by Anya Monroe
“Stop. Don’t talk about last night. Please.” Her voice was so small he had to strain to hear her words, and the ache that seeped through them was painful.
“No, I need to. It’s not fair to draw you close and then push you away. We should have had concrete answers about us, our future, our beliefs, before we….”
“Fell in love?” she asked, this time her voice clear as the summer sky. He wished it were foggy, because then he could pretend, but this wasn’t the sort of word he could ignore.
“Love?” he asked.
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? Not thinking straight, being consumed with irrational thoughts and ideas. Not considering the consequences. Being so in the moment that nothing else, no one else, matters?” She stood now, walking toward him, seeming so sure of herself. So sure of her words, she didn’t hesitate on the questions she asked. Her confidence unnerved him. “That’s what happens every time we are in a room together. And yeah, I’m mad at you. So mad. You are terrible, like really terrible, Abel. It was not cool what you said in the kitchen, but in so many ways I get it. I get you.”
“I don’t know if it’s love, Marigold,” he said, knowing his words would hurt her more than he already had. He wasn’t ready for love. If he loved Marigold, some of his life choices would be made. He wasn’t ready to commit to anything, anyone. “I think it might be more about lust, or passion … but love?”
Marigold scratched the back of her neck, giving a humph to his words, as if she wasn’t the last bit surprised at his response.
“What?” he asked. “We don’t even have conversations without arguing. Even now, we’re arguing about being in love or just being horny.”
“Really, Abel? That’s how you’re going to boil this down?” she shook her head. “That’s so mature.”
“We’re going to talk maturity?” he scoffed. “How’s running away mature? Why don’t you figure stuff out at home, instead of bringing it here to my parents?”
“I could say the same thing to you, Abel.” She raised her voice, something he had never heard her do before, except in the video clip, and he realized this was all too much.
Him. Her. Here.
“I’m not running away, I’m at Jamestown to figure out what I want from life,” he said. “There’s a huge difference. I’m leaning into my potential.” He knew how pretentious that sounded, quoting Trape that way, but it didn’t deter Marigold.
“I just wish you would believe. Believe my intentions to be pure and good and real. That you wouldn’t see me through the lens Lily has brainwashed you into believing. That business school wouldn’t cause you to question everything. I wish you trusted me. And I wish I trusted you.”
“See, it’s not love, Marigold. Love trusts, love believes.”
“Yeah, I guess I just–” She stopped, and bit her lip, looking at Abel. Her eyes so clear and true and it made him feel like an ass for questioning the girl before him, the girl who professed her love. The girl who withheld judgment for all the parts of life that he, in fact, did judge. His family, his faith, his heritage, his future here. She accepted it all, yet he was unwilling to accept her.
He knew all of this in his head. The hitch wasn’t the logic, it was the fear.
Truly loving Marigold would cement choices he wasn’t ready for.
“You just what, Marigold?” he asked, wanting so badly to know. To know her even though he couldn’t trust himself to be with her. She made all his ideas about life and commitment and purpose crumble. Her uncomplicated opinion of him messed everything up.
“I just love you. And I don’t know why and I know you can’t accept that from me right now, but I am here. For reasons I don’t at all pretend to understand, I am here.” She kissed his cheek, so softly it sent a ripple down his back, like he’d been up close with an angel, had her holy breath against his face, a creature he didn’t understand, wasn’t worthy of. A creature he had disappointed and let down.
A creature he wished he knew how to love.
Somehow his family reconvened after he’d broken Marigold’s heart. They packed a buggy full of hot dishes and baked pies and wiped away tears and withheld the comments they wanted to make, to him, mostly. They loaded up and descended upon Eli and Sarah’s home.
Eli’s son looked like a little old man, like all newborn babies do. Abel held him close, looking at his first nephew, his skin soft and wrinkled, bundled in a soft blanket Marigold had made as a gift.
Apparently she’d spent plenty of time here over the past month, helping get things ready for the baby, washing baseboards and pulling weeds. She did this after the yarn shop closed for the day. Everyone gushed over her industry, and he knew they did it for him. Like, somehow extolling her uncanny ability to blend seamlessly into a restrictive environment would win him over.
He knew why they did it, he could see things more objectively than Marigold wanted to. They truly thought she was going to stay, turn Amish, and she would be the way to woo him back to the community.
But after the fight with Marigold he didn’t think she’d ever even look him in the eyes again, let alone win him over to anything.
After the appropriate amount of oohing and ahhing, Abel went outside with Eli and his dad. The women stayed inside to coddle young Abe, as they were calling him to avoid confusion. The summer was coming to an end, the first week of August already passed. The crops were full and nearing harvest.
“Your vegetable gardens have done well, Eli. How’s the soy beans?” Abel asked, knowing it was the single most important crop on his brother’s farm, the one that yielded his family the profits they lived off of from year to year.
“Right good, this summer’s been a scorcher, and as long as we keep up with the watering, it only means good things for us.”
“That’s great to hear, and Sarah’s father, he’s here to help with that?”
Their dad huffed loudly as he listened to the conversation, leaning against a fence post, something clearly on his mind.
