Fraying at the Edge (17 page)

Her heart jolted, and she pulled the papers to her chest.
Denki.
She breathed the prayer and glanced at the highlighted sections. Relief surged. Mostly he was asking her for reasonable things—to make an Englisch friend, to work in a typically male job for at least a day, to travel some with him, and a few other things.

No more reading books by atheists? Gratefulness hit so hard her knees were shaking. She could do this…at least enough to earn a visit with Rudy. She shoved the papers into the pocket of her housecoat as she hurried into the bathroom. By the time she brushed her teeth, there was a knock on her door.

When she opened it, Cameron wasted no time sliding into the room and closing the door. “That's the most time I've ever spent with Nicholas in my whole life.” She opened her eyes wide and clutched her chest.

“Seems as if Nicholas rattles you.”

“Ya think? For years I've watched Skylar come here for a weekend and return home an emotional wreck.”

Skylar
…Rather than Ariana being angry with God or doubting Him or feeling sorry for herself because she was pulled from a life she loved, maybe she should be on her knees thanking Him that she had twenty years with the Brennemans. Otherwise, she wouldn't even know them. Or Rudy.

“Hello?” Cameron waved a hand in front of Ariana. “You there, Giselle?”

“Oh, sorry. So tell me, all your jabs and poking fun—have I done something to offend you?”

Cameron sat on the bed and stared at her tennis shoes, tapping her feet against the thick carpet. “No. I was just teasing and having some fun. And I'm really sorry for it.”

Ariana had no choice but to accept her apology, but she felt sure there was more to it than Cameron was admitting.

Cameron leaned back on her elbows. “Your turn.”

“Okay.” Ariana pulled one of the new dresses out of a shopping bag to remove the tags. She was weary of being down and serious. “I'm sorry you did things that made me yell at you.” She kept a straight face while going to the dresser and getting a pair of scissors.

“See that right there.” Cameron pointed at her, chuckling. “That sounded just like Brandi. You barely know her, but even some of your gestures look like hers.”

“Do they?” That was a little alarming, but she had to identify with more than just the Brennemans as family now. “I'm not doing much better with Brandi than I am with Nicholas.”

“Blended families take time to bond. You've been here a week. I have plates of food under my bed that are older than that.”

Ariana reached into her pocket, feeling the bucket list. “I could use a friend.”

Cameron opened a drawer in the nightstand and searched it. “Should we get a piece of paper and a crayon and write ‘Will you be my friend?' and put a box above
yes
and one above
no
? You could slip it to me during recess.”

“If it makes you feel better. But to be really honest, I mean I could really
use
a friend.”

“You want to use me? Are you sure you're not related to me?”

Ariana plunked beside her. “I'm not even sure
I'm
related to me.”

Cameron laughed. “You're not nearly as dull as I thought.”

“Thanks.”

How did one cope with the depth of pain of knowing her life had been a mistake of catastrophic proportions? Her Amish parents had considered her a gift from God, and yet the reality was her existence had wrecked lives. What would Rudy think of her newly discovered status—illegitimate?

“Hey, Giselle?”

“Hmm?” Ariana came back to the present. “Who is this Giselle? Is she a friend of yours?”

Cameron buried her face in her hands and laughed. “Okay, you win. You have to have someone who knows the ropes to help you. Stick with me, kiddo. I'll have you speaking the English lingo in no time flat.” Cameron used one thumbnail to click the other one over and over again. “Giselle is a clueless, innocent klutz in the children's movie
Enchanted.
”

“For children? That doesn't sound so bad. I'm supposed to watch a few movies.” She didn't have to, and that posed a new issue. Was she selling out her faith in order to see Rudy? “Could that be one?”

“Sure. I have a boatload of movies we can watch.”

“I appreciate that, and I'll make some desserts and snacks.”

“I heard you bought a café and can really bake. Can I watch you do some of your cooking magic? I don't want to miss an opportunity to see you set off the smoke alarm while trying to flip on a light switch.”

