Ties That Bind (26 page)

“You cared for him before.”

“Oh, I have so many responses to that. I was in love with who I thought he was. Besides that, he's not Amish anymore, so I'm not attracted to him anymore. For the most part it's really hard work to be nice to him.”

“I have to say it again: he tricked you once. Who's to say he's not going to do that again?”

“It's a gamble I'm willing to take. I need that café. I know it's the answer to the lack and years of disappointment my family struggles with. Quill knows things, and I need his expertise.”

Rudy sighed, looking resigned. “Okay. But if he hurts you, I will find where he lives, and I won't respond like a man who's been raised to forgive.”

Ariana wasn't sure Rudy was exaggerating. “I'll make bread like bricks, and you can throw them at him. I can already hear the bishop defending you: ‘What real harm could Rudy have meant to do? He beaned him with a loaf of bread!' ”

Rudy grinned. “There's no love lost between the church leaders and Quill, that's for sure and certain.” His brows furrowed, and he looked up again as if pondering a new idea. “You have a recipe for brick bread?” He held out his hand for hers.

She moved in front of where he sat and intertwined her fingers with his. “No, but since I have no idea what I'll do with the goods I made yesterday, I can remove them from the wrap and let them sit in the open. I'm sure they will become rock-solid ammunition soon enough.” An idea came to her that she was sure Rudy would approve of. “Later this afternoon, during between-Sunday visiting time, you and I could take the goods to as many families as there's time for.”

His eyes widened, and the surprise melted into pleasure. “I'd like that.”

Couples didn't necessarily tell even their family who they were seeing, and when the family learned of it, they weren't supposed to tell others. She appreciated the tradition that had allowed her to date without the community putting expectations on the relationship. If she and Rudy went visiting as a couple, no one would utter a word to them about the matter, but it would be a declaration, reserved for those who were serious about each other.

She was ready for that.

S
taring at the pill in her hand, Skylar couldn't quite remember how many of these she'd taken in the last twelve hours. Would this be the fourth or the fifth?

The walls of her bedroom seemed to move like an ocean wave gently rolling across the choppy water, and the window seat under her seemed to jiggle like a bed of gelatin. She took a deep breath and tossed the pill into her mouth. No water needed. Closing her eyes, she saw the same image that startled her awake at night—herself bogged in a swamp, sinking into the mire, and any effort to get out only making her sink deeper. Her sense of loneliness and failure loomed large inside her, and no amount of pills could make those feelings go away, but it did dull the pain.

For Pete's sake, concentrate!

She glanced at the open psychology book in her lap before closing it and staring out the window. Why did she continue to fight a system that was so unwelcoming of who she was? More performers had dropped out of college than had finished. Acting and singing were art forms, and she was tired of trying to get into the business by doing things her parents' way. Maybe she needed to pack her bags and head to New York.

“Skylar?” her mom called as she tapped on the door.

Skylar opened the psychology book and picked up her pencil. “Come in.”

Her mother's smile looked forced, and she started to speak a couple of times.

Skylar tapped the eraser against the open page. “I'm fine, Mom.” She wasn't, but her mom needed to believe that she was, and sometimes a parent needed to hear the lies.

Actually…most of what her mother knew about her of late was a lie—she was at the library studying, she was hanging out with the “clean” drama friends, and things were fine between her and Cody. Well, that one was sort of true, except Cody had become her supplier for prescription meds.

Her mom walked into the room and sat at the far end of the window seat. She ran her hand across the cushion. “It's about time we replaced this fabric.”

“Maybe so.” Skylar had become a pill-popping failure, but, sure, why not change something that made no difference at all?

“How goes the studying?” Her mom scratched at the dried blueberry yogurt on the lace.

“Fine.” The only reason she was the least bit mobile was Ritalin. Without it, all she wanted to do was hide under the covers. With it, she was functional, even if she was jittery and her heart raced night and day as if she were running a long, hard race. The not-so-fun side effects were worth the high.

