Fraying at the Edge (19 page)

He threw the ball for Lexi again. “Friends also argue, as we've proved all too well already. What if we talk about something else?”

Salome had used Esther's scars on her face and neck as a reason to leave the Amish. That didn't make sense to Ariana. “No one forbade Salome to use Englisch medicine to treat Esther. Despite some pressure from the community, the choice was hers and Emanuel's. So I see no reason for you to offer to help them leave during the night.”

“You're just determined to have this conversation.”

“I am.”

“Okay.” He picked up the ball and threw it. “Let's have it. Only a very few Amish feel they need a way out, and of those, even fewer choose to leave after we've worked and prayed with them for at least a year. But in the end the decision is theirs. I don't have to agree with someone's conclusions or decisions to support their right to choose. I feel that freedom dictates I take a stand for the Amish who feel chained to a way of life they no longer believe in.”

“But it's wrong. They've taken a vow. And for those who haven't, they have a family, a whole village that loves them and has helped raise them.”

“Ari…” Quill threw the ball again. “There seems to be a number inside your head, and every person's life—including Salome's, Brandi's, Nicholas's, mine, and yours—is supposed to add up to that number. It never does, not for anyone.”

“It could, couldn't it—if people tried hard enough?”

“It can't. Even if everyone wanted to do the
right
thing, the possibilities of what's right for individuals are endless. God beats out a different rhythm for different people, and despite all you've been taught, people shouldn't wall out each other because of it.”

Was that right? Did God have different beats for people to march to? Longing for answers, she looked skyward.

“Hey.” A little girl about six years old, wearing jeans and pink boots, hurried outside. Ariana's prayer scattered with the wind.

“Hi, Kylie.” Quill sounded upbeat, as if it wasn't an interruption at all. “What's up?” He grabbed the tennis ball and threw it much farther than before.

The girl's arms were full, and she stopped several feet away. “Mom said you'll be cold staying out here after your run. She's not trying to interrupt, and I can't stay.”

“Ah. Tell your mom I appreciate it.” Quill removed everything from her arms. He set a bottle of water, a thermos, and a container of hand sanitizer on the hood of the car. Then he slid the gray hoodie over his head and stretched his arms into the sleeves. “I'm much warmer now. Thanks.” He rubbed the top of the little girl's head.

Kylie stared up at Ariana as if she was in awe of her. “I heard that you know our
Mammi
Bertie.”

Ariana smiled at the nickname. “I do.”

“What's she like?”

The question knocked the wind out of Ariana. This sweet child didn't know her wonderful grandmother? Clearly Berta was a bit secretive, but, still, she was an amazing woman. “Well…” Years of good, fun memories of Berta flooded Ariana, and her heart ached for the position Berta had been put in. “She's really smart, very energetic, and a bit prickly if you fuss over her when she's sick.”

“My dad's like that.” Kylie grinned. “Would you give her a hug for me?”

Ariana knelt. “If you give me a hug, I'll see that she gets it.”

Kylie threw her arms around Ariana's neck and squeezed hard. Ariana returned the hug. “Mm-mm,” Ariana groaned lovingly. “That's from Mammi Bertie.”

Kylie backed away, pointing a finger at Ariana. “When I'm big like you and I have a car, I'm going to go see her.”

If only it were that simple. “I'll be sure to tell her that.”

The door to the trailer opened. “Kylie Peyton,” Regina called.

“I gotta go.” Kylie took off running, but before she disappeared inside, she blew kisses and waved at Ariana and Quill.

Ariana waved. “She has no memories of Berta?”

Quill blew Kylie a kiss as if he'd done it hundreds of times. “Visiting Mamm is complicated. We've never tried to sneak in any of the kids.” He held up the water bottle and the thermos, offering her a choice. “Water or coffee?”

She pointed at the thermos. “Berta's never held any of her grandbabes?”

“Not yet.” He poured hand sanitizer into his palms and rubbed them together before he removed the cup and lid to the thermos. Steam rose as he poured the hot liquid into the small mug.

