From behind a booth on the green space of old town Summer Grove, Ariana paused to take in the view. The town buzzed with people for Labor Day weekend. A band was on a stage, playing patriotic music. Booths were set up here and there, some of them selling foods but most selling crafts.
For the first time since they began selling foods at nine that morning, they had no one at their booth. Using a hand towel, she wiped sweat from her face. They could use a roof over their booth to give them some reprieve from the sun.
She pulled a wristwatch out of her apron pocket. Eight minutes past three. What a wonderfully busy day it’d been. At last count they had made nearly $400 today. She still needed thousands more to go to closing, but what a testimony to the idea of owning the café. Four hundred dollars in profits in a day? Her head was spinning. Of course, this type of town event was rare, but if the café made a fourth of that six days a week, that would be nearly $30,000 a year before taxes. If they could make $200 a day, lack for her parents and siblings would become a memory. Oh, how she longed for that.
She removed the last tray of sandwiches from the cooler. She’d baked the croissants as the sun rose and then loaded the bread with thinly sliced deli meats and wrapped them individually. This was the kind of item she wanted to sell at the café. Simple and tasty.
She turned to Susie. “Where are the other trays of sandwiches?”
Scrubbing mustard stains off the booth’s countertops, Susie grinned. “Everything is selling like hot cakes. Isn’t it great?”
Ariana had soaked in every passing minute since Susie had agreed not to leave the Amish, and her sister was wildly enthusiastic about their endeavors, even when they stayed up baking half the night. So Ariana didn’t wish to dampen her sister’s fun, but she held up the now-empty tray, silently asking about it.
“Ya,” Susie said, “that’s the last of what we brought. I thought Rudy let you know.”
Rudy entered the booth, carrying a grocery bag. They had needed more coffee, sugar, and cream, so he had run to the closest store for them. “Did I hear my name?”
Ariana pursed her lips, half smirking at Susie. “What you heard was my little sister throwing you under the buggy.”
“Well,”—Rudy winked at Ariana—“as long as you are with me, I won’t mind.” He set the items on the counter. “So what’s the problem?”
“We are going to be out of sandwiches soon, and I didn’t realize that.” Ariana wondered how quickly she and Susie could run home, put more together, and return.
Susie opened the grocery bag and pulled out the coffee. “So here’s the good news: apparently opening a café that sells sandwiches, scones, and other simple lunch items is going to be quite hot.” She licked her index finger and pressed it against Ariana’s shoulder and made a sizzling noise. “Yes, folks. Hot like my big sister.”
Ariana suppressed the desire to correct her sister’s risqué remarks. It seemed to her it would be best not to nitpick. “Be that as it may,”—Ariana pulled the sugar and cream out of the bag—“you and I need to go home and make more sandwiches. I hope Mamm put the rest of the croissants in to bake after we left.”
“You’re going to leave Rudy here by himself?”
“He doesn’t mind. The two of us will make short work of it.”
“Oh, face it, Ariana.” Susie put both hands on her hips, a mischievous smile on her lips. “You just want to make your little sister a clone of yourself.”
Rudy’s eyes met Ari’s, and he seemed to be thinking the same thing she was—sometimes it was difficult to know how to take Susie’s cheekiness.
His smile replaced the hint of uncertainty. “It would be okay with me if you become a clone of Ariana. You could do the work while I take your sister out. I like that plan, actually.”
“We’re leaving now.” Susie grabbed Ariana’s hand and tugged her out of the booth. “And I hope you are overrun with throngs of people wanting sandwiches you do not happen to have.”
Rudy held up a couple of sandwiches. “But I have some and plenty of coffee,” he teased.
Ariana waved at Rudy, and then she decided to do something she had not done to any adult—she blew him a kiss. His dimpled grin greeted the action. Then she picked up the pace, pulling Susie along while hurrying away.
They wasted no time hopping into the rig. Ariana reached for the reins, but Susie grabbed them. “I’ll take those. Denki.”
“Fine by me. Just be careful of pedestrians. It will only slow us down if you run over someone and we have to stop to deal with it.”
Susie burst into laughter. “All right! My sarcastic ways are finally beginning to rub off on my big sister.”
After winding their way through the busyness of town, they were able to pick up speed and make up for a little lost time. Ariana leaned back, tired but really happy.
Where was Quill about now? Susie had surely told him that she didn’t intend to leave the Amish. Had he gone home, back to wherever he lived?
As they passed his mother’s home, she saw a car at the foot of the porch stairs with the passenger door open. The screen door banged open, and Quill walked out, carrying his mother.
