For Sure and Certain Read online

  For Sure and Certain

  Anya Monroe

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Cover Design: Christa Holland at Paper and Sage

  Copyright @2017 by Anya Monroe

  All rights reserved

  This edition published by arrangement with

  The Lovely Messy

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, either living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For Jeremy Ryan,

  who told me to find a dream and chase it.

  Be life long or short, its completeness

  depends on what was lived for.

  -Amish Proverb

  Chapter 1

  Abel

  The part that feels the hardest usually is. It was no different for Abel that warm July morning as he threw a hard suitcase in the back of the taxi at his parents’ homestead. Holding his suspenders by his thumbs, he stood looking at the porch filled with his family, save for Dad, who wouldn’t leave the barn.

  Not for him. Not now. His older brother Eli stood with his wife Sarah, her blue dress hanging over her growing belly. His first nephew would be born while he was gone.

  “Don’t worry about us none, we’ll be fine, brother, until you return.” Eli clapped Abel’s back, the only member of his family willing to walk down the whitewashed steps of the wide porch to offer a proper good-bye.

  Abel couldn’t meet his brother’s eye, for his heart twisted with the truth he couldn’t admit to them, returning here seemed so far away. In his heart, he was already at the brick buildings, the research labs, and the library of Jamestown University.

  His mind had left his community years ago, when his desire to learn was brushed aside by his family and the elders of the community. They wanted his education to end, like all the children around him, at grade eight, so he could focus on working the earth and raising barns.

  But Abel was never like the boys he ran around with. They got caught up in bundling with girls, in drinking, or smoking. Abel was different. It was never about an education for him, either. It was about discovering the world, seeking answers to the things the elders said were unanswerable. It was about wanting more.

  Abel wanted answers and evidence. He wanted to see the unseen. For some reason it was easier for the bishop to permit everyone on their Rumspringa to get wasted than it was to imagine Abel wanting to go to college.

  “I’ll be back to visit.”

  “Don’t stay away too long, Esther is waiting for you.” Eli’s voice echoed the concern his dad had the day before while he made his final plea for Abel to stay. His family didn’t understand him, they never had.

  “She won’t be waiting long.” Abel tipped his wide-brimmed hat to his brother, not saying any more. He offered a wave to the family gathered on the porch, but his sister Bekah, just two years younger than him, refused to return it. His littlest sister, Ruthie, ran down for one last hug, and his mother turned away, holding her youngest babe in her arms, not meeting her son’s eyes.

  He knew it wasn’t because she was angry. She’d supported him throughout this decision by helping convince his father that this was the unconventional Rumspringa Abel needed, that they weren’t all the same on the inside. Now, on the porch, she turned her back to shield her tears, and the knowledge of that caused Abel to blink away his own. Leaving, though he wanted to, was hard. This was the only life he knew.

  Abel drew in a breath, knowing his choice disappointed everyone around him, but that it didn’t matter, not really. He had to take this opportunity while it was here. Though the bishop condoned this summer program, it was only because everyone believed Abel would return at summer’s end. Once baptized, he’d finally settle down with an Amish girl like Esther and take over the family farm.

  The taxi driver shut the door, and Abel flinched, the sound so final, so hard. So different than his buggy now stored away in the garage.

  “You ready, then?” the driver asked. “The bus stop I’m taking you to is about twenty minutes away.”

  “Just one more stop,” Abel said, sure of himself. Sure that once his family got word of what he was about to do, they’d never understand. But that was nothing new.

  Esther stood at her fruit stand, the green baskets of strawberries filled to the brim, just like her. Her cheeks flush from the afternoon sun, her heavy dress and apron holding heat.

  “Abel?” Her eyes crinkled at the sight of him. “Didn’t expect to see you again until this fall.”

  After asking the driver to wait on the side of the road, Abel twisted the brim of his straw hat. Walking closer, he swallowed the words he knew he needed to say, even if they were words she wouldn’t want to hear.

  “Hot day, isn’t it?”

  “Did you really come here to talk about the weather?” she asked.

  “Don’t suppose I did.”

  “Well then, what is it? We said our good-byes. The taxi tells me you still plan on going.”

  “I do, that hasn’t changed.”

  “Then what has?”

  Abel rubbed his hand against his cheek, looking at the girl who had rode in his enclosed buggy at twilight, the girl whose lips he’d kissed, the girl who believed in the idea of forever. “The thing is, Esther, this can’t go on. I don’t want you to wait for me.”

  Her brown eyes blinked fast, her hands flying to his. “You’ll come back. This doesn’t need to be the end.”

  “I want it to be, though.”

  Her hands retreated from his, not because a buggy might pass and see, but because self-preservation is a universal coping mechanism. One Abel practiced more often than he liked.