“What is it?” Eli asked, concerned.
“Abel here has so many questions for you, for your farm, but he comes home and asks me nothing, worries not. My worst fears have come to fruition.”
“I helped you this morning, Dad, with the stalls. What do you want from me?” Abel had enough of this, not being a good enough son, boyfriend, brother. He should have stayed in the city and gotten schoolwork done, but no, he came here for them, only to be berated for what he wasn’t.
“I want you home. It’s too much. Eli here has been coming over, helping me out, but I know it’s asking too much of him.”
“You could always hire another hand, someone to take over the managerial duties,” Abel suggested.
“For how long? For the summer? Or forever?” His dad wiped his forehead with a cloth, sighing. “I should have taken heed of Bishop’s concerns.”
“His concerns?” Abel scoffed, genuinely angry at this condensed version of himself, as seen from his father’s point of view. “Since when was using Rumspringa to go to school the worst offense? There are plenty of Amish boys who commit serious treason against their families and communities. Even my best friend Joshua has done more evil in the eyes of God than I ever have.”
At that Eli stepped in, “Enough, Abel, don’t talk with Dad this way, it isn’t how speak to one another. Where has your love gone, have you dumped it along with the rest of your history?”
Love. The word sent a shock wave through Abel’s core. Love. The thing he seemed to lack, the thing he wished he had more of, the thing Marigold had for him, but he had apparently lost somewhere along the way. Maybe he had replaced love of family with pride, greed, the desire of earthy things.
He couldn’t help it. He was no angel. He was human. Flawed entirely, yet still standing, not floating in the clouds, he stood on solid ground. How did his family not see him as he saw himself?
“People change.” His dad’s hands pressed down on Abel’s shoulders, keeping him in place as he said his piece. “Marigold has
changed, and even your old friend Joshua, he has changed. You’ve changed, too. But we don’t all change the way others wished. And maybe that is something I need to come to terms with, the fact you are choosing to change into a man I don’t recognize.” Tears pooled in the corners of his father’s eyes, and Abel felt that flush of shame course through him once more.
Abel swallowed, not wanting to apologize, not seeing the point in saying I’m sorry for a thing he wasn’t. Sorry for what? Figuring out who he wanted to be? Wasn’t that the entire point of Rumspringa, to discover who you were before you made a vow before God?
“Enough, for now,” Eli said, trying to bring peace between the two men in his family. “My son has just been brought in the world, let us rejoice in the new life instead of argue over choices already made?”
“You’re right, son,” his dad replied. “We shall celebrate the blessing of Abe, forgive me for bringing our problems to your land, your home.”
“‘Tis fine, we’re family.”
Abel didn’t reply, instead he gave them a short nod and began walking home. He didn’t feel like he was with family, he felt alone.
Marigold
When the family returned home from visiting the newest addition to the Miller family, Marigold found Abel in the barn, sorting through his father’s disaster zone of an office. She walked in, saw him going through a pile of bills and didn’t bring up the morning, didn’t mention the fact that he’d walked out on his family. Walked out on her. She had no interest in trying to push him into something he wasn’t, but she wore her heart on her sleeve, and she meant what she said. She loved him.
The realization had come to her all at once. It wasn’t practical, but it was true.
“Abel,” she said, standing in the doorway. “This evening Bekah was wondering if you’d join us in town. We wanted to go out to dinner.”
“The three of us?” Abel set the papers in his hand down on the messy desk. “I think I’m leaving. I should get back home. I mean back to school. You don’t want me here.”
“I didn’t say that.” She didn’t want him to leave, not in the least. He could stay and remember all the reasons this was his home. Remember all the reasons this is where he really belonged. She’d be lying if she also wanted more of him for herself. He didn’t have to love her, not now, maybe not ever, but she felt her best when they shared the same air.
“It’s been a disastrous twenty-four hours, Marigold. I don’t think we can salvage it. Besides, Bekah’s barely spoken to me since the start of summer.”
“Do you know why that is?” She twisted her lips, wondering how much was her place to say. She wanted to help bridge the broken bits between these two people she cared deeply for, but after this morning, she didn’t know if she had the ability to repair anything for Abel. Maybe he had to do all the hard work on his own, maybe he was determined, too. Maybe that was okay.
Abel exhaled, signaling his annoyance.
“Are you mad at me, for coming out here to the barn? I just wanted to ask you about tonight, for Bekah. I swear, I wasn’t looking for another fight,” Marigold said, thinking his frustration was at her.
“I know you weren’t, Marigold, obviously.” His words were so clipped, and Marigold wished, in that moment, that she’d never stayed here at the Millers’. If she’d stayed home this summer she and Abel would have never experienced these missteps.
Their relationship would be all dinners at funky bistros and movies at the Cineplex and strolls on campus eating gelato. Not this. This was complicated, and she didn’t know if it was complicated because of who they were, or because of where they were. She wished she knew.
Tiptoes and half-truths wouldn’t get her and Abel anywhere. She needed to be straight with him about Bekah’s plans for tonight.
“It wouldn’t just be the three of us,” she admitted. “Joshua is coming too. Like a double date.”