Ariana giggled. “I'd watch my step if I were you.”

“Yeah, why? Do you plan to litter the floor with the appliances you can't operate?”

Ariana pushed her shoulder into Cameron's. “You're not the only smart-mouthed little sister I've had to deal with, so I have the upper hand.”

“Sister?” Cameron scowled, but her eyes held a hint of pleasure.

“Ya, forever and ever, so let's make the relationship work for us and not against us, okay?”

“Sisters,” Cameron mumbled again, narrowing her eyes as if trying to decide if Ariana was setting her up for something.

“I'm a useful sister to have—not perfect but not a pain on a regular basis. What more could you want?”

“To be an only child?”

“But you didn't ever have that, did you?”

“I'm my dad's only child.” Cameron shrugged. “Truth?”

Ariana had no idea what truth Cameron was talking about, but she nodded. “Please.”

“I've only seen my mom ten times in the last ten years, once a year, and none of those visits lasted more than a few hours. It's not supposed to be that way with moms.” She shrugged. “I was four when I met Brandi, five when my dad married her. I was so excited to have a mom. Skylar was ten, and within a few years she started causing trouble, and I've been the good daughter ever since. I needed that, but I never realized how much until you came along. Then I heard that your Amish mom didn't want to let go of you, not even for a month, and you're grown. And Brandi was willing to sell her soul for time with you, and I…”

“Wanted to make me feel unwelcome and unwanted.”

“I guess. I don't think I actually knew that was my intention until now.”

Ariana wouldn't comment on Cameron saying “Brandi was willing to sell her soul,” not right now. But it bothered her. “Friends?”

“Friends.” Cameron scoffed and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “What are we, four?” She propped up on her elbows. “What you don't know about how normal people talk and act is a lot.”

“By normal, you mean fifteen-year-old schoolgirls?”

“That's right, until I turn sixteen. Then that will be the new fifteen.”

“What?”

Cameron swung her feet back and forth. “You've got a lot to learn so that later we can say ‘you've come a long way, babe.' ”

“Right now I'd settle for going a short way—fifty miles, from here to Quill's place in Mingo.”

“You're gonna go in your housecoat? I vote for that over the Amish clothes.”

Ariana tossed the now-tagless dress in her lap.

Cameron held it up. “A little schoolmarmish, but better.”

“A little revealing is what it is.”

“This? No way. You know what your problem is?”

“My newest friend?”

“Hey, mess with me, and I'll turn off the lights, and you'll be lost in the dark.”

“Uh, it's daylight.”

“Minor detail.” Cameron stood and held up the cream-colored knit dress that was the same basic style as the one Ariana had worn yesterday. “Okay, back to what your problem is. You have absolutely no sense of style. Wear a belt with it and some boots.”

“No. Why would I do that?”

“It would be cute. Really cute.”

“Clothing isn't meant to be cute. It's meant to cover.”

“Says who?”

“The Bible…I think.”

“I don't think it does.” Cameron shrugged. “I go to church with my friends sometimes, and I haven't heard anything about that.”

“You go?”

“Some.”

“Could we go together next Sunday?”

“Sure, why not? Let's go to the Methodist church on Spring Street. I've been there before, and it has a youth group that meets during preaching. And there is this one guy who is the cutest—”

“Cameron.” Ariana snatched the dress. “It's God's day and His house.”

“So in Summer Grove there aren't any cute guys who catch your eye during church?”

“Well…” Ariana had liked Sunday church more since Rudy moved to Summer Grove.

“There must be, because you're blushing.” Cameron pointed her finger at Ariana's cheek. “We have to get you to be real, which means dumping the hypocrisy.”

“Hypocrisy?”

“You know there are cute guys at church. You even like it. But when I said it out loud, you corrected me. Come on, Ari. Get real.” She held the shoulders of the dress up to Ariana's shoulders. “Definitely needs a belt and boots. I have both back at the house.”

“I'm fine without that.”

Cameron tapped the toes of her shoes together. “My feet are bigger than yours, so my boots may not fit you, but I bet Brandi's will.”

