An Unbroken Heart (21 page)

CHAPTER 12

J
oanna!”

Andrew pushed through the crowd of people that had surrounded Joanna the moment she
fell. She couldn't marry him? He had to have heard her wrong. Although he'd tried
not to, before he saw her he thought of his father again. Not pleasant memories,
but resentment that he wasn't here. He fought to control his spontaneous anger.
The emotion had been unexpected and unwelcome, coming at the worst possible time.
His father had managed to spoil what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life,
and he wasn't even there.

Then he saw Joanna. She looked beautiful, and he felt his anger fade just as she
collapsed
to
the floor. Then she'd left. No, not left—run away, like something terrifying
was
chasing
her. Abigail went after her, and he propelled himself forward to follow,
only
to
be stopped short by Sadie.

“
Nee
, Andrew.”

The quiet yet forceful words somehow pierced through the
questioning murmurs of the
wedding guests. His gut ached, like he'd been sucker punched. “She said she couldn't
marry me.”

“I know. I heard her. Let us talk to her, Andrew. Give us a little space.” She turned
and hurried to Joanna's room.

“All right everyone,” Bishop Yoder said above the din of the crowd. He sounded more
confident and in control than Andrew had ever heard him. “Why don't we all
geh
outside
for a bit?” The crowd started to disperse as he put his hand on Andrew's shoulder.
“I'm sure it's just nerves,” he said, opening the door and letting the fall breeze
enter the stuffy living room.

Andrew didn't move. His thoughts darted back and forth, torn between going after
Joanna and respecting Sadie's wishes.

Asa appeared in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Andrew shook his head. “
Nee
. . . I don't understand . . .”

“She's probably getting ready to come out even as we speak. She did take a pretty
hard fall.”

That had to be it. She wasn't thinking straight. Now a new emotion thrummed through
him—alarm. What if she was seriously hurt? “I need to see her.”

Asa shook his head. “Wait until she's ready to see you. Do you want a drink?”

“I want to see Joanna.”

Asa held up his hands in surrender, then went outside with the rest of the guests.

Now the living room was empty. Andrew could hear voices outside, punctuated by Homer's
barking. She would come out any second. He would see her smiling, and all the guests
would come back, and he and Joanna would finish the ceremony. She wouldn't leave
him at the proverbial altar. She wouldn't abandon him.
We aren't making a mistake.

But as the minutes ticked by, he was losing patience and losing hope. “I can't wait
anymore,” he muttered and started for her room.

“Andrew.”

He turned around. He hadn't heard his mother come in. “What?” He sounded sharper
than he'd intended to, but all he wanted was to get to Joanna.

“Maybe . . . maybe this is for the best.”

Why would she say that? “I don't believe that. I
refuse
to believe it. Do you know
something I don't?” By this time it was clear to him that Joanna wasn't coming back.
“Because I'm confused about why my fiancée just told me she can't marry me.”

“If you'll sit down—”

“Nee.”
He held up his hand. “I will not sit down. I want to see Joanna. She hit her
head
on
the floor. She could be injured. She needs me right now.”

“I don't think she does.”

Andrew had never felt more on the verge of punching something in his life. When
he was a kid, he would take his anger out on a nearby tree, although he'd learned
the hard way that punching an oak wasn't the best way to defuse his temper. As he'd
grown older, he'd become more adept at tempering his emotions. But this . . . betrayal
. . . He couldn't handle this. “I need
her
,” he said, surprised at the choke in his
voice.

“I know you do.” Naomi went to him and put her palm against his cheek. “You love
her. And she loves you. But right now she needs her family.”

“I'm her family,” he rasped.

“Not yet.” She dropped her hand. “One
daag
you might be. But I'm sorry, Andrew. I
don't think it will be today.”

Irene stood at the edge of the Schrocks' property, away from the house and the tables
and decorations, away from all the people who had expected to see her brother get
married and were now waiting outside for . . . for what? Twenty minutes had passed
and no one except Aden and Asa had come out of the house. Aden was talking to Bishop
Yoder, but so far the bishop hadn't signaled for everyone to go back inside. What
was going on? Surely her brother wouldn't be abandoned on his wedding day.

She began to pace, hugging her arms to her chest against the wind that was growing
stronger
and
colder. When she saw a few of the women start to clear the tables, her
stomach
lurched.
Oh, Andrew.
Her brother didn't deserve this kind of pain. And she
never
would
have guessed in a million years that Joanna would be the one to inflict
it
on
him.

“Are you okay?”

She halted her steps and looked up. A shocked shiver ran through her as she saw Sol
standing in front of her. What was he doing here?
Why is he concerned about me?

