’d tell him before he finds out from someone else, that’s all.”
“Ja, maybe this weekend, when he’s here. All four of us could go for dinner or something? Maybe you could help break the ice.”
“Of course, anything for you, Bekah.” Marigold answered without thinking, she didn’t want to speak for Abel, but she also wanted to make Bekah happy, especially after how good she’d been to her.
“You’re the older sister I never had. I don’t want you to leave.” Bekah leaned over and gave Marigold a kiss on the cheek before returning to the dishes.
Marigold didn’t want to leave either, but she wondered if she fit in so well here, where exactly did that leave Abel?
Abel
He didn’t know if the cold shoulder was intentional, but when he arrived at the farmhouse late in the evening, the only one to greet him was his father.
“Where is everyone?” he asked, dropping his bag on the shiny hardwood floor.
“Sarah and Eli’s baby is on the way. Your mom, Bekah, and Marigold went over a few hours ago to help. The little ones are asleep upstairs.” Abel noticed his father’s eyes were heavier than they should be for a man about to become a grandfather.
He placed his hat on the hook in the entryway next to his father’s, and ran his hand through his hair. Eli would be a father. He shook his head, grateful he came back this weekend, and that the timing worked out the way it did.
“And the midwife is there?”
“Of course, Abel.” His father said no more, and the tension that hovered over their relationship filled the air.
“So, I’ll just wait with you then?” Abel said, sitting in a chair next to his father’s rocker.
“Suppose so, if you want. Though the pace might be too slow for you after city life.” His father turned the newspaper he read, listing the community bulletins, and scanned the page without giving Abel any more of his attention.
Abel held his tongue, knowing speaking would do nothing. He didn’t know how to explain to the man he’d always looked up to, always admired, that the old ways weren’t his.
“No one knew if you’d actually show up tonight.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t come a few weeks back, something came up.”
“I’m sure it did, son.”
Not wanting to show disrespect, Abel looked for a safe way out of this line of questioning. “Maybe I’ll find some leftovers. I haven’t had dinner.” He stood and walked out of the room in silence. His dad offered no comment, no response. A pot of chili sat on the stovetop, still warm. He ladled a bowlful, and then slathered butter on a thick slice of cornbread. Sitting at the kitchen table, frustration spread through him.
His dad didn’t even want to understand him, and after a lifetime of believing his parents to be more open-minded, more generous than the other Amish families they knew, he realized they were no different. He ate the bowl of
chili quickly, each bite adding to his growing irritation. His father sat only a few feet away, hadn’t seen his son in a month, and yet he had nothing to say to him. Is this how it would always be if I left the community for good? Abel wondered. Would I be okay with that?
Remembering the party from a few weeks earlier, Abel knew that lifestyle wouldn’t be enough for him either. Drinking, flirting, and loud music were fun, but not worthy of the sacrifice of family. That much was obvious. The part that continued to hang him up was the academics. The career.
Reading the paper on a Friday night like his father, where farm auctions were listed along with local houses for sale, could never hold his attention for long. He had half a mind to stand up, go over to his father, and explain everything he loved about being at Jamestown, express the way his heart pumped fast when he was challenged to think deeper after a lecture explained a new concept he’d never considered. He wanted to tell his father how with the things he learned this summer, their family business had potential to grow exponentially.
They could lease land from the neighbors and add to the sheep herd. If they added a new outbuilding and expanded the existing dairy, they could not only harvest wool, they could begin commercially producing organic sheep milk and cheese. Those were the byproducts consumers were interested in, and he was learning about the process of becoming an organically certified farm.
The Jamestown agricultural business department had just given a seminar on this. It would be worth the hassle. Or they could give tours of the farm and dairy, farm-tourism was huge in Lancaster, obviously, but they could find a way to be innovative in this. He wanted to try.
His mind raced once again with ideas. The study group with Lacey, Jenna, and Lily was fun, but what had really excited him were the possibilities with the family business.
He was so caught up in this daydream, he didn’t even hear the buggy make it up the driveway. The front door flew open and Abel stood to see who was here. Bekah, Marigold, and his mother entered the house beaming. Flushed with excitement, his mom made an announcement.