“Couldn't she come to them?”

He passed her the mug. “That would mean directly disobeying the bishop. She wouldn't do that. The most she can handle is not telling the bishop that we drop by unannounced from time to time.”

She studied him, seeing a tower of restraint. They were nothing alike, didn't seem to view life from the same planet, yet they seemed to need each other. But she could see this conversation was just another painful reminder for Quill that his Mamm was in Summer Grove without any family. “Do you ever get relief…you know, concerning your Mamm being without all of you?”

He opened the water bottle and leaned against the car. “Some, mostly because I know she has you, a girl she loves like a daughter. So when you return, please don't be angry with her for keeping our necessary secrets.”

Hard lines were drawn between the church and those who left, but usually if someone hadn't joined the faith, like Quill and his brothers, the boundaries weren't strict—not like this. But for reasons Ariana knew nothing about, the bishop had made inflexible rules where the Schlabachs were concerned. Maybe it was a message to other Mamms to do a better job of ensuring their children stayed. Or maybe the church leaders suspected one of the Schlabach brothers was the Nightcrawler, as the Amish referred to him, the one who occasionally sneaked in at night and helped an entire Amish family leave.

Ariana could still feel the warmth of the hug from Kylie, a beautiful connection to life that Berta had yet to experience. And she might not experience that until Kylie was old enough to hide quietly in a barn or shed for hours. The whole thing grieved Ariana. “It's all so confusing. Not long ago I was completely confident and peaceful in my faith, and now I have no idea how to meld my beliefs with what's taking place in my life—not just with your family, but with the people who apparently are
my
family.”

“I wish I could tell you it'll get easier.” He threw the ball for Lexi again.

“Yeah, I wish you could tell me that too.” Ariana sighed.

She was beginning to think Quill was right about that number in her head. That explanation didn't clear up everything, but if she could refuse to judge people based on that imaginary
right number,
it would help her a lot—and everyone who came in contact with her. “I won't hold anything against your Mamm. She's been my second Mamm since I was your shadow.”

“My shadow.” Quill smiled before he guzzled half of the bottle of water. “See, we are friends.”

She took a sip of coffee, realizing it had the perfect amount of sugar. “Yeah, I guess we are. And it's a good thing because”—she pulled the bucket list out of her pocket—“I need your help.”

He took the papers from her, barely glancing at them before again tossing the ball for Lexi. “Absolutely. There are a few things I could use from you too.”

“Like?”

Night continued to close in, and a misty rain began to fall, but there was nowhere for them to go. The trailer or a restaurant lacked privacy, and sitting in a car to talk seemed awkward, maybe inappropriate. This is who they'd become—people who stayed put and dealt with the storm between them, whether in his mother's dark home on a rainy night, or working on a rundown café, or here in Mingo.

Quill opened the thermos and refilled her mug. “One, don't meet any more single guys at bars. You're going to get me beat up.”

She peered at him over the mug. “You could've taken him.”

He set the thermos on the hood of her car. “Maybe, but not all his friends, which seemed to be everyone in the bar.”

“So friends don't help friends get beat up. Got it.”

“Exactly.” He studied her through the misty darkness. “Have you heard from him?”

“No. Do you think I will?”

“Yeah, absolutely. You should block his number.”

“Seems excessive and rude. Shouldn't I take his call and tell him the truth? I probably owe him an apology. I was the one who forgot about Rudy and—”

“Ariana, for Pete's sake.” Quill's eyes bore into hers, his brows knit, and his voice was filled with concern. “Better yet, for
your
sake, don't be the kind of woman who is too nice, giving users the benefit of the doubt. I call that giving the benefit of the doubt to the death—often the death of someone's good sense and the death of wise decisions and anything else men like that will tromp all over. And apologize? To him? Come on, he was aiming to lower your defenses and see just how far he could get.”

