Fraying at the Edge (26 page)

“Brandi said today that if I could find my voice and use it with Nicholas, he'd likely hear me. But my voice is supposed to reflect what God wants, not what I want.”

Quill slowly shook his finger at her. “You know what you need?” His eyes reflected hope. “You need a new view of the heavens.”

“Of the heavens?”

“Ari, our God is so much bigger than we can grasp. As children we saw Him as if we were inside a snow globe and He was just outside it, on His throne, out of sight, looking down at us. For those of us raised to believe in a jealous, angry God, we see Him with a frown, scowling. And as all Amish know, being frowned on is one tiny step from being shunned.”

She imagined God watching her and others with a continual look of displeasure, but perhaps worse than that…“It does seem as if He's just outside my snow globe world.”

“A great place to start changing your view of God is where you can see the great expanse of who He is through the concrete images of His creations—a planetarium.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a favorite one that is open today and giving a program designed for families. It's open until five, and it's less than forty minutes from here. Are you game?”

“You said you had a lot of work to do today.”

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve for finishing the work when we get back. Besides, if going there helps you one tiny fraction as much as it helped me, that's far more important.”

He would do that for her? She should give him an award for being the most confusing person in her life. “This much I know about myself: you regularly offend me and honor me within the same few minutes.”

“Good thing for me some of your strengths are humility, resilience, and a desire to make peace. Will you go? We can take Cameron too.”

“Resilience?” she scoffed, positive that a resilient person wouldn't have been an emotional train wreck the last few weeks.

But he seemed so sure it would help her, and God knew she needed her thinking realigned before she drove herself up the wall and before she was crushed under the weight of feeling isolated and the weight of judging people—both the strangers she needed to reach out to in love and those who cared about her.

“I came here to be on the job site, working in whatever way I can so I could earn a day with Rudy.”

“We can still get your time in. You only have to do a few hours, and we set up some lighting days ago, so we can accomplish whatever is needed after it's dark. We can't go to the planetarium after hours.”

If she was correctly using the cues Quill had been talking about—trusting her senses, noticing body language and tone—he thought she
needed
to see the planetarium. “Okay, but what got my mind on this whole ‘understanding myself and others' topic is that I overheard a little of what Dan said to you, and your reaction to him didn't seem to match how you really felt.”

He ran his hand through his dark-blond, Englisch-cut hair. He nodded as if agreeing with himself that he could tell her. “You nailed it.”

“Since you know absolutely everything about my life, you could tell me about it.”

His expression indicated she had a point. “Okay.” He glanced at his watch. “But let's talk in the car.”

“In front of Cameron?”

“I'll deal with it. We need to go.”

They said quick good-byes, and the three of them got in Quill's car. His was an older, more worn model than hers, and she assumed it had come with a lot of sacrifice and a large payment. She'd paid nothing for hers, and it dawned on her that, despite the emotional toll of the last few weeks, shifting lifestyles from being poor to being upper middle class had been unexpectedly easy.

The three chitchatted about minor things until Ariana asked Quill what he and Dan had been talking about.

Quill turned on his blinker and merged onto a highway. “I installed the wrong electrical panels and wiring in a lot of houses. A lot. And it's costing Schlabach Home Builders money out of pocket, long hours to make things right, and a promotion.”

“Whether building barrels in your Daed's cooperage or helping someone leave the Amish, you plan well, triple-check everything, and carry out the goal with caution.
That
much I know about you without any reservation. So what was going on that you weren't being you?”

He shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes, regardless of their natural tendencies.”

“Children laugh. Birds fly. You focus.”

He tapped the steering wheel with his thumbs, looking as if he was deciding what to divulge. His hesitancy to speak up and the timing of his rewiring the homes began to add up.

“So while you were in the thick of helping me get the café and discovering the truth about Skylar and me, you made a mistake.”

