by Anya Monroe
Being with the Millers had taught her a few things. The biggest being that faith, when boiled down, was about love. Love of others along with tolerance and believing in something bigger than oneself. Of course many of the congregates within the community were much more strict in their beliefs, but the Millers weren’t showy with their convictions.
They weren’t exactly on the outs with the community, but they were progressive in some ways that Marigold knew other Amish weren’t. For starters, they let Marigold stay with them, not pressuring her to be anything other than the girl she was, and they allowed Bekah to openly court Joshua without fear of what others may say.
Now they had given her permission to begin the process of becoming a baptized member of the Amish faith.
Fear fluttered in her heart, but she knew she wanted this, an opportunity to stay in this world forever. She handed Abe to Sarah, who began to nurse him discreetly.
“And Abel, will you see him this weekend?” Sarah asked.
“Um, I’m not entirely sure. He knows I’ll be home, but his program ends this week, too. He might be returning any day, but no one’s heard from him.” Marigold didn’t add anymore.
She didn’t say they hadn’t spoken since he left a day early, rolling off the Miller farm in a taxi, tires crunching the gravel, her heart crushed under its weight. She didn’t say she’d spent the past four weeks trying to focus on her life here with the Millers, on her business in the yarn shop, instead of on the boy whose empty bedroom was right down the hall from her guest room. Whose straw hat had been left on the hook in the farmhouse entryway as he’d strode away angry, leaving her in the wake of the demons he still need to fight.
“I hope you can make amends,” said Sarah tenderly.
“We all do,” Bekah whispered, having been awfully quiet all day. Marigold knew why. Bekah was terrified Marigold’s parents would refuse to let her return.
“But she’s eighteen already,” Bekah had argued to her parents.
“It doesn’t matter, we can’t let her stay here if it is against her parents’ wishes. It doesn’t feel right,” Mr. Miller had explained.
In theory Marigold understood, and she’d saved up more than enough over the summer to rent a room for herself somewhere else in Lancaster, but she didn’t want to be anywhere else. She wanted to be with the people she considered her family. She’d changed too much over the course of the summer to ever return to the girl she’d been in D.C.
The next morning the Millers stood in the driveway, no one wanting to say good-bye.
“Can I come too, Goldie?” Ruthie asked.
Marigold bent down to her young shop assistant. “Your home is here, sweet heart.”
“But your home’s here too!” she said tugging on Marigold’s apron. Marigold had put on her regular clothing this morning, leaving her plain dresses hanging on hooks in the guest bedroom. She’d paired a cream tiered knee-length dress with ruffled socks and brown boots, a floral apron with lacy trim on the upper hem. Not the most practical apron of course, but Marigold had enjoyed putting one of her favorite outfits back on, knowing that once home she wouldn’t be tending to dirty dishes or sweeping the floor. She left her hair in a long braid down her back, tucking a wild flower behind her ear, wanting to take a small piece of the Millers’ farm with her back to the city.
“Marigold.” Mr. Miller came forward to offer a hug. “We’re family now. We’ll always be right here, our feet firmly planted in Lancaster soil.”
“Travel safe, sweetie,” said Mrs. Miller before kissing Marigold’s cheek.
“And if something happens, you know, to change your plans, write and tell me. I can’t bear to be left guessing.” Bekah’s hands flew to her face, covering the tears on her cheeks.
“I know, Bekah,” she said, not really believing she was saying goodbye, not really remembering why she was going at all.
“You need to do this part, Marigold,” said Mr. Miller, seeing her eyes flash with doubt. “You can do this part.”
Marigold nodded, holding back her own tears for when she got in the taxi, for when she drove away. “And if you see my son, tell him he’s needed at home.”
She didn’t trust herself to speak, instead she flung her arms around Bekah for one last hug, kissed Jakey’s cheeks, and climbed in the taxi, knowing the weekend would be excruciatingly long. Knowing she needed to come back here come Monday.
Abel
They nailed the final. When they went back to check the final grades posted outside Trape’s door the next morning, he saw an A next to the names of his study group partners. The four point O next to it. He scrolled his finger down the rest of the cohort’s grades, and none were higher than theirs. They’d earned the recommendation, and if the meeting later this morning with the dean went well, he could be a freshman college student here, starting in a week.
“You did it, man,” Lacey said clapping him on the back.
“We did it,” Abel corrected him.
“Right, we all know how we aced that final. We lucked out by being in a group with you. Abel, you’re so effing bad ass,” Jenna said, offering a compliment the only way she knew how. “The dean’s gonna be all over you.”
“Ja, seems so.” Abel’s lips moved into a slow smile, and he shook his head suddenly embarrassed. “We all did well.” He pointed to the grade sheet. “Not bad for our rocky start.”
Most of the kids from their class had arrived by now to see the final grades. Kiera straightened her black frames as she peered at the grades. Smirking she said, “Seriously impressive, Abel.” She gave him a punch in the shoulder, before joining her friends she added, “If you’re ever in New York and wanna hang, give me a call, k?”
“What was that about?” Lily asked.
“Abel’s hot shit now.” Jenna covered her mouth to hide her laugh.