She'd seen him among the guests, of course. It was hard not to notice Sol. Tall and
broad-shouldered, but not stocky like her brother or as lean as Aden. He'd taken
off his black hat, and his reddish hair, which was in need of a cut, flipped up
at the ends and moved with the breeze. But it was his eyes that were affecting her
more than anything. Usually they had a gleam of mischievous defiance in their green
depths. Now they were softer, filled with gentle curiosity.

Irene turned from him. She didn't need this . . . whatever it was she was feeling
for Sol right now. She'd vowed to stay away
from him. For some unknown reason he'd
decided to make that difficult for her.

“Irene,” he said, his voice hesitant. “I . . .” He sighed. “Never mind. I'll leave
you alone.”

She closed her eyes. Despite everything, she couldn't be rude. He had made amends
with the church, after all. And out of everyone attending Andrew's wedding, he was
the only one who had reached out to her. “Wait,” she said, facing him again. “I'm
fine. Thank you for asking.”

He ran his large hand through his thick mass of hair. In the afternoon sun it rivaled
the shades of red and orange on the maple trees behind him. He looked at her for
a moment, his gaze locking with hers, causing a jolt to run through her. “I saw you
alone over here, and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

She crossed her arms more tightly against her chest. “I am.”

“Gut.”
He glanced over his shoulder as if he were checking something in the woods.
There was nothing there, and she realized he was restless . . . or nervous. Why
he would feel that way around her, she had no idea. Then he turned to her again.
“If you, uh, need anything, let me know.”

She wanted to say no. She should say no. “I will,” were the words that came out of
her mouth.

He gave her a short nod, then walked away.

What was that about?
She frowned, irritated that she'd responded to Sol at all.
Yet he had seemed genuine. And different. Definitely different. She shook her head
at her own foolishness as she saw him walk toward the barn instead of joining the
rest of the crowd. When they were growing up, Sol had never lacked for friends. Unlike
Aden, he'd been more social, but Irene had always suspected it was superficial. Since
his return he had kept
to himself and stayed at his mother's side, as if he were
protecting her from something. Or he was being a good son and making sure she was
taken care of after his father left. That was something the two of them had in common
now—absent fathers.

The wind blew against her face, making her eyes water. She didn't want to have anything
in common with Sol. And she shouldn't be thinking about him anyway, not while her
brother was in turmoil. Yet she didn't know what to do. She even felt guilty for
being upset with Joanna. But if she called off the wedding, clearly she hadn't been
ready to get married. Andrew, however, had been.

A few moments later she joined the other ladies and helped fold up the tables. Her
worst fear was realized. The wedding was canceled. What would Andrew do now?
Lord,
help my brother. He doesn't deserve a broken heart.

Her mother came out of the house. Irene hurried toward her. “Andrew?” she asked when
they were away from prying ears.

Naomi's eyes were full of unshed tears. “He'll be all right . . . eventually.”

“He's not getting married.” Irene already knew it, but she said the words out loud,
a tiny part of her hoping it wasn't true, that this was all a big mistake.

“
Nee
. Not today.”

“So it's postponed?”

Naomi shook her head, lines of worry and sadness creasing her forehead. “Andrew left
a little while ago. I'm not sure where he's going, but he needs some time alone.”

Irene nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Not just for Andrew, but for Joanna too.
What she'd done was horrible, but there had to be a good reason she'd ended things
with Andrew this way,
if it
was
the end.
There had better be a good reason.
“What
about Joanna?”

Mamm
clasped Irene's hands. “We need to pray for them both.”

“Take a few deep breaths.” Sadie placed the cold washcloth Abigail had brought on
Joanna's forehead. “It was hot in the living room. We probably should have kept
the front door open.”

“We just didn't want Homer coming in.” Abigail crouched in front of her. “He gets
too excited around so many people.”

Joanna didn't look at her or at Sadie. She barely felt the coolness of the damp
washcloth on her hot forehead. All she could do was stare straight ahead. She'd done
the unthinkable. She had hurt Andrew. She had humiliated herself and him in front
of the entire district. The exact things she hadn't wanted to do, she ended up doing
to him anyway, only in the most painful way possible.

She had to apologize. But she couldn't move, and it wasn't because of her pain or
unsteady legs. She couldn't make herself go to him because she knew she had done
the right thing. That knowledge didn't make her feel any better. In fact, her heart
was filled with pain, the way it had been in the hospital after she'd heard about
her parents' deaths. Now something else had died, this time inside her.

“Joanna?” Sadie's gentle voice pierced through the haze.