“It's not your fault, if that's what you're driving at.” He exited the highway and turned left at the end of the ramp. “Yeah, that's the timing, but the situation is more complicated than just a mistake. Updated plans are always put in flat files and permit boxes, and I think the project manager didn't get them in those places when he should have. He initialed—signed off on—my set of older plans, and now he's denying he did. Maybe he's forgotten. Whatever is going on, since I've misplaced my set, I have no proof.”

“Isn't there always proof of some kind, a trail of e-mails or texts?”

“Normally there would be, but I was working odd hours and not asking questions via text or e-mail. I had one conversation with Sanders, the project manager, right before heading out to Summer Grove.”

“The busyness and stress of that time for you is just more proof to me that we were on that Thunderhawk roller coaster together.” Ariana sighed.

“It was worth it, Ari.” Quill shifted.

“I appreciate that's how you feel, but what's hard for me to get my head around is that your cool, calm demeanor has convinced me more than once that my turmoil didn't rattle you at all.”

“Anyway”—he held one palm up as if losing his patience—“changing the subject to something more useful than feelings—”

“You don't mind us talking about feelings. But I'm starting to realize you don't like it when we talk about
your
feelings.”

“If you don't stop”—Quill pointed a finger at her—“I'm going to turn this buggy around and take you back home.”

Ariana burst into laughter. His Mamm had said that to them once when Quill, her brother, and Ariana were cutting up and out of control while she was taking them to town. It had caused the two boys to become rowdier, and Ariana had laughed harder, unintentionally egging them on.

“What buggy?” Ariana ran her hands across the dash.

Quill grinned, looking as if he was truly glad to be away from the job site.

“You know,” Cameron piped up, “this is more entertaining than TMZ.”

Quill gave a quizzical look to Ariana.

“It's a show about celebrity gossip.” She pinned a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So where does the wiring mistake leave things?”

He turned into a parking lot. “The extra work hassle is an inconvenient setback. But Schlabach Home Builders will deal with it.” He found an empty space and parked the car. “You ready?”

“I am.”

Cameron opened her door. “I haven't been to one of these things since a fourth-grade field trip.”

The yellow-brick building was square, but a large dome stuck up in the center of it. They entered a lobby with huge, beautiful images hanging like pictures on the walls. Ariana was drawn to the one closest to her and read the caption: “The Galaxy Earth Is In—The Milky Way.”

The spiral beauty of stars and planets spread out toward the darkness like rays of light from the sun. “It's gorgeous,” she whispered, but when she looked up, neither Quill nor Cameron was with her.

Quill was at a counter, purchasing tickets. Cameron was going into a bathroom.

Her heart fluttering like hummingbird wings, Ariana went to the next image. The caption read “Hubble's Deepest View of the Universe Unveils Never-Before-Seen Galaxies.” The caption of the next image was “Mixed Galaxies.” Then she looked at “White Dwarf Stars in the Milky Way.” The caption didn't do justice to the beauty she saw. A plaque on the wall explained that cameras on the Hubble Space Telescope took all the images. One picture showed numerous galaxies inside the universe, and the Milky Way was simply one of them.

Quill came up beside her. “Blows the mind, doesn't it?”

“Ya.” She tapped her chest. “And maybe the heart too. They estimate there are a hundred to two hundred billion galaxies in the universe and hundreds of billions of stars.”

Cameron joined them. “Can we go in now?”

“We should. The show begins in just a few minutes.” Quill pointed down the hallway.

They entered a quiet, dimly lit round room. When Ariana sat, the seat leaned back, and she found herself staring into a dome, a view of the night sky across it. Chills ran over her skin, and excitement pumped in her heart. What was she about to view?

Quill and Cameron sat on either side of her. Ariana couldn't close her eyes for fear she'd miss something, and the program hadn't even begun. With her eyes open and her lips closed, she prayed, asking God to show her more of His true self. A thought came to her, and she leaned in closer to Quill. “Don't ask me why this came to mind, but are there any security cameras near the flat files or the permit box?”

