by Anya Monroe
The idea that Joshua had spent time at his parents’ home was hard to wrap his head around. Openly courting wasn’t something Amish did very often, and it indicated things were getting serious between them. If Katie was being honest here, Bekah and Joshua were probably already planning a wedding. The knot in his stomach grew.
“So, I’m here for Joshua,” Abel said again. “I can go to the front door if you’re not gonna help.”
“Fine, Abel, you’re always such a buzz kill.” Katie huffed back to the door calling for her brother. Abel couldn’t help but wonder when she’d picked up so much English vernacular, but he guessed it had to do with the miscreants she hung out with.
Joshua came out the back door, nodding hello at his oldest friend, and Katie waved good-bye.
“She okay by herself?” Abel couldn’t help but ask, worry crawling up his back.
“Probably not, but she won’t listen to anyone. Mom and Dad can’t get her to reel it in, and the bishop has already threatened her a few times.” Joshua rubbed his hand across his cheek. “It worries me, for sure. You know what goes on down there, she’s gonna get hurt.”
“You should stop her, Joshua, it’s your fault she got caught up in that crowd at all.”
“Not true, you can’t tame a wild horse not wanting to be reined in. You know that.”
“But now you want to be tamed? By Bekah?” Abel’s words were cold, and Joshua stepped back at the impact they made.
He recovered quickly. “So, cutting right to the chase, ja?” Joshua smirked, as if he knew this conversation had been coming for a while. Abel resented the fact his friend had time to think it through, Abel had been smacked with this information just an hour earlier.
“I told you straight up to stay away from her.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.” Joshua pulled Abel by the arm and dragged him to the back of his family’s barn for a more private conversation. “Listen, I know that night at the cabin got crazy. We’d had a lot to drink, and I didn’t mean for the night to go down like that … but things are different now.”
“Right, a few months can change a person entirely, that’s what you want me to believe?” Abel had his arms crossed against his chest. “That’s what you’re selling to the bishop and apparently my parents, and mostly, Bekah.”
“Forget it, Abel. I knew it would be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Judging me. And Bekah. And everyone. It’s always like this with you. And I’m not doing it anymore. Maybe you should do what you’ve always wanted, walk away. Leave this life.”
It was a blow to hear Joshua talk that way about him, and the shock took his breath away, leaving him speechless. Memories flashed through Abel’s mind, the years the two of them had fished down at the pond near the edge of the Lapp’s property, the winter days where they snow shoed across farms, looking through binoculars at the birds hovering in the trees, bringing them crumbs from their mothers’ kitchen cupboards. The school days when they were young, where he’d go with Bekah to meet up with Joshua and Katie and they’d walk together, lunch pails in tow, to the one room schoolhouse.
But now they were men, the two of them in a standoff. Abel wasn’t about to ask Joshua what he meant about the Amish life not being for him, he knew exactly what he was trying to say. Clarification wasn’t necessary, and he didn’t really care what Joshua thought of his own life plans anyhow. What he needed to know was that Joshua wasn’t using Bekah. He’d disappointed so many people already, his parents, Eli, Marigold. He didn’t need to add Bekah to that list.
“You’ve truly sewn your wild oats?”
“Ja, I’m ready to take my kneeling vows come fall.”
“What made you so certain, Joshua, after you strayed so far?” Abel dropped his arms, suddenly more vulnerable, really wanting to know what had made his old friend so sure. Nothing filled Abel with that sort of confidence, and in all honesty, that’s what he wanted. He was tired of this tug-of-war in his heart. He envied anyone able to discern so clearly their future.
“It wasn’t Bekah, is that’s what you’re worried about. That I wanted her, so I gave up everything to get a girl.” Joshua shook his head, leaning against the red wooden slats of the barn. “It happened right after you left. I looked around, wondering what I’d do if you really never returned, like I’d always been scared would happen. And I realized I didn’t want to go anywhere, even if my best friend wasn’t going to be along for the ride. The only place I wanted to be was here in Lancaster, with my community.”
“Just like that?”
“Look, I’m glad we had our Rumspringa together, I’m glad I had that time with you, my best friend. But truly, Abel, I’m ready to stop running around.”
The knot that had wrapped tight around his chest ever since Marigold told him about his sister and Joshua began to loosen. His friend spoke plainly, and honesty was written on his face. He had nothing to gain in lying now.
“And Bekah?” he asked.
“I love her. I know it’s not very Amish to say, and I haven’t said it to her, but it’s true. I intend to marry her.”
“How can you know everything you want forever, so fast? Aren’t you scared you’ll get it wrong?” Abel asked the question that had burned inside him for weeks, the question of where he belonged, and with whom. Marigold was just like Joshua … they saw everything so clear. Their eyes were colored with a fearlessness Abel didn’t have. He wanted to be washed over with that sort of clarity.
“Not everything has to be hinged to a question. Sometimes the answer hangs on its own, without needing an explanation.”
“I’m sorry for assuming the worst.”
“Ja, I know, Abel.” Joshua clapped him on the back, bringing him in for a quick hug, not needing to linger on what they both seemed to understand. They’d remain friends, for a long time yet, and maybe even family one day.
