A Marriage of the Heart (36 page)

J
OSEPH AWOKE TO THE FEELING OF CRUSHING PAIN IN HIS
chest and the realization that each breath tortured with jagged awareness. The overwhelming desire to beg for something to help ease the pain simmered at the back of his consciousness until he felt the cool press of a cloth on his damp forehead. He opened his eyes to see Abby peering anxiously down at him, her blonde hair hanging loose in a blurred shimmer.

“Glasses?” he whispered, surprised that he had to visualize the word before he could actually get it out.

She shook her head so that he felt the soft curtain of her hair brush the top of his bare chest and trail down to cover his shoulders in a languid fall.

“The pain, Joseph . . . it’s really bad, isn’t it?”

Yes
, he wanted to scream, but doubted he’d get enough air in his lungs to do anything but squeak. He settled for nodding, not wanting her to know how much it hurt.

“I know,” she soothed, her voice softer and more womanly than he ever remembered hearing it.

He stared up into the twin pools of her blue eyes, wanting to see her better.

“I know you want the medicine, Joseph . . . the pills. I want you to know that I’m going to help you instead . . . so that you don’t want, so that it doesn’t hurt as much.”

She leaned close to his ear to whisper the last words, being careful not to put any weight on his chest. He closed his eyes when
she pressed her gentle mouth to his ear and began to sing a traditional Amish lullaby.

“Schlof, bubeli, schlof . . .”
Sleep, baby, sleep . . .

He half smiled at the sweet, long-forgotten words and wondered just how lengthy his convalescence could be. He felt the pain melting away as visions of her singing to their own child danced across his mind.
She would be a wonderful mother,
he thought.
Strong. Patient.
Loving
. He sighed and gave in to his body’s need for rest, falling asleep with her soft voice still bringing peace to his mind and spirit.

A
BIGAIL SLIPPED FROM THE BEDROOM AND AVOIDED HER
father’s gaze. She knew it was night and that she should still probably have her
kapp
on. But at the moment she didn’t really care. She knew that her cheeks were flushed fever bright, and she was amazed that
Derr Herr
had brought it to her mind to sing to Joseph. But she was his wife, and she was determined to do anything she could to help her husband.

“How is the boy, then?” her father questioned in a gruff tone.

She was surprised that he was still up and that he’d asked, and she busied herself refilling the water pitcher before answering. “He is—in pain, but he fell asleep.”

“Doc should have given him something for it. It’s foolishness to me why he should suffer along when he doesn’t have to.”

Hot words surged forward on Abigail’s lips, but she bit them back. How could she explain to this cold, unfeeling man what her husband was going through? He’d probably just judge Joseph and find him lacking. So she said nothing.

Her father cleared his throat. “It won’t be the same—working without him, I mean. He’s a
gut
, hard worker.”

Abigail turned to face him. “
Ya
, he is.” She lifted her chin and uttered a silent prayer. It was time for her
daed
to know.

“Father . . . Joseph never did anything that day at the picnic. It was all me. I made it up because I wanted to get even with him for not being as interested in me as I would have liked. I betrayed him, and he still stood up for me. I don’t expect your forgiveness or your understanding, but I want you to know.
Derr Herr
has prompted my heart many times to tell you, but I’ve never had the courage.” She swallowed hard. “I know that you’ve never approved of me even when I was a child. I don’t know why, nor does it matter really. Joseph has taught me a lot about the kind of person I had become, and it’s not been a pretty thing to look upon. But I’ve changed, I think. Or at least, I’m trying to. I just wanted you to know so you’d stop blaming him for something he never did.”

She turned back to the water pitcher, her heart pounding in her chest. But she was amazed at how good it felt to finally speak the truth. The Bible verse “And the truth shall make you free” drifted across her mind, and she knew that it was true. No matter what her father’s reaction might be, she had told the truth before the Lord and she felt more clean inside than she ever had before.

She jumped when she felt a light touch on her arm and turned to see her father standing close. She gazed up at him and was amazed to see his bleary blue eyes awash with tears.

“Abigail . . . I . . . I, too, have much to confess. I knew that Joseph did nothing that day.”

“What?”

“I . . . was watching you both. I saw him turn from you. I saw him walk away.”

“I don’t understand. Then why would you . . .”

Her father took out his hankie and swiped at his eyes with his head bowed. “I worried for you. I—always have. I wanted to keep you safe. I thought if you were married, perhaps you’d stop wanting to go away. I also used the boy—it was just too easy an opportunity to pass by.”

