On the pallet in his cramped loft, Quill read a favorite passage from the leather-bound account of the Plymouth Colony: “All great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties…”

The words lacked the hope he was looking for as he realized that dishonorable actions were also accompanied with great difficulties. Hardship wasn’t an indicator of being right or wrong. It was a sign of being alive.

Although that phrase wasn’t complex, some of Bradford’s wording took time to comprehend, which was understandable since the book had been written during the same time as the King James Version of the Bible. Sometimes Quill’s brothers teased him that he didn’t speak like a normal guy. There was some truth to that.

He closed the book and peered down from the loft of the cooperage. He had loved this place as a child. His Daed had what the Englisch called an open-door policy. Whether Quill had wanted to play under his Daed’s feet or begin learning the trade, his father had been welcoming and patient to a fault. Even now he could see his dad’s huge hands and broad shoulders as he worked with the barrels. Quill could smell the fires that helped season and prepare the barrels for liquid. He could hear the scraping of oak staves as his father put the pieces into place—one wide, one medium, one thin, round and round each stave was placed.

But now the floors were covered with a layer of gray dust, showing only faint footprints of a few visitors over the years. Most of the tools were neatly hanging from the pegboard. Some were just as they’d been the day his dad died.

Would his dad be proud of him? of the choices he’d made?

The door handle rattled, and then he heard the rusty hinges creak. It wasn’t possible his mother felt well enough to walk all the way out here, was it?

He waited in place, quiet and watchful.

Ariana.

Even from this odd view, he recognized that white-blond hair through her prayer Kapp.

He swallowed hard as half a dozen emotions assaulted him—frustration, grief, loneliness, admiration, and homesickness being the strongest. Yet he’d do it all again. Bury his feelings for her and leave just as he had. Could a methodical, literal believer in the Ordnung understand someone like him?

Holding something in one arm, she eased into the room as if going to an altar. Her fingers trailed through the dust on the workbench. Was she also going down memory lane? They used to play in this workshop when they were young. When he got old enough to apprentice, she was his helper, handing him and his Daed tools while they worked.

But that was a lifetime ago, and it would be best for all involved if they didn’t have another face-to-face encounter. If he moved farther back in the loft, she would hear him. The floor under him was made of planks, like a hayloft. His best chance of not being spotted was to remain completely still and hope she didn’t look up.

Shafts of light came through the dirty windows, hanging on the dusty air as if it were fog, and the glow surrounded her, making her look like one of his dreams of returning home. How could a man disagree so fully with the Ordnung and at the same time miss living here?

She turned from the bench and went to the A-frame stack of barrels. Some had been made the week he left. One guideline about leaving the community without causing an uproar was to continue working until the last minute.

Ariana set the folded brown bag on a bench and moved so close to the loft area that he couldn’t see her. The ladder to the loft creaked. Was she climbing it? His heart picked up its pace, and he realized that even after all these years, when it came to Ariana, he had opposing desires—to avoid her at all costs and to see her eye to eye. Until last week he’d gone with the first of those two desires.

The barrels began to shake, and he leaned forward, hoping to remain unseen while he figured out what she was doing. She had climbed partway up the ladder and then stepped onto the second row of barrels. The balls of her feet were on the edge of a barrel while she reached up to the third row, trying to shove one free.

What an absurd plan!

The stack began swaying. Didn’t she know this could cause the whole pyramid to tumble, taking her down with it! They were made of solid oak, and each one weighed at least eighty pounds.

It could kill her.

The barrels moaned as some began to tilt. “Ariana, no! Stop moving. Now!” He scurried halfway down the ladder. Holding on with one foot and one hand, he swung out to steady the barrels. Despite the awkward, painful strain, he quickly secured the barrels. He glanced up into wide, beautiful eyes. So many thoughts and questions were reflected in them. To have such things shared with him would be a good day, but days where he really connected with someone were rare.

“What are you doing here?” She sounded offended at his presence.

“Currently I’m trying to save you from serious injury.” He panted his answer as he focused on her feet and motioned with his hand. “Come.”

She hesitated.

“Hate me later. Right now, do as I say.” Would his command anger her and only make things worse?

Recognition flitted across her face. On her fifteenth birthday, after talking her into exploring an abandoned home with a caved-in roof, he’d had to yell the same thing at her.

He motioned, and she began to inch his way. “That’s it. Slow and steady. Step on the central edge of each barrel.”