What was Quill up to now? Ariana took the reins from Susie. “I need to check on this.”
Was Berta sick again? Did Quill think he could run off with her as he’d done with Frieda? Ariana’s thoughts made little sense, and all she knew for sure was she didn’t trust Quill Schlabach—not concerning his Mamm’s health or his respect for her wishes.
“Who is that carrying Berta?”
Apparently Susie didn’t recognize Quill with his baseball cap on and in jeans and a T-shirt. Susie’s main contact with him had probably been during the cover of night. Or maybe they’d made all plans through phone calls and letters.
“Just stay put, okay?” Ariana barely stopped the rig before she tossed the reins at Susie and jumped out. “What’s going on?” She hurried up the steps.
“She passed out cold, and since rousing a bit, she’s been addled. I’m taking her to the hospital.”
Is that what Berta needed, to be rushed to the ER? Unless medical help was absolutely necessary, it wasn’t worth how draining it would be on Berta emotionally. Probably financially too—at least that’s what Ariana had assumed before she realized Quill was a part of her life. “Put her down and let me think for a second, okay?”
Quill paused, looking unsure whether to trust Ariana in such matters. “But—”
“I…I’m okay.” His Mamm’s eyes fluttered open, and she looked more asleep than awake. She lifted her hand to his cheek. “Do as she says.”
He awkwardly eased her onto the top step. Ariana knelt beside her. Quill got on the other side.
She pressed her fingers against Berta’s wrist. “How are you feeling?” Her pulse seemed shallow, and Ariana wished she knew more about such matters.
“Dizzy, but better,” Berta whispered.
What little Ariana knew about the pulse, fainting, and blood pressure, she’d learned from the nurses and doctors during Berta’s most recent illness. “She began blood-pressure medicine a few weeks ago. The doctor said that while her body was adjusting to the medication, fainting could be a side effect.”
Quill seemed relieved. “Does that mean there’s no real danger?”
Ariana studied Berta, disliking the gray tint to her skin. “I think so.”
“If you’re not sure, I’m taking her in to be seen.”
Ariana finished checking Berta’s pulse before she looked up. The desire to point a finger at Quill and do all within her power to make him see how wrong he’d been all these years was overwhelming. When had she stepped into those hideous shoes, the ones that belonged to some bitter, self-righteous minister’s wife? “Just give me a few minutes!” After snapping, she wrestled her inner grudge holder into submission and forced the next word to the surface. “Pl…please?”
“It can’t hurt to take her in.” Quill’s steely blue eyes bore into her. “What’s the issue? Are you afraid I’m going to kidnap her?”
Ariana’s cheeks tingled, and she hoped they weren’t turning red.
He scoffed, releasing a burst of laughter that mixed with sharp disbelief. “You’re kidding. Seriously, Ari?”
“She hates hospitals, and they’re expensive, but…” Should she admit how little she trusted him? She released a slow breath of air, hoping to take the edge off her uptight emotions. “Ya, the…the kidnapping thought did sort of cross my mind.”
“Even you should know I wouldn’t do anything against someone’s will.”
“Even me? Just what does that mean?” As soon as she asked, she held up her hand, shushing him before he could respond. “I don’t want to know.” They had to call a truce, a real one where they came to an understanding that they would never agree about anything of real value, but right now their focus needed to be on Berta.
“Friede dezwische du Zwee,” Berta whispered breathlessly.
“So denk ich aa.” Ariana nodded, assuring Berta that she wanted peace between them too. She was weary of falling just short of hating Quill…if she fell short of it.
Berta seemed unable to catch a full breath. “None of what happened was within Quill’s power to stop.” She turned to her son. “Tell her.”
Quill gently sandwiched his Mamm’s hand between his. “Sh. Mamm, es iss allrecht.”
His assurance that it would be all right and his tenderness with his Mamm warred with the strange words Berta had spoken. Except for the loss of his Daed, Quill had never seemed to have a powerless moment in his life. He took control, even of his own fears and grief.
Berta grasped Ariana’s wrist and placed her palm on the back of Quill’s hand and then sandwiched their hands between hers. “Peace.”
Ariana’s heart felt as if it would explode from the opposing emotions swelling within it—the need for peace and the desire to unleash years of bitter disappointment in Quill. She prayed for help while fighting against her righteous indignation.
Taking a breath—and a step of faith—she wrapped her fingers over his and squeezed. Unlike her, he didn’t hesitate in his response. He returned the gesture. Moments ago it had seemed obvious that she and Quill needed to find some measure of goodwill between them, but maybe it was just she who needed to find it.
