Sitting in his car at the back of a college campus parking lot, Quill turned up the music filtering through his earbuds attached to his cell phone. He chose an upbeat playlist, but it wasn’t helping in his battle against feeling down. Watching the theater doors, he couldn’t keep his mind off Ariana.
Her life would be traumatized if the girl who supposedly looked like Salome was actually a Brenneman. He fiddled with the flier. If the babies had been mixed up, that event wouldn’t do any justice to the Nash girl either.
He felt so powerless, an experience he’d had too many times in his life before leaving the Amish. He had been so sure that if he took Frieda and left, he would never have to go through this kind of helplessness again.
What do you want from me, God? I’m trying here. Where am I missing it?
There was nothing as isolating as doing what he believed was right in God’s eyes and then having almost everyone he respected or cared about consider him a traitor.
Four of the faded-red double doors swung open with a bang, and people tumbled out—loud, boisterous young men and women who appeared to have no weight on their shoulders at all. But he knew better. Anyone who understood life knew better.
Although he was tempted to use his binoculars, he left them in his backpack. He removed his earbuds and leaned forward, searching for a girl who looked like Salome.
The group talked loudly across the lot about selling tickets and when to meet back here. People waved, some hugged, and the jumbled masses of energy soon dispersed to their cars. He scanned every girl, seeing no one who fit the description. Most of the crowd left. Had he missed her? The remainder of the people formed small groups around a few vehicles.
The number of people thinned even more as they moved to different spots around three cars that were next to each other.
Wait. Was that her?
A girl opened her car door and tossed a backpack and purse inside. While staring at her back and hoping he could get a good look at her face, his heart moved to his throat, and he couldn’t catch his breath.
She closed the car door and stood upright, almost facing him directly. A cold chill ran through him. It was her. If she and Salome were the same age and an onlooker went by just their faces, the two could have been twins.
She leaned back against her vehicle, facing him directly. Two guys and a girl joined her as they talked to others who were by the two remaining cars. Several of them lit cigarettes, but the girl who favored Salome didn’t.
He had prayed that Mark had exaggerated how similar Salome and this girl looked. He couldn’t have dropped his investigation based on outward appearance alone, but it would’ve given his nerves a bit of relief. Getting a clear view of her only intensified his anxiety, and it felt as if God had once again ignored his fervent pleas.
Then a new thought came to him, the kind that carried hints of peace with its insight. If the girls had been switched at birth, what were his prayers supposed to accomplish? Was God going to miraculously undo what had begun two decades ago? Faith was one thing. Dreamy prayers, as if God were a star to wish upon, were totally another. He apologized to God for being shallow and quick to feel abandoned by Him. It just felt as if so much of Ariana’s happiness and well-being was riding on the outcome of the true identity of this stranger.
Aside from her face, nothing else about her favored the Brennemans. She wore a sleeveless knit shirt that clung to her body as if she’d outgrown it before puberty. Her boots were silver and black with a metallic-looking heel. Her jeans were tattered with gaping holes, and he wondered how much she’d paid for them to look that way. She wore an abundance of jewelry everywhere—fingers, wrists, neck, ears, and ankles. Maybe her nose too, but he was too far away to see that. She had the same shade of dirty-blond hair as Salome, except for two streaks of dyed hair—one black and one purple.
The remaining youth were leaning against three different cars, bantering loudly amid their laughter. He could overhear bits and pieces of the conversation, most of it silly and useless as they exaggerated tales of mishaps during rehearsals and poked fun of one another and talked about how much they hated certain subjects.
The girl seemed quieter than the others, sadder somehow, despite the smile that peeked out. If she had been born to Lovina and Isaac and had been raised with them, would she and Quill have been close friends growing up, as he and Ariana had been? Ariana had helped him keep his sanity when his dad died. Without her help in navigating his anger and depression, he shuddered to think where he’d be. In jail. Maimed. Dead. All were viable possibilities for him at that time. Because of that, he couldn’t imagine anyone taking her place during those years. She’d understood and strengthened him in ways no one else came close to.
The guy nearest the Salome-lookalike pulled out another cigarette and lit it. No wonder these cars were parked so close to the back of the lot. This was a smoke-free campus.