Quill's eyes lit up. “That's brilliant!” He got out his phone. “Why didn't I think of it? I'll text Dan to look into it. He knows way more department heads to contact than I do, and someone in the know will volunteer to help because Dan's a likable guy.”

She giggled. “You're not?”

He hit Send. “Warm and friendly? No.” He turned off his phone and slid it into his pocket.

Quill wasn't much of a people person, not like Rudy and apparently not like Dan, but inside his quiet, restrained ways, he held tightly to his ethics in dealing with everyone God put in his path.

As one of those people, she was grateful. Thoughts of Frieda returned to her, and Ariana realized her text had been too sterile, simply saying “hello” and “I'd like to communicate with you.” Maybe the stiffness of the message was the reason she hadn't heard back. What if she told Frieda that she loved her and that even though she didn't know why Frieda had left, she was grateful she was brave enough to do what she needed to? Maybe she should be peppy in her texts and send some pictures. Maybe tell her some of what was going on with her.

Ariana pulled out her cell phone and held it toward Quill. “Do you trust me?”

His blue eyes moved from the phone to her. “I do.”

“Then you should give me Frieda's phone number.”

He drew a breath and eased the phone from her, apparently willing to cross his confidentiality boundary for her. He pressed the touchscreen numerous times.

“And Dan's number in case I can't reach you.”

He nodded and entered the information.

“And your checking and savings account numbers and their PINs.”

He chuckled and returned the phone to her. “Funny.”

“I thought so.” She started to text Frieda right then, but the music began.

She tucked her phone back into her purse. The dim lights became even softer as planets appeared on the dome. Her heart rate went crazy. How had she been so narrow in her view of God that she'd never imagined Him as the amazing creator of such a beautiful, vast universe?

A
cold rain fell from dreary skies as Abram drove the final nails into the tin roof of the small, well-ventilated woodshed that would house the new generator. The generator Skylar assured them they needed. It had to have a roof over it, but it couldn't be installed in the café building due to exhaust fumes and safety hazards. He'd begun the project days ago when the weather was dry and had worked mostly after the café closed.

A horse and carriage turned from the side road onto the path between the back of the café and the small pasture where the workers' horses were kept. His pulse quickened in anticipation of seeing Cilla, and he climbed down. After the incident last Saturday, she had been out sick for three days. Despite the buzz he felt over her return, his movements dragged. Fatigue had been his only saving grace. It dulled his emotions and numbed him to a degree. He'd felt this way since he'd learned that Ariana wasn't his twin. Skylar's presence had made it worse, and something was really up with her this week. But most of all, he'd been worried about Cilla since he'd witnessed how frail she was.

When the rig came to a halt, Abram realized Cilla wasn't driving it. He went to the passenger's side and opened the door. “Where's Cilla?”

Barbie passed him a closed umbrella and stepped out. “Hey, Abram. She couldn't come today.”

“Is she all right?” He opened the umbrella and held it over her.

“I think so.” Barbie unbuckled a latch. “She isn't doing as well as she'd hoped, mostly because she's an optimist, and she thought she'd be on her feet within a couple of days. After Saturday's bout I didn't think she would be up to coming to the café at all this week.”

“Why are you removing the rigging?”

“I'm here in her stead. She couldn't stand one more day of the café not having enough help.”

“No. We're good.” He passed her the umbrella and relatched the buckle she'd undone.

Barbie grabbed the buckle. “Aren't you extremely busy and short-handed?”

“Ya, but we'll be fine. It's our problem. Not yours.”

She unbuckled it again, using one hand. “I know I'm not your favorite person, but Cilla was so upset about not being able to come that I gave her my word I'd fill in for her. She needs rest, and she's not getting enough for fretting over not being here. So I gave her the answer she needed.”

Abram sighed and began removing the rigging from the horse. “Siblings.”

“Ain't it the truth? Mamm had to argue with her again this morning, but her oxygen levels were just too low.”

“Tell her she should always stay home when she's not feeling well.”

