Abram drove the wagon toward the Yoder house. He was making rounds today, gathering donated items. Susie had called each family earlier in the week, and she gave him the list of places. This stop had him more nervous than all the rest combined.
After spending the last two weeks watching Quill give up comfort and sleep as he patiently helped Ariana reach her dream, Abram was encouraged to be patient concerning Barbie. After all, whatever Barbie had against him couldn’t compare to what Ariana had held against Quill. And Quill’s actions had made a significant positive difference for Ariana. With Salome staying and Ariana on the verge of getting her café, his twin was happy, confident, and peaceful. Who would’ve thought that Quill could make that kind of difference in any Amish person’s life?
He drove the rig to the hitching post. While he was looping the reins over the post, Barbie came out of the house, carrying a pot.
She glanced up, and surprise filled her face. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
She looked back at the house, as if checking to see if anyone else knew he was there. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pick up goods for tomorrow’s benefit.”
“Oh, ya, that’s right. It slipped my mind.”
Irritation worked its way through him, and he wasn’t sure what to say. Did that mean no one in her household had prepared anything? Tomorrow was really important for Ariana. For him too, because he’d invested years in helping his sister save money, and if tomorrow went well, all of those years of work would accomplish their goal.
“I’m not sure why I forgot. At our last church meeting, the preachers asked us to donate items and attend the function.” Barbie walked past him and toward the overgrown garden patch.
He followed her. “Should I check with anyone inside about donations or just head out?”
“Mamm and Cilla have been sewing for a week. I’m sure some of it is for the cause.” Barbie dumped the scraps of food onto what looked to be a composting pile. “Just knock on the door.”
Despite being a fairly mellow guy, Abram was offended by her lack of interest. Was she rude, or was he too sensitive about his sister’s big day?
“Thanks.” Abram left the garden area and climbed the porch steps. Through the screen door he saw Barbie’s Mamm, Emma, at the kitchen sink. Cilla’s wheelchair sat empty, and he hoped that meant she was still feeling well. Sometimes she went months without needing it. He tapped on the door.
Emma shut off the faucet, grabbed a towel, and turned. “Hi, Abram.” She motioned. “Kumm.” She angled her head toward an open doorway. “Cilla, Abram’s here.”
A moment later Cilla walked into the room, carrying a large box. “Perfect timing.”
Abram closed the distance between them and took the box from her. “Is this for the benefit?”
“It is.”
He set the box on the table. “Can I take a look?”
“Cilla made everything in that box herself.” Emma grinned at her daughter.
“Even so,” Cilla said, “you won’t be impressed.”
He opened the box. It was filled with various kinds of cloth dolls, each one Amish—boys and girls—in perfect Amish attire. “Authentic clothes handsewn by an authentic Amish girl. These will fetch a great price, Cilla. Denki.”
Cilla walked to the corner of the room and picked up a much smaller box. “Are you telling me you like dolls, Abram?”
He laughed. “In this case, ya, I am.”
She handed him the smaller box. “Mamm sewed five small quilted wall hangings. I wish we’d had more time to make things.”
Emma moved closer to her daughter. “She had a couple of bad days, or you’d have a lot more.”
Barbie forgot about Ariana needing donations and didn’t seem to care, yet Cilla had clearly sacrificed several days to make items. “Ariana and I really appreciate this.”
Cilla beamed. “Oh, and Daed and my brothers made two beautiful birdhouses on stands. That’s the really good stuff. They’re in the barn, just inside the doorway to your right. Is there anything we can do to help tomorrow?”
“If you’re up to it, that would be great. The café will be in full swing, serving people, and Ariana needs to divide her time between helping at the café and making appearances at the auction block.”
That’s what Quill said needed to happen. The auctioneers they’d hired verified the plan, saying that people would respond better if they saw Ariana and if she interacted with them, because this wasn’t just about them purchasing items. It was a charity of sorts, and people were more apt to buy when they had a face to go with the cause. Abram stacked the two boxes. “I wish I had time to visit, but I need to go. Denki, again. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Cilla looked at her Mamm, and she nodded. Cilla bit her bottom lip, smiling. “We’ll be there.”
Emma followed Abram onto the front porch. “Barbie, show Abram where the bird—”
As Abram went down the steps, a young man in a courting buggy drove up. A moment later Abram saw it was Saul Kurtz. Girls flocked to him. If Abram had realized Saul was his competition, he never would’ve asked Barbie out. Then again, she’d said yes, so maybe Saul asked after Abram had.
