lesbian?”
“No, the meth addict that works in the laundry room,” Thessaly replies flatly. “Sorry for the tangent – finish the story.”
“Fine,” Levi agrees with a sigh. “When she was sixteen, a group of Amish friends accidentally left her behind at a dive bar. That was also the night she met my dad, a drummer for an eighties psychedelic rock band. After crashing with my dad in a trailer for a month, she returned to her parent’s farm, pregnant and scared, and needing their help. A meeting was called with the elders, and without much consideration for the health of my mom, she was shunned. My grandparents gave her a few hundred bucks, a Bible, and then sent on her way.”
“Amazing. I never realized the culture was so hard on teens.”
“Right? Well, my dad was only eighteen at the time and completely broke, so he quit the band and got a crappy job in a small town outside of Lancaster. They rented a one-bedroom cottage on the property of a hundred acre farm.”
“I can see where this is going,” Thessaly says with a smile.
“Are you picturing me in suspenders and a big hat?”
“Tossing the hay around with a pitchfork.”
“You’d enjoy me tossin’ the hay, wouldn’t you?” Levi taps his forehead against Thessaly’s head and continues. “So the old couple on the farm didn’t have any kids, and they just loved my parents. Reba and Chester, I think were their names.”
“Great names.”
“Speaking of names . . . usually the first-born Amish child takes the name of an elder, but Mom still had that streak of rebellion running through her veins. So on a stormy spring night, Dandelion Moon Jones was born.”
“But you got the name of the elder.”
“Yep, Levi is my grandfather.”
“So what made her use an Amish custom with you?”
“A few months before I was born, my parents finally tied the knot. As a wedding gift, Reba and Chester gave the farm to the Jones family on the condition that it never be sold to Hershey.” Levi scratches his chin and stares at the dark clouds in the sky. “I think they moved to Arizona or something because I remember their Christmas cards with Santa and a cactus.” Shrugging his shoulders, Levi continues. “Believing it was a sign in the decency of humanity, Mom and Dad vowed to give that tired farm a new life while helping the people of the community. They even opened their doors to Amish runaways, teaching them how to incorporate the farm life in a modern world.”
“Did you have a lot of runaways over the years?”
“Dozens. Mostly young men with beards and very little personality – except Hannah.” Levi waggles his brows and smiles devilishly.
“Naughty boy. So you lived on a farm just like me, and yet here we sit on a plastic couch on the tip of Manhattan.”
“Not as long as you, though. We moved to Harrisburg when I was in high school. Dad got a job as an agriculture consultant for the state, and Mom finally fulfilled her dream of owning a small bakery. Looking at my parents now, you would never know that they led former lives as a drummer and an Amish girl.”
“And what happened to the farm?”
“Dani and her family live there now. They converted the main estate into a bed and breakfast.”
“Nice,” Thessaly adds dreamily, staring into Levi’s dark blue eyes.
“They did a great job – my old bedroom now has a fireplace where I once plastered Hilary Duff posters. We should go sometime.”
As the thunder booms and a mist leaves the outdoor living room covered in condensation, several couples and groups of friends begin to leave the Seaport. But not Thessaly and Levi, they inch closer to one another, engrossed in their conversation.
“I’d love to go.” Thessaly places her head on Levi’s shoulder and asks, “So how did you end up in Brooklyn?”
Levi grins, his teeth blindingly white but his lips slightly tinted orange from the shaved ice. “You first. How did a tomboy from Asheville end up in New York –
“No, the meth addict that works in the laundry room,” Thessaly replies flatly. “Sorry for the tangent – finish the story.”
“Fine,” Levi agrees with a sigh. “When she was sixteen, a group of Amish friends accidentally left her behind at a dive bar. That was also the night she met my dad, a drummer for an eighties psychedelic rock band. After crashing with my dad in a trailer for a month, she returned to her parent’s farm, pregnant and scared, and needing their help. A meeting was called with the elders, and without much consideration for the health of my mom, she was shunned. My grandparents gave her a few hundred bucks, a Bible, and then sent on her way.”
“Amazing. I never realized the culture was so hard on teens.”
“Right? Well, my dad was only eighteen at the time and completely broke, so he quit the band and got a crappy job in a small town outside of Lancaster. They rented a one-bedroom cottage on the property of a hundred acre farm.”
“I can see where this is going,” Thessaly says with a smile.
“Are you picturing me in suspenders and a big hat?”
“Tossing the hay around with a pitchfork.”
“You’d enjoy me tossin’ the hay, wouldn’t you?” Levi taps his forehead against Thessaly’s head and continues. “So the old couple on the farm didn’t have any kids, and they just loved my parents. Reba and Chester, I think were their names.”
“Great names.”
“Speaking of names . . . usually the first-born Amish child takes the name of an elder, but Mom still had that streak of rebellion running through her veins. So on a stormy spring night, Dandelion Moon Jones was born.”
“But you got the name of the elder.”
“Yep, Levi is my grandfather.”
“So what made her use an Amish custom with you?”
“A few months before I was born, my parents finally tied the knot. As a wedding gift, Reba and Chester gave the farm to the Jones family on the condition that it never be sold to Hershey.” Levi scratches his chin and stares at the dark clouds in the sky. “I think they moved to Arizona or something because I remember their Christmas cards with Santa and a cactus.” Shrugging his shoulders, Levi continues. “Believing it was a sign in the decency of humanity, Mom and Dad vowed to give that tired farm a new life while helping the people of the community. They even opened their doors to Amish runaways, teaching them how to incorporate the farm life in a modern world.”
“Did you have a lot of runaways over the years?”
“Dozens. Mostly young men with beards and very little personality – except Hannah.” Levi waggles his brows and smiles devilishly.
“Naughty boy. So you lived on a farm just like me, and yet here we sit on a plastic couch on the tip of Manhattan.”
“Not as long as you, though. We moved to Harrisburg when I was in high school. Dad got a job as an agriculture consultant for the state, and Mom finally fulfilled her dream of owning a small bakery. Looking at my parents now, you would never know that they led former lives as a drummer and an Amish girl.”
“And what happened to the farm?”
“Dani and her family live there now. They converted the main estate into a bed and breakfast.”
“Nice,” Thessaly adds dreamily, staring into Levi’s dark blue eyes.
“They did a great job – my old bedroom now has a fireplace where I once plastered Hilary Duff posters. We should go sometime.”
As the thunder booms and a mist leaves the outdoor living room covered in condensation, several couples and groups of friends begin to leave the Seaport. But not Thessaly and Levi, they inch closer to one another, engrossed in their conversation.
“I’d love to go.” Thessaly places her head on Levi’s shoulder and asks, “So how did you end up in Brooklyn?”
Levi grins, his teeth blindingly white but his lips slightly tinted orange from the shaved ice. “You first. How did a tomboy from Asheville end up in New York –
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