A Marriage of the Heart (26 page)

Abigail’s stomach rumbled and she bowed her head over the plate before beginning to eat with pleasure.

“
Ya
, a good man who deserves his own start in life. He’s—much too kind to feel he’s dishonoring my father by not going to the farm to live. But if we stayed here, he’d have so much more opportunity for independence.”

Mrs. Knepp seated herself opposite with a cup of coffee in her hands. “Joseph’s had all the independence he could ever want. What he needs now is a good family.”

Abigail pursed her lips and wiped daintily at them with her cotton napkin. This wasn’t going the way she wanted.

“Children too,” Mrs. Knepp said in a casual tone. “They help give a man stability.”

Abigail choked on her eggs and flushed scarlet.

“Oh, I’m too forward, I suppose, having been married so long . . . but you’ll be more than a blessing to Joseph when you’re carrying his baby.”

There was a faint irony in the other woman’s tone, and Abigail thought that she was being got at.

“I suppose you’re right,” she remarked airily, recovering her composure. “I’d love to give him twins.”

“Now that would be a pleasant surprise,” Joseph murmured from behind her, and she jumped.

He leaned close and pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, and she almost slapped him away. She caught herself just in time.

Mrs. Knepp laughed with seeming approval. “Ah, perhaps it is young love.”

“Indeed,” Joseph agreed, moving to sit next to his wife at the table. But when Abigail met his eyes, she saw the mockery in their dark depths.

“Are you hungry, my love?
Kumme
, share my plate,” Abigail offered, pushing it between them and aiming an accurate sideways kick to his shin with one of her small, old-fashioned, hard-soled shoes.

He coughed.

“I do hope you’re not unwell,” she said with wifely concern.

“I’m fine. Just fine.” He was forking up the remainder of her eggs with a set jaw. “Have you packed your things?” he asked. “But then, you had so very little with you last night.”

Her pleasure melted away at his words, and she seethed in silence.

“This reminds me . . .” Mrs. Knepp rose. “I have a wedding gift for you.” She bustled out of the room despite protests from both of them.

“Are you going to be angry at me for a very long time?” Abigail asked in a whisper.

“Very.” He pushed the empty plate away.

“Well, fine. I will await your good grace; I have the gift of patience.” She lifted her small, prim nose.

“You’re going to need it.” He reached a hand up and began to massage the back of her neck just as Mrs. Knepp reentered the room with her arms full.

Abigail tensed at his touch, but he didn’t remove his hand. She struggled to concentrate on the beautiful quilt the older woman spread open before them.

“It’s a double wedding ring pattern,” she said with fond remembrance. “It was given to Seth and me from an Amish woman when we first started out, and I’d like it to be the first gift that you two receive as a married couple.”

Abigail felt addled, between the woman’s kindness and the warm hand at the nape of her neck. “It’s lovely,” she squeaked.

“More than that.” Joseph dropped his hand and rose to go around the table to embrace Mrs. Knepp, quilt and all. “It’s a gift of the heart, and we’ll cherish it. Won’t we, Abby?”

Abigail blinked at the nickname she hadn’t heard since childhood and nodded weakly. She felt sad for some reason. Her mother had called her Abby. To her father she was always the very formal Abigail. But here was her husband speaking to her with endearing words, though she knew he didn’t mean a syllable of it. Probably he thought that the shortened version of her name would irritate her. Well, she wouldn’t give him any satisfaction on that score.

She rose to help Mrs. Knepp fold the quilt and took it into her arms.
“Danki,”
she said and meant it.

Mrs. Knepp cleared her throat. “All will be well, you will both see.”

They thanked her again for breakfast, then Joseph held the door as Abigail passed by him, carrying the quilt outside. She dreaded going back to the little barn where she had so hoped to escape to a new home.

“Best to hurry on,” he said. “It will only take a few minutes to gather my things.”

Abigail sat down at the little table and watched him pick up the quilt and pillow from the floor.

He raised an eyebrow. “How did you sleep?”

“Not well . . . I was thinking.”

“I dread to imagine.” He pulled a satchel from a shelf and stuffed a few Amish clothes inside.

“Where are your
Englisch
clothes?” she asked.

“Burned them last night, before I went to sleep—or I guess before I was awakened.”

She nodded. Clearly Joseph was determined not to go back to his previous way of life. Well, that could change . . . even though she’d never found the courage within herself to leave the community.

“I’m ready,” he announced, and she noticed for the first time the dark stubble on his face.

“Aren’t you going to shave?”

He laughed. “I’m married, remember, little wife? It’s my wedding ring I wear on my face now, and you’ll just have to bear with the roughness on your tender skin until it grows in.”

She lifted her chin a notch. “I do not think that it will be an issue.”

“Oh no? Just wait until the details of our wedding get around . . . which should be happening right about now. We must present the loving couple to everyone, especially to your father. Although I know that Amish PDA is limited at times.”

“PDA?”

He gave her a mocking smile. “Public displays of affection. We’re not supposed to make out as obviously as the
Englisch
do, but Daddy is still going to expect to see something in the comfort of our own home.”

She flushed at his use of the expression
make out
; she knew it from her secretive
Englisch
magazine reading. But she also realized that he was right. Her father would expect a normal happy couple, or he’d have more than something to say.

“So don’t stiffen up like a schoolgirl every time I touch you.”

“What else do you expect me to do?”

He leaned over the table and put his face very close to hers.
He smelled clean, like fresh pine soap, and she couldn’t help but look into his eyes.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Just relax.” He leaned closer still and she half closed her eyes, her heart beating in expectation of his kiss.

He laughed and lifted his satchel. “See, you can do it. Just pretend I’m one of those beaus of yours, surrounding you at the tree.”

“Indeed,” she said in a haughty voice and rose with her arms still full of the quilt.