She pulled her hand free and checked Berta’s pulse again. “What was going on right before she fainted?”
“She was on the couch, reading, when I went in to say good-bye. She seemed fine until she stood. The next thing I knew she was swaying, and by the time I grabbed her, she was out cold.”
“Ya, standing up too fast with this new med in her was probably the cause.” She checked the pulse points in her feet as the doctor had showed her, making sure her circulation was normal. “Remember, Berta, we talked about how slowly you need to get up if you want to stay by yourself at night?”
Berta’s eyes barely opened, but she nodded.
Susie came up the steps. “Is there anything I can do?”
Ariana pressed her fingers against Berta’s forehead. She felt a little clammy but not bad.
“Quill Schlabach?” Susie sounded confused, as if she was surprised he was still in the area. “What are you doing here?”
Ariana didn’t want these two talking or spending even a minute together. “Susie, we’ve got this. You need to go on to the house and make the sandwiches and take them to Rudy. Tell Rudy and Mamm what’s going on with Berta’s health and that I need to stay with her tonight.”
Susie remained in place, eyeing Quill.
“Please do as I asked.” Ariana checked Berta’s pulse again. It was stronger this time.
Quill walked down the steps with Susie and stayed by the carriage, talking to her.
“Quill?” Ariana called him.
He said bye to Susie and then turned. “Ya?”
“I need her blood-pressure cuff. Do you know where she keeps it?”
“Nee.”
“It’s in the nightstand on the right side of her bed, second drawer from the top. Bring that and a glass of water, please.” Her use of the word please, which almost choked her, had less to do with politeness and more to do with begging him to get away from her sister.
Ariana would call the doctor after she gathered a bit more information.
“Berta, how are you feeling?” Ariana patted her hand, trying to get her to rouse more.
“Dizzy and weak.”
Quill returned with both items in hand. Ariana took the glass of water and helped Berta take several sips. She put the blood-pressure cuff on Berta’s arm as Dr. Sidman had taught her to do. “While I check this, you need to hide your car for your Mamm’s sake.”
Without a word Quill did as she’d said. It didn’t take him long to drive it behind the barn. She was sure he put it in the old shed that remained locked. No wonder she’d never seen a key to that building. After checking Berta’s blood pressure, Ariana left the cuff on and helped Berta take several more sips of water.
Quill strode back into sight, wasting no time approaching the porch. He gestured toward the gauge. “I know nothing about blood pressure.”
“I didn’t either until recently. Ideally her readings would be one hundred twenty over eighty. Currently she’s at eighty-five over fifty-five. It’s low but not dangerously so.” Ariana removed the cuff. “Is it possible you took one too many blood-pressure pills today?”
Berta shrugged. “Not that I know of. I certainly hope not.”
Taking medication of any kind was new for Berta, and Ariana regretted she hadn’t made sure she or whoever was staying with Berta doled out the meds. Ariana should be able to tell if Berta had taken two pills today by checking the number in the bottle against the date it was filled.
Ariana helped Berta with another sip of water, and as she drank, it seemed to wake her and clear her mind. “I think we need to move her inside, out of this heat. I want to check a few more things. Then I’ll call the doctor.”
Quill moved to help her. “Do you need to be carried?”
“Nee.” Berta shooed him away.
Quill didn’t back up. “Then take my arm and let me help you.”
Berta nodded, and Quill helped her shuffle into the house.
Quill led his Mamm to the couch, and Ariana went to the medicine cabinet. She took the container to the kitchen table and, after carefully pouring the contents of the bottle onto the table, counted the pills.
Quill returned to the kitchen, watching intently as Ariana finished counting.
“I think I have good news.” Ariana slid the pills into her hand and then into the bottle. “Your Mamm took two blood-pressure pills today. I’ll call the doctor, but my guess is all she needs is lots of fluids and monitoring until the extra dose wears off.”
Quill seemed to melt into the chair next to her, relieved at the news.
She put the lid on the bottle and set it to the side. “I’ll make the call and stay the night. Since you were telling her good-bye when this happened, you could finish that while I’m at the community phone waiting to hear back from the doctor. When I return, you can go.”
Quill didn’t so much as flinch as she politely requested he hit the trail as soon as possible. He picked up the pill container, studying the label. “Remember the time we solved the incident of my grandmother’s missing medications?”
“Ya. It took your Grossmammi about a month to convince family and friends that she wasn’t misplacing them or accidently throwing them out.”
“Yeah, but after you and I believed her, it took us two long days and several flashlight batteries to solve the mystery.”