Quill took no joy in behaving like a stalker, but he continued to watch and listen. He needed to speak with this girl. A casual but inquisitive conversation would let him know if she’d been born in an Amish birthing center. If she hadn’t been, he could leave her alone forever. But there were too many other people around right now for him to approach her. He wanted to avoid drawing questions from her or her friends. She took the half-smoked cigarette from one of the guys and inhaled deeply. Her eyes closed, and she held the smoke inside her before passing the cigarette back to the guy. Her eyes didn’t open until she released the smoke from her lungs. He knew that look, that desperation. He would bet she was hooked and was trying to quit or cut way down.
She pushed away from the car and stood. “I’m going to Ankara Mall.” She went to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door. “Anyone who wants to come, hop in, or I’ll see you there. I’ll be by the food court doors, and I better not see any of you losers selling tickets to my peeps.”
There was an uproar of laughter, and he guessed that some part of what she’d said was an inside joke. Several of her friends made comments that Quill couldn’t distinguish, but he caught the words mall cops and trouble.
The flier listed three girls with the surname Nash, so he didn’t have confirmation of her first name yet, but he could recognize her anywhere now, and he had a plan. While he waited for the cars to leave the lot, he searched for Ankara Mall on his phone’s GPS.
He eased from the lot, taking what the GPS said would be the quickest route and hoping to get to the mall before they did. Minutes later he found the outside entrance to the food court, but he didn’t spot the car she was driving. He parked and went inside, his mind swirling with various plans. He had to create an opportunity to speak with her, and during those few minutes he needed to find out a lot without her having any clue what he was doing.
While waiting, he bought a drink and took a seat just inside the row of double-wide glass doors. It wasn’t long before he saw her driving across the parking lot, but the people who’d left with her were gone. She parked and walked toward the mall, a purse strap on her shoulder and tickets in her hand.
If she didn’t ask him if he wanted to buy a ticket, he would come up with some sort of icebreaker as he passed, maybe remarking about the boatload of tickets in her hand. And she would ask if he wanted to buy one.
Even in his efforts to help Amish leave, had he ever needed to be this calculating toward innocents? Ariana would say yes, but she was the exception, and he’d done it for her own good. Besides, he’d never baited someone for information, and he didn’t like it.
Once she was on the sidewalk, he left the mall, catching her eye to give a friendly nod.
She smiled and said “Hi” as she approached him. “I’m Skylar, a drama student at the community college. Remember loving Dr. Seuss as a kid?”
He actually did. “One fish. Two fish. Red fish. Blue fish.”
She nodded, looking sincere and pleased. “And how about ‘A person’s a person, no matter how small’? It’s from Horton Hears a Who.”
“Neat saying. I remember the title of the book but not that line.”
“Maybe you need a refresher course. We’re putting on a great show for adults and children. It’s a musical called Seussical.”
“And like the phrase ‘musical Seussical,’ the songs will be filled with rhymes, right?”
“Exactly. But there’s even more than the musical. Our troupe has skilled dancers and singers, all of whom will surprise you by their ability to act, and the event is filled with superb costumes, thanks to my mom.”
It appeared that drawing her into a friendly conversation would be pretty easy, but his gut knotted tighter than ever. She enjoyed being part of the troupe, but if she were Amish, her family wouldn’t be able to embrace that part of her. Nor could they share in her enthusiasm about her mother being a costume designer. His mouth was dry and his palms sweaty as he tried to push those thoughts aside. He had a goal to accomplish—confirmation of where she’d been born or her birth date. Learning either of those could answer a lot of his questions. “How much?”
“Fifteen dollars apiece.”
He tried to whistle, but his mouth was too dry. He took a sip of his drink. “That’s pricey, isn’t it?” But his remark had more to do with keeping the conversation going than with money.
“You ever gone to a college play?”
He shook his head. The only plays he’d attended were in a one-room schoolhouse at Christmastime.
She pulled a flier from her purse. “A lot goes into making one. Buy some tickets and come watch. You’ll see what I mean.”
He took the flier. It was the same one Lovina had given him. “I guess I could use a ticket or two.” He put his mouth on the straw and took another sip of Coke, trying to look casual. He flipped open the flier. “You in the play?”
“I am.”
He separated three tens from the rest of his cash. With that in one hand, he maintained eye contact as he slyly got out three one-dollar bills and hid them in the palm of his other hand. “The cast has to sell tickets?” He put the bills between his index and middle finger.
“Yeah.” She took the money, slid it into her jeans pocket, and passed him two tickets. Her black nail polish stood out as if screaming at him. The Amish frowned on clear nail polish. All of it was considered vanity.