  He never intended on hurting her, and he knew she’d be angry, but it would pass. In time she’d see what he already had. They weren’t a good match. She deserved a different sort of guy.

  Her eyes met his, and she spoke in a quiet manner much like his sisters, but her words were simple and more sincere than he’d expected.

  “Why not me?”

  “Because you deserve someone who doesn’t want to leave. You need a partner who believes this life is enough. I can’t make those promises.”

  They stood in silence, the words hanging between them, words he couldn’t take back even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Esther was not the right girl for him, and he believed she knew that as well as he did. It was just hard to admit the truth, most times it’s easier to stay the same.

  Esther breathed out a sigh, one Abel hoped was filled with relief. She was now free to find someone better suited for her disposition.

  “I’m not mad at you, truly. I think I always knew this would happen.”

  “I’m sorry to lead you on, the fault is mine.”

  “There is no fault, it’s just not meant to be. I want a man who will fight for me.”

  Abel took her hands again, kissing the tops gently. Esther was too good for him, always had been.

  “Can I ask you something?” Her head cocked to the
side, her kapp strings blowing in the gentle wind. “Are you running away?”

  Abel smiled softly, letting go of her hands, his eyes on the dusty road ahead.

  “No, I just want to find out where I belong.”

  Marigold

  Lavender ribbons were woven in her braids that formed a crown on her head, and wisps of blond hair fell to her waist. She slipped a long, white lace dress over her narrow shoulders. It draped to the floor where her brown leather sandals were tied to her feet. An elfish girl, she was small and wide-eyed, with ears she condemned for being too large.

  She didn’t look in the mirror, didn’t press gloss to her lips or dab color to her cheeks. Once dressed, she merely forgot the fact that a slip would make the ensemble more presentable. Her mind was on other things, mainly the fact that this evening was going to be torturous.

  “It’s time to go. Now!”

  Marigold lifted her head as her mother, Eileen, shouted from the foyer. For a moment she wondered if there was a way to get out of going to her father’s book launch. But then her sister, Lily, hollered about being late, and Marigold knew she needed to be the girl they wanted her to be. Show up, smile, and pretend she fit in. What she really wanted to do was stay home and finish the shawl she’d begun this afternoon.

  She’d added small bells along the edge, so when wearing it, she’d never get lost. The tinkling would remind her she was right where she needed to be. Blinking her eyes, she grabbed an antique beaded handbag and slipped out her bedroom and drifted down the stairs.

  “Seriously, Goldie, time is of the essence,” urged Cedar at the sight of her. Though only three years older, her brother was famed to be infinitely wiser with his nearly complete philosophy degree. He wore a three-piece suit and polished shoes, apparently attempting the lawyer-in-training look for evening wear. He wore it well.

  Marigold walked toward the foyer at an even, unhurried pace. Everyone else in her family moved differently than she did. Her dad, mom, brother, and sister all lived life under the pretense that time was running out, that there was never enough.

  Marigold practiced to avoid that sort of anxiety, and this evening she showed her affinity towards a slower pace by leaning over and smelling the yellow roses dripping from a vase in the center of the hall.

  She wasn’t aloof, exactly, although that was the constant accusation from her parents. Well that, and that she was selfish. Inconsiderate. Ungrateful. But that wasn’t it. No matter how hard she tried to impress upon them that she had changed, they didn’t believe her. Rather than argue, she chose to intentionally remove herself from the people who didn’t understand her motives.

  “Are you kidding me with that?” Lily squeaked. “She looks ridiculous. Mom, make her change.” Lily pointed aggressively at her older sister’s ensemble. “She looks like a ghost or basically, a freak. I mean, this is so typical. Somehow it’s always about her.”

  Lily was the opposite of Marigold in terms of attire. She wore a knee-length skirt and a blazer, basically a modified school uniform. Still, there was no mistaking this trio for siblings. They were all small and light, and no matter how severely Lily pulled back her hair, or smoothly Cedar slicked his, they all had the same upturned nose and bright eyes.

  “We don’t have time for a costume change, though we all know that is what this is.” Eileen pointed at the lace dress hanging to the floor, always in agreement with Lily. “We absolutely cannot be late.”

  Marigold noticed the argument around her, about her, but she intentionally decided not to engage with their appraisal. Instead, she met her brother’s eyes, knowing that although he was typically disappointed in her life choices, he didn’t boss her around. Cedar was her sole ally in this household, and even that was a stretch.

  “Are we off, then?” Marigold asked as Cedar opened the door for them.

  “The car has been waiting for thirteen minutes, Goldie. Next time, some more consideration?” Cedar’s words would have been cold to anyone else, but Marigold accepted them as the kindest she was likely to garner this evening. She had not been looking forward to this night.