“Stupid cat.” Aiming to sow peace, Ariana repeated a phrase she used to say to him when teasing. The trouble began when his grandmother started setting the bottles in a different place, and the family cat must have thought the bottle was a new toy. She’d knocked each bottle to the ground and batted it until it rolled through the oversized gap under the threshold of the door to an old unused cellar.
Quill chortled. “Smart cat.”
Something besides distrust and anger began to stir in her, and the smile lifting the corners of her mouth while in Quill’s presence felt odd. “Cat lover.”
Memories of solving the mystery flooded her. She had been nine and Quill fourteen. He was bored because he’d recently broken his arm, a bad break, and he was supposed to stay indoors the first couple of days; otherwise, he never would have helped a scrawny kid solve the case of the missing medicine. Then again, until the day he left, she couldn’t recall a time he hadn’t helped when she asked.
“You hissin’ at me?” A rare hint of a smile embraced his handsome face.
For a moment he didn’t feel like an enemy. He also didn’t feel like a friend.
He set the bottle on the table. “I would like to stay until I’m sure she’s fine…if you don’t mind.”
It was his Mamm, so he didn’t need Ariana’s permission to stay. Maybe this was his way of acknowledging she had earned certain rights. But had he just buttered her up with that walk down memory lane and then asked? Regardless, she couldn’t fault him for not wanting to leave yet. “Okay.” She picked up the medicine bottle and tucked it in her apron. She would dole out the medications until she had a weekly medicine organizer for Berta. “What did your Mamm mean on the porch about you being powerless in what happened?”
He stared at the table. “Nothing.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Nothing at all.”
She should’ve known better than to ask. Besides, she had other matters to tend to. “Are you fine while I call the doctor?”
“Sure.” He angled his head, looking up at her with a trace of cautious amusement. “I won’t kidnap her or anything.”
Now that she was calmer—and maybe a little less bitter—she could see how humorous it was to think he might snatch his Mamm, and she couldn’t resist a chuckle. “I appreciate that.”
The community phone was only a brisk, five-minute walk from Berta’s place, and she hurried down the road. After talking to the doctor on call, she was armed with good information, so she ran back to Berta’s. Once inside, she saw Quill encouraging his mother to drink more water. The poor woman would be getting up half the night to go to the rest room, but according to the doctor, rest and fluids were the best remedy.
Watching Quill with Berta made Ariana wish she could make sense of who he was. Was he the kind, caring daredevil she’d once known him to be, or was he the manipulating liar he’d appeared to be for the last five years? Was it possible to be both?
He looked up, and his eyes glued to hers. Did he know what she was thinking? He had always seemed able to read her mind.
She pushed away the eerie thought. “The doctor says she won’t need to be seen as long as she doesn’t get worse. But if her blood pressure isn’t normal by morning, she needs to go to the ER.”
“That’s good, but did he say what we need to do?”
“The things we’re already doing, plus check her blood pressure once an hour until it returns to normal.”
Berta closed her eyes. “Could you two stop fussing around me, please?” She gestured toward the kitchen. “If you can’t return to your usual lives, at least take it in the other room.”
That was Berta. She had more starch than a Sunday shirt. Ariana went into the kitchen.
Quill followed her and sat at the table. “She’s still so young. Early sixties. How is she going to make it on her own for the rest of her life?”
Ariana couldn’t possibly think of an answer to that right now. She had questions about Quill going through her head. Where did he live? If he hadn’t left because he wanted to, why had he left? “You hungry?” She went to the sink.
He slid the glass salt and pepper shakers back and forth on the table, tapping the bottoms together as he did. It was as if he hadn’t heard her. “I imagine Mamm here alone, things happening like her passing out and no one being here, and I wonder if I made the right decision.”
She needed no clarification concerning what decision, and she was glad she was at the sink with her back to him. Cool water ran across the bar of soap, creating bubbles as it slid over Ariana’s palms. Her impulse to confront him about what he’d done fizzled before the emotion could form words. He was sharing as one person who cared about Berta to another, and Ariana tried to dig past her prejudices against him and find something in her that could relate to making tough decisions. He was unsure of what he’d done, and yet Berta had said it wasn’t within his power to do anything but leave. What could Ariana say to him? Every decision she’d made in life seemed pretty cut-and-dried—whether or not to save for the café, who to date, how best to help her family.
She turned off the water and grabbed a dishtowel. As she searched her mind, a memory came to her—Quill endangering his life to set a poor creature free. “Maybe some things are like freeing a trapped bobcat. There’s no right way, only a wrong way.” He used to say that the only wrong way to do something was to do nothing at all.