He’d successfully executed the sleight of hand. In a few minutes he’d bring it to her attention, and if she thought it was funny, he would use the levity to steer them into a different conversation, maybe one that would answer all his questions. But right now he studied the list of names. “So which character are you?”
“I’m the cat in The Cat in the Hat, and as fun as that part is, it’s not my favorite for the evening. After the play is over, we do an olio, which is a medley of popular songs that we’ve paid the rights to use.”
He spotted the words “Cat in the Hat” and with his finger followed the line that went to the person’s real name: Skylar Nash.
He hated the number of clues stacking up, and he longed to scream at God, No, please, no! She strongly favored Salome, and she had the same surname as Brandi. “You have the same last name as a couple of people in this flier, including someone named Brandi.”
“It’s a playbill, actually, and, yeah, I share a last name with people I’m unrelated to, except Brandi. She’s my mom, and she makes most of the costumes.”
He struggled to temper his mounting disappointment as he aimed to stay on task. “According to the list of solo performances, you’ll sing.”
“During the olio, yeah.”
Had she explained what that was? The noise inside his head and the panic rushing adrenaline through his body had him as spacey as he’d ever been. He willed himself to think. If Lovina and Isaac wanted to see her without her seeing them, they would both need tickets. “I…I have friends who’ve never seen a college play either, and I think they would be very interested in coming to this one.” Could he call Lovina and Isaac friends? Would they want anyone besides the three of them attending, like maybe Abram?
If Lovina and Isaac saw her on stage performing, perhaps it would convince them to leave well enough alone in both girls’ lives. On the other hand, that would be morally wrong, wouldn’t it? Adults have a right to know the truth about who they are and to choose whether to get to know their real parents. But every part of him wanted to avoid Ariana getting hurt. “So these tickets are for this weekend, but can I buy tickets for next weekend?”
“Sorry. This play closes tomorrow night, and there won’t be another one for sixteen weeks.”
“Sixteen weeks?”
“They—the cast—have to learn their lines, and costumes and props have to be made.”
“So if they need to learn their lines, does that mean you have your lines down pat?” He hated this role, measuring his words carefully while digging for answers that were none of his business.
“I won’t be in any plays for a while.” She shrugged, but he thought he saw raw hurt in her hazelnut eyes. Then she held up the remaining tickets. “But I have plenty of tickets for tonight’s and tomorrow night’s performances.”
“I can see that, but I’m not sure you want to sell me more tickets.”
“Why?”
He forced lightheartedness onto his face. “Did you count the money I gave you?”
“I saw you give me thirty dollars.”
“Did you?” He smiled. “Are you positive?”
She narrowed her eyes while pulling the cash out of her pocket. “Three ones?” She broke into laughter. “What happened to the tens, and how did you manage the switch?”
He took the three dollars from her and pulled three tens from the pocket of his pants. Showing her the tens, he then folded them, slid them between his index and middle finger, and held the tip of them toward her.
She took them, but when she unfolded them, she laughed. “These are the ones again. How are you doing that?”
He retrieved the tens from their hiding place and held them out. “It’s magic, and magicians do not reveal their secrets.”
She cautiously eased the cash from his hand and then held each bill up to the sky, inspecting them. “I gotta know how you did that.”
“I’m not sure you’re old enough for me to teach you that.”
“What’s age got to do with it?” Her cell phone sounded as if she’d received a text, but she ignored it.
“A guy you don’t know is going to teach you tricks that involve hiding money in your jeans’ pocket. That sounds like a recipe that could land me in jail. Are you even eighteen?” He had to guess wrong, but his hope was that she would volunteer her real age.
“Twenty.” Her cell phone went off again, numerous times in a row, as if several people were texting her, but as long as she was ignoring it, he would do the same.
“Twenty?” He raised his brows as if surprised, and then he nodded before he straightened the ones and quickly showed her how to fold them so they fit inside his palm unseen. “You got a license to prove that?” If he could catch a glimpse of her license, he wouldn’t need to ask her anything else. If she and Ariana shared the same birth date, he would know plenty…and it would start the journey toward the girls getting a DNA test.
“Sure.”
Before she could get her billfold from her purse, yellow lights flashed, grabbing their attention. A mall security vehicle pulled up to the curb near them. The car looked like an enclosed golf cart with lights on top.
Skylar cursed under her breath and tried to jam the cash and the rest of the tickets that were in her hand into her purse. Instead of hiding the items, cash and tickets scattered across the sidewalk. She bent to gather them.
