An Unbroken Heart (4 page)

But she wasn't thinking about apples right now. She rubbed her nose, still upset
over what happened last night with Andrew. To his credit, when he'd returned to the
Troyers' basement he had seemed upset too. More upset than she'd ever seen him. He
also looked like he wanted to talk. Then Sadie had shown up, and Joanna was glad
for the excuse to leave. She had been embarrassed enough for one night.

Abigail wasn't happy about leaving, however, and had peppered Sadie with questions
on the way home.

Joanna had kept quiet, barely listening to their bickering as she replayed every
moment of her botched proposal. How could she have been so stupid?

Her father's horse moved along at a brisk clip, the fall air warm and pleasant, the
rich smells of full gardens and grazing
livestock surrounding them as they traveled
to the apple farm. The peaceful beauty was a stark contrast to her sour mood. Maybe
last night had been a sign that she should finally give up on Andrew, that she would
grow old and gray before he made up his mind about her. Yet she couldn't imagine
herself with anyone else. She didn't want to.

“Joanna, what's wrong?”

She met her mother's over-the shoulder gaze.
“Nix.”

“You're rubbing the skin off
yer
nose. Is there something you want to talk about?”
She glanced at
Daed
, who was staring straight ahead, his attention on the horse and
the surrounding traffic, which was light today on the back roads.

Joanna put her hands in her lap. The buggy lurched as one of the wheels dipped into
a pothole. The bright sun warmed the interior of the buggy. Or maybe it was her irritation
making her face heat. “What's the point?” she muttered.

“What?”

Ugh. She hadn't meant to say the words out loud.

“Does this have something to do with Andrew?”

Stunned, Joanna gripped her fingers together. “Andrew?” She let out an awkward chuckle.
“Nothing's going on with me and Andrew.”

“If you say so.”
Mamm
smirked.

Joanna sighed. Clearly she hadn't done a good job of hiding her feelings, at least
from her mother. “How did you know?”

“A mother figures these things out.” Her tone turned serious. “He hasn't hurt you,
has he?”

Not on purpose.
“
Nee, Mamm.
He hasn't. He's just . . . slow.”

“Slow? I always thought he was pretty smart.”

“I mean cautious. Overly cautious.”

“Like I said, smart.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Mamm
turned more fully around in her seat. “Joanna, I know you've been carrying a
torch for that
bu
for years. Which is okay. But you're both
yung
. There's
nee
reason
to get serious right now.”

Even her mother thought she was wrong to think about marrying Andrew? “What if I
want to get serious?”

Her mother's face paled. “He didn't propose to you, did he?”

“Nee.”
She crossed her arms, feeling more defiant than she had in her whole life.
“I proposed to him.”

“Joanna!”

“I didn't rob a bank,
Mamm
. I just asked him to marry me.”

“What did he say?”

She averted her gaze. “He said he wanted to talk about it.”

Her mother breathed out a long sigh. “I'm glad one of you has some sense. I'm surprised
at you. You're barely twenty years old. You have
nee
business getting married. How
long have you and Andrew been dating, anyway?”

“A little over two months.” Saying the words out loud made her feel sheepish. Still,
she lifted her chin.

“Two months? How could you be so foolish? Marriage is not something to take lightly.
You will be with
yer
husband the rest of
yer
life.”

“I already know that,” she replied, unable to keep the bite out of her tone.

“You don't want to rush into anything.”

“How can eight years be rushing?” she blurted.

“Eight years?”
Mamm's
eyes grew wide. “I didn't realize you'd had a crush on him
for that long.”

“It wasn't—it's not—a crush. I love him,
Mamm
. I always have.”

Mamm
looked at
Daed
, who still remained focused on driving. But Joanna could see
the muscle in his right cheek twitching hard. He was just as upset as
Mamm
. Disgusted,
Joanna flopped back against the seat. “You and
Daed
have been trying to get Sadie
married off for years.”

“That's totally different.”

“Why? Because Sadie's smarter? She's got more sense than I do?”

“In some ways . . .
ya
.”

Joanna slumped farther in her seat. Her parents didn't trust her, despite her never
giving them a single reason not to.

“Sadie's older,”
Daed
added.

“You and
Mamm
were eighteen when you got married.”

“We knew what we were doing.”
Mamm
pressed her lips together.

“Why is it that you two knew what you were doing but I don't? Or that Sadie and Abigail
are ready to get married but I'm not?”

“We worry about you,
lieb
. You've always been too trusting. So sweet and—”

“Gullible.” She scowled.

“
Ya.
That too. Those aren't bad qualities. They simply show how pure
yer
heart is.”

Joanna huffed. “That's supposed to make me feel better?”

“If you and Andrew are meant to get married, it will happen. But not now.”

“Then when? When I'm forty?”

“Don't be ridiculous.
Yer
childish behavior right now is starting to prove our point.”

Joanna knew that was true, but she was so angry she couldn't help it. “How old will
I have to be before you trust me to make
gut
decisions?”

“We don't want you to get hurt, that's all.”

“Andrew would never hurt me.” But hadn't he last night? Then again, she had opened
herself up for getting hurt by proposing. He hadn't even kissed her yet, and she
was already pushing him for marriage. She put her fingertips to her temples. All
she wanted was to be strong for once. To make something happen with Andrew instead
of waiting eight more years before he would finally commit to her. She was ready
to live her life. To be treated as a grown-up, not as a child.