While he seemed deep in thought, she pulled out a chair across from him and sat, recalling the bobcat incident. She’d been ten when she’d overheard the adults talking after church about a poacher who’d caught a bobcat in a steel trap, and he was keeping it in his backyard. They were discussing whether to turn him in, but there was concern about retribution. Rumors said the man was mean and violent. Upset about the bobcat, she had told Quill. Right then he started making plans to free it. She’d wanted him to tell the authorities, but he thought Wildlife Management was likely to send it to the local game ranch. Quill never could tolerate the idea of something being caged—legal or illegal. Rescuing it had taken planning and guts, and it had involved a chain, a pulley, a wagon, and nerves of steel. But Quill pulled it off. He drove a wagon twenty miles into the mountains and set the animal free.
“True. Very true.” His smile almost returned, and he slid the shakers back to their spot. “So what were you and Susie up to today?”
“We—Susie, Rudy, and me—were selling sandwiches, baked goods, and coffee at the Labor Day weekend festivities because I’m trying to raise money to buy a tiny box of a restaurant.”
“Wait.” He frowned as if thinking hard. “Could it possibly be the old café in Summer Grove?”
“How did you…”
He laughed. “Because you swooned over that place when it was open and cried when it closed.”
“I did not swoon.”
Blank-faced, he folded his arms across his chest and waited.
“Fine, I swooned. But for good reason!”
“For girlish reasons.”
“Did you always gig me like this?”
“Pretty much, yeah. You found it charming and fun.”
“And how did you find it?”
“Entertaining.”
“Of course you did.” She pursed her lips, mocking exasperation. “Still, looking back, it seems you stopped your teasing at some point.”
“Ah, so you do possess the power of observation.”
“What I’d like to possess is the power to make you be nice. Maybe a shock collar could prove useful in retraining what you say.”
He clutched his throat, looking pained. “Ouch.”
Was it her imagination, or had some of the persistent sorrow in his eyes faded as they talked? She had a thousand questions. Why did he hate the Amish so much? Or maybe he didn’t. Was her perception of that like a lot of things between them—confused and twisted?
“Why did you stop teasing me mercilessly?”
“You got older, and by the time a girl is nearing sixteen, she cries about such things. I stayed in enough trouble without your telling Mamm I made you cry.”
She stifled her laugh, shaking her head. “You still make up stuff left and right, don’t you?”
“It’s called being fast on my feet.”
“It’s called lying.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to.” He shrugged, a spark of fun in his eyes.
She chortled, covering her mouth with the dishcloth to muffle the noise. Why was that so funny? Quill grinned, remaining silent of course. She’d forgotten how boisterous she was in comparison to him.
He interlaced his fingers. “Speaking of food, tell me how the money raising is going.”
“What was it you used to call me when it came to money? Oh, ya, a debt magnet.”
“That’s because you lost every coin your parents gave you. More time was spent looking for the money than riding to town to buy anything.”
“That only happened twice.”
“And yet it gave me a lifetime of gigging-you rights. What are the odds?”
“Anyway, my point is that I’m no longer a debt magnet. I’m proud of the headway Abram and I have made, but I don’t know that I’ll have the down payment by October first.”
“But you’ve qualified for the loan?”
“Ya. The owner—”
“Lila McCormick.”
“Ya, that’s right.” Ariana was surprised he remembered. “She’s willing to do owner financing. It all has to go through her lawyers, but before that can happen, I must have twenty percent of the loan by October first, or someone else will buy it. Her children are pushing about the time line and down payment, so there’s no give in it.”
“Ah, my forte.” He cracked his knuckles.
“What’s a forte?”
“Something a person is particularly good at, and lucky for you, I’m amazing at devising plans that make good money.”
She didn’t like his use of the word lucky, but for the sake of their truce, she chose not to share her thoughts…or judge his ways. How had they managed to have so much fun when he lived to push the limits of every line and it frightened her to do so?
He shooed her away. “Go get paper and pen.”
Was he serious?
“Well, go on.” He nodded his head in the right direction. “You know where Mamm keeps paper and pens, right?”
“Ya, sure.” She headed for the desk in the living room.
“And do note,” Quill hollered after her, “that I said pen and not pencil.”
He was harassing her over her old lead-breaking habits? It would be enough if they could get through the next few hours without anger or resentment. But was it possible that the man who’d caused her so much turmoil and heartache would be able to devise a plan to earn the down payment for the café?