For Sure and Certain

by Anya Monroe

  “I don’t think so. I mean, she’s not like that. I know her past is complicated, but she’s genuine. She’s really, really … I know this sounds dumb … but she’s a good person.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

  “What?” Abel asked, not liking the way Lily automatically assumed the worst about her sister, even though he’d been doing the same thing. “She says she’s changed. That she isn’t the girl she was. That she’s finally herself. She said regardless of what I choose, she loves me and wants the best for me. It wasn’t intense. It was like, real.”

  “Sorry, Lily,” Jenna said. “I know you want us to think she’s a bitch or whatever, but everything Abel says sounds really nice.”

  “Yeah, nice and fucked up,” Lacey said. “What are you supposed to do with that information? You’re here, working your ass off. Falling in love or whatever that bullshit is doesn’t fit. Especially when the girl is becoming Prairie Dawn.”

  “Harsh much?” Jenna said, pulling away from him. “Are you and I a waste of time then?”

  “I’m not professing my love.”

  “Neither is Abel,” Jenna answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “This is all jacked up,” Lacey said. “I’m sorry, Jenna. Obviously. But they’ve known one another a month. You can’t fall in love in a month.”

  “Especially with a girl like Marigold. She’s a flight risk.” Lily continued to pick at Marigold’s weak spots, not recognizing any of her strengths.

  Abel listened to the argument, and the thing was, with each syllable he realized that he didn’t agree with their assessment of Marigold. Maybe throwing yourself, heart over head, wasn’t a weakness at all.

  Maybe it was the strongest, bravest thing.

  You could fall in love that fast. He knew, because he had, as terrifying as it was to admit. He loved Marigold and somehow he’d walked away.

  Lacey was right, it was all jacked up.

  “Do you guys want to go get drunk or something because, like, this is messing with my head,” Lily said, standing up from the table.

  “You’re telling me,” Abel said, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder, ready to lighten the mood. Nothing would be solved tonight, or maybe even this summer. Love or not, he was here and she was there and he had no intention of leaving Jamestown. He’d found his people, and now all he needed to figure out was if he could find a way to make that work with her, too.

  Chapter 15

  Marigold

  Would you like me to wrap that up for you?” Marigold asked as she laid the weaving on a piece of tissue paper.

  “I’d love that. It is just so pretty, the colors, everything … it’s perfect for my apartment.” The customer and the friend she was with had been gushing since they walked in the shed.

  “Well, I’m glad I had what you wanted. Honestly, no one really comes to shop. It’s pretty dead.”

  “It’s hard to imagine. I mean, there are so many colors,” the other woman said, her arms filled with bright spools of yarn. “I’m Tracy by the way, and this is my friend Julie.”

  “Nice to meet you both, I’m Marigold.”

  Marigold liked to see people appreciate the yarn Mrs. Miller had spent so much time on. The shelves holding the vibrant yarn were still full, and the unpurchased spools weighed on her. Marigold had made a half dozen weavings on the loom Mr. Miller had made for her, and somehow, someone was actually buying one of them now.

  “Is this yarn dyed in a factory?” Tracy asked, thumbing a skein.

  “No, it’s all hand-dyed on site,” Marigold answered. Looking at Tracy in her linen shorts, wedge sandals, and simple tank top, a small surge of jealousy jolted through her. The August heat made the heavy cotton dress Marigold wore unbearable.

  “And it’s all natural?”

  “Absolutely. The wool we sell is from the sheep raised on this very farm.” Marigold smiled, feeling satisfied with the answers she gave. This shop made her proud. Though simple and much plainer than she’d make a shop, the sparse pine walls actually accentuated her colorful creations. “How did you happen to find the place? We don’t advertise.” Marigold knew the few customers who’d come thus far were Mrs. Miller’s friends.

  “We were at the general store and asked about a yarn shop, we both love to knit. Anyway, the lady at the cash register directed us here.” Tracy smiled. “We’re here for a little bed and breakfast getaway from the city. It’s so lovely …though a little hot without AC.”