But it didn't matter what she did. Her parents would always see her as a naive little
girl. “Maybe Andrew and I will elope,” she mumbled. The words sounded stupid to her
own ears, and now she was really acting like a child. But she was furious, not only
with them but with herself. She couldn't stop herself from digging a deeper hole.
“If Andrew and I want to get married, we will get married, whether you like it or
not.”

Daed
turned and looked at her, his eyes flashing with anger. “You will not speak
to
yer mudder
that way—”

Suddenly everything became a blur. The buggy tilted violently. Joanna was in the
air, then slammed to the ground. Her cheek stung and burned.
“Mamm? Daed?”
They didn't
respond. She tried to get up but couldn't move. Pain shot through her hips and black
spots danced in front of her eyes. She heard a weird noise. Tires squealing?

She collapsed and her world went black.

CHAPTER 3

F
OUR WEEKS LATER

A
ndrew handed the taxi driver a twenty-dollar bill. “I'm not sure how long I'll be
inside,” he said as he opened the car door.

Marjorie, the driver, took the bill and nodded. “Take your time. You can call me
when you're finished. I'm not doing anything else today.” She glanced at her wristwatch.
“I think I might have lunch at Mary Yoder's restaurant while I'm waiting.”

Andrew nodded, barely hearing the woman. His stomach rebelled at the thought of food.

She patted her short, silver-colored hair. “Would you like me to bring you anything
back?”

“Nee.”
As nice as Marjorie was—she lived in nearby Langdon and was a familiar driver
among the Amish in Birch Creek—Andrew was eager for her to leave. “I'll be fine.”

“All right. Give me a call when you're ready to be picked up.”

As Marjorie drove off, he stood in front of the rehabilitation center and took a
deep breath. Since the accident nearly a month ago, Joanna had rebuffed his attempts
to contact her. He was tired of leaving messages, so he came here as a last resort.
If she didn't want to see him, she would have to tell him to his face.

Gathering up his courage, he walked into the building, asked the woman behind the
information desk for Joanna's room number, then headed for the elevator. Two other
people got on at the same time. They were
Englisch
, of course. He steeled himself
for their curious glances, but they stared straight ahead at the elevator doors.
Then he remembered that
Englisch
folks in Middlefield were used to the Amish. They
mixed and mingled like a tossed fruit salad in this atypical Ohio town.

The doors opened. Andrew excused himself and walked onto the floor. He gulped and
went
in
the direction of Joanna's room. He knew she'd be surprised to see him, but
would
she
be happy? The last time they were together, he'd refused her marriage
proposal.
He
intended to right that wrong, but not today. This morning he only wanted
to
see
her. To make sure she was okay. They could talk about the future when she
returned
home.

Unless she never wanted to see him again.

He ditched that thought and knocked on the door to her room. He heard a loud grunt
and had to force himself not to barge in. Was she in pain? Did she need help? At
the second grunt, he couldn't stop himself. He opened the door a crack. “Joanna?”

Silence met his voice. Now he was genuinely concerned. He opened the door wider.
“Joanna? It's Andrew.” How stupid. Of course she knew who he was. “Can I come in?”

Another long pause. Had he gotten the wrong room number?
He should have written it
down. But he had a good memory for numbers, so he hadn't felt the need. Still, he
could have made a mistake—

“Ya.”

He stilled. Her voice was weaker than it used to be. And uncertain. But she was still
Joanna. He leaned against the door for a moment before walking inside. He passed
by an empty bed, then peeked around a curtain that divided the room in half. “Hi,”
he said, then stopped, shocked by what he saw.

She was in a wheelchair. He didn't know why that surprised him, considering he knew
she had broken her pelvis and had to have surgery. He also noticed she was thin.
Very thin. Joanna had always been slender, but now her cheeks were gaunt and he could
clearly see her collarbone under the neckline of her dress. Beads of perspiration
dotted her face, and the pink kerchief fastened to her rich brown hair was damp
at the edges. Her light blue dress was also sweat soaked.

“Are you okay?” was all he could think to say. Then he wanted to kick himself all
the way back to Birch Creek. Of course she wasn't okay. She'd been in a terrible
accident. Broken her pelvis. Lost her parents. He couldn't comprehend what she was
going through, even though he understood what it was like to have your entire life
upended without warning.

He had lost his father—not because he died, but because the man chose another woman
over his family. Andrew knew about loss, what it was like to lose someone you loved,
but not to the extent Joanna did. More than anything he wanted to take that pain
from her. But he didn't know how. All he knew was that she shouldn't have to go through
the heartache alone.

She turned her head to the side, not looking at him. “
Ya.
I'm
fine.” Her cheek, rosy
from whatever exertion she'd been doing, was begging to be kissed. He didn't care
that she was sweating or in a wheelchair or not even looking at him. He was grateful
she was alive. He hadn't lost her.
Thank you, God.

Despite wanting to go to her, he held back. He'd always tried to be respectful toward
her, and now he knew he had to be careful, too, until she healed. He didn't want
to do anything to set back her recovery. “Hi,” he said again.

“Hi.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, and she still wasn't looking at him.

“Did I interrupt something?”

She paused, then nodded. “I was doing some of
mei
exercises.” She sighed. “I can't
do them all yet. Once I can, they'll let me
geh
home.”

He nodded, relieved that she was getting closer to being released. He missed her
and he wanted her home. “I called you. Several times,” he couldn't help but add.