He slid the barn door open to the full light of day, and she blinked at the sudden brightness.

“Well, Mrs. Lambert, let’s go home.”

CHAPTER THREE

J
OSEPH TURNED HIS HORSE AND BUGGY OUT OF THE
K
NEPPS
’ driveway and started down the highway. He glanced sideways at Abigail. She still held the quilt, clinging to it like a child. He hardened his heart at the thought. Although he’d chosen his own fate to be entangled with hers, it would still probably benefit him to remember that she was no child, but a very stubborn, manipulative woman, who was also his wife. He half smiled at the thought. He’d never imagined himself married to an Amish woman. When he’d lived as an
Englischer
he’d had girlfriends aplenty, and one in particular who was going to regret his leaving the outside world behind. But even Molly, with her riotous red curls and charming freckles, hadn’t been enough to keep him from going home.

He glanced at Abigail’s heavy white-blonde knot of hair hidden beneath her
kapp
and the thick tilt of her lashes as she appeared to study the passing road beneath the horse’s hooves. She was indeed beautiful. But it was a beauty used as a device, and he told himself that it would be good to remember that as well. Still, he had to live with her somehow. He decided to try polite conversation.

“It’s a fair day,” he offered.

She nodded.

“The horse’s name is Carl. Can you drive?”

She glanced at him with a wry twist to her soft lips. “Of course. Can’t every Amish girl drive?”

They pulled into the Kauffmans’ lane a few minutes later, and
he noticed her chest heave with emotion against the outline of the quilt.

“Well, we’re home.”

“
Ya
.
My
home.”

He pulled up close to the farmhouse and reached a hand to find hers beneath the pile of quilt. “Our home.”

She pulled away. “You needn’t pretend now; there’s no one to see. Father will be in the fields.”

“I wasn’t pretending. It is our home—for life, as the Lord wills.”

She didn’t reply, and he jumped down to come around and hold his arms up to help her. She tossed him the folded quilt and leapt neatly down.

A
BIGAIL REFUSED TO GIVE IN TO THE TEARS THAT THREATENED
as she entered the familiar bleak kitchen. There was none of the warmth and order of Mrs. Knepp’s home here. Joseph Lambert had a rude awakening coming if he thought she kept house as well as other Amish women. She didn’t, or felt that she couldn’t, at any rate. No matter how many times she tried to cook or clean, things always ended up worse off somehow.

But Joseph merely glanced around and lifted his satchel. “Where’s our room? I’d better head out to the fields as soon as I can.”

She blushed at the thought of letting him into her tiny girl’s bedroom, but there was no choice. Father slept in the master bedroom, and the other bedrooms were not as well turned out as they might be. She led the way up a narrow staircase and entered the first door on the right. He followed her inside, and they both gazed at the narrow single bed, where her dress from yesterday’s picnic lay in careless abandon. The remainder of her clothes hung
in a neat row on the common nails beside the bed. The small window gave off a bit of light, illuminating her bureau and the clutter of hairpins and extra
kapps
that lay there.

There was barely enough room for him to lie on the floor beside the bed, she thought, ignoring his gaze. She moved to bundle up the dress and smooth the bright quilt beneath it.

Joseph set Mrs. Knepp’s quilt at the foot of the bed. “Is it cold at night up here?”

“Very,” she replied. “Look, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not completely selfish. We can take turns sleeping on the bed.”

He gave her a wry grin. “Nice of you, but the floor is fine for me. I’ve slept in much worse places.”

“Where?”

“Hmm?” He was unpacking his satchel. “Where?
Ach
, abandoned buildings, strange apartments full of people I didn’t know, on the street . . . lots of pleasant memories.”

“At least you had a choice.”

“A choice?
Ya
, I guess I had a choice, to keep being a fool or to come home. You have that same choice.”

She looked at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean . . . when do you plan to stop being a fool and come home?”

“You told me yesterday at the tree that this place was never your home—until now. Well, it’s never been mine either.”

“Fair enough. All right . . . no more chatter. I need to put on work clothes. Do you want to stay?” He reached for the buttons on his shirt, and she glared at him before making for the door and closing it with a slam.

She went down the stairs, feeling breathless and unsure why. She wandered into the kitchen and thought of the endless rounds of meals that were to come. Now she’d have to try harder at cooking, she supposed, and frowned at the thought.

A quick knock on the back screen door broke into her
thoughts, and she went to open it. It was Katie Stahley, one of her school friends, who’d already been married for over a year. She carried a covered dish and had an air of suppressed excitement that let Abigail know the wedding news was out.

“Please,
kumme
in, Katie.”

Katie glanced around the kitchen, then gave an urgent whisper. “Is it true, Abigail?”

“Ya.”
Better to have it out and over with.

“
Ach
, I knew it. He was looking at you after worship service yesterday. I mean . . . well . . . here. I made bread pudding, extra raisins.”

Abigail took it gratefully, thinking that it would help supplement lunch. She heard Joseph’s footsteps on the stairs.

Katie giggled.

Abigail rolled her eyes as Joseph entered the kitchen. He came to her and put his arm around her waist, giving her a quick squeeze. “Guests already?” He arched a handsome dark brow, and Katie giggled again.

Honestly
, Abigail thought,
the girl has been married for a year
already
.

“This is Katie—a friend from school days.”

Joseph shook her hand, then turned Abigail to face him. He kissed her full on the mouth, once and hard. “Got to get out to the fields with Father, my love. Katie, a pleasure . . .”

He was out the door, leaving Abigail’s cheeks and mouth burning. She bit her soft bottom lip, resisting the urge to touch it. She’d only ever had a beau steal a kiss on her cheek, never full on her mouth. She felt a queer sensation in her knees and turned a fuzzy smile on Katie.