“I'm curious. You wanted a mom, were grateful to get one, but you don't call Brandi
Mom.
Why is that?”

“I called her
Brandi
for a year before she married Dad, and it felt right. The name
Mom
came with lots of hurt feelings for me, so I stuck with calling her
Brandi
or sometimes
Brands.
” Cameron pointed at the dress. “More important, you can't let your culture dictate your wardrobe. We studied about this in school. Some cultures fear women showing any skin, and they strap this heightened sense of overly sexualized thinking onto women so that anything less than a burka is wrong. Chill. Get a new perspective. I'll help you.”

What had Ariana gotten herself into? “Maybe another time. I need to get ready to go to Mingo, but my car isn't here.”

“You know the obvious answer, right?”

“Plug the name of the place where my car is into the GPS app and walk there?”

“N-o-o-o. That won't get me to the park either. Call Brandi. She can chauffeur both of us, and it would make her day. Trust me.”

“Yeah, you're right. Call her.”

“Not me. She needs
you
to call her.”

Cameron seemed to understand Brandi and have a connection with her that went beyond that of a typical fifteen-year-old. If Brandi hurt, Cameron wanted to fix it, and in that revelation, for a moment Ariana saw Brandi with a tiny bit of the respect Cameron had for her. Did Cameron know her superhero stepmom was an adulterer? Maybe she did but didn't care.

Was Brandi aware that Ariana knew about the affair? She eased the phone out and stared at the screen. Was she ready to look Brandi in the eyes and ignore the awkwardness between them? Or would she disappoint herself once again by being an overwrought stone thrower?

Ariana swallowed hard, praying she could see Brandi through Cameron's eyes of love.

A
bram stared at the low-burning fire in the hearth of the living room as he listened to Skylar explain her ideas of what they needed to change about the café.

For the second week in a row, their home didn't have the usual Sunday feel. Last Sunday had been a church meeting day, but since Skylar had arrived the night before, none of the Brennemans had gone. Today was a between Sunday, and they—the café team—were talking business while the rest of the family had dispersed around the farm. Everything about life felt so different these days.

Susie doodled on a legal pad, and Abram knew her mind was spinning. She'd already skimmed the catalog, checking the prices of the items Skylar suggested they purchase. Now Susie looked like he felt: concerned. But he also knew that Susie was praying for her new sister.

“Does anyone even show up at seven?” Skylar flipped through the catalog Ariana had used to order supplies.

“Not many people at this point,” Martha said. “But we're trying to stick to what Ariana said would build a customer base.”

“What if she's wrong? She's not here to see how it's going or how exhausted everyone is.” Skylar tapped a specific page in the catalog. “You need an espresso machine, an espresso grinder, a gourmet brewer, and a commercial blender for making frozen espresso drinks.”

“You do know the café doesn't have electricity, right?” Susie asked.

Skylar blinked. “Is that even legal in this country—serving food in a place without electricity?”

“It's unusual, not illegal,” Susie said. “Quill rewired the old building, bringing the electrical wiring up to code, and it passed inspection. So the setup is legal, at least in this state. But everything in the café uses gas, including the refrigerator. If Ariana, as the actual owner, had an Englisch business partner, the church would allow the Englisch co-owner to bring in electricity.”

“That's weird.”

“It's a way to hold on to our culture and yet allow Amish-owned small businesses some flexibility. But that would also give the Englisch co-owner a good share of the profits, so it's not a solution for us.”

Skylar thumped the catalog. “Is that why the barn has that huge generator?”

“Ya, it powers the milkers and runs the refrigeration for the milk tank,” Martha said.

“Would the café be allowed to use a generator?”

“Ya. But everything you're talking about doing would cost a lot of money.” Abram moved to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and crouched down. “Odd, really. You've yet to set foot in the café, but you have strong and really expensive ideas of what would work better for it.”

“And very Englisch ideas,” Martha added softly.

“Fine.” Skylar held up both hands. “Forget I mentioned anything. But I'm right.”