  Lily spun around to her sister with a smirk. “Sure you don’t want to grab your GoPro before we leave? This would be the perfect night to make a fool of yourself.”

  Marigold didn’t answer, but the heat rose in her cheeks as she was determined not to engage. It had been eight months since she toted the stupid video camera around, but it still seemed to catch every blush, every awkward moment, and every embarrassing comment that was made about her incriminating past.

  By the time the car rolled up to the University less than ten minutes later, her family had already moved on to discussing the guests who would be in attendance this evening. Everything was about “networking” for them, a word Marigold loathed. It embodied everything that sucked marrow from her bones; it represented the girl she used to be.

  “Why, exactly, didn’t Dad come with us?” The driver opened the door for them and Marigold stepped out in front of an immense brick building on the Jamestown University campus.

  “Have you not listened to anything?” Her mother glared at her as she exited the car. “He had a dinner with his publisher, he’s meeting us here. And please, stop frowning.”

  Marigold didn’t snap back at her mom like Lily would have, not that Lily was ever in her mother’s ill graces. Instead, Marigold revealed her matching dimples with a small, mother-approved, smile, hiding her teeth, not willing to give any more of herself than absolutely necessary.

  “Better. Though in that dress you look like you belong at Woodstock. Your father will be….” Her mom’s words trailed off, because they both knew her father wouldn’t even look at her. He refused to waste effort on lost causes, which, apparently, at the tender age of eighteen, Marigold was.

  And she was right, her father didn’t give her more than a kiss on the cheek. Her expectations were in check though; she learned that was the best way to not go to bed at night filled with disappointment.

  While they mingled among the nearly two hundred guests in attendance, Marigold had a pleasant look pasted on her face, not wanting anyone to have the satisfaction of knowing how out of place she felt, now and always.

  No matter how clearly she explained herself, they didn’t buy it. They assumed she must have a hidden agenda, she always had.

  “Marigold, how lovely to see you, you’ve had quite a year. At least that’s what my grandson says.” The professor she vaguely remembered as her mother’s friend smiled condescendingly, not knowing the entirety of the situation. Or actually, she probably did. “So I hear Marymount Prep’s graduation is next week, right?”

  Marigold tried to avoid answering for a moment by popping a canapé in her mouth.

  Eventually, though, she had to swallow.

  “I graduated a term early.” She wasn’t embarrassed about how everything had gone down, not exactly. But she was weary of the trail of crumbs her decisions had left for everyone. People liked to pick up the pieces of her misery.

  “But you are going to walk, with everyone else, right?”

  “No, I’m not, actually.” Marigold offered a tight smile but no other explanation. She wasn’t quite interested in getting into the dynamics of high school with a woman she didn’t know.

  After an awkward pause the woman cocked her head to the side then turned to her mother. “Eileen, she isn’t walking? Where is she going in the fall?”

  The question was asked as if Marigold was incapable of answering for herself. With a resigned sigh, Marigold thought perhaps she was.

  Mom swept in along with Lily, who preened herself for this sort of gossip, to answer the questions at hand. Unnoticed, the lace-gowned girl slipped away. She didn’t need to stand around listening to her mother speak in hushed tones about her lack of direction, about how she had been accepted here at Jamestown, but she hadn’t sent back her paperwork, how she better figure it out soon or who knows what they might have to do.

  Which was the strangest
threat to Marigold – what exactly would they do?

  As she walked out of the hall, a summer breeze swept through her dress, and she looked down. The dress was much sheerer than she had realized, her bra and panties quite noticeable. For a self-conscious moment she crossed her arms, wondering why her mother or sister hadn’t gently pointed this out to her. She hadn’t meant to be so exposed, but they probably thought it was intentional. They believed her to be much more calculating than she actually was.

  A round of applause caused her to crane her neck toward the hall she’d just left, the echoes of her father giving a speech reverberating off the walls. His voice strong and sure, like the words he wrote. Rough and full of judgment, but somehow the people here at Jamestown thought him wise and smart and all of the things that made Marigold roll her eyes.

  What use was intelligence when you had no ability to accept people who weren’t just like you? Marigold craved a soothing voice, gentle enough to let her in, and she was wise enough to know she wouldn’t find it with her father. He touted stories about ethics in business and being the best, but Marigold just wanted to be herself.

  She walked away, down the dimly lit path of JU, paths she knew like the back of her hand. She learned to walk on this campus, sat outside her mother’s office practicing her letters, slowly learning her times table’s at a big wooden desk in the library.

  At one time it had been her second home, but lately it betrayed her. It became another constricting, suffocating box, filled with expectation. Just like her prep school, like her family. Like the friends that texted but no longer knew what to say.