“Mamm,” Barbie whispered, elongating the word, “I can’t right now. I told you earlier I needed to stop the chores and freshen up.” She glanced at Abram, looking a bit sheepish. “I hope the benefit is a huge success.” She went up the stairs and into the house.
Emma sighed. “Kumm. That girl’s got other things on her mind.” She glanced back at Saul. “Arriving for a courting visit during the middle of a workday. I guess that’s how it is for those with money.”
Abram slid the boxes into the wagon. Was his family’s lack of money the one thing Barbie didn’t like about him? He followed Emma into the barn. She pointed out the birdhouses, and he loaded them into the wagon. “Denki for everything, Emma.”
“You’re very welcome. See you tomorrow.”
As Abram pulled out of the driveway, he decided to prove to Barbie that he could make good money too. Once Ariana went to closing, he would be part owner of the café, and he would put every effort into getting promotions at his construction job.
Saul Kurtz wasn’t winning Barbie without a fight.
Then another thought came to him. Abram had felt encouraged to be patient about Barbie because of how Quill had been so accommodating of Ariana. But if asked, Quill could quickly list a hundred reasons why Ariana was worth his effort. Even when Ariana felt the most betrayed by Quill, she continued to look out for his best interest, protecting him by destroying the letter and diligently helping his Mamm.
But Barbie broke off their date, could not care any less about tomorrow’s auction, and had plans with Saul, so was a relationship with her even worth fighting for?
Quill meandered on the outer edge of the green space, watching the people, Englisch and Amish, as they bid on items on the auction block. Shafts of sunlight peered through thin, broken clouds. A light breeze stirred the air, carrying the aromas of coffee and fresh baked goods. It was barely past noon, and Summer Grove buzzed with relaxed, happy people shopping on the square and participating in the benefit.
The hired Englisch auctioneer stood on the stage, microphone in hand, auctioning off one of the last pieces. He had been an auctioneer at other Amish events, and he was doing a great job of engaging the audience. Right now he was taking bids on another item Rudy had made. Clearly, Rudy was a skilled craftsman, and his pieces had sold for high prices.
Quill’s Mamm was the guardian of the donation jar, which meant all the money went through her—whether people were paying for what they’d bought or were making a true donation. Quill had emptied his accounts and sold everything he could. He’d placed the cash in envelopes for his Mamm to sporadically add to the money till. If collections went as usual and Ariana remained her unsuspecting self, she would never realize how they’d managed to make so much money from the sales through the auction and the café.
Abram stood on the lawn next to Cilla in her wheelchair. She had been here since early morning, and she’d spent most of the time on her feet. Quill could only assume she was now too tired or maybe struggling to breathe. Cystic fibrosis was a difficult disease, but from what he understood of it, Cilla seemed to do well with it. So where was Barbie? Quill hadn’t seen her all day. Abram moved beside the wheelchair and crouched, seemingly in a conversation with Cilla.
Ariana was on the platform next to the auctioneer, as she had been off and on throughout the morning. She talked to the crowd at times, making jokes and laughing with people. Quill hadn’t realized she could be so comfortable with a microphone in her hand.
Suddenly a surprised look covered her face, and she hurried off the platform. He wondered what she had forgotten. While hurrying down the steps, she tripped, and Rudy, who was rarely far from her side, caught her. He looked serious as he checked to see if she was okay, but she laughed. Quill could only imagine what she was saying as she grinned at him and grasped his arm with one hand and slid the other into his. They strode toward the lively café. She had spent the largest part of her time there, baking and serving. But her sisters took over for her whenever she was needed on the platform.
Whatever would happen with Ariana over the upcoming weeks and months, she was thrilled with the support she was receiving today. When the money was counted, and she realized she could close on the café, she would have that to buoy her, no matter what else happened. But the fruit of today wasn’t the only thing she had going for her. Rudy also made her happy. He was good for her, no doubt. He had her on a pedestal as if she were royalty, but they interacted like old, trustworthy friends, and the two had that certain spark couples needed. He’d caught glimpses of their interactions when they didn’t realize he was around, and they played as well as they worked together. As crazy as it seemed, on a good day Quill found some comfort in seeing Ariana with what felt like his replacement.
The deacon’s wife walked across the lawn, carrying a basket of baked goods. She eyed him, clearly trying to figure out who he was. Hoping to avoid a scene, he lowered his cap and turned. He’d been spotted a few times today, but the others had turned away, avoiding him as much as he avoided them.
She paused. “You’re one of the Schlabach boys, right?” Her voice wavered in that elderly woman way.
