An Unbroken Heart (14 page)

They weren't thinking, and that was the problem. As for Joanna . . . The poor girl
had been through so much. Marriage wouldn't heal the wound her parents' deaths had
left. And Naomi knew there was nothing she could say that would change Andrew's mind.
If anything, he would dig his heels in harder, insisting he was right and she was
wrong. He was following his heart, something Andrew didn't give easily, and when
he did, it was thoroughly.
Just like Bartholomew . . .

She closed her eyes, a distant memory breaking through the worry. It had happened
six years ago. After Andrew and Irene were asleep, she was in her bedroom taking
the bobby pins out of her hair before getting ready for bed. Suddenly, she heard
a tap on her bedroom window.

She froze for a moment, then slowly crouched and reached underneath her bed for the
baseball bat she kept there. As she pulled it out, the window jiggled. She never
left it or any door or window in the house unlocked. She lifted the bat but couldn't
move any farther, frozen in fear. When she saw a face in the
window, she jumped.
Then
the
bat hit the floor. She rushed to the window, unlocked it, and threw it
open.
“Bartholomew?”

He grabbed her face and kissed her. “Sorry,” he said, pulling back. “I couldn't help
myself.”

She could barely breathe as she stepped back to give him room to climb into the bedroom.
He shut the window and locked it, then took her into his arms.

“I can't believe you're here.” She rested her cheek against his chest. How many times
had she longed to be in his embrace like this again, only to know it was impossible?
But there she was, being held by her husband, feeling his heart pounding in his chest
in rhythm with her own.

He released her and gazed at her face, as if drinking her in. “Still so beautiful.”
He took out the last bobby pin, the final lock of her hair cascading down her back.
“It's been too long since I've done this,” he said, running his fingers through her
hair.

She blushed at his words, his attention, her lips still tingling from his kiss. Then
reality struck. “You're not supposed to be here.”

“You couldn't expect me to stay away forever.”

Her heart did a backflip. “Does this mean—”

He put his finger against her lips. “
Nee
. I can't come back. Not yet.”

“Then when?”

He sighed. “I don't know.”

She moved away from him. He was dressed like an
Englisch
man now, his blond hair
cut short in the back, his strong, stocky body clad in a plain black T-shirt, dark
blue jeans, and black sneakers. He also looked older than his thirty-five years.
While Naomi's life had been difficult, her husband's had been worse.
She sat on the
edge of the bed, more confused than excited now. “Do they know you left?”

He shook his head and sat down next to her. “
Nee
. And I have to
geh
back. If I don't,
they'll come after me.”

She sighed, pain lancing her heart. She'd have to tell him good-bye again. She took
off her glasses and wiped her eyes. “Then maybe you should have stayed away.”

“I couldn't. I had to see you and the
kinner
.”

Naomi shook her head. “They can't know you were here.”

“Naomi—”

She turned to him and took his hands in hers. Despite the strange clothing and haircut,
he still looked handsome. He still made her pulse thrum and her heart sing. They
had been separated for most of their marriage, yet she didn't love him any less.
But when it came to Andrew and Irene, she had to put them first. “They'll ask too
many questions.”

His blue eyes were wide with pleading. “They're asleep, aren't they? I'll just take
a peek at them.”

She shook her head. “What if they wake up? How will you tell them you have to leave
again?”

Bartholomew turned from her. “You're right,” he said quietly, pulling his hands
from hers.

Cupping his rough cheek with her hand, she guided his gaze to hers. “I want you to
come home and live with us again.” She started to cry. “I want you to be
mei
husband
again.”

“Oh, Naomi.” He leaned over and kissed her. Tenderly, softly, then drew away too
soon. “I want that more than anything. And someday, God willing, I'll return to you
and
mei kinner
.”

She closed her eyes as he pulled her toward him and kissed her forehead. “I pray
for that every
daag
.”

“I don't deserve you,” he whispered roughly.

Lifting her head, she said, “
Ya
. You do.” She leaned against him, and they didn't
say anything for a few moments. “When do you have to
geh
back?” she finally asked,
her voice catching in her throat.

“In a few minutes.”

“You can't stay until morning?”

He shook his head, sorrow and regret filling his eyes. “I wish I could.” He stood,
bringing her up with him. “Just know that I think of you every moment of the
daag
.”
He stroked her hair with both hands this time. “I'm counting the seconds until I
can be with you again. When I can hug
mei sohn
and
dochder
again.” He squeezed his
eyes shut. “When I can be the husband and father you all deserve.” He hugged her
close, released her, then disappeared through the window.

Naomi opened her eyes, blinking until she realized she was in the present again.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She hadn't seen Bartholomew since that day. But she
knew he'd been faithful. She had the letters—and her faith in him—to prove it. Writing
to him over the years had been risky. She knew that. But this wasn't the first time
she'd sent him a letter, and it wouldn't be the last. Over the years she had kept
him updated on the various milestones in Andrew and Irene's lives—when they finished
school, when they were baptized, when Andrew's farrier business had become successful.
Bartholomew had written her in return—short, terse notes that didn't give away much
information. But he had always signed them the same way each time: BB + NB. Their
initials, which on their second date he had carved into a palm tree right outside
her childhood home in Florida.

She went to her desk and sat down. She understood more than anyone the pull of deep,
abiding love. She also knew about the folly of youth and how following your heart
could not only bring you great joy but also intense pain. Over the years she had
thought about telling her children the truth. She was tired of living a lie. But
she couldn't, not without hurting them more than they already were. Even though they
were adults now, she continued to cling tightly to her secret. And she also held
on to the hope that someday Bartholomew would return and explain everything. It was
his story to tell, not hers.

