An Unbroken Heart (38 page)

Aden and Sadie were at Rhoda's house, and Abigail had decided to go with them when
she found out Andrew was coming over. Over the past couple of months, her sister
had made strides to get over her hurt from Joel, but Joanna could tell she still
struggled. Abigail had been deeply in love with Joel. That was more obvious now than
when they had been together. Joanna wanted her sister to know the happiness she had
with Andrew
and that Sadie had with Aden. She knew Abigail was lonely, and she prayed
her sister would have her well-deserved happy ending with a man who would treasure
her. In the meantime, Abigail had at least accepted Sadie's invitation to go to the
Troyers' for Christmas Eve. She wouldn't be alone on this first Christmas Eve without
their parents.

Joanna tried to fight the grief that was never too far from her heart. Although her
relationship with Andrew was stronger than ever, that didn't keep her from missing
her parents or wishing they were here. Sometimes the grief hit her at odd times,
even when she was with Andrew. He never tried to cheer her up with useless words
or platitudes. He comforted her with his strong silence, holding her and letting
her grieve until the moment passed. She closed her eyes.
Merry Christmas,
Mamm
and
Daed
.

Wiping away the few tears that escaped, she opened her eyes and moved away from the
window. She glanced at Homer, who was asleep in front of the woodstove. Aden had
loaded the firebox before he left, and the room was filled with cozy heat. She walked
over to the couch. Her hips no longer hurt, and now the only trace she had of the
accident was the scar on her cheek, which had faded a bit over the past weeks. It
would never go away completely, and she was at peace with that. She had survived,
and now instead of feeling guilty she felt free. She was determined to live her life
without fear or regrets.

A knock on the door made her heart leap.
He's here.
She opened it and smiled at Andrew,
who
met
her grin with a cute one of his own. He stood under the porch awning, snowflakes
covering
his dark coat. “You're late,” she said good-naturedly.

He stepped inside and removed his hat. “The snow slowed me down or I would have been
here sooner.” He kissed her
cheek, then whispered, his voice deep and soft in her
ear, “I couldn't wait to see you tonight.”

She blushed.
Oh my.
Not only was he more demonstrative now, he was also very comfortable
showing his affection. Such a difference from a few months ago, when their relationship
seemed impossible. Her smile widened as she shut the door and took his coat from
him.

He stepped farther into the living room, then let out a low whistle as he looked
at the coffee table. “Impressive.”

His reaction to the array of food pleased her. She had made three dozen of his favorite
cookies—peanut butter, chocolate chip, and snickerdoodle. She had warmed a pitcher
of apple cider and placed two mugs, each holding a cinnamon stick, next to it. A
fragrant candle was lit in the center of the table near his Christmas gift, a square
box wrapped in brown paper and tied with plain string. “I couldn't decide what type
of cookie you might want, so I made a few of
yer
favorites.”

“I'm eager to try them all.”

“You better hurry. I had to keep Homer from stealing them. He can be a greedy thing.”

Andrew glanced at the dog, who had barely lifted his head before lying back down
again. Andrew had become a familiar presence to him. “He doesn't seem too interested
in them anymore. Now, if there had been a ham hock on the table—”

“Then he would have been locked up in my room.” She smirked. “After I gave him a
little piece, of course.”

They smiled at each other for a moment, and Joanna basked in the ease she felt around
him. In the past she'd always worried that she wouldn't measure up, that she would
do something to disappoint him. Now she knew their love would withstand
anything.
She wouldn't be perfect. She
would
disappoint him, just as he would disappoint her.
It was how they handled the disappointment—and how they forgave each other—that mattered.
A hard lesson to learn, but they were both better for learning it.

Before they sat down Andrew pulled a folded envelope out of the pocket of his pants.
“Here's the latest letter from Cameron.”

Joanna smiled as she sat down. Shortly after Cameron was sentenced to eight years
at the prison in Mansfield, Andrew had written him a letter. The two had been corresponding
ever since. Andrew shared all the letters, with Cameron's permission. He always asked
about her and about their families. This would be his first Christmas alone without
his wife and daughter. Another pang twisted inside. “How is he?” she asked.

“Doing okay. He saw Lacy last week. Said she's sitting up, which was hard for him
to believe.” Andrew shrugged as he unfolded the letter. “I don't know anything about
babies, but he seemed happy about it.” He handed Joanna the letter.

Dear Andrew,

As always, it's good to hear from you. I hope Naomi and Irene are doing well. Please
tell Joanna and her sisters that I send my best. I pray for them every day, and I
thank them—and you—for praying for me.

Lacy is growing so fast. Elaine makes sure to send me pictures every week, and she
visits every other week. I'm still attending the men's Bible study and have started
doing some extra studying on my own with one of my fellow inmates. This might sound
nuts, but when I get out, I'm thinking about becoming a pastor. I don't know what
church would
hire an ex-felon, but if God wants that to happen, it will happen.

Cameron had written a few more things, nothing major, and nothing like the announcement
that he might be a pastor. “Do you think he will?” Joanna said, folding the letter
and handing it back to Andrew.