  “Right.” Marigold agreed, fanning herself with an accordion folded piece of paper.

  “Have you ever thought to sell these on Etsy?” Julie asked. When Marigold frowned the woman apologized. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t know what that is. It’s like a craft shop on the Internet. Which is on the compute—“

  Marigold cut her off. “I know what Etsy is. I’m not Amish,” she ran her hand over her dress as if to accentuate that fact. Marigold could easily see the differences from Amish women and herself … she didn’t wear a kapp, she had buttons on her clothes, she still slipped on Birkenstocks in the morning, when all the Amish kids she’d met were barefoot all summer. The differences were not so obvious to an Englisher, and Marigold wasn’t sure what she thought of a regular customer thinking she was an Amish woman.

  It didn’t feel so strange.

  “You’re not?” Julie asked.

  “No, I just work here, I’m friends with the Millers.”

  “Oh, where do you live?” Tracy placed a dozen skeins on the counter, all beautiful colors Marigold would have chosen herself.

  “I’m staying here this summer, but my family is in D.C.”

  “Oh, we’re from D.C., too. Investment bankers. Totally intense … which is why we knit. To decompress.”

  “I get it,” Marigold said. “I always have needles in my hands. Although lately, I’ve been doing these weavings.”

  “It’s really gorgeous. You could totally commission these pieces, or even have a show at a gallery in the city.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I just like working here. Mrs. Miller is so generous with letting me mess around while on the job.”

  “This is not messing around. This is art.” Tracy shook her head slightly. “Honestly, here’s my card,” she said reaching in her bag. “If you ever think about doing a show, maybe growing your collection, and want to put something together, I’d love to help. Let me know. The price you’re selling this for is crazy. I feel like I’m stealing from you.”

  “I’m just glad someone likes it.” Marigold blushed as she took the card. “I had so much fun making it … so thank you for getting what I was trying to do.”

  “Did you go to art school?” Julie asked.

  “Um, no.” Marigold threw them a crooked glance as she finished ringing them up. “Thank you for being so nice, I feel like I’m about to be punked or something.”

  Tracy and Julie smiled, taking their bags from Marigold’s outstretched arms.

  “So you just work here just because?” Julie asked.

  “Maybe not just because. I kind of feel like I was meant to be here. Crazy as it sounds.”

  “Not crazy … peaceful. I’d love to escape like this. Well done, you.”

  Marigold smiled as the women left, not liking the insinuation that she was running. But she was grateful to have finally made a substantial sale.

  Once the workday was done, she organized the receipts and counted the money she needed to turn in to Mr. Miller. Stopping in his office, she saw his head buried in his hands as they often were as of late. The stress had accumulated, she knew that much.

  “Mr. Miller?” Marigold called out, tucking a strand of her wispy blond hair behind her ear. “I have a drop off for you. It’s larger than usual, and I didn’t want to keep the money in the shed overnight.”

  “That was wise.” He lifted his eyes to her, giving her a small smile. “You doing alright, Marigold, with this project? I know you were hoping for a few more customer
s.”

  “I’m having a good time. I’d say something if I wasn’t.” She bit her lip, knowing in truth she’d do no such thing. Adding to his load was not something she would do. He’d already given her so much in the two months she’d been here. He’d given her a sense of home.

  “Your summer here is coming to a close, is that right?”

  “Yes,” Marigold answered, knowing she was supposed to be packing her bags and handing back the keys to the shed by the end of the week. Her family expected her, and she assumed they had ideas of what she should do now that fall was upon them.

  “It came rather fast didn’t it? The summer just slipped away.”

  “I know. I’m not ready for it.”

  “No?” he asked her, taking the moneybag from her and setting it in the safe behind his desk.

  “No. And….” She hesitated, not sure where to begin.

  “What is it?”

  “Do you think you and Mrs. Miller would spare some time this evening after dinner? There’s something I need to speak with you about.”

