An Unbroken Heart (31 page)

She gave him the biggest smile he'd ever seen. “I don't need them anymore.” Then
she walked away. Her gait was a little wobbly, but if someone didn't know what had
happened to her, they wouldn't have noticed.

What was going on? His mind was hazy, but he remembered when she'd shown up yesterday.
He glanced at the empty coffee table. She must have done something with the food
she brought. Why had she done brought it? His head started to throb, and he closed
his eyes. Why was she still here?

He wanted to lie back down. His body felt like a team of horses had trampled it.
His eyes closed, and he'd drifted off until he heard her come back into the room.
When he looked up he saw her carrying a tray with a bowl, a spoon sticking out of
it, and a glass of water.

She set the tray on the coffee table and then sat down next to him on the edge of
the couch. When he leaned forward to reach for the bowl, she put her hand on his
forearm. “Let me.”

The idea of her feeding him made him balk. “I can do it myself. I don't need you
to feed me.” He took the bowl, and his hands immediately started shaking. Fortunately
she hadn't filled it too full or he would have spilled soup everywhere.

Without a word she took the bowl from him, then scooped
up some of the soup. Thin
egg noodles hung over the edge of the spoon, surrounded by a pale yellow broth. The
scent of the soup made his stomach growl, even though he didn't have much of an appetite.
When was the last time he'd eaten? He couldn't remember. She held out the spoon.
He sipped at the soup, the warm broth soothing his sore throat. But after a few spoonfuls
he held up his hand. “I'm done,” he said, barely able to sit up anymore.

She set the bowl back on the tray. “Do you want some water?” He shook his head and
stretched out on the couch. She covered him with the quilt, and he started to drift
off again. But when she moved away he instinctively reached for her hand. He probably
shouldn't have, but for some reason he needed to touch her.
“Danki,”
he said softly.

“You don't have to thank me.” To his surprise she sat back down next to him and continued
to hold his hand. As he caught her gaze, he saw the love in her eyes that had been
missing since she came back from Middlefield. His Joanna was back.

Joanna continued to take care of Andrew the rest of the day. He slept most of the
time,
but
he was able to take some more soup in the afternoon, plus some of the orange
juice
Naomi
had brought. It turned out he didn't need the fever medication, but Irene
did.
She
hadn't come downstairs since she'd been home. Whatever flu bug the Beiler
siblings
had,
Irene had gotten the worst of it.

After Andrew had had some soup, Joanna went into the main kitchen where Naomi was
washing a few dishes. “Here's another one,” Joanna said, putting the bowl next to
the sink. “Can I dry them for you?”

Naomi stopped washing the dishes and looked at her. “
Nee
, it's only a few.” She paused.
“You look tired.”

Joanna nodded. She was exhausted, and in more pain than she'd been in for a while.
“I am. I haven't slept well in that chair.”

“Then you should
geh
home.”

“I will when Andrew is better. His fever is gone, so I think he's on the mend.”

“You can at least take a nap in the bed.”

“But I want to be by his side when he wakes up.”

Naomi rinsed her hands, then dried them on a towel. “Let me fix you something to
eat, at least.”

“That would be nice.” Joanna nodded, went to the table, and sat down.

A few moments later Naomi put a plate of food in front of Joanna, then joined her
at the table. After she said grace she picked up her fork to dig into the meal. She
felt Naomi's gaze on her. “Is something wrong?”

“Nee.”
Naomi smiled. “I see Andrew's not the only one feeling better. You don't
have
yer
crutches.”

Joanna scooped up a forkful of apple salad. “I am feeling better. Not just physically.”
She took a bite of the salad. It was delicious. “Does Andrew like this?”

Naomi nodded. “We have it every fall, when the apples are plentiful.”

“Can I get the recipe? I'd like to make it for him sometime.”

“Sure.” She paused. “Are you thinking about getting back into
mei sohn
's
gut
graces
through his stomach?”

“It's a start, right?” She smiled and ate another bite of the salad. She swallowed,
then spoke. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. I just want him to know how much
I care about
him. After what I did to him at the wedding, it's going to be a long
time before he forgives me.”

“I think he might surprise you.” Naomi rose from the table. “I need to finish those
dishes and check on Irene again. Poor thing, she's really feeling awful.”

Joanna finished the salad. She felt bad for Irene, but hopefully she would be feeling
better
soon.
Naomi's words about Andrew gave her hope, though. The picnic was a failure,
and
she
was sorry Andrew was sick. But she was grateful she could be there for him
for
once.
She felt so much love for him, and also a sense of peace. Sure, he only
had
the
flu, but he had needed her. And it felt so good to be needed. When he felt
better
he
might not want her around, but she wasn't going to give up. She hoped Naomi
was
right.

A short while later she went back to the addition. Andrew was still asleep. She sat
down
in
the rocking chair, trying to be as quiet as possible. But the sound of the
chair
rockers
hitting the wood floor must have awakened him.

“Sorry,” she said, looking at him.