While she worked her way to him, he recalled that outing on her fifteenth birthday. They had gone horseback riding, and when they’d stumbled onto an old house, Quill wanted to check it out. She didn’t like the idea, but she agreed because she trusted him. Going through it had been fun until they went upstairs and he realized the floor was spongy, a sign it could give way. He was in the middle of saying “We need to go…” when her body jolted, and she screamed as a section of the floor gave way under her, trapping her foot. He’d sprawled spread eagle on the floor to distribute his weight, and he’d freed her foot. But rather than crawling to the stairway, as he told her to do, she remained in place, furious and shaken, until he screamed those words at her. In the hours that followed the incident, as they rode their horses back toward home, he realized that he had let his sense of adventure put Ariana in harm’s way, and he knew he would never do so again.

Her eyes met his, and his memories fled. “You’re doing great. Just a little farther.”

When she was close enough, he used his free arm to snatch her off the barrels. Still holding on to the ladder to the loft, he pulled her close. “That was very dangerous.” He shifted, and she put her feet on the ladder while grasping the rungs with her hands. She’d been in his arms the day he left here, and the familiar feeling of not wanting to let go of her coursed through him. “You okay?”

She nodded, taking in a ragged breath. “Ya. I…I’ve got my footing. You can let go now.”

Against all that he held in his heart for her, he released her and waited as she descended the ladder. He hopped down. “You’re way too smart to do something that stupid. What were you thinking?” Why was he griping at her? And then he knew…He couldn’t be here to protect or care for her or his Mamm, and it frustrated him.

“You are correcting my behavior?” Her voice was eerily calm. “At least mine wasn’t planned and plotted. It was simply a mistake.”

Beneath her civil tone and behavior, she was seething with anger toward him, and he wished he knew how to free her of it. Despite all his planning, he’d overlooked dozens of important life connections that, once broken, he couldn’t get back. His shortsightedness was far worse than hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Shouldn’t have…,” she hissed, sounding like water boiling over the edge of a pot. “If you’re going to begin a list of all you shouldn’t have done, we’ll be here for months.”

“Maybe. And I apologize for every part that has hurt you…or will hurt you.”

“But saying that fixes nothing. They’re empty words spoken by a man I once thought only said what he meant.”

It seemed as if nothing between them could be fixed, not even for a few moments of resentment-free conversation. He’d seen her and the fruit of her hands over the last five years. He knew her well. She didn’t have that same advantage. Would she like him any better if she knew more about him? Did it matter? He had chosen the path of his life, and she stood in opposition to it.

He grabbed a barrel and took it to the door. Then he backed away, waiting for her to take the cue and leave. He didn’t want to argue. “I think it would be best if you go now.”

She grabbed the brown bag she’d entered with. “This is for your Mamm. Please see that she gets it.” She thrust it at him. “You’re not winning, not this time, Quill.”

He took it. “Winning?”

“I don’t know what all you have dangled in front of my sister, what promises you’ve made of rainbows or pots of gold, but I will not let you win.”

So she knew who intended to leave. Relief coursed through him.

She narrowed her eyes. “You should be ashamed to do this kind of thing to your own people.”

Did she understand nothing? He didn’t do it to them. He did it for them. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

“Aren’t you tired of saying those words? I’m sick of hearing them.”

Yes, he was weary of apologizing, but he didn’t know anything else to say. “Just go, Ari.”

“You can tell the Nightcrawler that I have a plan, and he can forget taking my sister.”

“A plan?”

“Ya, you know, the kind of thing you create and carry out while others sleep.”

That’s what he had done to her. Didn’t she know that painful surgeries were best done while the patient slept? Regardless of what she did or didn’t understand, he prayed her plan concerning her sister would work. “Good. I mean that sincerely. If you think I want to help anyone leave, especially someone in your family, you’re wrong.”

“Who are you?” Her piercing eyes captured him. “You say one thing and do another, and I…I can’t seem to get a handle on what to make of you.”

“You have no idea at all?” Did the letter he wrote and placed in her hand before leaving explain nothing? It was scant on certain information, but for her sake he had shared as much as he dared, and it should’ve helped her understand a few things.

“I guess it would save us a lot of trouble if you just assumed I’m too stupid to put anything together.”

“You’re not stupid. Far from it. A little blind maybe…”

“Blind? And your eyes are open?”

“To some things, yeah.” His strong suit was holding his tongue, so why wasn’t he doing that? “Look, I get that you don’t like what I do, but people have the right to choose.”