“You’re kidding right?” Abel deadpanned.
She shook her head.
“Talk about beating me when I’m down.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Have they been courting?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re telling me because?”
“Because Bekah wanted to spring it on you tonight, at dinner, when Joshua showed up, but I didn’t think that would be the way to your heart.”
“And what did you think would be the way to my heart, Marigold?”
“Being honest. Everyone here keeps talking about you like you do whatever you want without considering other people. And maybe I’m crazy for falling for a guy like that, but I think I know you. I don’t think you’d ever make amends with your best friend and sister if someone didn’t tell you that you’re being a jackass.”
At that, Abel cracked a smile. “A jackass, huh? And here I thought you turned all Amish on me.”
“I didn’t turn anything. I am who I am.” She didn’t want to go through this with him again, proving herself.
“Sorry,” Abel said, pushing back. “But I don’t think you know the whole story. Joshua is not the guy for Bekah. She needs a good Amish boy.”
At that Marigold scoffed. “You know what, Abel, maybe you shouldn’t come tonight. You think you know everything, and maybe Jamestown is the perfect place for you. Because honestly, you’ve somehow managed to live your entire life here and be more judgmental than anyone else I’ve met since I’ve arrived.”
“I’m just trying to protect my sister.”
“I believe you, but you’re still misguided. He really likes her, and she really likes him.”
“You don’t know the whole story.”
“Yes, I do. I know a lot more than you give me credit for. You’re the one who doesn’t know the whole story, who’s bent on holding one year of your best friend’s life against him forever. Abel, people change.”
Marigold didn’t realize until then how parallel her and Joshua’s journeys were. One year gone awry, or maybe for her it had been a lot longer than a year, but they had changed. It was Abel who was hell-bent on staying the same.
“So you know about his partying?” Abel asked. “The drinking at the shack?”
Marigold nodded. “Yes, in fact I’ve been invited there.” To Abel’s bulging eyes she quickly added, “By Katie, but I didn’t go, and neither did Bekah or Joshua.”
“And you know he was growing pot out there and selling it?”
“I didn’t know that part,” Marigold said slowly, still unfazed. “But I do know he’s been out here, visiting with your parents. And we went to his mom’s quilting circle.” Marigold knew the only way to bridge Bekah and Abel was to explain the things they were too reserved and proper to discuss. “They’re getting serious, and the last thing I want is for you to get news that they’re engaged without even knowing they were seeing one another.”
“So you think this is a good idea?”
“Them courting in general or us going to dinner tonight?
“All of it.”
“I think you’d regret it if you didn’t find a way to let them back into your life.”
“I don’t think any of this fits into my life, Marigold.”
She looked around the office, the wooden chairs and desk, the flat surface that didn’t house a laptop or fax machine. She knew what her parents’ offices looked like, what any modern office looked like. A charging dock and a flat-screened monitor. Click-clacking on a keyboard and a constant buzz of a phone with incoming texts. Watching Abel here, amid the invoices handwritten on carbon-copied paper, she wondered if being at Jamestown was a bad idea, like his father feared. Not everyone would choose this life over the allure of a University with all the latest technological conveniences.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, the one filled with longing. “Maybe you ought to just go with them tonight. I’ll stay behind,” she offered. “I mean, honestly, this is all between the three of you, and I think I did my part in letting you know where they were coming from.”
Of course she wanted t
o go with them. She wanted to sit next to Abel and brush her hand against his, she wanted to ride home in his buggy and have his lip on hers like they had been last night. She wanted all of him, but she also knew if he didn’t want all of her, she needed to step away until he changed his mind, or until her feelings faded.
“You’re okay with that?”
“For sure and certain,” she answered. And she was. Their story wouldn’t continue unless he wanted it to.
Chapter 14
Abel
Going out to dinner with his sister and Joshua was unnecessary. If the two of them wanted to spend Saturday evening together, they ought to spend the night hours without him in tow. Before he would give that blessing, however, he needed to speak with Joshua on his own, to see for himself if he’d really changed as much as Marigold seemed to believe he had.
Pulling up at Joshua’s parents’ house, he saw Katie walking out the back door in a hurry, clearly not noticing he’d arrived.
“Is Joshua here?” Abel asked, startling her, as he stood only a few feet away.
“You punk, you snuck up on me.” She moved to push him, but he jumped out of the way. “Don’t you know better than to do that to girls?” She flashed him a smile meant to draw him in.
“I didn’t mean to, honest. But is your brother around?” Abel had no interest in beating around the bush, or encouraging Katie, she’d always found ways to flirt with him.
“Why? My brother’s gone all straight edge. He’s no fun.”
“Is he now?”
“You should know, everyone’s talking about it. Your sister and he couldn’t be less discreet if they tried. But all proper, too. The bishop’s happy that’s for sure, a redemption story and all that.” She twisted her lips, before adding, “So are you and Marigold really together or are you…?” When he didn’t answer right away she took it as an opening. “I’m headed down to the cabin, want to come with?
“Seriously, Katie, I don’t have time for this,” Abel said, cutting her off. Her flirting had always seemed harmless, but nothing seemed harmless anymore.