Ties That Bind (20 page)

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.”