“Yeah? What choice did you leave me that day when you took Frieda and left? Oh, I remember. I had the choice of telling the community all I knew or keeping it a secret while they searched frantically for a seventeen-year-old girl!”

“I explained what I could in the letter.”

Anger drained from her face, and he saw a glimpse of a young woman still confused by what had taken place. “What did the letter say?”

How could she not know? The letter was in her hand when he pulled away from a final embrace and left.

She shook her head. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. It was probably filled with your rationalizations.”

“What happened to the letter, Ariana?”

Her cheeks flushed pink and she shrugged.

He could see in her eyes that his presence had opened more than the lid to her anger. Old wounds were being cut fresh again, but he couldn’t prevent that. “What happened, Ari?”

She crossed her arms, giving another shrug. “I had it in my hand when I ran home to tell Daed what had happened. I…I guess I should’ve stopped to read it, but I was so confused that it seemed only my Daed could make sense of everything. When I got home, the deacon was at our table having breakfast. It was just a happenstance visit, and I must’ve looked as upset as I felt, because the adults pressed me to tell them what was going on. When I explained, the deacon insisted I give him the letter.”

“He didn’t let you read it?”

“I was afraid to give it to him, afraid it said things that could make the situation worse for your Mamm…and you and Frieda. So I ripped it up while hurrying to the sink, and then I held the pieces under a running faucet.”

Quill couldn’t respond, could hardly breathe. Even the day she thought he’d run off with Frieda, she continued to treat him and Frieda as true friends. If the church ministers had read the letter, it would’ve made a lot of things harder on his mother, Frieda, and him.

Ariana’s face was chiseled with anger again. “I wish you’d never given me the letter. It only made me look like I was a part of your betrayal.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “But that’s not important, not anymore. The only thing that matters is you are not taking my sister with you.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

“Who could possibly know if you mean it? Certainly not me.”

“Yeah, I understand.” He motioned to the stack of barrels. “I’ll unstack them before I leave. It’ll fill up the floor, but you’ll be able to safely get whatever you need for years to come.”

She looked from the barrels to him, and her guard seemed to lower for a moment. “How do you manage to sound so sincere? You comforted me five years ago as if you actually cared. You stand here saying you hope my sister chooses not to go with you, but it’s all just words for you, isn’t it?”

“What can I say, Ariana? You’re not going to believe anything that sounds contrary to what you already believe.” And even if she did believe what he said, there were many aspects of what had taken place that he wasn’t free to tell her. Some of the information would do her more harm than good, so he would keep that to himself. The parts that could be helpful were private info. Confidentiality was a harsh overseer.

She went to the barrel and pushed open the tattered screen door with her foot. “I can’t trust you for good reason, Quill, and you know it.” She struggled to scoot the barrel inch by inch through the door.

He set the bag on the bench and grabbed an old hand truck from the wall, hoping the wheels were still good. “Wait.” He pushed the dolly to the barrel, and with a bit of effort, he slid the flat ledge under the base. He tilted it back, making her task easier.

“Denki.” Her tone was cold with only a hint of politeness. She balanced the dolly, straining a bit to do so. Before pushing it forward, her eyes met his. “Is there something I can do to prevent us from meeting again?”

Her calm, collected words were like a knife sliding into his gut. He wanted to say that he was leaving for home soon, and when he did return for visits, he would do as he had been doing for years—all he could to avoid an encounter.

But when he opened his mouth, his heart overrode his will. “We should talk for a while first. You know, hash out a few things. I think it would help both of us.” There were a few bits of information he could share that might defuse her anger, weren’t there?

She blinked, staring at him in disbelief. Since all she wanted to do was get away from him, he was asking a lot, but from the moment he’d looked into her eyes last week, the longing to establish a little peace between them had been building inside him.

They could never be close again. He accepted that. He would never get the chance to date her or marry her or raise children with her inside this community as he’d once dreamed. In many ways they were both children when he had wanted that. Now they were adults, seeing the world in the harsh light of reality. But couldn’t he at least remove a bit of tarnish from her good memories of them?

She shook her head. “No thanks.” But then she stopped abruptly as if an idea had come to her. “But…would you answer one question?”

“If I can’t, I’ll tell you so straight up.”

“How long do I have to change my sister’s mind?”

“Three, maybe four weeks. What’s your plan?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widened. “Why would I give you a chance to undermine it?”

“I can’t break confidences, but if I knew what you were thinking, I might be able to guide you in which plans could help with your goal.”

“Didn’t we just agree that whatever you said, I wouldn’t be able to believe you anyway?”