He turned, offering a smile as he nodded. “Yes. I’m Quill. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
There were more people here than even Ariana had prayed for. Her Daed said it had taken three visits with the church leaders to convince them to let her have this benefit. Isaac had humbly held his ground, and he’d won. Since Isaac had shared that news with Quill, he’d caught himself thanking God throughout the days that followed.
She studied him. “I…I pray for you. I don’t know much about what went on. It was a secretive scandal, but I believe things that weren’t your fault came against you, and I’ve grieved over the whole distasteful mess.”
He tried to thank her, but he couldn’t manage to say a word. The deacon’s wife hadn’t condemned him? The deacon’s job was to carry out the letter of the law—the Bible and the Ordnung. If the bishop came for a correcting visit, that was bad news. If the deacon came, it was much worse.
If she felt this way, were there others like her?
“Martha?”
She turned to see her husband coming toward them. “I best go.”
“Denki for your prayers.”
She smiled and started to walk off, but one leg seemed to buckle, and Quill caught her before she fell. Her husband ran toward her. “Martha, bischt du allrecht?”
She shooed him with her hand. “Ya. Ich bin gut.”
Within minutes a crowd of Amish had gathered, and she was still clutching Quill’s hand.
“I’m fine.” She finally released his hand, dusted off her dress, and pulled the basket close again. “I’m just glad Quill Schlabach was here to catch me.”
So much for staying incognito.
As if realizing what she had said, she gasped and looked at him apologetically. All eyes moved to him. Some of the faces quickly hardened with disapproval. That didn’t surprise him any. But some seemed to indicate interest and hints of forgiveness. Considering the way he and Frieda had departed, he couldn’t believe the less-than-hostile reactions.
“Geh.” She shooed the people away. “Geh.”
The elderly woman knew her power as the deacon’s wife, and clearly she didn’t mind using it. Slowly the group dispersed, many glancing back at Quill. The deacon stood firm, as did a few others. She squeezed Quill’s hand before letting go. “Nachsicht.”
Forbearance? Why would she whisper that word?
“When I pray for you, that word comes again and again. I looked it up. It means patient self-control, restraint, and tolerance, but I have no idea why it continues to come to mind concerning you.”
He didn’t either. Wasn’t he decent at forbearing? His Daed used to say that forbearance was being patient with those who thought they were right. Maybe others needed forbearance for him, because he definitely thought he was right a lot.
“Kumm.” Her husband took the basket from her and put his hand under her elbow.
Only one person remained—Mark, a former close friend and Ariana’s brother.
With steely eyes casting judgment, Mark walked toward him. “Does she know you’re here?”
The she was Ariana, and Quill nodded.
Concern entered Mark’s eyes. “Why are you back?”
The phone in Quill’s pocket vibrated, the one that few had the number for, reserved for emergencies…and Ariana. He had bought her a cell phone, and she called when she needed something.
How was Quill supposed to answer Mark? Questions like his were part of why he avoided being seen. He glanced at the screen. It wasn’t a number he recognized, so it had to be a wrong number, telemarketer, or Brandi. “I…need to take this call.” Quill gave a brief, friendly wave as he walked away. He slid his finger across the screen. “Hello.”
He could hear muffled voices, one of which was a man’s. “How is it possible you never told me that my daughter was born in an Amish clinic?”
“Hello?” Quill called out. “Brandi?”
The call ended. Quill debated whether to call back, but it sounded as if he’d been called by accident. When he looked up, he realized Mark had followed him.
“Mark.” Quill nodded.
“I asked why you’re back.”
“Business.” Mostly to do with Ariana and the café, but he wasn’t going to add that part. Quill’s phone rang again. “I need to go, but it was good to see you.”
“Ya, maybe. I suppose that depends on all that’s going on that you’re not telling me, doesn’t it?” Mark walked off.
That kind of reaction was expected, but it wasn’t much fun. Definitely not encouraging. Still, even former best friends had good reasons to perceive him as the enemy.
Quill swiped his finger across the phone again. “Hello.”
“Quill?”
“Yes. What can I do for you?”
“It’s Brandi. We’re…we’re here.”
“Here?”
“On the square in front of Boscos Brewery.”
He headed in that direction, walking as fast as he could. “And by we you mean who?”
“Skylar’s dad and me. We…we needed to come, to ride and talk while trying to process the shock…you know?”
As Quill went up the sidewalk on one side of the street, he saw Ariana and Rudy on the other side, leaving the café and heading toward the green space. She spotted Quill and smiled—a grateful, excited grin. At least he’d finally accomplished one truly good thing on her behalf.
He wasn’t sure he had managed even a small response to Ariana as he hurried toward the brewery. “You both know that Ariana has not yet been told anything, right?”