“She likes working at the café.”

“Ya, apparently she likes it enough to work without pay.”

Barbie laughed, but Abram hadn't meant it as a joke. “She speaks fondly of you.”

He didn't know what Barbie was getting at. Was she as surprised as Skylar that someone was interested in him? Skylar had clearly been surprised that Jackson talked to him as if he mattered. That was the kind of thing Ariana never doubted, even when he'd been more backward and withdrawn. Ariana had spent all last summer trying to help him think of ways to talk to Barbie, but now he just wanted her to be quiet.

He opened the back door to the café. “You looking forward to working seven hours for no pay?”

“I'm working to make Cilla be quiet and give me a break.” Barbie's smile and raised eyebrow made it clear she was teasing. “That's far more valuable than money.” She closed the umbrella.

When they walked inside, Abram saw the largest morning crowd yet. He'd been so busy working on the woodshed that he hadn't realized what was happening in here. And Barbie had arrived an hour late.

The front of Skylar's white shirt was covered with a brown stain. Foamy milk was spattered on and dripping from the countertop. Apparently her plan to add a frothy milk espresso to today's menu, using a battery-powered frothing wand, wasn't going as planned. She caught his eye and gestured, waving her hands in desperation.

“Right.” He hung his hat on a peg. “Skylar, this is Barbie, Cilla's sister.” He removed his coat and held out his hand to take her coat. “Barbie, you help Skylar. She won't hesitate to let you know what you need to do. I'm going to relieve Susie from running both grills.” As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Martha was juggling multiple cooking jobs too. Abram washed his hands, put on a clean apron, and grabbed a spatula.

“Before you man the grill, get some bread on the tables.” Martha dumped a pan of biscuits into a huge basket. “If people have something to nibble on until their orders are ready, they'll be happier with us.” Abram quickly filled four plates with biscuits, buttered toast, and jellies.

As he set them on the pick-up counter, Jackson grabbed them up. “What are you doing here, Jackson?”

He had that big, unfaltering grin in place. “Since it's raining, there's no roofing today. What happened was Skylar. I walked in, and she said that since I was your friend and you were busy trying to get the generator working, I needed to help.”

“Jackson,” Skylar scolded, “if you're going to lie, at least do the job you're lying about and be helpful.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Jackson hurried off with the four plates balanced in his arms.

“Thank you,” Abram hollered.

“You're welcome,” Jackson answered. He whispered something as he passed Skylar, and she smiled before glancing out the window. Over the last few days, she'd grown more interested by the hour in taking quick looks out the front window. Was she expecting someone? If so, apparently the person hadn't come yet, because each day she grew antsier.

Jackson made an about-face and told Skylar, “We'll need six warmups on table five fairly soon, please.”

“Thanks.” Skylar gave a thumbs-up and began brewing another pot of coffee. What would Jackson think when he learned that Skylar was Abram's twin? It wasn't something he or Skylar talked about with anyone, as if not discussing it kept it from being real. She hated it here, and he felt certain that Ariana was no happier inside Skylar's old life.

Martha set more plates of breakfast food on the pick-up counter. “You go cook and fill orders, please.”

“Oh yeah.” Abram went to the grill and started filling orders. While focusing on cooking eggs and breakfast meats to order, he kept thinking about Cilla. There had to be better answers, maybe beginning with a better doctor.

The breakfast rush lasted more than an hour. When no more fresh orders came in, Abram grabbed a tub for dirty dishes and a clean rag and left the kitchen.

Barbie grasped three tumblers in her fingers while also picking up dirty plates.

“What has Cilla's doctor said about her condition?” Abram asked quietly as he held out the tub to her.

Barbie laid the cups and plates in the bin. “Same as he usually says.”

“What does he usually say?” Abram set the tub on a table and gathered some dirty flatware.

“To do the breathing treatments and stay in bed when her oxygen levels are low and that the symptoms will come and go.” Barbie sprayed the table with a cleaning solution.

