An Unbroken Heart (3 page)

E
IGHT YEARS LATER

J
oanna's heart thrummed as she searched for Andrew among the crowd of young people
gathered in the Troyers' basement. This had been their ritual for the past two months.
They would arrive at a singing separately, seek each other out, then send a silent
signal so they could meet in private. Her anticipation always grew as she tried not
to reveal she was looking for him. She couldn't help frowning when she didn't see
him right away.

Finally she spied him standing on the opposite side of the room. The warm smile he
aimed
at
her created the usual tiny butterflies that tickled her stomach, easing
the
tension
from listening to her sisters argue on the way here. Sadie was upset.
She
never
went to singings but had reluctantly agreed to go this time, and her mood
was
foul
by the time they had arrived. Abigail had given up trying to reason with
her
and
had disappeared as soon as she exited the buggy. Now Sadie stood alone in
the
corner,
a
sour look on her face, which wouldn't do much to attract the few eligible young
men attending tonight.

Abigail had no problem mingling, though, especially with Joel Zook. Joanna saw her
flirting
with
him, and from the full grin on his face, he was enjoying the attention.

Joanna put her sisters out of her mind and met Andrew's gaze again. His blond eyebrow
lifted
above
his left eye. Their signal. He tilted his head in a small gesture for
her
to
come to him. She gave him a tiny nod, the butterflies now swirling in a frenzy.

“Hello,” he said as she drew near.

She stood close to him but not too close. He had to lean over to say his next words.

“Will you meet me behind the barn?”

He was always so polite with her. Never demanding and thoroughly respectful. She
pulled back, her cheeks hot, savoring the thought that once again Andrew wanted her
alone.

But part of her was growing impatient. Andrew's respect also translated into keeping
her at arm's length, even when they were by themselves. After waiting eight years
for him to finally show his romantic interest, she wanted more than conversation.

He left the room first. Several moments later she followed, dashing up the basement
stairs and through the door that led to the backyard. In the dusky light she saw
him disappear behind the Troyers' white barn. She hurried, a little breathless by
the time she caught up to him. She found him leaning casually against the barn wall.

“You look nervous,” he said.

“Not . . . nervous.” She rubbed her nose.

“Definitely nervous.” He removed her hand from her nose. “You don't have to be skittish,
Joanna. It's just me.”

He would never be just Andrew to her. He was her protector, her savior . . . her
love. She looked at his face, barely seeing the muted tangerine and lavender clouds
streaking the sky behind him. He'd taken off his hat and left it inside the Troyers'
house. His thick, wavy blond hair was streaked with pale highlights from the sun.
He always took her breath away.

Without a word he reached behind her ear, the soft brush of his finger on her earlobe
making her breath hitch. He'd done his one and only magic trick several times before—pulling
out quarters, acorns, even a stick of gum. But this time he withdrew a flower on
a short stem, a lovely light blue blossom the size of a new dandelion. He handed
it to her.

“How sweet.” She smiled at the romantic gesture. Maybe they were making progress
after all. “I like this better than acorns.”

“I thought you would.”

She gently cupped the flower in her hand. She'd take it home and press it into a
small book, then place it in her treasure box where she'd kept everything he'd given
to her over the years.

A long moment passed, and then the awkwardness between them began, as it always did
when they were alone. As friends they could talk about anything. Now that they were
dating, they struggled to hold a normal conversation. She wished he would show her
some affection. A kiss on the cheek. Or on the lips. Instead he glanced at the ground,
kicking a tuft of grass with the toe of his shoe.

In every other aspect of his life, Andrew was confident. Everything about him was
strong, from his large, barrel-like chest and hard biceps to his loyal character
and devotion to his family and faith. But when they were together like this, she
felt
on shaky ground, even though he was the one who had started their courtship
two months ago.

She drew in a deep breath. It was now or never. It had taken more than two weeks
to gather her courage, ever since the idea had popped into her mind while she was
asking God what to do about her relationship with Andrew. Tentatively she stepped
forward and touched one of the black suspenders that ran over his thick chest. He
wasn't very tall, but neither was she. She liked that they could meet eye to eye.

“Joanna.” He whispered her name, sending a shiver down her spine. His blue eyes darkened
a bit, and his voice, which had deepened to a rich bass over the years, grew even
huskier. “What are you doing?”

She froze, her courage suddenly faltering despite seeing that her simple touch had
an effect on him. All her life she'd been told to take a stand, to stop being such
a mouse. To go after what she wanted. What she wanted was Andrew. She was rubbing
her nose again, and she forced herself to stop. She wanted to be confident, to show
Andrew how she truly felt about him. She moved closer, close enough that she could
kiss him if she wanted to.
I really want to.

“What if someone sees us?” he asked, sounding a little breathless.

“I don't care.” Her own breathing quickened. She drew her fingertip down the length
of his suspender.

His smoky gaze cleared, his mouth forming a frown. “Is something wrong, Joanna? This
isn't like you.”

