For Sure & Certain by Anya Monroe Page B

was a bus full of people, because the additional set of eyes forced him to lean away from the girl next to him. He knew he needed to explain a few things before they arrived at home. Most importantly the fact that there would be zero touching allowed once they got to Lancaster County.
     
     
    Marigold
                 
                   They passed another horse and buggy, big black wheels with a small carriage perched on top. Abel rested with his eyes closed, their knees touching just barely, just enough to keep Marigold’s heart fluttering.
    His chest rose and fell steadily, completely calm even though they were nearly to his parents’ home, she knew because she’d Google mapped it after her mother required an address to where she was off to all weekend. When Eileen asked questions, Marigold didn’t have answers for, Lily shocked them all and stepped in to vouch for Abel’s character.
    Now, so close to their destination, she was freaking out. And she wasn’t a freak-outer by nature. Her hands were sweaty, and she rubbed them together, only making it worse.
    “Abel, do I look alright?” she asked, biting her lip.
    “You look great,” he beamed. She nodded her head, wanting to believe him, and smoothed the skirt of her soft purple pinafore. It was her favorite smock, with hand-embroidered pink flowers trailing the bodice and large pockets at the side. Underneath it she wore a pale pink calf-length dress, with three layers of soft ruffles at the hem, ones she’d added herself. She’d put light blue leggings underneath and wore black ballet flats, hoping her simple clothing choices wouldn’t stand out.
    He looked so pleased with her, unaware of the nuances mothers had for the girls their sons brought home. She could distinctly recall the conversations her own mom had after her brother Cedar brought a girlfriend home; she’d hold the phone to her ear talking to a friend, recounting all the minuscule flaws of such-and-such girl. It was a role she’d avoided thus far in life, yet here she was, showing up unannounced at the most conservative house she’d ever set foot in.
    She wished he’d be more direct, tell her how exactly to wear her hair or what not to say, but he gave only a few simple directives: don’t pull out your cellphone, and don’t speak at dinner unless invited too. He didn’t ask her to alter a thing about the way she dressed or spoke. He was the first person she’d ever known who didn’t want to change her.
    The house had a long sweeping driveway and a large red barn with several white outbuildings. The home itself was bigger than she expected, two stories with shuttered windows everywhere. Green grass rolled over the small hill leading up to the homestead and a well-maintained flower border edged the road leading to the house.
    “You’re house is really fancy,” she said accusingly.
    “Fancy?” he shook his head and laughed. “No, your house is fancy. I know the price of real estate in your neighborhood. And you have a cook, and a housekeeper and what else?”
    “A gardener.”
    “I bet you have a gardener too, no way does your mother and sisters do all of this upkeep.”
    “Ja, Dad does hire help, lots actually.”
    “So, you’re an aristocratic Amish family and didn’t tell me?” Marigold sighed as the driver pulled to a stop. “What other secrets should I know?”
    “Well, I suppose the last thing I should mention is no touching. Not while we’re here.”
    Marigold laughed, but she wasn’t surprised or concerned. She had no intention of being within five feet of Abel, already knowing this entire family would be scrutinizing her, the English girl who stole their golden boy.
     
    The taxi left, leaving the pair on the gravel driveway. A small child stood, bare feet and bonneted, squinting her face in confusion.
    “Who is she, Abel?” the girl asked.
    “This is Marigold, a friend of mine.” Abel walked to her and swung her in the air. “How was my