Susie tapped the pen against the legal pad. “You seem so sure about what needs to be done. Why?”

“My mom loves coffee shops. As far back as I can remember, finding new coffee shops and going to them every Saturday morning was our thing. Apparently I learned a few things without realizing it.”

The room was silent as Abram poked the logs, causing sparks to fly and flames to leap. Was Skylar asking to change the opening time of the café because she wanted to sleep later?

Skylar closed the catalog and tossed it onto the coffee table, looking disinterested. “Do it your way. Exhaust your creative energy getting up superearly six days a week. Serve weak coffee and only the regular kind. Have no breakfast breads. Doesn't matter to me.”

“The strength of the coffee is my fault,” Martha said. “Ariana wrote down on an index card how to fix it, and I lost it. Her coffee was good, but I've been making it like Mamm and Daed do.”

Abram hadn't realized that they had been using different instructions for the coffee than what Ariana had given.

“It's not as if your ideas are bad.” He put the poker back in its stand and added a log to the fire. “Some—maybe all—have merit. But we would have to take on debt to purchase the things you're talking about.”

“It's an investment,” Skylar said.

“It's a gamble.” Abram stood.

“You know”—Skylar picked up the catalog again—“one would think the Amish were used to taking gambles. You take your life into your hands to ride in a carriage on the road—no seat belts, no reinforced steel anything, and moving at the pace of a turtle. But apparently buying a commercial blender and coffee machines is over the top.” She held out the book to him. “It's no skin off my nose whether this café makes it or not.”

Martha flinched. “Are we struggling that much?” Her eyes were large as she looked from Abram to Susie.

“Nee.” Susie shook her head. “I mean, it's been a rough start. And you know we've yet to have our croissants or scones turn out well enough that customers would buy them a second time.”

Skylar held her two fingers as if she had a cigarette between them and tapped them against her thumb. “So let me get this straight. You and Martha are in over your heads, and Abram has quit his day job to help with the café, but all my suggestions are useless?”

Susie rubbed her forehead. “It's just your ideas are…”

“Different from what Ariana wanted, right?” Skylar asked.

“I was going to say
expensive.
” Susie looked at her notes. “Everything you've mentioned will take several thousand dollars, and that's if we go with the less expensive versions.”

“Never buy cheap or used equipment for coffee. Your customers will know it first thing.”

Susie looked to Abram. “I guess we could tap into the reserve cash from the benefit.”

“That's for making sure the bills can be paid in the coming months,” Martha said.

“Ya, I know. But it's not enough to keep the bills paid until Ariana gets back,” Susie said. “We have to get more people coming in. Right now we have no repeat customers other than Amish friends who would support us if we were serving mud.”

Martha pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Do you even know anything about making these different sorts of coffee?”

“Apparently more than you know about baking croissants and scones, which actually brings me to another topic. If you can't do a good job of making what's on the menu, change the stupid menu.”

Susie's lips puckered to one side as she looked to Abram. “I think she's right,” she said, appearing terrified by the idea. “We don't have to purchase everything at once, but we need to change how we're doing things, starting with a commercial generator, coffee grinder, and a change of menu.”

Skylar grinned, not really looking happy but more like the cat who'd swallowed the canary.

Abram caught her eye, and she held his gaze. About twelve hours ago she'd asked if they could still use some help in the café, and now she was brimming with ideas about making the café better. Strange, very strange. But Skylar wasn't holed up in her bedroom, and she was engaged in a positive conversation. That had to count for something.

“Okay.” Abram motioned from Susie to the catalog. “You take a few days to figure out exactly what you need and fill out the form. When that's done, I'll get a cashier's check from the bank and put the order in the mail.”

“Is there an Amish reason you don't own a debit card? Because if you had one, you could place the order by phone.”

“No Amish reason. We're just new to having a little money and running a business.”

“Get a debit card, Abram,” Skylar said. “It'll make life easier. Trust me.”

But that was the question, wasn't it? Whether or not Skylar could be trusted.