Quill turned his back to the vehicle and crouched, helping her gather tickets. “What’s the big deal?”
“Soliciting isn’t allowed.” She glanced up, looking around Quill at the man coming toward them. “It’s not my first time to get caught by this guy. But rules are for breaking, right?”
He chuckled. “Sometimes I resemble that remark.”
“He said the next time I was caught he would confiscate the tickets and I would be banned from coming here for a year. If he takes the tickets, I’ll get in trouble for—”
“Excuse me, miss.” A burly man in a uniform stood on the sidewalk about twenty feet from Quill and Skylar. They both had tickets in hand, and there was no hiding that from the man at this point. He ambled toward them.
They rose from their crouched positions and turned toward him.
Recognition entered the man’s eyes. “Oh, it’s you.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I’ve said it before, soliciting isn’t allowed.”
As Skylar passed him the tickets, her cell phone sounded again.
“Actually,”—Quill stepped forward—“I came here to buy tickets from her.”
The man looked doubtful. “You’re saying you know her.” His comment was more a statement of disbelief than a question.
“Yeah, this is Skylar Nash, and I was showing her some tricks with money while we were discussing how many tickets I needed.” He turned to Skylar. “We were about to get a bite to eat, weren’t we?”
Skylar looked amused…and relieved not to be in trouble with mall security. “Yeah, sure.”
The security cop propped one hand on the two-way radio attached to his belt while studying the tickets. “Less than ten minutes ago I caught several others about your age selling tickets. I confiscated them, and these look the same to me.”
A dozen scenarios ran through Quill’s mind, and he selected one he thought would work. “You took tickets from young people who were selling them for a musical at a local college?”
“Soliciting is not allow—”
Quill held up his hand. “I got that much. It’s wrong, and you want to make them pay for going against mall policy. But the local college keeps this mall in business.” He wasn’t positive that was the case here, but it was often true in similar situations. “So wouldn’t it be better to give them back the tickets and tell them they need to leave? I mean, if you don’t and the college paper reports it, couldn’t that news make shoppers, many of whom are family and friends of these students, boycott this place?”
As Quill’s words sank in, the man’s countenance changed. He lingered, unmoving for a bit. “Those students would have to agree not to solicit for a year.”
“I’m sure they would agree to that.” Quill wasn’t as sure they would keep their agreement.
Skylar shrugged. “I won’t come here to sell anything for a year.”
The man gave her back the tickets. “Let your friends know if they’ll meet me at the mall office, I’ll return their tickets.” He got into his vehicle and left.
“Wow.” Skylar breathed giggles of relief. “You’re really sharp, aren’t you?” She took her phone out of her purse. “Ha. Look.” She held up her phone, and the screen was filled with texts warning her about the mall cop. She began texting while talking to Quill. “You weren’t nervous or angry while you dismantled his self-righteous attitude.”
His Daed had taught him how to remain calm while trying to reason with a person. “I’m glad I was here to help.”
“No kidding. Me too.” She lowered her phone. “That would’ve been a mess. I swear if I get into any more trouble right now, my mom won’t stop at figuratively cutting out my heart.”
Despite her jesting tone Quill saw pain on her face as she spoke about her mom. Whatever had happened had been recent and had cut deep. Is that what Ariana had to look forward to if this nightmare turned real?
Skylar’s phone vibrated, and she looked at the screen and chuckled. “My friends are stoked about getting their tickets back.”
“It’ll probably take them a few minutes to get it sorted out. Food court is right there. Care for a bite to eat?”
She fidgeted with the tickets in her hand. “Sure. Why not?” She turned and headed for the doors. “But I pay for my own. Chick-fil-A sound good?”
He held the door for her. “Very.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Quill.”
“You’re kidding.” She slowed once inside, waiting on him to release the door and walk next to her. “That has to be your last name or a nickname.”
“It’s my given name. It’s Amish.”
“Like the people who drive a horse and buggy?”
“Yep.”
“So you’re named after someone Amish, or you were raised as one?”
“Born and raised Amish in Summer Grove.” He detected in her no sense of connection on this topic. If the name of the town meant anything to her or if she’d been born in an Amish birthing clinic, she would’ve mentioned it by now. That gave him a bit of hope, until ten seconds later when it dawned on him that she might not know her place of birth.
“And I thought my upbringing was strange.”
They continued past tables and toward Chick-fil-A, but he wouldn’t use that time to ask what she meant. It was too personal. “Know anything about the Amish?”
