An Unbroken Heart (8 page)

The kitchen grew quiet again. “I miss them.” Abigail's voice was barely above a whisper.

“Me too,” Sadie added. She took Joanna's hand but didn't say anything else.

Then Abigail cleared her throat, took a hefty forkful of cinnamon roll, and held
it in front of her mouth. “These hit the spot.” She practically inhaled the huge
bite.

“You should think about selling them in the store, Joanna.” Sadie released her hand.
“When Aden gets his honey business going again, we're going to sell his products.
We're getting a steady stream of
Englisch
customers, and I've had a lot of them asking
if we carry baked goods or Amish-made items.”

“I was thinking about selling a couple of my rugs.” Abigail stood and picked up her
plate and napkin. “They're so easy to make. Do you think they'd sell?”

“Absolutely.” Sadie glanced at Joanna, then at Abigail again. “And while you two
create
yer
masterpieces, I'll do the accounting.”

“Sounds exciting,” Abigail said dryly.

“I like it.” Sadie folded her napkin and set it on her empty plate. “Aden says I
have a knack for it.”

Abigail smirked. “I'm glad one of us does.” She put her dish in the sink. “I'll
geh
open the store.”

Joanna expected Sadie to follow Abigail, since she was usually eager to start work
first thing after breakfast. But her sister
stayed in her seat, leisurely sipping
her coffee. Only when Abigail had left the kitchen did Sadie speak.

“Joanna, can we talk?”

“Have I done something wrong?” Maybe sending Andrew away had upset Sadie.

Sadie shook her head, giving Joanna an encouraging smile. “Of course not. Although
I'm worried you're doing too much work in the kitchen. You've only been home two
daags
and you seem tired. Abigail and I can help with the cooking.”

“I can handle it.” She sounded shorter than she meant to, and she could tell from
Sadie's expression that her sister was taken aback. To soften her words, Joanna added,
“I'm tired because I was up early this morning.” She leaned forward, giving Sadie
her full attention. “What do we need to discuss?”

“While you were at the rehab center, I discovered something. A secret
Mamm
and
Daed
kept from us.”

Joanna gripped her coffee mug, which was still nearly full.

“There are natural gas rights attached to our property. I don't know why
Mamm
and
Daed
didn't tell us about them, but I'm sure they had their reasons. I recently got
the paperwork, and Aden's been in talks with one of the gas companies that want to
purchase the rights from us.”

Joanna relaxed a little bit, glad the secret wasn't something devastating. She couldn't
take any more bad news. “Does Abigail know?”

“I told her about it yesterday. Once we get a fair price for the rights, the money
belongs to all of us. We'll use it to pay off our debts first.”

Joanna blanched. Those debts were because of her. “I'm sorry,” she said, staring
at the lukewarm coffee.

“The bills aren't just from the accident. That's not
yer
fault, anyway.”

But Sadie didn't understand. The accident was her fault, at least partly. She had
distracted both of her parents with her bratty behavior. She'd have to live with
that the rest of her life.

“We'd pay any amount of money for you to be alive and healed, Joanna. Don't doubt
that for a minute.”

Her sister's words were little comfort. The hospital and rehabilitation bills had
to be a fortune.

“The store is in debt,” Sadie continued. “That was something else we didn't know
about. There's
nix
we can do about that, other than accept that they didn't want
us to know about their money troubles. The point is, after the debts are paid, we
need to discuss how to divide the money equally between the three of us. You don't
have to worry about that now, of course. I wanted you to know, that's all.”

“
Danki
for telling me.”

“I—all of us—want you to focus on healing. Don't worry about bills or about doing
so much work around here. God has taken care of us so far.”

But he still allowed the accident to happen. Joanna tasted bitter bile climbing her
throat.

“I'll help you with the dishes before I
geh
to the office.” Sadie rose from the chair.

Joanna shook her head. “I'll do them.”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There was an impatient bite in Sadie's voice. “You
focus on getting better.”

She nodded and kept the rest of her thoughts to herself. She didn't want to upset
Sadie or anyone else.

“Gut.”

Sadie gave her an encouraging smile before leaving the kitchen. Once she was alone,
Joanna rubbed her temple. First Andrew's abrupt change of heart, and now she learned
her parents had kept secrets from the family. Was nothing as it seemed? Her entire
life was turned around and upside down.

Rejoice in suffering.

The words intruded into her thoughts. A fragment of a scripture verse. Absently
she touched the scar on her face.
How am I supposed to rejoice about this? Or my
parents' deaths? Or my doubts about Andrew?

She got to her feet, knowing that she had to keep busy or her thoughts would drive
her crazy. She reached for the crutches and started to clear the table. She paused
as her gaze landed on Andrew's bouquet.

Despite herself, she couldn't resist touching one of the delicate pink rose petals.

For the rest of the morning Andrew threw himself into his work. Anything to keep
his thoughts away from Joanna. But it was proving impossible. He'd already banged
his hand with his hammer and nearly pinched his finger with the nippers. He hadn't
made those kinds of mistakes since he'd been an apprentice.

After lunch he arrived at Freemont Yoder's. Freemont was the new bishop of Birch
Creek. His roan mare needed a full set of new shoes. Andrew tried to keep his attention
on the work, only to wonder yet again if Joanna had changed her mind about the wedding.
“Ow!” He missed tapping the final nail into a horseshoe and banged the top of his
thigh with the hammer.
He groaned. He could shoe horses in his sleep. Apparently
he couldn't shoe them while Joanna was on his mind.