“You’re gonna give Marigold such a run for her money, she won’t even know what to do with you now that all the girls wanna piece,” Lacey said, confirming what they all knew: Abel was going to see if Marigold was still waiting. If she still loved him.
“Right, because everyone wants a piece of this.” Abel didn’t know what to do with the words swirling around him. Classmates were busy giving hugs and overextending themselves for future breaks from school, making promises … and also congratulating their group on a job well done.
“Next year, all of us will be here. It’s gonna be unreal,” Lacey said.
“Yeah, if Abel still wants to hang with us lowly freshman.” Jenna gave an exaggerated pout.
“Regardless what year we are … we’re doing it. All of us. Here, one year from now.” Lily pulled them in for a group hug. Cheesy or not, Abel didn’t hold back. He was going to miss his friends.
“Lacey and I are going to get coffee, wanna come with?” Jenna asked Lily and Abel once they left the hall where they had congregated outside Trape’s classroom. Everyone had begun to disperse, back to the dorms to pack up and say good-bye. Lily was game, but Abel bowed out.
“I have my meeting with the dean.”
“Oh, duh. Okay, stop by the dorm after, we’ll be there,” Jenna said. “We have to be cleared out by noon, though hopefully you’ll get to stay right where you are.
Abel hoped so, too, knowing it would be a really awkward night at Lily’s house if he didn’t have a place on campus. Lacey and Jenna were crashing with the Archers tonight, and the four of them would go to Comic-Con in the morning before everyone headed their separate ways.
“Good luck, Abel,” Lily said. “Knock ‘em dead.”
Dead wasn’t exactly what he was going for, but he did want to impress the dean. He’d submitted his application atrociously late. He’d figured out how to take the GED himself, and with the recommendation from Trape, he hoped they would give him a late acceptance.
If they didn’t, he didn’t know what he’d do. Return to Lancaster for a year? If he went back would he ever really be able to leave again?
The idea felt foreign and remo
ved. He couldn’t go back there now, even if his family was expecting him. Expectation. The word carried too much significance. He pushed the heavy thought away, and walked into the dean’s office.
“Welcome, again, Abel,” Dean Larsen said, wearing another suit, still a size too large.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Sit, and tell me about your time this summer. We had such high hopes two months ago, how do you feel it panned out?”
Abel was surprised by the question, assuming Larsen would have the answer if he read the application essay, but he went ahead, hoping it was just a friendly question.
“The summer exceeded my expectations.” There was that word again, expectation. “In every sense of the word, this program opened my eyes to possibilities I never seriously allowed myself to consider.”
Larsen took Abel in thoughtfully, as if carefully considering each word. “And not returning to Lancaster, how does that impact you?”
“Well, greatly, but it’s worth the sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice of family is no small thing, Abel. I want to be honest with you here. Your application and essay were stellar, truly. Test scores phenomenal, as you know, and then considering the recommendation Trape handed me this morning, clearly you deserve to be a student at Jamestown.”
“But?” Worry grew in Abel’s chest, not liking the direction of the conversation.
“I’m nervous for you. Scared, even. Your choice to be here is not like the other incoming freshman. Sure, they’ll leave home for the first time, and there’s a learning curve in that, but you’re making a permanent life decision.”
“I appreciate your concern, Dean, but my choice to apply was not taken lightly.”
Dean Larsen leaned in to listen, to truly hear Abel. This was the very reason he wanted to be at Jamestown. To be heard, understood. The worry loosened its grip as Abel’s resolve strengthened.
“I belong here. Respectfully, I ask you see me as you would any other student applying. I want no special privileges, just the courtesy of being taken seriously, as an adult making decisions with a sound mind and good judgment. There’s no other place I want to be right now.”
Larsen stood, smiling. “It’s good to hear, Abel. You’re exactly the sort of student we pride ourselves with enrolling. I heartily welcome you to Jamestown as a freshman for the class of 2020, starting next week. George, down in admissions, has your scholarship information ready and the other paperwork waiting for you, and he can help work out a dorm room.”
“Really?” Abel stood shell-shocked.
“Really. Congratulations, Abel. We’re honored to have you here.”
Overwhelmed with gratitude, Abel thanked him again, tugging at the brim of his straw hat in his hands.
It was happening.
He was staying. No more sheep. No more suspenders. He could buy a cellphone and call up Marigold and ask her on proper date. Their worlds would no longer exist on a separate axis. They would finally collide.
Hiding the news was impossible. His face told them everything they needed to know as he walked back into his dorm room.
“For reals?” Jenna screeched, throwing her arms around Abel.
“For reals,” he answered, laughing as she squeezed his waist. “And I’m staying here, in this room.”
“That’s insane. INSANE!” Lacey said, cranking up the volume on his jam box. Lily started doing terrible robot dance moves and everyone started hollering. A few kids from down the hall came to find out what the noise was about, and Lacey proudly told them Abel would be starting school here. “Class of 2020 bitches!” he shouted over the music.
The excitement drowned out the one nagging thought — the fact that he still needed to tell his parent.
But not today. Not tonight.