  “Of course, Marigold,” he said. “Not something I should be worried about is it?”

  “No, nothing to worry about, I promise.”

  Smiling, Mr. Miller saw her to the door. ”After dinner we’ll talk. The three of us.”

  Abel

  When Abel had stopped by Professor Trape’s office the first week of school, he’d been overwhelmed and desperate to find his place. But he’d found it. Now whenever he stopped by during office hours, it was never with apprehension or desperation, it was always about genuine interest in a recent lecture.

  “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the Intensive so much,” Trape said as Abel stood at the door ready to leave. “I honestly wasn’t sure how you’d do, never having experienced life on a school campus before. I’m glad we bent our rules slightly and made this work. The Dean was right about you.”

  “Me too, and now that I’ve finished my GED and am officially a high school graduate, I have lots of options.”

  “Are you taking your options seriously?” Trape asked, adjusting his tortoise shell glasses.

  “Ja, I’m not entirely sure what I want, but I know it’s more than life at my family farm.”

  “Those are big decisions, Abel.”

  “I know, but I don’t do anything lightly.” Abel hated defending himself, it seemed every adult around him didn’t quite believe it when he mentioned wanting to stay put, to not take his vows. It was only his friends who took him seriously when he explained what he really wanted.

  “That’s good to know, Abel. I wasn’t sure what you were thinking, but it’s no secret that you’ve flourished this summer.” Trape paused, putting his hand on Abel’s shoulder.

  Abel left Trape’s office, his heart surging with hope. He’d worked hard all summer in hopes of getting that recommendation, and with only a few days left of the Intensive, time was running out.

  He walked to Lily’s house, eager to study for the final. The Final … it had come out of nowhere, and yet their little study group was committed to doing their best. Knowing where Abel’s heart was, that he really wanted to stay, caused them to acknowledge how much was at stake with the test. They’d been cramming all week.

  Settling on the couch in Lily’s rec room, the four of them pulled out little stacks of flash cards and spread their review packets out on the floor, having grown comfortable in the Archer home.

  “Don’t you wish we could just completely bypass senior year?” Jenna asked, her head in Lacey’s lap. The two of them were a full-on couple now, and the fact that they lived three states apart would put a kink in their relationship.

  “I know, after a summer here, how can I even go back to high school?” Lily moaned. “I wish we could all just be here, at Jamestown. Like this was our freshman year.”

  “It might be for Abel,” Lacey said. “We’ll just have to come back and visit him.”

  “We’ll see. I mean, it’s all a long shot.”

  “Whatever. You got your application in, the only thing you have to worry about now is us not fucking up the final,” Lily said.

  “Which we’ll do, right?” asked Abel, panicky. He thought they’d dotted every i and crossed every t.

  “Of course. Even without us, you’re a shoo-in. So stop being a weirdo and ask another question,” Jenna said.

  “Remember when we started group, and we had to do the questionnaire thingy?” asked Lily.

  “Yeah, and you said your weakness was how you’d eff with the grading curve?” Lacey joked. Everyone knew Lily struggled with the content more than anyone else in their group this summer.

  “Yeah, clearly you were in denial about how smart everyone here was.”

  “Obviously. I can’t believe how stuck up I was at the beginning of the summer.” Lily buried her head in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. Who would have thought by the end of the summer I’d no longer want to be in business school? And, gasp, that I am considering going to college undecided.” Everyone smiled at that.

  They’d watched Lily transform over the summer, she started as a girl overly sure of herself and somewhere along the way, her B-average taught her that maybe her path wasn’t as black and white as she thought.

  “Hey, it’s not so bad. Remember when Abel was in love with your sister?” Lacey asked.

  “Too soon,” Abel said, cutting him off. He’d never admitted to the group that he was still hoping, somehow things would work out for him and Marigold. In their minds, it was impossible. They appeared too different, but Abel saw things differently.

