An Unbroken Heart (6 page)

More important, what right did she have to be happy when her parents were dead?

“Morning,” Aden said, drawing Joanna out of her thoughts. He took a mug from the
cabinet, then paused. “Everything all right?”

She nodded and shuffled to him, offering to take the mug. “I'll bring you
yer kaffee
and
breakfast.”

“I don't mind getting
mei
own
kaffee
.”

But she wanted to get it for him. She could do little else right now. Then she remembered
today was different. “Sadie told me yesterday that today's
yer
birthday. You deserve
special treatment.”

A slight rosy hue appeared on his cheeks. Joanna didn't know Aden well. Not only
was he almost three years older and Sadie's age, but he had also kept to himself
over the years. From what Joanna could tell so far, though, he was a kind man who
loved her sister, and he was nothing if not humble.

Aden sat down, and she poured his coffee. She'd bake him a birthday cake for dessert
tonight. They were expecting his brother, Sol, and their mother, Rhoda, for supper,
and Joanna would find a way to make the meal extra special.

She leaned one of her crutches against the counter and made her way to the table,
balancing the coffee mug and putting her weight on the single crutch. She'd learned
the hard way yesterday not to fill the mug to the top. Pleased she didn't spill
a drop, she handed the mug to Aden. “Happy birthday.”

“Birthday
kaffee
.” Aden grinned at her. “That's a first for me.”

Sadie walked into the kitchen. “Good morning.” She touched Aden's shoulder as she
passed by him.

Joanna saw the loving looks Sadie and Aden exchanged and felt a jolt of envy. She
and Andrew had never been as comfortable and loving around each other as Sadie and
Aden were. If that day he showed up at the rehabilitation center was any indication,
things between them were even more strained than before. That was why she hadn't
kept her promise to call him when she was released, and why she hadn't seen him since
she'd been home.

She couldn't face him right now. She knew she should be celebrating their impending
wedding. She'd finally gotten what she wanted—a commitment from Andrew. Yet she felt
anything but satisfied. Or happy. She couldn't even tell her sisters she was engaged.
That's not normal. Then again, she wasn't normal anymore.

With another hard shake of her head, she shoved Andrew and her engagement out of
her mind. She'd focus on getting well, and then she'd make things up to Abigail,
who had spent weeks at her bedside while Joanna was in the hospital and in rehabilitation.
When she was able she would join her sisters and work in the store, along with making
sure Abigail, Sadie, and Aden had delicious food to eat every day. From now on she
would put her family first, not her own selfish desires.

Yet she couldn't help but wonder that if things were different, if the accident
that was partly her fault hadn't happened, that Andrew wouldn't have asked her to
marry him out of obligation. That eventually, someday, he would have proposed out
of love.

Ugh. She rubbed her nose. Somehow she had to figure out a way not to obsess about
him. She went back to check on the
steaks. She had flipped two of them over when
Abigail entered the kitchen, her expression unusually somber.

“Joanna, someone's here to see you.”

Joanna lifted an eyebrow. Sadie and Aden seemed surprised too. “Who would be visiting
this early in the morning?”

“Andrew.”

Joanna froze, the sizzle and popping of the steaks the only sound in the kitchen.
“Why is he here?” she whispered.

“For you. He's here to see you.”

Andrew's palms were slick as he shifted the bouquet to his free hand. He wiped his
damp hand against the leg of his work pants. It was early, ridiculously early, but
he couldn't stay away from Joanna any longer. He'd bought the flowers yesterday
after work, resisting the urge to stop by her house last night and give them to her.
He wanted to see her face light up the way it always did when she received something
from him. This time she was getting a nice arrangement, not a silly acorn or a pitiful
flower.

He'd promised himself he would wait, mostly because he had to come to terms with
her broken promise. He kept telling himself that he couldn't blame her for not calling
him when she was ready to come home. It wasn't her fault she hadn't contacted him,
even though she'd been back in Birch Creek for two days. She was busy, she was getting
settled, she was tired . . . He continued providing her with a litany of excuses.
He was trying to be understanding. He had to be understanding.

But this morning he'd had enough of sleepless nights and waiting on her. He'd planned
to see her later today after he
finished work, but when he got up this morning he
didn't even bother with breakfast. He hooked his horse Fred to his buggy and drove
over here before there was a hint of daylight in the sky.

The longer he waited in the living room, the faster his hope fell. He suspected something
was
wrong
when Abigail had frowned at the flowers, although the look had been so
fleeting
Andrew
almost missed it. Had Joanna told her about their engagement? He
would
be
surprised if she had. Before the accident they had kept their romantic relationship
a
secret
from everyone. At the time that had felt right, especially since Andrew
had
wanted
to take things slow with Joanna. But since then everything had changed.
Now
he
knew what real fear was. He'd almost lost her.
I'm not wasting any more time.
He
would
shout out his feelings from the top of the Schrock barn if she asked him
to.

Abigail came out of the kitchen. He straightened, smiling. The flowers seemed to
wilt in his hand when he realized Abigail was alone.

“I'm sorry, Andrew. Joanna doesn't want to see you right now.”

His fingers clenched around the delicate green paper surrounding the bouquet. He'd
made sure to pick out her favorites: three pink carnations and three pink roses.
He didn't know squat about flowers, but he knew she liked pink, and these were the
pinkest ones he could find.