Her mind whirled, but one thing struck her especially. “But, Father, how did you know that I wanted to go away?”

He gave a heaving sob, and she instinctively laid a hand on his brawny forearm.

“Because . . . she . . . went away.”

“She?”

He caught his breath. “Your
mamm
. . . I’ve always told you she died in a buggy accident. That much was true. But she was driving that buggy to leave the community, to leave the Amish and me . . . and you.”

Abigail dropped her hand and sagged back against the counter. All of the idealized images she’d nursed of her mother over the years swirled in her brain until she thought she might pass out, but then a thought struck her.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked. She had to ask. He’d been so cold, so unfeeling for years. Perhaps, even now, he was telling her this to hold her somehow.

He nodded. “You’ve a right to ask that. Come with me.”

She followed him as he walked to the master bedroom door, then eased it open. He entered the room soft-footed, and she glanced at the bed. Joseph was still asleep.

Her father went to a small cedar chest that sat on his bureau. Abigail knew it held important papers and various letters from relatives, but she was surprised when he turned the chest over. He felt the bottom of the wood, and then she watched as he slid back a hidden panel, revealing a secret compartment carved into the depth of the wood.

In the dim light of the single kerosene lamp she’d left burning, she caught the shimmer of a silver thimble as it fell into her father’s large palm. Then he pulled out a piece of paper, crumpled and yellowed with age. He slid the bottom back into place and set the chest back. Then he turned and reached out his hand to Abigail.

“Take these,” he whispered.

She obeyed, not wanting Joseph to wake, and left the room with her father following as the press of the small thimble burned in her palm.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

MY DEAREST SOLOMON, MY LITTLE ABBY,

SOMEDAY I HOPE THAT YOU CAN BOTH FORGIVE ME FOR WHAT I AM DOING, BUT I CANNOT GO ON ANY LONGER AS THINGS ARE. I’VE TRIED. THE LORD KNOWS HOW HARD I’VE TRIED. FIRST, I BELIEVED THAT MARRYING WOULD EASE THE RESTLESSNESS IN MY SOUL. THEN I HOPED THAT THE PRECIOUS GOLDEN-HAIRED BABY WOULD MAKE A WAY FOR ME. BUT THERE IS NOTHING THAT HAS BEEN ABLE TO TAKE AWAY THIS DESIRE, NO, THIS KNOWLEDGE THAT I DO NOT BELONG WITH THE AMISH. IT DOESN’T MATTER HOW I WAS RAISED OR HOW LOVING AND KIND THE COMMUNITY IS TO ME. I NEVER BELONGED. I’VE KNOWN THAT SINCE I WAS A CHILD AND WANTED TO THROW APPLE PEELS AT MY MOTHER WHEN SHE INSISTED IT WAS MY DUTY TO HELP WITH THE AUTUMN CANNING. I’VE KNOWN IT SINCE THE DAY I MARRIED. I KNEW IT ON THE DAY YOU WERE BORN, ABBY. I JUST WANT OUT. I WANT ANOTHER WAY OF LIFE THAT DOESN’T INVOLVE THE TERRIBLE CONFINING PRESSURE OF BEING AN AMISH WOMAN.

SOLOMON, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE—I SAY THIS BECAUSE I KNOW THAT YOU WILL THINK IT. THERE IS NO ONE ELSE BUT MYSELF. IF I STAY I WILL POISON OUR DAUGHTER, HER THOUGHTS, HER HEART UNTIL SHE, TOO, SENSES MY DESIRE TO RUN AND THEN WANTS TO RUN AS WELL. I WILL

NOT LEAVE THAT LEGACY TO HER. I KNOW THAT YOU WILL DO RIGHT BY HER AND CHERISH HER AS YOU ALWAYS HAVE.

ABBY, SOMEDAY, IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I STARTED A QUILT WHEN YOU WERE TWO YEARS OLD. EVEN NOW, WHEN YOU ARE FIVE AND DEEPLY ASLEEP, THE QUILT IS NOT FINISHED. I DOUBT THAT YOU WILL EVER SEE IT, BUT THE PATTERN IS CALLED “ABBY’S WISH.” I COULD NOT FINISH IT BECAUSE I CANNOT BEAR THE WISH THAT I HAVE FOR YOU, THAT YOU, TOO, COULD BE FREE. BUT IT IS NOT FAIR TO TAKE YOU FROM YOUR FATHER, FROM YOUR HOME. PLEASE FORGIVE ME SOMEDAY, MY DEAREST DAUGHTER. I LOVE YOU.