“I was thinking…” Mom fidgeted with her thumbs. “Maybe now that you don't have to practice in the evenings or perform on the weekends, you and I should get out some. You know, just us getting away, doing something different.”

Her mom's eyes revealed concern. Maybe how much Skylar was struggling right now wasn't as hidden as she thought. Whether it was or wasn't, her mom was anxious, and Skylar had the power to ease her worry. “Sure, I guess. Where?”

“I've been thinking about that. When I was your age and I needed a break, I would go driving in Amish country. I'd ramble through quilt shops and dry goods stores. Oh, and the Amish have the best restaurants. Have you ever eaten at one?”

Skylar leaned her head back against the casing of the window seat. “No. The closest I've ever come to anything Amish is passing the rigs on the road, except for some guy I talked to last week.”

“Was he Amish?”

“Former Amish. Nice guy. Sinfully handsome. If he's what Amish men are like, maybe I shouldn't have been looking down on them.”

“Do you look down on them?”

“They're weird, Mom. As backwoods as people get in this country.”

“
Backwoods
is derogatory, Sky. They choose to live a simple, unrefined life. They have faith in God and His Word, and they're willing to sacrifice for what they believe in.”

Skylar couldn't recall her mom talking about God like this before. “If I repent for thinking poorly of them, will you ax the religious talk?”

She expected her mom to scoff and say something politely sarcastic and totally agree, but instead she looked remorseful. “It's my fault you're so disrespectful of faith, and I'm sorry I didn't handle things better. My mom was involved in church all the time while I was growing up. I practically lived there, and the things I saw and heard among church folk made me sick. I never wanted you to have to see that kind of nonsense and hypocrisy, but I'm not sure avoiding church altogether has been good for you either.”

Skylar rolled her eyes. “God sounds like every other man I've known—you can't live with him, and you can't live without him.”

Her mom shrugged and sighed. “Anyway, changing the subject back to Amish men, what little bit of contact I've had with them, they seem very different from the average American guy.”

This was a much better topic, and Skylar relaxed against the frame of the window seat. “I know what you mean. I spent about thirty minutes with that guy, and not one crude word or innuendo came out of his mouth. Can you believe that?”

“I don't think guys were so crude when I was your age. It's become a game to make fun of the body and be as obscene as possible. Writers make millions of dollars putting that stuff on television, but my mother would have washed out their mouths with soap.”

Skylar laughed. “Would she really?”

“Oh, yeah. And she would've used Lava soap.”

“What's Lava soap?”

“Pretty much the opposite of Ivory soap.”

“So you think that guy's parents washed his mouth out with soap?” She giggled. “That could explain why he was so nice
and
why he left the Amish life behind.”

“Yeah, it could.” Mom laughed. “I don't know how strict they are inside their homes. But they are known for being a very gentle people, so I sort of doubt that mistreatment was part of his training. I just know they were very good to me.”

Was the Ritalin playing tricks on her, or did her mom misspeak? “Amish were good to you?”

Her mother's mouth opened for a moment, and Skylar knew her mom hadn't meant to let that piece of information slip. Skylar had too much Ritalin in her to gently pry for answers. “Mom! Come on!”

Her mom grimaced, but she nodded. “You were actually born in an Amish birthing clinic.”

Skylar jumped to her feet.
This
was worth hearing. “I was?” Her melancholy feelings seemed to scamper away like performers running off stage to get ready for the next scene.

Her mom nodded.

“Well”—Skylar gestured with both hands as if hurrying her mother across the finish line—“tell me the story.”