“Now,” Joshua said, “before you leave for Jamestown, what in the world is the deal Marigold?”
Abel laughed slowly, “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be asking you how you knew for sure.”
He woke early the next morning, having arranged himself a taxi to come before the rest of the house woke to begin preparing for church. A small bag was slung over his shoulder and he grabbed a muffin in a paper napkin before slipping out the back door into the still dark morning sky.
A figure in the distance, walking toward him from the field where the low hanging willow tree stood tall, caught his eye. Marigold.
Her hair was down, draped over her shoulders, her body wrapped in a shawl, as if she needed an extra layer of protection for her heart. He guessed she probably did, after he trampled on it so effortlessly the morning before.
“Abel?” She called to him, her voice carried like a wave, a gentle current coming toward him. He wouldn’t let himself get caught in the unintentional net she cast. He wasn’t what she needed, she needed the long expanse of the seaboard, an open-armed beach where her waves could curl up against a sandy edge. He was a deep-set bank. Her swells wouldn’t reach him, not now, now when he was like this. He’d chosen to step away from the shore, from the margin in which she lived. This ghost-girl walking on water, performing miracles in the dawn of the day.
He didn’t deserve a girl so sure. A girl so comfortable with living in the depths when he was scared to step off the shore. He’d drown out there and didn’t want her to be the one saving him. He wanted to save himself, first.
“You’re leaving.” She didn’t ask. There were no questions left. He had to figure out what he wanted before he would come back, they both knew this unspoken truth.
Without whispering the breakable-promise of I’ll see you soon or I’ll be back, he simply brushed his lips against her cheek, and walked away.
Marigold
She expected to fall apart in the weeks after he left.
But she didn’t.
She had dealt with the semi-famous-fall-out of being a video sensation, and all the ov
erwrought shame associated with flinging herself so desperately onto the computer screen of anyone who would look. There had been the break up with friends who no longer understood her and a family who never had. And somehow those things had made her stronger than she knew. Strong in a way she only realized after Abel left in the taxi, the high beams shining on her face. Strength she finally saw the moment she didn’t cover her eyes.
She had nothing to hide.
Abel had told her before that she wore her heart on her sleeve, and as she worked on the weaving before her, sitting in the yarn shop, she could see what he meant. She pulled taut the goldenrod thread up with a needle; subconsciously adding to a bright yellow heart on the center of the piece she was working on.
There had been no falling apart after he left because in her heart, she didn’t doubt what they had. There was no rush for her, for them, to be together. She’d simply told him how she felt and let that be enough.
Heaven knew she had enough on her mind here at the Millers’ with him gone. Mostly the constant rub about what came next. Summer was pulling to a close.
“Marigold, you almost done? Dinner’s ready.” Bekah came in the shed catching Marigold at her work. “Oh, wow, that’s lovely.” Bekah gushed praise without restraint and Marigold blushed, shaking her head at the compliment. But even she could tell her weaving had improved, the lines more even, the colors more complementary. It was a labor of love, for sure, but with the shop usually empty, and the weeks flying by, she had hours to practice.
“Ja, let me just put this up.” Marigold stood from the table where she worked and stretched her arms over her head, her back aching from being hunched over the loom for the last few hours.
“Did you sell anything today? I saw a few of mom’s friends come in.”
“A few customers, but I think they’re just being nice to your mom by coming here. I have a hunch this quality wool isn’t what they normally purchase.”
“Ja, I know. I think most ladies go to Wal-Mart for synthetic stuff.”
“This is too high-end for a backyard shop like this.”
Turning off the lights and shutting the door behind them, Bekah took Marigold’s hand.
“After dinner, will you come with me to a volleyball game?”
“On a Thursday night?” Marigold scrunched up her nose, the weekly game was always held on Sunday nights before the Singing. She’d gone to a few more, but they weren’t really her scene. The morning at church was long enough, and without the lure of a boy to drive home with, she honestly preferred staying home with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, letting Bekah have her time alone with Joshua.
“It’s one of Joshua’s friend’s birthday, and it’s sort of a last minute thing. I don’t really know the guy, but it would be a chance to get out.”
“Sure,” Marigold said. “Of course I’ll come.”
A few hours later, once the house was tidy, the girls went to Joshua’s open buggy waiting for them. Climbing in, Marigold was reminded how lucky she was that the Millers were a more open-minded Amish family, granting the girls permission to go out on a weeknight like this. She’d heard stories from Bekah about other sects where things were much more strict, and if Bekah really wanted to see Joshua besides Sunday, she’d need to sneak out to do so.
“You look nice today,” Joshua said as Bekah squeezed in next to him on the bench seat, leaving the outside space for Marigold. Marigold folded her hands in her lap, not really liking being the third wheel, but knowing the Millers wouldn’t have let Bekah go out alone tonight. No matter how liberal they were, that would be pushing the limits of respectability.
“Thank you, Joshua,” Bekah said, blushing. Marigold was always impressed with her friend’s restraint. If she was courting a guy, she wouldn’t be able to resist planting a kiss on his lips. Another thing to remember when she was trying to make plans for her future. Could she really hack it here? If Abel never came back for her, could she stay here and find another Amish man? The question made her queasy.