“Only what little I’ve seen while passing a horse and buggy on the road. I know they dress differently and travel differently. I heard they don’t use electricity or watch television or movies. But the main thing I know is they need to get that slow-moving, horse-drawn contraption off the road, especially when I’m running late.” She made a face. “Sorry. I guess that’s rude, considering who you are and how much you helped me today.”
“Forgiven. And we know that’s how the Englisch feel.”
“So I’m English?”
“Yeah, among other things…as best I can tell since meeting you.”
She grinned. “You’ve seen the movie Guardians of the Galaxy, right?”
They got in line behind the three people already waiting.
“No, should I?”
“You’re midtwenties?”
“Yeah, although I’ve yet to see your license to prove your age.” He hoped she’d show it to him, but she simply shrugged.
“You must be the only guy your age who hasn’t seen that movie. You at least know the hero’s name is Quill, right? Well, it’s his last name, but it ends up being what everyone calls him.”
“Had no clue until just now.” How could he smoothly turn this conversation so he could find out her birth date?”
“You need to see the movie.” She fiddled with something inside her purse and then swiped a finger across her lips, leaving them glossy.
“Is it that good?”
“I liked it, but then again, I love movies.” She rubbed her fingertips across her palm, wiping off the gloss. “There’s this amazing power in them to make you feel and think, either through relating to it or because it’s totally outside yourself. You do see movies now that you’re not Amish?”
“Some. Not much.” He’d really liked a few of them. His favorite was The Village. As ex-Amish he could identify with many of the fears and beliefs of those in the town.
“I think I’d go crazy if I couldn’t watch new movies several times a month. My great-grandfather was in vaudeville. When that ended for him, he bought the first movie theater in the county. It’s on Main Street in downtown Bellflower Creek. My uncle still owns it, mostly because no developer is willing to buy it. According to old newspaper clippings from my great-granddad’s days, the theater was really something in its heyday, but my mom says that by the time she came along, it was tattered and musty. It hasn’t been torn down, but the old screen hasn’t seen a movie in twenty years or more. Sometimes I sneak in there to sit and stare at the shabby velvet curtains that partially cover the old screen.”
“That helps?”
“Well, you know, if one can’t get high for whatever reason…” A hardened, sarcastic look overshadowed her natural beauty, making her appear fed up with the world at twenty years old.
Her statement caused concern to ripple through Quill, and he focused on her pupils. Was it normal for her to have such large pupils?
The man just ahead of them went to the ordering line, so they stepped forward, remaining behind the “Wait here” sign.
She shrugged. “Anyway, somehow or other going there helps. Maybe because of the sense of nostalgia, thinking of all those people who used to enter the grand place, what they saw, and how it might have inspired and changed them. Or maybe going there helps because I want to be a part of the movie industry. I hope to begin by acting, but my biggest dream is to direct.”
The young man behind the counter motioned for them, smiling. “What can I get for you today?”
Quill waited while Skylar ordered. After she paid, he placed his order and paid. They moved away from the counter to wait.
If this young woman was Lovina’s daughter, would the family accept her? Could she accept them? Would each side only aim to change the other? But those weren’t the hardest questions. The ones that made him sick to think about were, could Ariana accept that Abram wasn’t her twin and that her beloved family wasn’t related to her? As much as she loved all things Amish, what would it do to her if her DNA and family history came from a very non-Plain bloodline?
“Here I am talking up a storm. Your turn. You got a girl?”
He shrugged. “Define the word got.”
“Ouch. I had a boyfriend last year who cheated. Stinks big time.”
“I didn’t mean…”
She crossed her arms, looking relaxed. “What did you mean?”
“I should’ve just said, no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah, but that’s not what you said, and there’s a reason. You don’t have to tell me, of course.”
The young man behind the counter held up a bag, reading off the side. “Skylar.” He grabbed another and held it up. “Quill.”
They took the bags and went to a table. It seemed fair that he would share something honest with her since he was mining for gold in her life. “Truth?”
“No.” She plunked the bag on the table. “Lie to me.” She sat. “Of course I want the truth.”
He took a seat and got out his sandwich and fries. “I’ve cared about the same girl my whole life. It began with me just thinking she wasn’t so bad. Then I favored her, as if she was a favorite cousin or something. By the time she was eleven or so, I considered her a friend, and that kept growing until at some point when I wasn’t looking it turned into love.”