“That's it?” Abram wiped the table with a clean rag.

“Basically.” Barbie gathered more dirty dishes from another table.

Abram followed with the tub in hand. “What does ‘basically' mean?”

She slid the items in with the others. “The doctor doesn't say much, and that's what I've gleaned.”

The thought of an apathetic doctor treating Cilla worried Abram. “Are you sure he is a good doctor?”

“He's a doctor.”

“Right, but there are good doctors and bad doctors, just like there are good and bad carpenters and farmers.”

Barbie stopped cleaning and faced Abram. “He's what we can afford. Most doctors charge more if you don't have insurance, but this one doesn't. Mamm doesn't know another doctor who's willing to accept what we can pay.”

The Amish community wasn't rich with doctors. It got the ones who were willing to accept what payment they could get. And the Amish didn't rely heavily on doctors, so they didn't know much about how to find a truly good one. Some of the older Amish would say that if God willed people to be well, then they would get well, doctor or no doctor. Most Amish had evolved from that line of thinking, but collectively they still had limited knowledge about doctors.

“Cilla hasn't shown any improvement with the help of the doctor?”

“She has good days and bad. She's always been this way. The doctor said that's the way it is with cystic fibrosis.”

He knew the disease was rough and became progressively worse over time, but it was becoming clear that Barbie didn't question Cilla's doctor. So did their parents question him?

Could Cilla do better under the care of a different doctor? Abram didn't know enough to answer that question, but it seemed like an important one to ask.

With all the dirty dishes gathered, Abram started for the kitchen. The café door opened, and Jackson walked in, carrying a grocery bag. “I thought you were gone for the day,” Abram said.

“I ran an errand for Susie.”

Susie came out of the kitchen and stopped near the pass-through, motioning for them to join her.

“Thank you so much, Jackson.” She took the bag from him. “We were completely out of eggs and bread. On the upside, Skylar was definitely right about serving better coffee and changing the menu to match our limited baking skills.”

“Yeah.” Skylar came out from behind the register. “It was a brilliant plan. I increased my work load in a job I'd rather not do.”

Jackson chuckled. “I like it when people are brutally honest.”

“I'm brutally honest
and
lazy,” Skylar added. “It's a winning combination.”

Susie shifted the brown bag in her arms. “This is a good gathering spot. We can see when the customers need refills or if anyone comes in, and we can talk without being heard. I'd like to know what's going on with Cilla.”

“Barbie and I were just talking about that.” Abram took the groceries from Susie and set them on the counter. He looked at Jackson. “Do you know how to find a good doctor, a specialist?”

“Not really. I think most people rely on word of mouth or, these days, look them up on the Internet.”

“Oh.” That wasn't a solution for Abram.

Jackson pointed at Skylar. “I bet she could help you look up some doctors.”

Skylar raised her brows. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Jax.”

“Good to know, but I was actually thinking you're probably more detail oriented. According to Susie, you knew how to scour information from a supply catalog and knew exactly what this place needed to give it a boost. You searched for the details that make a difference, ones I wouldn't have noticed. Now Brennemans' Perks has the right food, the right equipment, and the right coffees that people make a racket for. If you could do that with a catalog, imagine what you could do on the Internet.”

“He's right, Skylar. Would you do it?” Abram asked.

She glanced out the window before looking at Barbie. A hint of compassion flickered in Skylar's eyes. “Sure, but how? I don't have access to a computer or a cell phone.”

“I have a computer,” Jackson said, “and a jetpack that will give an Internet connection. But I don't have them with me.”

“Sounds good.” Abram nodded. “We can't have those in the house, but both would be allowed in here since it's a business.”

“I can get them and be back around closing time. I doubt it would take more than an hour, maybe two, to find what you're looking for.”

“Perfect plan.” Abram didn't know why Jackson was always so good to him, and now he was including Cilla, Susie, and the café. But whatever the reason, Abram was incredibly grateful.