  He held out hope that maybe their differences would bring them back together. After a summer at his parents’ house, Marigold would return to D.C., and she’d be able to relate to him in a way no one else here could. It could be perfect. It would be perfect.

  Just one more week and she’d come back. For good. And he’d stay, and they could finally return to the place they were when they first met at the beginning of summer, when they walked around the Smithsonian and got pizza and drank chai tea lattes. They could finish their game of twenty questions.

  They could be Marigold and Abel … not Amish, not anything. Just themselves. Isn’t that what Marigold had explained she wanted? And now they could be that, together.

  “Earth to Abel,” Lily said.

  “What?” he asked, shaking himself out of his head. “Did I miss something?”

  “I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us to Comic-Con this weekend before we head home?” Jenna asked.

  “Won’t Marigold be home this weekend?” he asked Lily.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It doesn’t,” he said, covering his tracks. “I just thought you might be busy.”

  “Um, busy hanging out with my friends. I thought you’d moved past that?”

  “I have. I swear.”

  “No one swears unless they’re hiding something,” Lacey said.

  “Whatever.” Abel shook his head, annoyed. He should just come clean with his friends, explain that he was still into Marigold and had these fantasies that when she came back home everything would be better. They would be better. “I’ll come with you, Jenna, I swear,” he said, exaggeratedly.

  “Are you kidding me?” Jenna threw popcorn at his head. “You are so still into her. Shit.”

  “I’ve got it under control, okay?” He tried to reassure everyone, but it wasn’t working. Their eyes were squinty and half rolled and overall unimpressed. “In other areas of upmost importance,” he said gravely. “Do I have to dress up?”

  “No, I promise,” Jenna assumed him. “I just want my friends there.”

  “I’ll be there.” Abel smiled, after everything this summer, he had friends. Three of them. And even though they thought Marigold was all wrong for him, they didn’t press him anymore about it. They held onto the idea that everything would change when school started back up in the fall, and in a year they’d all return to Jamestown and
be together again.

  They just had to ace the final.

  Marigold

  Holding baby Abe filled Marigold with an utterly unexpected feeling of contentment. She kissed his soft baby curls, inhaling his clean skin kissed with lavender and oatmeal lotion. She’d just been given him a bath, though he didn’t need one. Still only five weeks old he didn’t need much beside clean diapers and Sarah’s milk.

  Marigold found herself sneaking over pies and casseroles whenever she closed the shop for the day. Often Bekah or Mrs. Miller came with, no one able to resist a chance to snuggle with the youngest Miller boy. Jakey suddenly seemed so big, his clothes so long when they hung to dry, his appetite so substantial when they sat down to eat. And compared to his nephew, he was. Marigold had learned two years makes the world of difference when you’re a child.

  “Are you looking forward to going home tomorrow?” Sarah asked as Marigold sat gazing at the baby in her arms.

  “To be honest, in some ways I really am.” She hesitated, wanting to formulate her thoughts accurately, especially with Bekah sitting next to her.

  “You’ll come back to visit, won’t you?” Sarah asked with her brows knit together. “I mean, you’re like family now. And look how well Abe responds to you.” She smiled, her eyes warm toward Marigold, looking like a wise, older friend, even though she was only a few years Marigold’s senior.

  “Well, he’s sleeping now,” Marigold argued. “And he never fusses with anyone. But Sarah, I could never leave for good….” She didn’t add that she planned on having a very thorough conversation with her parents when she returned home.

  A conversation she’d already had with Mr. and Mrs. Miller, details of which she wanted to keep under wraps until she had a chance to come clean with her own parents. She trusted Sarah, but didn’t need to spread excitement or concern through the community if it wasn’t meant to be.

  Bekah squeezed Marigold’s knee, knowing some of the details. After all, Marigold had spent a lot of time thinking about this idea over the past few weeks, and Bekah had been there to answer questions any time Marigold had a new worry or fear. The biggest ones revolving around her religious beliefs, but somehow it didn’t hang her up as much as she thought it would.