Tonight he would go find her. Marigold. And tell her the truth that scared him before. The truth he hoped she still wore on her sleeve.
Chapter 16
Marigold
The drive felt longer than she remembered. Her mind flooded with the memories of the last time she’d travelled this road. Abel had whispered sweet words in her ear as they shared her thermos of coffee and homemade peanut butter cookies. Abel held her hand, and she offered him her heart. She wanted him to take it, even now, even after he’d left the way he had a month ago and not coming back for her.
She still hoped that he would show up at his parents’ house and say he was wrong. That he would say this thing between them, the thing she had named love, was love to him too. Shaking her head, annoyed at herself for letting her mind take this detour, she unrolled the window of the taxi, letting the muggy late-August heat settle around her. She couldn’t keep doing this, romanticizing a person who hadn’t believed her intentions were true and good. Real.
As the taxi pulled up to her parents’ house, she was seized with anxiety, scared that she would actually not return to the Millers’ next week. No. It wasn’t possible. Of course she’d return.
“Hello?” she called out, dropping her suitcase on the floor of the foyer.
“Goldie?” her mom answered, coming toward her with arms spread wide to pull her into a hug. “Oh thank God, you’re back in one piece. I had all these terrible fears about what was happening to you, that you’d come home brainwashed, wearing a bonnet!” She stopped in front of her daughter, pressing her hands against her back, wrapping her in a hug. “But you’re home.” Her mom released a deep sigh.
“I’m here,” Marigold said, putting her arms around her mother, too, breathing in the shampoo she’d always used, the seventy-five dollar bottles from the salon where they used to go every six weeks for a haircut. Of course her mom still went without her. She’d been gone eight weeks.
It was hard to believe, it felt like so much longer, like she’d lived with the Millers forever, wondering if her family even realized she’d been gone. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course we did, what were we supposed to do without our resident showstopper in the house?” Her mom said it like it was a joke, when it actually only reinforced the stereotype her parents insisted on perpetuating. That she was the girl from before. Couldn’t her mom see how much she’d changed?
Sure her clothes were the same as they were two months ago, but inside she was a brand new butterfly, wings as colorful as always, but a different mariposa altogether, different even than the one she’d become last school year. This one was lighter, able to fly much higher. Wings that spanned the breadth of the life she wanted. The life she already had in Lancaster.
“Tabby called, she’s back from South America and I think there’s a party at her parents’ tomorrow, sounds like all the old gang will be there.”
“Why would you encourage me to hang out with people who nearly got me arrested?”
Her mom smiled forcefully. “I know that crew and you had a fallout, but their parents are our family friends, can you imagine how awkward this is for me? Everyone else has put your high school shenanigans behind them, and so should you.”
“I have put it behind me, and I don’t need to go back to the people I’ve let go of to be whole. I can be happy and not be the same. Why won’t you hear that?”
“Oh, I hear you. I just don’t like what I hear.” Taking a deep breath, her Mom smoothed her skirt as if to steady herself. “Since that is settled, I wanted to let you know that your sister is out right now, but will be back for dinner. She has some friends from school staying the night. They fly out Sunday morning.” As her mom explained, two strangers came down the stairs.
Marigold recognized them from Abel’s descriptions of the study group he and Lily were in.
Abel.
Her head got fuzzy thinking of the guy who’d walked away. The boy she searched for now, hoping that he’d walk down the steps next. To see her. Choose her, still.
“Hey, Marigold, I’m Jenna,” said a girl with braided blond hair. “And this is Lacey.”
Lacey was Abel’s roommate, she remembered this. “Hi,” she answered, remem
bering to swallow, to breathe. Her eyes flicked around the room. He wasn’t here.
“We were in the Intensive together with Lily. Study buddies, you know cool stuff like that. So … what’s up with you?” Lacey was acting so chill, Marigold decided he must he high right then and there.
“Oh, just a long day. Traveling and all. It’s nice to meet you, Jenna, Lacey,” she said, shaking their hands. They looked at her, but it was more like an inspection. Squinted eyes, narrowed brows. They were checking her out. Her face flushed realizing they’d all probably talked about her and Abel.
Where was he? Not wanting to ask and actually a little overwhelmed with the idea of seeing him here, she excused herself claiming she needed to unpack and change for dinner.
“Call Tabby, Marigold,” her mom called as she made a beeline for her room. Of course she wouldn’t call, she’d closed that chapter months ago. Her mind was on Abel anyway. She’d avoid him until they got back home to his parents.
Once settled they could begin again. Or not. If he still didn’t want her, she would lease a room in a nearby home and keep on the path as planned. He wasn’t the reason for anything, just the part that made it all seem too good to be true.
Abel
“Oh, my God, it looks perfect, Abel,” Lily said, her jaw dropping.
Abel blushed and gave her a small smile. He thought he needed to forgo his traditional Amish haircut once and for all, so they were at the salon Lily recommended. His hair had been cropped at the sides, and the top was left about three inches long, puffed up with pomade. The hairstylist had claimed him a mainstream hipster, and made him promise that if he was going to trade his Amish duds for Levi’s and T-shirts, he had to keep the suspenders.
“Do you think Marigold will like it?”