“We know,” the man responded. It sounded as if Brandi had pressed the button for the speaker. “I…need to talk to someone close to the situation.”
The man didn’t sound pleased, but he did seem in control. Quill continued toward the brewery. He wasn’t sure he fit the category of close, but he was fairly well informed, and he was willing to run interference so Ariana could finish her day without incident. “I’m the only one available today.”
“Then we need to meet,” the man said.
When Brandi saw Quill, she got out of the vehicle.
Despite her bloodshot, swollen eyes, Brandi’s blank face and softer tone seemed to indicate she was much more in control of herself than when Quill saw her four days ago. She barely nodded. “Hi.”
The man got out of the car, hanging back. “You’re Amish?”
A few steps ahead of the man, Brandi rolled her eyes and shook her head. “He’s confused about the whole situation. But it’s my fault. He didn’t know I’d had her at an Amish birthing center until I told him after you left my home. I’m sorry that we just showed up like this.”
“Nicholas Jenkins.” The man held out his hand.
“Quill Schlabach.” They shook hands. “I’m former Amish, and I’ve been helping Ariana’s parents navigate this…possible incident.”
“It’s not a possible incident anymore.” Nicholas rubbed one eyebrow with the knuckle of his thumb, looking confused and angry.
Quill glanced from Nicholas to Brandi. “You have the DNA results already?”
“Yeah.” Brandi released a long stream of air, her eyes filling with tears.
Nicholas pulled a paper from his pocket. “I have friends at the lab, and I asked them to rush it. We got the results in today’s mail.” He thumped the paper. “I hate what’s happening. Saying I’m angry doesn’t touch it.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket.
Quill shouldn’t feel as if this was shocking news, but his head spun and his pulse raced. He’d known what the results were likely to be, but apparently he’d been holding on to far more hope than he’d realized. “And?” Why did he even need to ask?
Brandi broke into fresh tears. “Skylar carries no DNA from either of us.”
Quill had to rest against something. He moved to the bumper of their vehicle, propped his feet on the curb, and lowered his head, trying to stop the world from swaying.
He’d had few doubts what the results would show since the day he talked to Skylar at the mall and verified her birth date. Everything after that was a matter of going through the necessary checklist, but he’d known the truth. Nevertheless, the power of the disappointment pressing in on him was as if he had never suspected anything. “Have you told Skylar?”
“No. We talked to her about…The tests revealed”—Brandi squeezed her eyes shut, taking deep breaths—“other issues.”
Other issues? “Is she sick?” He really didn’t have the right to ask that, but that hadn’t stopped him.
Brandi’s shoulders slumped, and her face showed tremendous stress. “No.” She glanced at Nicholas. “And I guess we could be grateful that she’s not.”
Nicholas drew a deep breath. “Don’t play Little Miss Sunshine. There is nothing in this mess to be grateful for.”
The man’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket and turned it off. “I know almost nothing about the Amish, although I spent hours Googling them yesterday. Can you help me understand how our daughter has been raised, tell me about her parents?”
Quill willed himself to stand upright and be a man about this. It seemed wise to be as courteous and friendly as possible. “Sure, I can try.”
He could see how this calm, reasonable man with an undercurrent of overwhelming emotion could be Ariana’s dad. Quill told him a lot and then answered dozens of questions.
Nicholas had the same long, steady gaze as Ariana, seeming inquisitive, trusting, and skeptical at the same time. “You haven’t mentioned this so-called midwife. She clearly knew there was a chance the girls had been switched, and yet she’s still practicing?” The anger in his tone was undeniable.
Quill had a feeling this man would be willing to file charges against Rachel. “She does still practice.”
“And?”
“I can’t tell you more.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I probably know less than you do about what happened that night. I haven’t spoken to Rachel. My only concern in all this has been Ariana.”
“That’s not my only concern, but it’s half of it. I feel as if I”—he turned to Brandi—“we have two daughters to look out for in this situation.”
Quill took a cleansing breath. Maybe this situation wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he’d braced himself for. “Lovina and Isaac feel the same way. If we work together—”
“Yes, together. As it turns out, I think this situation may benefit both girls.”
“Nicholas,” Brandi scolded, “not now.”
“I think now is the perfect time. Quill is clearly the go-between, a man who understands the Amish as well as people like us. What was the word Skylar used?”
“English,” Brandi said.
“Yeah, she said we’re called English. Apparently your forte is knowing both Amish and English, so you can tell the Brennemans my intentions. Break it to them gently, and get their feedback. If you’d rather not, I’ll send my lawyer to speak with them.”
“What is it you want me to tell them?”
