An Unbroken Heart (7 page)

He kissed the top of Lacy's head, fierce love filling him. More often than not he
felt helpless and unworthy of taking care of this tiny baby who had become his reason
for living. Light blonde fuzz covered her tiny scalp. Mackenzie's hair. His was dark,
nearly black, and he kept it long and in a ponytail because Mackenzie had liked it
that way. He stared at Lacy's blue eyes—a trait she'd inherited from both him and
her mother.

“I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and Lacy,” Cameron said
to Mrs. Rodriguez.

“It's my pleasure,” she called out from the kitchen, which was only a few feet from
the living room. The apartment, and the furniture he and Mackenzie had purchased
from a thrift store, was about two decades out of date. But it had seemed like paradise
when he and Mackenzie settled in.

Mrs. Rodriguez went to Cameron and took Lacy from him, holding the baby's bottle
in one hand. “She's such a sweet baby. No trouble at all.”

“I don't want to impose.” Cameron pulled at the sleeves of his shirt, making sure
the cuffs didn't roll past his forearms. He
hadn't worn a short-sleeved shirt in
years, except when he was with Mackenzie. He didn't want to face the questions the
cigarette burns and penknife scars covering his upper arms and torso always instigated.
Thanks, Mom and Dad.

Settling her plump frame into an orange-and-brown-plaid chair, she shook her head
at him. “For the thousandth time, you're not imposing. Besides, this is good practice
for when my own children have their babies. Of course, they'll have to get married
first.” She sighed. “Unfortunately all three of them are too
busy
to find a spouse.”

Cameron had only met Mrs. Rodriguez's three sons a couple of times before Lacy was
born. They were older than he was, in their late twenties and early thirties. Here
he was, barely twenty, a widower with an infant to take care of, plus a new thundercloud
hanging over his head, threatening to drown both him and Lacy. But his days were
numbered at Barton Plastics, and in Langdon. He would have to skip town soon. He'd
put it off for too long. His throat pinched. He'd thought he finally found a stable
home here. A place where he could escape his past and build a new future. This town,
even this tiny apartment that most people would have thumbed their noses at, had
held so much promise for him and Mackenzie. Now every moment he stayed here reminded
him of what he lost.

But he wouldn't reveal all this to Mrs. Rodriguez. He wasn't going to draw her into
his nightmare. Somehow he'd have to live with what he'd done. Not just to the Amish
family—he refused to think of them by name—but also with the choices he'd made since
then. He stood and grabbed his keys off the coffee table. “I'll be back by five.
Call me if something happens.” His gaze remained on Lacy as she contentedly sucked
on her bottle.

“Cameron.” Mrs. Rodriguez's voice and expression were somber. “Don't worry. Nothing
will happen to your daughter.”

Nothing was supposed to happen to Mackenzie either. He would never stop worrying
about Lacy, because he knew life was fragile and could be snuffed out at any moment,
whether in a hospital maternity ward or on a back road in Birch Creek.

CHAPTER 4

J
oanna clung to the edge of her bed as she heard a soft knock on her bedroom door.

“Joanna?” Abigail said from the other side, her voice tentative.

Sighing, Joanna stroked Homer's back. He'd followed her into her bedroom after she
told Abigail she didn't want to see Andrew. She didn't care that she'd left the ham
steak on the stove and the cinnamon rolls in the oven. All she'd wanted was escape.

But she couldn't escape Abigail. Her sister was tenacious, and she would stand outside
her door until next week if Joanna didn't let her in. “Come in.”

Abigail entered carrying a lovely pink bouquet. “Andrew brought you these.” She eased
next to Joanna on the bed and handed the bundle of flowers to her. “You're not going
to throw them away this time, are you?”

Joanna looked down at the delicate pink blooms. Her chest
felt heavy, like a huge
rock was resting on it. Andrew had also sent her flowers shortly after she arrived
at the rehabilitation center. In a fit of anger and confusion, she'd tossed them
in the trash and regretted it right afterward. But at the time the bouquet didn't
cheer her up. It had served as a reminder of her rejected proposal and the argument
she'd had with her parents.

The flowers he'd brought this morning were stunning, just like the previous bouquet.
It was so like him to make sure the blooms were her favorite color. She didn't have
the urge to throw them away this time, but they did spur her guilt again. Yet deep
inside her heart she was touched. Her throat constricted with confusion and, to her
surprise and frustration, longing.
Lord, why am I so flustered about everything?

“Why wouldn't you see him?” Abigail asked gently.

What was she supposed to say?
I don't want to see him because I embarrassed myself
by asking him to marry me. Oh, and then I fought with
Mamm
and
Daed
about it right
before they died. And then he asked me to marry him and I said yes, even though I'm
pretty sure I made a huge mistake . . .

Instead she looked away and said nothing.

“He said to tell you he loves you.”

Joanna froze. He had told her he loved her in the rehabilitation center, but she
wouldn't allow the words to nestle in her heart. She'd been certain that after he
had time to think about marrying her, he would not only take back his proposal but
also his declaration of love.

Yet he had repeated it, this time to her sister. That blew their privacy—and the
status of their relationship—out into the open. What happened to taking things slow?

This wasn't like Andrew. He didn't do things on impulse. And that worried her more
than anything.

Abigail put her hand on Joanna's arm. “He also said he isn't going anywhere.”

She gaped. “He told you that?”

“
Ya.
I didn't realize you two were so serious.” Abigail stuck out her bottom lip
in an exaggerated pout. “First Sadie kept Aden a secret, and now I find out you and
Andrew were courting.” She sighed. “At least I've been upfront with you and Sadie
about how much I like Joel Zook.”