“Oh, you were looking. That much I know. I’d say that love part happened about the time she went from being a flat-chested girl to a curvy woman.”
That was probably more true than he wanted to admit. “She changed from being a half-grown kid to a whole person.”
“Sure. I get that.” Skylar took a sip of her water. “So how did she feel about you?”
“For lots of reasons we never discussed it, but I know she cared about me too…for a while.”
“What happened?” She opened her container of fresh fruit.
“It’s complicated. I had to do certain things to protect someone, and she thinks I committed sins to do what I did. I wanted her to think that for a while in order to protect her, and—”
“Geez, Quill.” Ignoring the plastic fork, she used her fingers to pick up a piece of pineapple. “Who died and left you protector of the universe?”
“What do you mean?”
“Crap happens. You can’t stop it or keep people from being hit with it.”
Considering what might be facing Ariana soon, Skylar had a valid point, but he had spared Ariana the one thing that could have destroyed her outlook, her sense of security, and her natural buoyant hope in a troubled world.
Skylar ate a section of a mandarin orange before licking her fingers. “And it’s just wrong to assume she’s too weak to cope. You survived it, didn’t you?”
He wasn’t so sure he had, but that would be too much to explain. “Anyway, sometimes I think I’ll die still in love with her.”
“What?” Skylar wiped the white pith and yellow juice onto a napkin. “No way. You’re just a really good liar, right? There are no men in the history of the world who loved anyone that much, except maybe their mothers.”
So why was he telling her all this? “I don’t believe how I feel either. I’ve spent years wanting to get her out from under my skin, and if I could figure a way, I would.” It had been hard enough to shake that desire before he’d returned to Summer Grove.
“So convince her you didn’t do what she thinks you did.”
“Even if I managed that, we have a hundred other obstacles in line behind that, and they are as unmovable as this mall. But I actually knew all of that five years ago.”
“Five years…” Her whisper was haunting as her brown eyes bore into him. “Man, that whole story gives me shivers. I hope the guy I’m dating lasts one year, and you…wow.”
“If you think he won’t last, why put yourself through a year of waiting to find out?”
“You know how almost every kid goes through a phase of fearing monsters are lurking under the bed or in their closet at night?”
“Yeah.”
“I think children are intuitive, and the word monster is the only way they can express what they know to be true—that parents leave and there is a monster in the empty spaces. It screeches out from under the bed, threatening to swallow us, and if you ask, you’ll learn its name—loneliness. When I got older, I figured out how to keep it at bay. All I need is someone special in my heart who is waiting to hear from me each day when I wake up. Like the others before him, he won’t be here next year, but all I need is someone for tomorrow.”
On one hand Quill could relate to the sense of loneliness she expressed, but how she dealt with it was sad and unhealthy. “But—”
“Sky Blue!” Several voices chanted at once.
Smiling, she looked around and then pointed to the second-story walkway that overlooked the food court. They were waving tickets. “They’ve got them back.” She waved. The group disappeared, and he was sure they would be at their table soon.
“I like your nickname.” Quill thought it seemed fitting because she seemed to sail high and hopeful, like a child’s balloon that’d been set free, and yet she seemed quite blue deep within.
“My stepdad made it up years ago.”
“Your stepdad did?” Where was her…or Ariana’s…biological dad?
“Yeah. Mostly he uses it and a few nutty friends who were at my house one time and overheard him.” She rose, leaving her drink and a nearly empty bowl of fruit on the table. “I need to go. If you come to the play, stay afterward, and the cast will come out and mingle. I can’t afford a detour of intros right now, but after I tell my friends what you did today, they’ll want to meet you.”
“I need to buy two more tickets.”
“Sure.” She slid two tickets across the table.
He handed her thirty dollars. “Before I would consider meeting your friends after the play, I would need a glimpse of your driver’s license. You know, to prove your age.”
“You’ve earned your request.” She dug her billfold out of her purse. “But I’m in college. How many underage girls attend college? Although I participated in college drama while in high school, so I’ll cut you some slack.” She held up her license.
Skylar’s birth date was the same as Ariana’s. The information hit like a thief in the night, one that had the power to strip everything from Ariana.
“Satisfied?” She tucked her license into her billfold and jammed it into her purse.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
“I gotta go.” Skylar waved at him and hurried toward her oncoming friends.
A lot of contradictions seemed to describe her. He’d looked into her eyes, and despite her outward confidence she held herself together by nothing more than ragged bailing twine.
What would this kind of news do to her?