So Quill felt a lot he rarely showed. “He really got under your skin.”

Quill's brows barely lifted, and a stony coldness etched his face. “He's a creep who tried to use his nice looks and gentle manner to disarm you.”

“I believe you.” Ariana pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Block his number.” She held on to the phone until Quill looked at her. “Thank you, not only for last night, but also for helping me understand creeps and how I should think about them. So what else can I do for you?”

Quill pressed numerous items on her touch-screen phone before handing it back to her. “Write a short, friendly text to Frieda. I can't give you her number, but if you send it to me, I can forward it along with your number…if you're willing.”

“I can do that.”

“About a month ago she offered to tell you her story. Maybe she would have followed through, maybe not. It's hard to tell. But I didn't think the timing was good, so I declined her offer.”

“You're unsure whether she'll respond.”

“A little. She seems to be doing really well right now. But when Mamm was sick, Frieda hired a driver and traveled seven hours to visit her. Then she couldn't make herself go into the hospital. Still, whether she responds or not, it would be good for her to hear from you.”

Ariana couldn't imagine what had happened to Frieda…or that she and Frieda had been friends without Ariana knowing what was happening to her friend. She knew Frieda was sick, knew she dealt with depression and anxiety. Ariana never tried to understand why or if their roots were in specific events rather than generalized anxiety.

Should she ask him any questions? Would he answer this time? “Why did you disappear with her?” Ariana had thought he was in love with Frieda, but clearly that had been a smoke screen. “I know you can't say much, but what was happening in Frieda's life that I didn't know?”

He threw the ball for Lexi again. “Something a little similar but totally different from what caused Salome to want to leave.”

A little similar but totally different.
“She needed something that the bishop frowned on?”

“Basically, sort of. Okay?”

“Yeah, that's enough.” Anything else would need to come from Frieda. “Thanks.”

“While we're on the subject”—he picked up the ball again and threw it—“I feel I should tell you that I'm looking into a situation with a cousin of yours.”

She hated this part of who he was. “Which cousin?”

“A single guy who doesn't live in Summer Grove.”

“And you're going in as the Nightcrawler to help him leave?”

“It's way too early to know what the situation will call for. But, yeah, it's possible.”

“Quill.” The edge in her tone didn't compare to the frustration running through her.

“Look.” Quill's slow splaying of his fingers with his palms up seemed indicative of how gently he tried to respond to her. “I know how you feel, and I get it. I don't in any way discount your feelings, but I can't ignore a possible cry for help.”

“Possible cry? Sounds more like you need to let my cousin work this out with his family.”

“It's not open for debate, Ari. I just want to be honest with you.”

“Okay.” What else could she say? She would stand a better chance of winning an argument with Nicholas than with Quill, but she was no match for either. Nicholas's beliefs were based on books he'd read and lectures he'd attended. To her, Quill's foundation was much more solid. He based his actions on years of experience inside and outside of the Amish community.

Life was so complicated. No wonder the Amish strove to hold on to the Old Ways, clinging to a time when life was simple. And no wonder the Englisch strove for modernization in everything, looking for new and better ways to navigate the turbulence of everyday life.

“
Okay
as in you accept that, or
okay
as in you're outta here?”

“I accept it. I don't like it, and I never will, but I guess I'm beginning to get the whole need-to-follow-after-freedom thing. If I had freedom, I'd escape back
into
my Amish life.”

He picked up the ball and threw it again. “And I'd help you do it.”

She knew that was true, and somehow it helped. Lexi's sides heaved as she chased after the ball time and again, and her fur glistened with droplets from the mist.

A shiver ran through Ariana, and she buttoned her coat. “Uh, Quill?”

“Yeah?”

“Your dog is going to run herself to death if you don't stop throwing that ball.”

Quill's eyes opened wide. “Lexi, stop!”

The dog came to an abrupt halt.

He whistled. “Here, girl.”

Lexi looked from him to the ball.

“Here.” He snapped his fingers. “Now.”