Joanna met Abigail's gaze. “We're not serious.” She rubbed her nose.

“And pigs fly upside down.” She pointed to Joanna's nose. Joanna immediately stopped
the
rubbing
motion.
“He
was really upset that you wouldn't see him. He went to all
the
trouble
to
bring
you those pretty flowers before the sun was even up.”

She looked at the mix of carnations and roses in her hand again. “You know Andrew.
He's nice. Polite. He was just being thoughtful.”

“What's going on, Joanna?”

Joanna could feel something inside her almost break in two. A part of her wanted
to tell Abigail everything. Maybe her sister would have some insight. But she held
back. Abigail and Sadie had enough to worry about without dealing with Joanna's doubts
and fears about her relationship with Andrew. She glanced down at the flowers again
and shook her head.

“All right. I won't pry. I'm showing a huge amount of restraint, by the way.” Abigail
chuckled, but Joanna couldn't even bring herself to smile.

“I told him to stop by tomorrow,” Abigail added.

Joanna grimaced. “Why?”

Abigail held up her hands. “I thought it was a
gut
idea at the time. You do want
to see him eventually, right?”

She paused, then nodded. Because despite her confusion and misgivings, she missed
him. She missed his steady presence in her life. The sweet little tokens he used
to give her when he was doing his corny magic trick. The easy talks they used to
have before everything between them changed.

Her sister took the bouquet from Joanna. “You know, if Joel showed up here and brought
me flowers and proclaimed his undying love, I'd be doing cartwheels in the backyard—”
She brought her hand to her mouth. “Joanna, I'm so sorry. I didn't think. That was
wrong of me to say.”

“It's all right.” Abigail's words had barely made it past Joanna's haze. “Honestly,
don't give it another thought.”

But Abigail looked stricken. “I'll just take my foot out of
mei
mouth. Make that
both feet.”

Joanna lifted her lips in a half-smile. “I promise, Abigail. You didn't say anything
wrong. I'll be doing cartwheels soon enough.”

“That's the spirit.” Abigail stood. “Still, I'm going to stay out of
yer
business
from now on.” She glanced at the flowers. “I'll put these in water. Do you want
to keep them in
yer
room? They would look so pretty on
yer
dresser.”

The last place she wanted them was in her room. “They would be nice on the kitchen
table. That way everyone can enjoy them.”

“You're sure?”

“Positive.”

“Have it
yer
way, then.” Abigail smiled. “I'll walk back with you to the kitchen.
Those cinnamon rolls smell
gut
.”

“You
geh
ahead. I'll be right behind you.”

Once her sister was out of sight, Joanna bit the inside of her bottom lip. Andrew
loved her. Wanted to marry her. She'd spent months—years, actually—waiting for him
to feel the same about her as she felt about him. Yet all she could do was sit on
her bed and feel doubt, dread, and a good dose of apprehension. Now what was she
supposed to do? Andrew would be back tomorrow. She couldn't avoid him again.

But what could she tell him? What should she tell him? Her mind spun in bewilderment.
Was love supposed to be this complicated? This difficult?

Straightening, she took her crutches and focused her mind on the day's work. She
still had time to figure things out, if that was even possible.

A few moments later Joanna limped to the kitchen. Aden had already eaten breakfast
and gone to work outside. Sadie was finishing up her coffee while Abigail used the
side of her fork to cut through one of the three cinnamon rolls on her plate. Joanna's
gaze went to the bouquet at the center of the table. The sunlight streaming through
the windows dappled spots of light on the soft petals of the roses. She stumbled
through a quick turn and headed for the stove. She might be able to choke down a
cup of coffee, but little else. She hadn't had much of an appetite since the accident.

“Are you still planning to work in
Daed's
office today, Sadie?” Abigail asked. “Oh,
wait, Joanna. Let me get that for you.”

Remembering she couldn't manage both crutches and the coffee, she let Abigail take
the mug from her. Ugh, once again
she needed help. She hid her frustration as she
hobbled to the table and lowered her achy body into one of the chairs. Abigail set
the coffee down in front of Joanna, then sat next to Sadie as they resumed their
conversation.

“
Ya
, I plan to work on organizing the file cabinets,” Sadie said. “That will take
all
daag
. There's still so much that needs to be done.”

Abigail fiddled with her fork. “I never knew
Daed
was such a pack rat.”

“Me either. But I don't mind. Going through
Daed's
things . . .” Sadie touched the
top edge of her coffee mug, her voice cracking. “It's almost like he's still here.”

Joanna nodded and Abigail pushed her plate away. They sat in silence for a moment.
Joanna couldn't bring herself to talk about her parents, even with Sadie and Abigail.
The hurt was still too fresh.

Sadie finally spoke. “Abigail, are you sure you don't mind working the front of the
store by yourself? Aden will be around if things get busy.”

Abigail shook her head. “I can handle a few customers. It will be
gut
to work for
a change.”

Joanna pushed away the guilt that was becoming a familiar part of her life. Of course
Abigail would be eager to return to the store. Anything was better than being stuck
at Joanna's side day in and day out.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
But it was
hard to halt the negative train of thought once it got rolling.

She wished she could join her sisters at the store. The whole family had always run
the grocery together. She hadn't been as involved as Sadie and Abigail, mostly because
she liked to be in the kitchen preparing meals, canning vegetables, and baking treats
for neighbors, friends, and church services. Her favorite
task when she did work
in the grocery was creating displays that would grab customer interest, such as pairing
marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate bars for s'mores. If she tried to do
that now, she would only be in the way. She'd probably knock something over with
her crutches too. But as soon as she was physically able, she would pull her fair
share of shifts in the store.