“Yeah, but then you trusted me enough to ask about your sister.” He shifted.

“I asked out of desperation, hoping your eyes and body language would tell me more than any words you spoke. That isn’t trust.”

People’s points of view were tricky in any relationship. That was especially true in their case. He had a helicopter view of the events in broad daylight. Her view was from a small plot of ground in the dead of night. She wasn’t to blame for seeing him from the only vantage point available to her.

“Look, I know I’ve not told you everything in the past. But I couldn’t, not without asking you to keep secrets for me. What I did tell you was truthful.”

“I need to go.” She pushed the dolly with her foot to get the wheels moving.

“An hour at your favorite spot by the creek. That’s all I ask. Then I’ll disappear, never to bother you again.”

“I don’t meet married men for private conversations.”

He knew she believed that he and Frieda were married. He had wanted her to think that for several reasons. He and Frieda needed the community to believe they were going to marry. Plenty of people would try to find a single teenage girl so they could talk her into returning to the fold, but few would spend much time trying to track down a married woman. To the Amish a married woman belonged with her husband. Period. “I’m not married.”

She released the dolly, and the bottom of the barrel thudded against the ground as she stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “You ran off with my friend, and then you didn’t even marry her?”

“For her sake, so no one makes an effort to find her and talk her into returning here, it would be best if you keep what I’m about to tell you between us. See, it wasn’t like that, not for her or me.”

She stared at him in disbelief, unmoving for several moments. “And yet you dare say you’ve never lied to me?” Shock at his marital status faded, and something dull filled her eyes—maybe resignation. Or disgust.

“I did mislead you on that. I know I did, and it’s part of what I’ve apologized for. We had no choice.” He could see on her face that he was making things worse between them.

“Whatever.” She shrugged. “I also avoid any relationship with single Amish men who dabble in the Englisch world, so there’s no possibility I’ll have another conversation with you.”

Did she realize what a snob she’d become? She needed someone to challenge her closed-minded thinking. “You think you’re so much better than Englisch people? I guess that thinking helps you gladly accept the segregation the Amish are so comfortable with.”

“We separate from the world—in it but not of it, as the Word says. But I’m not surprised you find fault with that.”

“Isn’t that the same world Christ died to save and sent all people into in order to make disciples?”

“Is that what you do, Quill? Make disciples?”

“Well…no, but—”

“But you know how to talk the talk, to convince hurting families and teenage girls to come into the world with you, right?”

“That’s not what I do.”

“You’ve also said you’ve never lied to me, which just begs the question—what constitutes a lie in your mind? Seems to me, you’re the kind of man that your wife would have to ask you specifically, did you cheat on me this month? Otherwise, if you cheated and she never directly asked about it, you’re not a liar.”

He considered himself slow to anger, but she’d pushed him about as far as he could take. Still, his guilt over the past curbed his tongue.

An old car horn, like those often used on Amish rigs by younger folk, sounded. Ahooga.

“Rudy’s here, and I need to go.” She tried to get the barrel tilted back on the dolly again.

Rudy. Clearly a man who’d never crossed into the Englisch world to experience it beyond what was necessary for survival or business. “See me however you like, Ari, but open your eyes and see yourself. For hundreds of years, sweet, obedient Amish girls such as yourself have been used by family and church leaders as Amish nectar, giving men the energy and drive to stay under the Ordnung.”

Her face flushed red, and he stiffened as the palm of her hand swung toward him. But she stopped before slapping him. Trembling, she lowered her hand, tears glistening.

His jaded attitude had managed to insult and hurt her simultaneously.

She drew several ragged breaths, gaining control once again. Soon the tears in her eyes disappeared, and she touched the back of her prayer Kapp, making sure her hair and cap were still in place. “Without end you are a disappointment.”

A physical slap would have been less painful. He was clear on the main reasons he’d never reached out to her after leaving, but maybe hidden somewhere deep inside him, he’d known she would be unable to accept any of the truths he saw, the ones that highlighted the less-than-noble aspects of the Old Ways. Even knowing all he did, he still believed this way of life was one of the better ones available. But some serious changes needed to be made, the kind that would have spared his Daed’s life and made ways to protect its innocent people from the bad apples.

He slid the barrel in place and tilted it back for her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He considered it true, but it was rude and maybe spiteful to voice it.

She clasped the handles.

He knew they were done.

Completely finished.

He’d been naive to hope they could clear the air and sustain a friendship, frail as it might be.

“Bye, Ariana. I pray you’ll have a good and fulfilling life.”