Mom drew a deep breath. “You weren't due for two weeks, and your dad and I had a huge argument the day before, so to clear my head, I took one of my long drives into Amish country. When I started the day, I had energy to burn, but as the hours passed, I kept having lower back pain that came and went. Of course now I know that while I was driving to different Amish towns, stopping to look at quilt shops and such, I was in labor the whole time. I got out at a yard sale an Amish woman was having, and while I was in her yard, my water broke. I didn't know where the closest hospital was or how long it would take to get back to the main road, but the woman told me there was an Amish birthing clinic about two miles up the road.” Mom smiled. “She said the midwife would take good care of me until an ambulance arrived…if I wanted to get to a hospital. But the idea of having you in a peaceful home environment sounded perfect to me. I also didn't want to have to tell my mom or your dad that I was in labor. My mom was so unhappy with me for being pregnant, and your dad was still living with his wife. It had sounded like the ideal way for you and me to begin our journey—just a midwife in a simple home, delivering you into my arms.”

Skylar sat next to her mom, facing her. “You were a romantic.”

Mom brushed wisps of hair from Skylar's face. “I was young, very naive, and without any inner direction. But I found my road map that day, and it was you.” She smiled, cupping Skylar's chin in her hand. “By the time I arrived at the birthing center, I was pretty far along in labor. But something was wrong. I was bleeding badly, and the midwife called for an ambulance. Not long after you were born, I was taken by ambulance to the hospital, but, yes, you were born there. Your dad still doesn't know that.”

“Why?”

Mom drew a deep breath. “He's always been so against religion of any kind, against repression of desire and freedom of expression. I knew he'd never understand why I'd chosen to do such a thing.”

Skylar rolled her eyes. “He would've said it was an immature thing to do, as if him being fifteen years older than you made him a model of mature thinking.”

“Anyway”—Mom shrugged—“I was afraid he would go after the Amish midwife, as if it was her fault I was in ICU, so I didn't tell him. If anything, she saved both our lives.”

“That's ridiculous. Dad was married. He had no right to voice his opinion about your decisions.”

“Sky, honey, you see him wrong.
We
had the affair. I was just as much to blame as he was.”

“You were nineteen when it began and barely twenty when I was born. He was thirty-five. Come on, Mom, stop defending him!”

“He loves you, Sky. You were a complication we hadn't prepared for, but you are the absolute best thing to happen to either of us. Could you at least try to believe me on that?” Her mom radiated sincerity.

Was it possible Skylar looked at the situation with too much cynicism? “Mom, he didn't give me his surname of Jenkins even after his divorce.”

“If that was important to you, I'm sorry we haven't talked about it before now.” A hint of defiance seemed to cross her face. “You and I have always gone by my maiden name, and at no point did I want to change that for either of us—not even after I married Gabe.” She brushed invisible lint off the covering of the window seat. “I think your dad's guilt over his many failures concerning you keeps him from being able to show you how he feels, but he does love you, and he's very proud of you.”

“Yeah, and our neighbors' German shepherd that mauled their teen only wanted to play.”

Her mom opened her mouth, and Skylar clasped her hands over her mouth, miming
speak no evil.
It was their way of changing subjects. “But the people at the Amish clinic were nice, like you said?”

“Yeah, they were. It was a crazy day, though. The clinic caught on fire while I was in labor, and there was another woman giving birth at the same time. So I can't say I got a real feel for them. But the other woman's husband was gentle and encouraging as he took me to safety.”

“Oh, my gosh!” Skylar laughed. “I wish I had known this when I talked to that guy Quill. He was so inquisitive, and he would've loved this story.”

“Well, if you're going to Amish country with me, maybe we'll spot him.” Her mom's smile was filled with mischief as she tried to coax Skylar into agreeing to go. They both knew they had zero chance of running into that guy. Skylar didn't know what area of Pennsylvania he was from, and a person could go a year without seeing their next-door neighbor. What were the odds of them spotting Quill?

“I wish I'd asked to see his driver's license the way he asked me. Then I'd know where he lives.”

Her mother had that “you know better than to talk to strangers” look on her face. “So should I expect him to show up at our door?”

“Doubt it, but it would be fun if he did. I could tell him that story.”

“So why did he ask to see your license?”

“He had some deep need to see my birth date.”

“Your birth date?” Mom laughed.

“He said he wanted proof I wasn't so young it would get him arrested if he taught me some card tricks.”

“I'm not liking this story, Sky.”