“Skylar’s drug test came back positive for a cocktail of drugs. Her supplier is her boyfriend, and I threatened to bring charges against him unless he disappears from her life completely and permanently. Let Lovina and Isaac know of the situation, and if they wish to spend time with her immediately, then we’ll give Skylar a choice of rehab or time here. Either way, she’ll have to do weekly drug testing. But where she lives during the next three to six months will be up to her. As much as I detest religion, I can’t stop her from eventually having contact with them. They are her family, and a little Plain life might help her get her head on straight. But if she chooses rehab, Lovina and Isaac will be free to contact her afterward and free to lure her here to get to know them if she will come.”
“That seems fair.”
“Unfortunately, the next part won’t sound fair. Ariana needs to get away from this backwoods way of life. I’m appalled at what I’ve learned about the Amish over the last couple of days. Religious services that last three hours? Stopping education at the eighth grade? No music? No television or movies? No freedom concerning dress or hair? My God, what do they allow?”
“Ariana loves the Amish way—”
“Of course she does. She has absolutely nothing to compare it with, and from what I read on the Internet, what precious little she has been taught clearly centers on a long list of ‘thou shalt nots.’ I have only one ‘thou shalt not’ I live by, and it’s ‘thou shalt not keep my child from experiencing the real world.’ Now, trust me, I know how that sounds since Skylar has had that opportunity and has clearly abused it. That’s something we’ll spend the needed time and effort to get her past, but at least she’s had every opportunity to find her talent, to explore the possibilities of where her dreams can take her.”
“Ariana is an adult. In less than a week, she’ll own a café that she’s named Brennemans’ Perks. That’s her surname, Brenneman, and it’s a name shared by people she adores, people she believes to be her family. She has a boyfriend, siblings, a life.” Could they hear Quill’s plea?
“I won’t take any of that away from her. I’m only asking her to hit the Pause button. Give us and the life she was meant to have an honest chance.”
“Then you’re saying it’s her choice whether to leave her home and people or not, right?”
“Eventually. But she needs to live with us for a while—at least a year, I think—dividing time between her mom’s home and mine.”
“And if she doesn’t want to go?”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, but I want time with her, and I want her to get a real education and discover her hidden talents and dreams. That’s what life is made of.”
“For her, life is God and family.”
“From what I read yesterday, her dream is probably getting married and having all the children God gives her. I won’t try to strip her of that, but I want a year with her with no contact from those who want to keep her tied to her Amish roots. If she chooses to return after that year, I’ll bring her here myself.”
“And if she says no?”
“Let’s keep it positive. If she says yes, I can open the world up to her, and I won’t cause trouble for anyone in the Amish community. We keep this whole matter out of the news. My understanding is Lovina spent twenty years knowing she had the wrong blanket, and she did nothing with that information.”
“Nicholas, no!” Brandi whispered loudly. “You intend to endear your daughter to us by threatening to humiliate and sue the people she loves as her parents?”
“I’m making sure this young man understands that we are far from powerless in this situation.”
“You want power?” Brandi raised her eyebrows, defiance written on her face. “Then go see the midwife and threaten her, but think first, for Pete’s sake. Lovina and Isaac not only have your daughter’s heart, but they could win Skylar’s as well. I don’t like your plan of pushing Skylar to come here as punishment for her using—”
“It’s not a punishment, Brandi. I’ve said that two dozen times. It’s a way for Skylar to see all of life differently, to connect with people who may be able to turn around her destructive behavior.”
“Skylar is not going to see it that way.”
Quill remained quiet as the couple argued. He wanted to absorb all he could in order to help the Brennemans, but at the same time he was speechless.
“She needs help.” Nicholas stared at Brandi as if dumbfounded by her argument. “And there’s no room for doubt that our methods have failed. Either she gets a grip, or she becomes a junkie!”
“I get that, and I’ve agreed with what you want to help keep the peace for everyone involved. But you said you wouldn’t threaten Lovina and Isaac with a lawsuit. I’m telling you for the thousandth time that we need to be on good terms with these people!”
“Okay.” Nicholas briefly held up both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll save all threats for that midwife. I’ll talk to that Rachel woman face to face before the sun sets tomorrow. She had to have reasons to suspect the girls may have been switched, and she chose to keep it to herself.” He pointed a finger at Quill. “She needs to know she could do jail time. But I’ll drop all mention of that if…”
Quill knew the rest. If Ariana left everyone behind and entered Nicholas’s Englisch world for a year, then and only then would the man agree never to file charges or take the incident public.
Ariana isolated from her family, community, café, and Rudy for a year?