“Hey, Marigold, I heard from Abel today,” Joshua said pulling her out of her internal debate.
“Really?” She shared a surprised look with Bekah, they hadn’t heard from him once in three weeks. The entire Miller house had been given silent treatment. Marigold firmly believed it was for the best until he decided what he wanted.
“Yeah, he wrote a letter.” He pulled the reigns tightly, bringing the horses to a stop as they pulled up at his friend’s birthday party.
“And?” Bekah asked for her.
“He sounded well, school’s going great. He asked about you,” he told Marigold with a raised eyebrow.
Marigold wasn’t sure she wanted to know what his inquiry entailed.
“And?” Bekah asked again, not giving Marigold room for avoidance.
“And he wondered if the quilt shop was still running, if you had started wearing a kapp yet, if you’d met anyone. It sort of seemed like he hoped you had, you know, moved on—”
Her eyes filled with the tears she’d refused to shed. Somewhere in her heart she believed this was all temporary. Him leaving like he did without the promise of the future. The simple, yet intentional omission of the L-word when he left in the taxi. She hoped he would come to his senses, that he would trust in whatever it was the two of them had when they were together.
“Stop,” Bekah said, placing her hand on Joshua’s sleeve.
“Sorry, Marigold. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
As the buggy pulled to a stop in the row lined up at the house, people she knew from church and Singings were watching their arrival. She suddenly wished Joshua had invested in a closed buggy so the dozens of eyes standing around wouldn’t see the tears she shed.
“I can take you back home, Marigold,” Joshua said patiently. He treated her with such consideration, and it made her angry Abel ever doubted his friend. “It isn’t a bother, is it, Bekah?”
“Of course not,” Bekah answered, rubbing Marigold’s back as soft sobs were released. She was letting go of her hopes for getting back together with Abel. If it were ever to happen, it wouldn’t be in the way she imagined. There would be no handwritten love letter read under the willow tree or romantic gestures of leaving school and running to her open armed.
“I want to stay. My history with Abel can’t hold me back from my future.”
“And your future is here, playing volleyball?” Bekah asked.
“Something like that.” Marigold wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath, and stepped out of the black buggy. She had a game to play. Friends to meet. A life to begin.
Abel
He’d been gone a short weekend, but it felt so much longer. Arriving in the city, with August underway, the humid air matched his fuzzy brain. As much as he wasn’t sure about a future with Marigold, he still missed her. Missed the idea of what they could be. Maybe missed wasn’t even the right word.
Ached. Longed. Craved.
His mind was in a constant tug-of-war. He didn’t like this, he was used to being decisive, sure. This was stupid, all these competing emotions constantly pulling him of kilter.
He’d left her without any sort of promise of a future and took a taxi home only to realize he was a complete ass-hat. Not knowing what to do about it, he did the only thing he could – pretended none of it had happened. He burrowed down in the library with a stack of books and dove into what was comfortable to him.
Each day after class he did just that. He trekked to the campus library, shrugging off his friends, not wanting to talk about his weekend. The weekend they all thought he should have avoided in the first place.
On Friday night, Lily found him in the library half asleep under the spine of a book and called in back up.
Lacey and Jenna arrived holding hands. Perfect, Abel thought. Of all the times to see people falling for one another. In all honesty it made him jealous how easy Jenna and Lacey fit in one another’s lives. Both were on an academic track with college on the horizon, both from the mid-west, both h
ere in the city. Neither of them complicating things by living with the other person’s parents.
“You’ve been avoiding us like the plague,” Jenna said, sitting across from him, pulling the books away so he could see her face. “You missed group this week. Which we all took offense to, by the way.”
Abel didn’t answer or acknowledge the inquisition; he’d been doing enough studying on his own. And the way he saw it, he would be the one getting the group through the final, not that he minded.
“Dude, you’ve got to get a grip, you’re kind of freaking us out,” Lacey said.
“Tell us about the weekend,” Lily said.
He moaned and shook his head.
“I didn’t take you for a drama queen.” Lily laughed and messed with his hair. “Maybe you are a good fit for one another.
“I’m not a drama queen, Lily.” He continued to bury his head in his arms crossed on the table. “I’m just confused.”
“Seriously, you’re head’s not in the game,” Lacey said. “What happened?”
He sighed and raised his eyes at the people attempting to rescue him from himself. A month ago he didn’t think it was possible to fit in here, but somehow over study guides and coffee breaks, these people had become his people. Pushing himself into an upright position he tried to explain. “She loves me.”
“Marigold?” Lily asked, scrunching up her nose at him as if his words smelled putrid.
“Yep.” Abel blew air into his cheeks, knowing he needed to say something, process this with other human beings and not hide in his books. “And I just left her. I didn’t say it back. I didn’t know what to do, so I did nothing.”
Lily shook her head. “Girls say things like this to get guys to stay around.”
“That’s kind of cruel to say about your gender,” Jenna disagreed. “Abel, do you think it’s like, for reals or like a power play?”
“A power play?” Abel asked.
“Yeah, did she say it to get you to stay there?”