“I have no idea. But he's right—if God wants it to happen, it will happen.” He put
the letter back in his pocket and moved closer to her. “But I don't want to talk
about Cameron anymore.” He reached for a cookie and took a bite. He closed his eyes
as he chewed.

“Gut?”
Joanna asked, watching his reaction.

“Ya.”
When he opened his eyes, he met her gaze with a smoky-blue one. “Very
gut
.”

She let out a contented sigh and sat closer to him. There was more than one way to
Andrew's heart, but she would always be eager to cook for him, especially if it brought
out a bone-melting look like that one. Andrew finished the cookie and put his arm
around her shoulders. She leaned her head against his chest.

“Are you happy, Joanna?”

Feeling the warmth of his strong arm around her, hearing the thump of his heart beneath
her cheek . . . There was nowhere else she wanted to be. “
Ya
. Very much so.”

“Then hopefully this will make you even happier.” He removed his arm from her shoulders.
When
she
sat up he angled his body toward her on the sofa, then reached behind her
ear.
She
flinched. He hadn't done this trick in a while, so she wasn't expecting
it.
When
he pulled back his hand, he unfurled his fingers.

“A key?” she asked, looking at the small object in his work-roughened palm.

“
Yer
key.” He took her hand and put the key in it.

She continued to study the petite piece of metal. It was too small to be a door key.
“What's it for?”

“This.” He pulled out a package from behind his back. How did he hide that from her?
She had a feeling that in the future she would discover Andrew Beiler had plenty
more tricks up his sleeve. He handed the gift to her.

Carefully she unwrapped the plain brown paper, similar to the paper she used to wrap
his present. “It's beautiful,” she said, looking at a rectangular wooden box about
a foot in length and made from sweet-smelling cedar. She looked up at him, a bit
puzzled.

“For
yer
treasures.”

She was surprised that he'd paid attention to the fact that she saved things. Like
the acorn he'd given her in sixth grade, and the flower he'd given her the day she
asked him to marry her. She also kept other keepsakes from their dates and had placed
everything she saved in an old shoe box in her hope chest. It was nowhere near as
fancy—and flawless—as this box, with its smooth surface and perfect small keyhole.

“I had Sol make it. I knew he was a
gut
carpenter, but I didn't realize how
gut
until
he finished this. He's very talented with fine woodworking.”

“
Ya
, he is.” Sol had started making birdhouses in November, and Sadie had decided
to sell them in the store. They were popular among the
Englisch
people who visited
the grocery. But she had no idea he could make something as fine and detailed as
this.

“Open it,” Andrew urged, sounding eager.

Joanna inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Inside was a set of round evergreen
tea candles. They mingled with the pleasant scent of cedar. Perfect for Christmas.
“This is lovely, Andrew.
Danki
.” She kissed him lightly on the lips, which earned
her a smile
.
She set the keepsake box on the table, then reached for his gift and
handed it to him. “Merry Christmas.”

His grin made him look like a young schoolboy as he pulled on the string, opened
the box . . . and pulled out a horseshoe. His eyebrow lifted. “Okay. This is, uh,
nice. You know, Joanna. I actually have a lot of these at home. They're kinda important
for
mei
job.”

“But you don't have one from me. And not one like this.” She bit the inside of her
bottom lip before saying, “Turn it over.”

Holding her breath as he did what she asked, he read the inscription on the other
side out loud. “Joanna and Andrew Beiler . . . always and forever.” His gaze lifted,
his eyebrows arching in surprise above his gorgeous blue eyes. “Are you sure?” he
whispered.

“Ya.”
This hadn't been part of the plan, but she surprised herself and moved from
the couch and knelt in front of him, taking both of his rugged hands in hers. “I
want to marry you, Andrew.” Her mouth grew dry and she tried to swallow. The last
time she'd proposed to him had been out of immaturity and impatience. He'd refused
her, and rightly so. They hadn't been ready to marry back then. But now the words
felt right. Still, her heart hammered in her chest almost as much as it had that
day behind the Troyers' barn. “If you'll have me,” she said, only able to speak in
a nervous whisper.

“If I'll have you?” He laughed and put the horseshoe down.
Then he drew her onto
his lap, held her face in his hands, and kissed her until she couldn't breathe.
Ya
. . .
He was
very
demonstrative. “Of course I will,” he said after he finally pulled
away. “Do you have a date in mind?”

“I thought we'd have a January wedding. Or is that too soon?”

He kissed her nose. “January is fine with me.”

She nestled against him, and they were quiet for a few moments, listening to the
crackling fire in the stove. “Thank you for waiting for me,” she said, lifting her
head to look at him.

He ran his thumb over the scar on her cheek. “I'd wait forever for you, Joanna.”

The words warmed her heart . . . because she knew they were true.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A
s always, bringing a story to fruition is never a solitary endeavor. A big thank-you
to my editors Becky Monds and Jean Bloom for your wonderful suggestions and support.
To my agent, Sue Brower, who is always in my corner. To Kelly Long for her friendship
and brainstorming/critiquing help. To Tera Moore, for always being there when I need
her, despite the miles that separate us. And a special thank-you to you, dear reader,
for going on another written journey with me.

DISCUSSION QUESTIONS