An Unbroken Heart (9 page)

J
oanna forced her pulse to slow as Andrew walked into the kitchen. Why had she let
him in? She regretted it as soon as he shut the door. Could he hear her heart pounding?
She was sure he could, because it was roaring in her ears.

She went to the kitchen table. Cake ingredients were spread out on top. She stared
at them, every sense heightened as she heard Andrew move to stand behind her. She
had missed him so much, and seeing him, feeling his warmth as he stood close . .
. She almost turned around and leaned against him. Yet her feet refused to move,
refused to seek comfort from the one man who could give it to her.

“Joanna?” When she didn't move or answer him, he said, “Please look at me.”

Just as she couldn't turn him away again, she couldn't refuse his request. She swallowed
and faced him, steeling herself for his negative reaction when he saw the ugly, raised
ridge on her cheek.

But he didn't seem to notice. In fact, his gaze didn't leave her eyes. The blue depths
drew her in, eliciting the tingling warmth of attraction she used to feel when she
was around him. It was faint and hidden in a fog of conflicting emotions, but the
spark was there. She couldn't ignore it even if she wanted to.

Still, she tried. She snatched the wooden spoon from the bowl and turned her back
on him. A rude gesture, but she couldn't sort her feelings with him looking at her
with so much . . . love.

Love motivated by pity. She had to remember that.

“Joanna, I . . .”

His warm breath brushed against her bare neck, and she froze. Did he have any idea
how he affected her? How for years she had wished he would be this physically close
to her? She tossed a cup of flour into the cake batter and started stirring, needing
to lean against the table for support. Her legs, already wobbly from the morning's
work, were now like jelly. But she refused to collapse in front of him.

Then his hand covered hers with a light, firm touch that made her skin tingle. She
glanced
at
his tan skin against her pale flesh, the roughness of his calloused fingers
and
palm
a familiar sight but not a familiar feeling. With every movement he was
confusing
her
further, weakening her resolve. “I need to finish this cake.”

“You have the whole afternoon to bake that cake.”

“Unlike you,” she said, her sudden resentment not allowing her to soften her words,
“it takes a long time for me to get things done.”

“Then let me help. All you have to do is ask.”

She stopped stirring the batter and closed her eyes. His kindness, which he had
always possessed in abundance, started to unravel her tormented thoughts.

His strong hands touched her shoulders and turned her to face him, the heat of his
palms passing through the light green cloth of her dress, warming her skin. “I want
to understand what you're thinking,” he said. “What you're feeling. It's hard, I'll
admit. I don't have any idea what you're going through. I won't pretend I do.” He
leaned forward, his voice low. “But I do know this. I love you, Joanna, even though
you're pushing me away. Have you”—his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat—“stopped
loving me?”

She fought the tears that threatened to fall. Again, he was seeing her at one of
her weakest moments. She couldn't lie to him, though. “
Nee
, Andrew. I still love
you.”

He blew out a long breath, then smiled. “You had me worried for a minute.” His smile
faded. “Can I hold you, Joanna?”

All she could do was nod. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he slipped the crutch
from underneath her arm and leaned it against the table. Then he enfolded her against
him.

She could feel the rise and fall of his chest, smell the leather and hay on his clothes.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he said in a low voice.

Ya, you should have
. The bitter words came unbidden, but they were the truth. She
also should have felt safe in his embrace. Loved, because he had finally given her
what she wanted—commitment and a moment of physical touch. And she did feel some
security, but she couldn't completely shake her misgivings.
He wouldn't be holding
me if he didn't feel sorry for me.

He pulled back a bit, his hands still resting on her waist, his smile sweet and gentle.
His gaze landed on her scar. He leaned forward, hesitated, then planted a quick
kiss on her opposite cheek.

A fresh lump appeared in her throat. He couldn't even acknowledge that her face was
forever ruined.

“I almost lost you,” he said. “That made me realize I can't live without you.” He
took in a deep breath. “Joanna, my proposal stands. I still want to get married.
I need to know if you do too.”

Why was he acting like everything was normal? That she hadn't changed? That he wasn't
different too?
I need to tell him no . . . that I'm not ready . . . that we're not
ready. Can't he see how wrong this is?

But if she said no she would lose him forever.

Naturally he'd be hurt at first. But it wouldn't be long before he realized the real
reason for his hasty proposal and that it didn't have to do with love. He might even
thank her for knocking some reality into him.

Would any of that matter if she was alone? If she lost him forever? Could she stand
by and watch him get married to someone else? Because if anyone deserved a happy
marriage, a
whole
wife, it was Andrew.

In the end her selfishness won the mental battle.
“Ya,”
she said, barely hearing
herself say the word. She had to force herself not to rub her nose. Andrew was familiar
with her annoying tic that never failed to reveal her true feelings. “I . . . I still
want to get married.”

He gave her the biggest grin she'd ever seen. Then before she could take another
breath, he picked her up and whirled her around. And for that one brief moment she
felt sheer freedom at being spun around in his strong arms. She squeezed his biceps
as he set her down gently, his eyes growing wide.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his brow creasing with concern. “I
wasn't thinking.” He peered
at her intently. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head. He hadn't hurt her, only surprised her with another whimsical
move, one that before the accident would have thrilled her.

“Gut.”
Then he looked down at his feet. Within seconds the awkwardness that had dogged
them from the moment they started dating returned. Finally he lifted his head and
gave her a shy smile. “
Danki
, Joanna. You've made me a happy
mann
.”