“That's the point.” Being herself wasn't getting her anywhere with Andrew. She had
to show him she wasn't the insecure girl
he'd always known. “Andrew,” she said, her
voice sounding thicker than a wool sock, “will you marry me?”

His eyes widened as if he'd seen a cow doing a backflip in the pasture. He stepped
back,
forcing
her to drop her hand from his chest. “What?”

Oh no.
She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Her courageous moment
had passed, and now she was back to timid Joanna, afraid of her own shadow. Her face
the temperature of a bonfire, she turned from him, prepared to flee.

He put his hand on her arm. “Wait. Let's talk about this.”

She halted but didn't face him. She had messed up everything. But hadn't God led
her to this point? Hadn't he given her the courage she needed to propose to Andrew?
Now she could see she'd been very, very wrong. “We should
geh
back to the singing,”
she mumbled, desperate to stew alone in her embarrassment.

“Please.” His voice was soft and husky, a bone-melting tone she'd never heard him
use before. “Don't leave.”

Turning, she forced herself to look at him. At least he seemed less bewildered now.
He ran his hand through his hair and stuffed his other hand in his pocket.

“I'm sorry,” she managed to squeak out.

He paused, a half-smile on his lips. “Don't be.” He went to her but still kept a
respectable
distance.
“I'm flattered.”

Flattered? That was the last thing she wanted to hear.

“But we've only been seeing each other for a few weeks,” he added.

“Two months,” she said under her breath. She'd kept track of every day, practically
every minute.

“And they've been a great two months.” His smile widened, yet he didn't move closer.
“I thought you didn't mind us taking
things slow. Then again, we never talked about
it.” He sighed. “We don't talk about much lately, do we? Guess that's
mei
fault.”

“I don't understand.”

Andrew met her eyes with an intense gaze. “I need to be sure about this, Joanna.
About us. I don't want to rush into anything.”

Eight years hardly seemed like rushing. Then again, he was still catching up.

“I care about you.” He removed his hand from his pocket and touched her cheek for
a brief second, then pulled back as if her skin burned him. “And I'm saying that
it's possible, that maybe sometime in the future when the time is right, we could
talk about, uh, being more serious.”

Joanna fought the urge to roll her eyes. She wasn't embarrassed anymore. In fact,
she was a little annoyed. Why wasn't he willing to take a chance with her? Didn't
he know how deeply she loved him? She'd never gone home with any other boy after
a singing. She'd never been out on a date. She had spent any free time she had with
him over the years. She baked his favorite desserts and took them to his house to
surprise him, although she made sure to make plenty for his mother, Naomi, and his
sister, Irene, so they wouldn't get suspicious. She'd listened to him talk about
his farrier business until she was sure she could shoe a horse herself. What other
ways could she show him how she felt? Why did she have to try so hard with him?

“I need to get back inside before
mei schwesters
notice I'm gone,” she said flatly.
This
time
when she turned around, she wasn't going to let him stop her. It ended
up
not
mattering, because he didn't even try.

Andrew watched Joanna walk away, still shocked by her proposal and still kicking
himself for how he handled it. Ever since he'd made the decision to court her, he'd
bungled their relationship. He'd known for years that she liked him. He had always
cared for her too. She was sweet, pretty, and so devoted, not only to their friendship
but to her family and faith. She was everything he wanted in a woman. Yet for years
he'd put off asking her out for one reason—he was scared. He didn't know how to date.
He didn't even know what a romantic relationship was supposed to be. It wasn't as
if his father had been a sterling example.

So he thought he needed to be respectful. To make sure he kept his own feelings and
desires in control around Joanna. They were young, barely twenty. He wasn't ready
for marriage. But if he had been paying more attention, if he knew what he was doing
in this relationship, he would have realized Joanna was.

He kicked at a clod of dirt. He'd go after her and offer to take her home tonight
so they could talk more. Not that he had any idea what to say. But he had to fix
this. He couldn't let her believe he didn't love her—because he did. He wasn't ready
to say the words yet. The time had to be right. The moment special. She needed to
feel cherished, loved, and secure. He needed to be the loyal man his father had failed
to be.

He went back to the basement and searched for Joanna. He found her talking to Abigail,
who was still standing next to Joel. Maybe he should ask him for advice. He would
have gone to his best friend, Asa Bontrager, but he and his family had moved to Indiana
years ago. Andrew knew he needed to talk to someone before he permanently ruined
his future with Joanna.

As he reached her, Sadie came rushing to them. “We have to leave,” she said, looking
flustered
and
out of sorts.

“Now?” Abigail asked.

“Right now.”

Andrew looked at Joanna. She nodded to her sister, glanced at Andrew, then left without
a word.

As he watched her walk away, he prayed their relationship wasn't permanently broken.

The next morning Joanna sat in the backseat of her parents' buggy as they headed
for the apple orchard. They would pick the apples, then sell them at the family store,
Schrock Grocery and Tools. This was the first trip to the apple orchard, and they
would go a few more times before the apple-picking season ended in October. She and
her sisters took turns helping with the picking, and this year it was her turn to
go.