Naomi closed her eyes against a fresh set of tears.
How long will we have to wait,
Lord?
She didn't know. All she could do was put her family's future into God's hands—and
that included Andrew and Joanna's marriage.

She pulled out a piece of paper from her desk. Andrew was facing the biggest milestone
of his life, and like every major event in his young life, he had to do it without
his father. Bartholomew should know about it.

The paper blurred in front of her. She'd had to do so many things without her husband.
Raising two children alone, even with the support of the Birch Creek community, had
been difficult. More guilt lay at Naomi's feet because Irene and Andrew weren't the
only ones who didn't know the truth about Bartholomew. Despite the lies and the circumstances,
Irene and Andrew had turned out to be wonderful, God-loving adults. Yet there was
a hole in their lives—just as there was a hole in Naomi's heart.

She wiped her eyes, picked up the pencil, and began to write.

CHAPTER 8

T
he next morning Joanna managed to get out of bed, still sore from yesterday. Andrew
would be picking her up in a couple of hours. Her nerves frazzled, she busied herself
with making a quick Sunday morning breakfast—homemade bread, butter, strawberry preserves,
boiled eggs, and applesauce. The rich scent of coffee had filled the kitchen when
Sadie and Abigail walked in.

“Where's Aden?” Joanna asked, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“He's sleeping in this morning,” Sadie said.

“You two stay up late last night?” Abigail said with a saucy grin.

Sadie's face turned bright red as she poured a mug of coffee. “That's none of
yer
business, Abigail.”

“I know. But I'm ready to become an aunt.” Abigail sat at the table. “ ‘
Aenti
Abby'
has a nice ring to it. Don't you think so, Joanna?”

Joanna glanced at Sadie, unsure what to say. Then Sadie smiled. “Abigail told me
about the wedding.”

“I'm sorry.” Abigail threw up her hands. “It slipped out.” She looked contrite. “Forgive
me for spoiling
yer
news?”

Joanna nodded, oddly relieved that she didn't have to tell Sadie about her engagement.
In fact, Abigail seemed to be more excited about the upcoming wedding than Joanna.
Another warning bell went off in Joanna's head.

“And,” Sadie added, joining Abigail and Joanna at the table, “you shouldn't put pressure
on either of us. You'll be an
aenti
in God's timing.”

“I know. I'm impatient, that's all.”

Sadie nodded. “What else is new?” Ignoring Abigail's cutting look, Sadie said, “Let's
say grace.”

Joanna bowed her head, but she didn't focus on prayer. She'd always wanted children.
Andrew's
children,
to be precise. They hadn't talked about it, but she assumed he
wanted
kinner
too. Those thoughts led to what would happen on their wedding night,
which
amped
up her anxiety even more. At one time all she craved was a little physical
attention
from
Andrew. Not much, and certainly not anything that should happen after
marriage.
But
a kiss or three would have been more than welcome. Now when she thought
about
intimacy
with him, she didn't get familiar butterflies pleasantly flitting
around
in
her stomach. It felt more like bats were battering her insides.

“When is Andrew coming to pick you up?” Abigail asked.

Joanna opened her eyes. She hadn't realized the prayer was over. Knowing that Abigail
was watching, she took a slice of bread, even though she wasn't hungry. “Around nine.”

“I'm happy for you both,” Sadie said. “Aden is too.”

“We're due for some happiness.” Abigail slathered her bread with the preserves. “And
on that note, we need to get serious about planning the wedding.”

Joanna froze. They wanted to talk about wedding plans now? “I think we have plenty
of time for that.”

“Are you
ab im kopp
?” Abigail fumbled with her bread slice. “We have two weeks. Make
that sixteen
daags.
Either way, we have almost
nee
time to plan. And since we both
missed out on Sadie's wedding,
yers
needs to be extra special.”

Sadie set down her mug. “Aden and I should have waited to get married. We just .
. . couldn't.”

Abigail frowned for a moment. Joanna thought that was a strange answer too.

“You don't regret marrying Aden, do you?” Abigail's humor had disappeared, replaced
with concern.

Sadie looked at them with absolute seriousness.
“Nee.”

Joanna leaned back in her chair. At least she wasn't the only one who was rushing
into marriage. And, she reminded herself, Aden and Sadie were very happy. There was
no reason why she and Andrew wouldn't be happy too.

Sadie glanced at Joanna and smiled. “I'm not saying you and Andrew should wait. Everyone's
wedding, and the circumstances surrounding it, is different.”

Abigail blew out a breath. “
Gut
. I was only joking about not being there for
yer
ceremony. You had a
gut
reason for marrying quickly. And it all worked out as it
should, just like Joanna and Andrew's marriage will.” She paused. “Life is short.
We know that more than anyone.” Pushing the butter plate toward Joanna, Abigail asked,
“Should we have it here or at the Beilers'?”

“Our
haus
is bigger.” Sadie picked up her coffee and took
a sip. She turned to Joanna.
“Would you like to get married in
Mamm
's wedding dress? I did.”

A lump appeared in Joanna's throat. “Did it make you feel closer to
Mamm
?” she asked
softly.

“The
daag
was a blur for me.” Sadie gripped the coffee mug, averting her gaze. “But
ya
. I think it did.”