“Everything okay?” Freemont asked, leaning against the stable wall.

Andrew gently released the horse's foot. She was a sweet old mare. He patted her
flank. “Lost
mei
concentration a bit.”

“Unusual for you.” Freemont straightened and put his hands in his pockets. “Um, anything
you want to talk about?”

Andrew's brow lifted.

“Seeing I'm now the bishop and all . . .” He cleared his throat. It was no secret
that Freemont was uncomfortable in his new role. “Anyway, if you need to talk to
someone, let me know.”

“Danki.”
Andrew wiped his hands on his leather apron, then put his hammer into his
tool belt. Surely Freemont didn't know anything about the proposal. And right now
Andrew didn't want him to, not while Joanna kept pushing him away. “I'll keep that
in mind.”

“I hope you didn't think I was, uh, prying. I wasn't meaning to, anyway.”

“I didn't think you were.”

That seemed to put Freemont more at ease. “How much do I owe you for the shoeing?”

“Nix.”
Andrew led the horse back to the stall. He wasn't going to charge Freemont,
and not only because he was the bishop. He knew the man had experienced some financial
difficulties of late. Their former bishop, Emmanuel Troyer, had kept a tight rein
on the community fund despite being aware of Freemont's crop failures and the large
family he had to support. Since Emmanuel had left Birch Creek, everyone in the district
now knew the fund was flush with money. Freemont was also
getting back on his feet.
Still, Andrew didn't feel right charging him.

“I gotta pay you something,” Freemont said.

Andrew sized up the man, who was in his early forties and had a huge amount of responsibility
resting on his slim shoulders. He could have easily accepted Andrew's refusal to
charge him. But Andrew understood, probably better than most in their district,
that a man didn't want something for nothing. It was one thing to get help from the
community fund since everyone contributed to it. It was another to receive a service
without giving some kind of compensation. “We could use another chicken,” Andrew
said, having noticed at least a dozen free-range birds pecking around in the front
yard.

Freemont grinned. “Chickens are something I've got plenty of. Rooster or hen?”

“Hen. We've already got one rooster.”

“One rooster is all anyone needs, unless you're going to sell the ornery things.”
He chuckled. “I'll have one of
mei buwe
bring you a
gut
laying hen later on today.”

“
Mei mamm
would like that.”

“How is she doing?” Freemont asked.

“
Mamm
's fine. Irene is too.” He could see Freemont wasn't going to let up on his
bishop duties. Emmanuel had always been fairly hands-off when it came to Andrew and
his family, and Andrew had liked it that way. He'd been taking care of his family
since he was eleven years old. But it was good to know that if he or his mother and
sister did need help, Freemont would be there for them.

“Do you all need anything?” Freemont asked.

“Not right now. I'll let you know if we do.”

“
Gut.
Things need to be a little different around here than they have been in the
past. I want to make sure everyone in the community is taken care of.”

Andrew nodded. “We all appreciate that.” Freemont might doubt himself, but Andrew
could tell the man was going to be a fine bishop.

After leaving Freemont's, Andrew headed for his next job, but to get there he had
to
pass
by Macon Road, Joanna's street. He gripped the reins, the leather digging
into
his
skin. Her behavior continued to baffle him. What if she really had changed
her
mind?
What if she didn't love him anymore?
How am I supposed to wait until tomorrow
to
find
out?

He was a few yards past her street when he pulled on the reins and slowed down. He
couldn't stand this anymore. He had to find out the truth—even if it was something
he didn't want to hear. Anything was better than dealing with the constant ping-ponging
thoughts. It was starting to affect his work, and he couldn't risk an injury.

Moments later he pulled into her driveway and guided his buggy past Schrock Grocery
and Tools. A few cars plus a couple of horses and buggies were in the parking area.
If they were that busy, Joanna might be inside helping her sisters. He clambered
out of the buggy and tied his horse to the hitching rail, trying to decide if he
should go to the store first or knock on the back door of the house. Then he saw
a flash of movement through their kitchen window. His throat turned dry as he recognized
Joanna's profile.

With quick steps he went to the door and knocked on it, tapping his fingers against
the doorjamb as he waited for her to answer. He heard the unsteady thump of footsteps,
and his fingers moved faster. When she finally opened the door, he stilled.

She stood motionless, leaning on her wooden crutches, her chestnut-colored eyes wide
with surprise and . . . wariness?

“Andrew,” she whispered, turning her head slightly away from him.

He craned his neck, trying to meet her gaze. It was as if she were talking to the
door instead of him. She was still trying to hide her scar from his view. She must
have forgotten he had already seen it at the rehabilitation center. It was another
reminder that he'd have to tread gently with her. If she was self-conscious about
her face, he wouldn't draw attention to it. “I need to talk to you.” He struggled
to steady his voice.

She stiffened, but she also turned toward him, enough that he could clearly see the
raised ridge on her cheek.

But the marred skin scarcely registered in his mind. All he saw was the woman he
wanted to be with for the rest of his life. “Can I come in?” This time he couldn't
keep the tremor out of his voice.

For a long moment she didn't say anything. She didn't move. After what seemed like
a lifetime, she finally said, “Yes.”

CHAPTER 5