Had she? Or had she assuaged his guilt?

“How does two weeks from Tuesday sound for the wedding?”

Her legs started to shake. “That soon?”

“I don't think we should wait.” He paused, a flash of fierce intensity appearing
in
his
eyes, only to disappear just as quickly. “Bishop Yoder can announce it next
Sunday
at
church.”

She nodded, although it felt like her lungs were collapsing in her chest. But what
else could she do? She was committed now, and she wouldn't go back on her word.
I
can't disappoint him.

“I'll build an addition on
mei haus
.” He said the words as if he'd just thought of
them. “It will be small, but we can add to it later. Irene and
Mamm
won't mind. I'm
sure they'll both be happy about the wedding.” He stepped away from her. “Do you
want to tell them together?”

She made herself focus on him instead of the anxiety building in her chest. Everything
was moving so fast. “All right.”

“I can pick you up tomorrow morning.” He took in a deep breath. “I better get back
to work. I'll see you tomorrow?”

She could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead.
Please don't let him notice.
“Tomorrow, right.”

He went to the door, opened it, then turned to her. “I love you.”

“I . . . love you too.”

As soon as the door closed she collapsed against the table, her legs trembling. She
needed to sit down, but she couldn't move. A few moments later Abigail burst through
the back door. Joanna jumped and nearly fell, managing to hang on to the table as
she fought to steady herself.

“I see Andrew was here.” Abigail walked over to her, a wide grin on her face. “I
guess you two talked.”

“Ya.”
She was still looking down at the table, fighting for strength.

“He looked happy.” Abigail chuckled. “Very happy. Any particular reason why?”

“We're getting married,” Joanna mumbled, finally looking at her sister.

“Married?” Abigail's eyes widened.

“Ya.”

“When?”

“Two weeks.”

Abigail's mouth dropped open. “What?”

“He said he wanted to get married right away.” The words were coming easier now,
and her heartbeat started to slow.

“Joanna, are you sure?”

She hung on to the edge of the table. Maybe getting married wasn't a bad thing after
all. Perhaps after they were married everything would be right again. She and Andrew
would be together forever. For better or for worse. Her chest started hurting again.

Abigail pulled out one of the kitchen chairs. “Sit down.”

Joanna sank onto the seat. With the back of her hand she wiped her damp forehead.

Her sister moved a chair closer to Joanna and sat. “Let's think about this for a
minute. This morning you didn't want to see him. Now all of a sudden you're getting
married in two weeks?”

Joanna nodded.

Abigail leaned back, shaking her head. “I don't get it.”

“Andrew doesn't want to wait.”

“Obviously. But what about you? Are you ready for this?” She peered into Joanna's
eyes. “What do you want?”

Andrew. She had always wanted Andrew. But now she realized something else.
I don't
want to be alone.
Joanna touched the smattering of flour that had spilled on the
table. When she saw her finger shaking, she pulled back. “I want what he wants,”
she said, unable to admit her fear.

“You're dodging the question.”

She tightened her fingers into fists under the table. “We're getting married. I'm
sorry if you're upset about that.”

“I'm not upset.” Abigail's voice was calm and steady, the way she had been throughout
Joanna's stay at the rehabilitation center. “I'm happy for you
if
this is what you
truly want and
if
you're not feeling pressured.”

Pressure pressed down on her from all sides, but she couldn't acknowledge that out
loud. She could only try to manage the strain. She relaxed her tense shoulders, attempting
to create a confidence she didn't feel. “Marrying Andrew is what I want.”

“Then congratulations!” She gave Joanna a quick hug, then pulled away. A rueful grin
formed on her lips. “Seems that when it comes to marriage, both
mei schwesters
don't
waste any time. Joel better hurry and catch up.” Her smile disappeared. “I haven't
seen him since we got back. I know he's been busy working at Barton Plastics, and
then he's been helping his older
bruder
finish building his new
haus
. I thought maybe
he would stop by the store today, but so far he hasn't.”

“I'm sure he'll visit soon.” Joanna patted Abigail's hand, glad for the change of
subject. “He cares about you, Abigail.” Before the accident she had seen the two
of them together, mostly after church services and during singings. They made a striking
couple. He was tall, blond, and fair, while Abigail was petite and had dark hair
and an olive complexion.

“I think he does.” Uncertainty crept into her expression, then she shook her head,
her brown eyes regaining their prior sparkle. “Never mind about me and Joel. We were
talking about you. We have a wedding to plan, a dress to make, people to invite,
food to prepare . . .”

As Abigail continued to tick off what seemed to be a never-ending list of things
to do for the nuptials, Joanna silently prayed.
I've finally gotten
mei
heart's desire,
God. But I never expected it to happen like this.

“You're going to have a beautiful wedding,” Abigail said. “These next two weeks are
going
to
fly by. Before you know it, you'll be Mrs. Andrew Beiler.”

Joanna turned and embraced her sister, trying not to cling to her as if she were
a life raft.
Lord, what have I done?

Irene Beiler hung up the last pair of Andrew's pants on the line. Her brother went
through clothes at twice the rate she and
Mamm
did, but that was to be expected because
of his job. Once
his pants were hung, she stepped back and let the fall breeze fan
her face. The clothes fluttered like colorful flags on the line. Her dresses, her
mother's dresses, and her brother's shirts and pants would be dry in a short time
if the cool dry air continued throughout the day.