“It's all right. I wasn't really sleeping anyway.”

She leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” His blue eyes widened. “Much better, actually.” He sat up a bit and looked
down at the quilt covering the lower half of his body.

“That's a beautiful quilt,” she said.

He looked at her for a moment, then drew the quilt back. “How long have you been
here?”

“Since yesterday.”

He frowned. “Where are
Mamm
and Irene?”

Joanna filled him in on Irene's illness. “So
yer mamm
's been
taking care of her while
I've been taking care of you.” She smiled. “I'm glad you're feeling better. Do you
need anything?”

“A shower and
mei
own bed.”

“Oh.” Her smile dimmed a bit. She stood. “I should be getting back home, then.”
She waited to see if he would ask her to stay. He didn't. “I'll see you later.” She
started to leave.

“Joanna.”

She turned and faced him, feeling hopeful.
“Ya?”

“You forgot
yer
basket.”

She stiffened a bit, then went to get the picnic basket on the floor next to the
coffee
table.
“
Danki
for reminding me.” She met his gaze, gave him one last longing
look,
and
left.

As she went home, she tried to remain upbeat. At least he didn't seem to be angry
with her anymore. That, in her mind, was progress.

After he took a quick shower, Andrew was exhausted again. He was also hungry. He
went downstairs to the kitchen and was surprised to see both his mother and Irene
there. His sister looked tired, and she was sipping on the same chicken noodle soup
Andrew had eaten before. But his
mamm
was munching on red-skinned potato salad. Andrew
vaguely remembered that it had been in Joanna's picnic basket.

He sat down and ran his hand through his still damp hair. He felt his mother's gaze
on him.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.

He nodded. “Did she leave the pepperoni roll?”

He detected a small smile on his mother's face. “
Ya
. She left everything.”

A few minutes later he was chowing down on the most delicious pepperoni roll he'd
ever tasted. Joanna was a great cook. And a good nurse. He couldn't believe she'd
stayed the whole night and day to take care of him. He also couldn't believe how
much that meant to him. The anger and resentment he felt for her had cooled, and
not because he was recovering from a short but intense illness. But he still didn't
trust her. One day of care-taking didn't erase what she had done to him. How much
she'd hurt him.

“Joanna's not using her crutches anymore,” Naomi said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I noticed.”

“She seems to be stronger.” Naomi took a sip of her iced tea. “In more ways than
one.”

Andrew looked at his mother. Her hints couldn't have been any more obvious. But he
didn't respond. He didn't want to talk about the state of his and Joanna's relationship,
even if those brief moments when she'd held his hand, despite his illness, had felt
right. What he wanted to do was ask about his father and his cryptic letter.

He also wanted to know why she was still keeping in touch with him. Why they were
hiding the truth about what happened in Florida from him and Irene.

Irene pulled the wool shawl hanging on her shoulders tighter around her body. Then
she pushed her bowl away. “I'm going back upstairs.” Her voice sounded scratchy.
She started to get up just as they heard a knock on the front door.

Andrew pushed away from the table. “I'll get it.” He was still a little weak-legged,
but he felt well enough to answer the door. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Both Naomi and Irene shook their heads.

Andrew went to the living room just as another knock sounded. “Just a minute!” He
hurried to the door and opened it. An officer wearing a brown uniform stood in the
doorway.

“Hello,” he said. Then he glanced at a pad he held in his hand. “Is this the Beiler
residence?”

Andrew nodded but didn't say anything. What were the police doing at his home? A
thread of panic wound through him. Joanna had left a short time ago. What if she
was in another accident? “Did something happen?” he asked, gripping the side of the
door.

The man shook his head. “I'm Deputy Riley. I'm investigating the Schrocks' hit-and-run
case.”

The man was harshly direct, and there was no warmth behind his silver-gray eyes.
Andrew's guard went up, although he was relieved to learn nothing had happened to
Joanna. But why would he be here asking questions about the accident? “I'm not sure
what we can do to help. I don't know anything about the accident. Neither do my mother
and sister.”

“We've come upon some new information that might lead us to catch the person who
did this.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

The officer leveled his gaze. “May I come in? I can fill you in on the details.”

Andrew hesitated. He'd never dealt with the law before. But if there was something
he could do to help the Schrocks, he would do it. “All right,” he said, opening the
door.

“Andrew, who is—”

Andrew turned around to see his mother turn stark white. She put her hand to her
chest. “Bartholomew? Is he . . .?”

The officer frowned a bit. “Ma'am, I'm here about the Schrock case. I don't know
anyone named Bartholomew.”

Andrew stared at his mother. She seemed to almost pass out with relief at the officer's
news. She quickly regained her composure. “Oh. Sorry, my mistake. Please, sit down.”
She gestured to a chair near the door. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Not necessary, ma'am. I'm hoping not to take up too much of your time.”

The officer was talking as Irene came into the room. “What's going on?”

“Please,” the officer said, sounding impatient. “If you will all sit down, I'll explain.”