“She's been through a lot,” Abigail continued.

Andrew shifted on his feet. He guessed Abigail didn't know anything about the engagement.
Andrew wouldn't be the one to tell her. “I just want to see her for a few minutes.”
I need to see her
.

“But she's not ready to see you.”

His jaw twitched as he tried to accept Abigail's words. Had
Joanna changed her mind?
A slight jolt of relief ran through him. Then he shook his head. Relief? He wanted
to marry Joanna. He was sure of it . . . wasn't he?

“Andrew?”

He looked at Abigail, still dazed.
“Ya?”

“Why don't you come by tomorrow? I'm sure she'll be up to a visit then.”

But he could see she was lying. The sting of rejection burned. He handed the flowers
to Abigail. “Give her these.” He walked out the front door, letting it slam behind
him, and started down the planked steps, only to jerk to a stop on the bottom step.
He took in several deep breaths. Turning around, he went back to the house and knocked
on the door again. Abigail opened it, the bouquet held loosely in her hand, as if
she'd expected him to return right away.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to be rude.”

“It's all right.”

“
Nee
, it's not. I'm worried about her, that's all. I thought if I could see her for
a few minutes . . .” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

Kindness entered her brown eyes. “You need to be patient with her.” She frowned a
little. “We all do. It's hard because we care so much about her. We want our sweet
Joanna back.”

Andrew wasn't naive or thoughtless enough to believe that Joanna hadn't been changed
by the accident and the deaths of her parents. But what did her sister mean about
getting Joanna back? Had she changed that much? If only Joanna would give him a chance
to find out.

Abigail was right. He did need patience, which he normally had in abundance.
Joanna's
not the only one who's changed.
Even if
she wouldn't see him, he needed to remind
her of what was on his heart. “Would you please give Joanna a message?”

“Of course,” Abigail said with a small, compassionate smile.

He was glad to have one sister on his side. He gulped, shocked by the emotion suddenly
constricting his throat. “Tell her I love her. Tell her I'm not going anywhere. She
can count on that.” Then he took off, not waiting for a response.

L
ANGDON
, O
HIO

Seated on his beat-up sofa, Cameron Crawford looked around the tiny one-bedroom apartment.
His gaze landed on the morning's local paper, which lay on the warped coffee table.
The headline screamed at him: Reward for Hit and Run Information. He didn't have
to read the article to learn the story. He
was
the story.

He pushed the paper off the table and pulled on his steel-toed boots. He shoved the
accident out of his mind, only to have the memory replaced with a bittersweet one:
the day six months ago when he and Mackenzie had first moved in. She'd protested
when he'd carried her over the threshold, saying that at seven months pregnant she
was too heavy for him to lift. Of course she wasn't, and the delight in her eyes
when he held her close and they walked into their first apartment together had made
him believe in miracles and happy endings.

He didn't believe in them anymore.

He rubbed his palms over his worn jeans, picked up the plain brown picture frame
on the coffee table, and ran his finger
over the glass. His beautiful Mackenzie.
He'd snapped the picture with his camera phone right after she delivered Lacy. That
was the second happiest day of his life. The first was when he and Mackenzie married.
He'd never felt such joy, the kind that exploded in his chest and kept a permanent
smile on his face. Mackenzie and Lacy. His precious girls. The loves of his life.

Cameron touched his lips, remembering how he'd kissed Mackenzie's pale, damp forehead
when the nurse took Lacy from her. “She's perfect,” he'd said to Mackenzie. “You're
perfect.”

Then the machines started to beep. The nurses rushed around, panicked. Cameron could
still hear their words . . . Blood pressure is dropping . . . She's lost too much
blood . . . Prep for surgery . . .

His throat pinched and he set down the photo. He didn't only need to leave Langdon
because of what had happened six weeks ago. He also needed to escape the memories
that haunted him like a relentless ghost, taunting him about what he had lost . .
. and how much he still had to lose.

Mrs. Rodriguez walked into the living room from Lacy's bedroom, holding the baby
in her arms. “Say good morning to
Papi
, sunshine.”

Despite his melancholy, Cameron smiled. He couldn't help it when he saw his daughter's
sweet face. “Are you sure you don't mind watching her today? I can still drop her
off at day care.”

“Mind? Of course not. I jump at the chance anytime I can watch this little cutie
pie.” She kissed Lacy's cheek. His landlord and part-time babysitter, Mrs. Rodriguez,
was the classic grandmother type—loving, cheerful, and wonderful with Lacy. Since
his daughter didn't have any grandparents in her life, spending time with Mrs. Rodriguez
had been good for her, even if that
time had been short. He was glad Mrs. Rodriguez
benefited from the relationship too.

She handed Lacy to Cameron. “I'll fix her bottle.”

Cameron cradled Lacy in his arm while Mrs. Rodriguez prepared Lacy's breakfast. He
would be leaving soon for his job at Barton Plastics, where he'd worked since he
and Mackenzie had moved into the apartment. Eight hours a day, six days a week. He
was relieved Mrs. Rodriguez was willing to watch Lacy on a Saturday. He'd found a
day care that was open on Saturdays, but they charged double the rate. This would
save him money, something he desperately needed.