SOLOMON, I LOVE YOU AS WELL. PLEASE KNOW THIS, FOR ALWAYS. TELL EVERYONE THE TRUTH, THAT I ABANDONED YOU AND MY CHILD. IT DOESN’T MATTER. PLEASE GO ON WITH YOUR LIFE. MARRY A GOOD AMISH WOMAN, SOMEONE WHO WILL BE KIND TO ABBY, BUT KEEP LIVING. I AM NOT WORTH YOUR GIVING UP OR CLOSING UP AS I KNOW YOU MIGHT DO.

IT IS LATE NOW, AND I MUST GO. I WILL LEAVE THE HORSE AND BUGGY IN TOWN. I HAVE LEARNED TO DRIVE AND WILL BE AWAY BEFORE SUNRISE. PLEASE DO NOT TRY TO FIND ME. I LOVE YOU BOTH.

RACHEL

Abigail pressed the silver thimble into the palm of her hand with such force that she thought for a moment that she could still feel the warmth of her mother’s finger within its hold. But she knew now that there was nothing but the truth. She lifted her eyes to her father’s as he sat still and quiet across from her at the kitchen table.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I have felt like this, like her—before Joseph.”

“I know.”

She impulsively reached to him. “But, Father, since Joseph and I . . . Well, the feeling’s gone away. I am content to be his wife. I want to have a life with him. And we want to share that with you.”

Her father gave a giant sniff. “I don’t deserve that. I’ve treated you harshly all these years, because I was afraid and I was angry at her. But you were just a little thing who needed a
daed
. I haven’t been one to you.”

She drew a deep breath, her thoughts teetering between childhood expectation and the reality of life as she’d come to know it.

“
Nee
, you weren’t the perfect father, but you did the best you could. And I accept that. I wouldn’t change a thing if I could.” And she realized that it was true. She wouldn’t have become as strong-willed and resourceful if she’d been raised a different way. And it was
Derr Herr
who put people together in families, and it was He who allowed her to have the father that she did.

Then she did something she had not ever been able to do. She rose and came near to where her father sat. Stretching out her slender arms, she bent and embraced his broad shoulders, laying her face against the back of his neck. She felt him shake, then sob, and then he turned and hugged her tightly to his chest.

“My daughter, my child.” He wept.

“My
daed
,” she returned, her tears falling freely.

A sudden low moan from the adjoining bedroom broke the moment, and they both sniffed. Then her father dried her tears with his handkerchief, and Abigail gave him a brilliant smile.

“Go on, now. Tend to your husband. You’re a good wife, Abby.”

She nodded and moved toward the bedroom door.

O
N THE SECOND DAY
, J
OSEPH DEVELOPED A FEVER, WHICH
made Dr. Knepp frown with concern while Abigail anxiously watched the examination.

“I suppose a bit of a fever is to be expected, but I don’t want him getting an infection. I’ll leave these antibiotics for him. See that he takes them three times a day—morning, noon, and night. How’s his pain?”

The doctor avoided her eyes, and she whispered her reply in a steady voice. “I know about the drugs, Dr. Knepp, and why he can’t have the pain medicine. He told me. I–I’ve been trying to—distract him—as best as I can when he’s awake.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “I see. Well then, keep up the good medicine.” He patted her shoulder.

She would help Joseph get well. But as the doctor left and she was alone with only the quiet sound of her husband’s breathing, she realized that getting him well was the least of what she wanted. She wasn’t sure how or when, but somehow she had fallen in love with him. Deeply in love. And there was an honesty in admitting it that liberated her thinking and drove out all shame about how their marriage began. If the doctor was right, if Joseph loved her and she loved him, then Joseph might be right that the Lord had a plan in all of this. She was only too happy to follow along.

J
OSEPH AWOKE BY SLOW DEGREES, HIS PAIN HALF SWALLOWED
by tangled, warm dreams of Abby and her singing. But now something was tickling his nose, and he opened his eyes. He stared up at her, realizing that it was broad daylight and that she was properly
kapped
and dressed. But his nose still itched. He peered sideways and she laughed, a melodic, charming sound that he’d not heard often enough.